by David Wood
Isla rested her arms on the top of the wrought iron fence and gazed into pitch black forest. She could see nothing more than a few meters in, but she occasionally caught the sound of a reptilian hiss, or something heavy lurching through the trees.
“I wouldn’t go beyond the gate if I were you.”
She snapped her head around and saw Gowan walking across the lawn toward her. His easy gait and relaxed posture looked like that of a man out on an evening stroll.
“I hadn’t planned on it.” She turned away from him and returned to staring into the forest.
To her chagrin, he didn’t keep walking, but instead joined her.
“The posts aren’t electrified or anything,” he said, “but they emit waves at a frequency that the creatures can’t stand. It keeps them away from the edges of the forest.”
“I wondered about that,” she admitted. “Could be bad for all concerned if they ever got out.”
“They won’t attack unless given a specific signal, and another signal stops them in their tracks. Nineve demonstrated for my benefit. It’s remarkable, really.”
“Then why shouldn’t I pass beyond the fence?”
Gowan let out a small laugh. “Because, when it comes right down to it, they’re still animals, and no training is one hundred percent perfect. Also, some of them are quite large, and could injure you without intending to.”
“Understood. So, why aren’t you guarding Nineve?”
“I’m not actually her guard. I just work closely with her.” He reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and took out a tin of mints. “Care for one?” Isla shook her head. “Suit yourself.” He shook a couple into his palm and popped them into his mouth. “I love coffee but I have a deep, abiding fear of coffee breath. Hence the mints, all day long.”
There was something so ordinary, so normal about the comment that Isla couldn’t help but smile.
“How goes the research?”
Isla didn’t flinch. So that was his game. Trying to find out what task Nineve had set her to.
“Slowly.”
Gowan nodded. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. The bloody ring has gone undiscovered for what? Three thousand years?”
Isla kept her silence. So he knew there was a ring involved. Of course, that didn’t mean he knew which ring.
“King Solomon,” he sighed. “Had more gold and women than he had sense.”
So he did know. “I thought he was supposed to be the wisest of all the kings of Israel.”
In the scant light she saw Gowan roll his eyes. “Based on what? The ‘cut the baby in half’ story? Seriously, who would be dumb enough to fall for that? The man was blessed by God, granted power and wealth, but he suffered from the same disease as his father, King David.”
“What was that?”
“He loved woman way too much. His pagan wives found him easy to manipulate.”
Isla closed her eyes, thinking. “Hold on. But, we’re pagan.”
“Sure we are. That doesn’t mean Solomon wasn’t real...or that he didn’t get played.” He took a moment to pop another mint. “If we didn’t believe he was real, we wouldn’t be searching for his mines, would we?”
“I thought I was the only dog Nineve had set to hunting.” Something high in a nearby tree let out a low hiss and a bulky shape sailed down into the darkness. She suppressed a shudder at the sight.
“You’re the only dog she’s set to sniffing out this particular trail, but she’s had me taking a look at it as well.”
“Why?” Isla tried to sound as if she didn’t care, but Gowan’s smirk told her she had failed.
“Once you figure out where to look, I’m to accompany you. Extra muscle, so to speak.”
“I don’t need any help.”
Gowan shrugged. “Tell Nineve if you like. Won’t do you any good, though. She doesn’t change her mind. At least, not that I’ve ever seen.”
Isla didn’t bother to argue. She had a feeling he was right.
“Anyway, the ring is your deal. I’ve been researching the mines.”
“What have you learned?”
“As you probably know, King Solomon’s mines were located in a place called Ophir. The location was kept secret, but people have spent the last three millennia trying to figure out where it was.”
“Any likely spots?”
“Plenty of spots. Don’t know how likely any of them are.” He turned away from the forest and sat down on the soft grass, his back resting against the fence. After a moment, Isla followed suit. “Ptolemy placed it in what is now Pakistan at the mouth of the Indus River. John Milton thought it was in Zimbabwe. Christopher Columbus believed it was in Haiti. Walter Raleigh thought it was in Surinam.”
“I hadn’t heard any of those theories. I know the Solomon Islands got their name because a Spanish explorer thought the mines were there.”
“Right. Plenty of other theories. Some say they were in the Middle East, close to Israel, and they weren’t gold mines, but copper.”
“That would be no fun.”
“No, it wouldn’t at that. I don’t buy it. In addition to the gold, they brought back ivory and exotic animals, like apes and peacocks. And we have a record of how long the round trip to the mine would take. All of that excludes any sites in the immediate vicinity.”
“You have your own pet theory?”
Gowan shook his head. “Not at the moment. After Solomon’s death, the kingdom split into Israel and Judah. Not long afterward, Jerusalem fell to the Egyptians and whatever treasures Solomon might have had were lost. I’ll wager the secret was lost with the library at Alexandria, or lies buried in some dusty tomb.”
Isla considered his grim outlook. Surely Nineve wouldn’t set them an impossible task. “You think Nineve knows something we don’t about this?”
“Always. But if it were something that might help us find either the ring or the mines, she wouldn’t hold it back. I’m sure of it.”
Isla ran a hand through her hair, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back. “This seems a risky proposition to me.”
“There’s always danger when you go after something of such great value.”
“Not to me. Risky for the organization. Think about it. One of our aims is to undo the damage done by the monolithic Middle Eastern religions. To prove the existence of Solomon’s Mines, hell, to prove that Solomon himself existed, only strengthens Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.”
Gowan scratched his chin, nodding thoughtfully. “You are correct, of course. I presume she wants the wealth but not the fame that would come from the discovery. The ring...I suppose she believes it has magical powers.”
“I think you’re right.” A loud hiss, seemingly directly above them, interrupted her thoughts. “Bloody things!” Despite her reservations about the man, Isla couldn’t overcome her natural curiosity. “What, exactly, are these creatures?”
Gowan seemed to consider this question for a while. “Science experiments, when it comes right down to it. A combination of genetic engineering and careful breeding. They were supposed to have all been put down when the Sisterhood fell a few years back, but loyal elements within the government worked to save as many as they could. They’re actually quite friendly once you get to know them.”
She whipped her head to the side to stare at Gowan. He returned her gaze for a long moment and then burst out laughing.
“I’m talking out of my ass, of course. Never gotten too close to any of them.”
Isla shook her head.
“Why do you serve the Sisterhood? You’re American and your accent places you firmly in the Bible Belt.”
“I never fit in there,” he said promptly. “I know I don’t look it or sound it, but I’m fifty percent Native American. I believe in the old ways and think the world would be better off if our beliefs and traditions were strongly supported. I’m not out to eradicate the major religions, but to show people there’s more than one truth, more than one way. Maybe someday I can do for my
people what Nineve will do for the descendants of the Celts.”
“You believe we’re doing the right thing?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. There’s a certainty that comes with the belief that yours is the one true God, and with that certainty comes a license to oppress, even to kill. We’ve witnessed it for centuries and it’s getting worse. Violence between Christians and Muslims is going to tear this world apart unless we show them a different way. A better way.”
Isla nodded, though she wasn’t completely convinced. Gowan’s was a narrow, slanted view, but it was far too late for that sort of nuanced debate. One thing he was right about—the division in society was becoming too great. Something needed to change.
Gowan yawned, stretched, and tried to put his arm around her shoulders. What an ass. They’d just had their first civil conversation and he had to go and ruin it.
She stood and forced a yawn.
“I think I’m ready to turn in,” she said. “I’ll need my rest if I’m going to find a ring that’s been lost for three thousand years.”
Chapter 15
Colonial Williamsburg
Dark clouds blanketed the night sky as Maddock and Kendra strolled along what had once been the Gallows Road, where convicted criminals were hanged. Maddock tried to imagine a convicted man, taking his final steps along this thoroughfare. He pictured onlookers lining the streets, some hurling epithets, shaking fists, or spitting, but most merely staring in fascination or horror. Up ahead, the hangman waited.
“You with me?” Kendra gave his hand a squeeze. “You’ve been quiet for a long time.”
“Sorry, sometimes I get caught up in the history of a place.”
“I hear you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I think it’s endearing. A sense of wonder is a great thing.”
“Bones says it happens to him, too, but only at Hooters.”
Kendra laughed. “He’s...special.”
“That he is, but also the best friend anyone could ask for.”
Kendra guided them off the main road and onto a grassy lawn. She turned on the flashlight app on her smartphone and looked around until she located a spot where strips of fresh sod had recently been put down. “This is it,” she said, opening the backpack she’d picked up at her home. She shoved a blanket into Maddock’s arms. “Spread this out.”
“I like it so far. Want me to put on some slow jazz?”
“Pervert,” she said. “And if you’ve got slow jazz on your phone, I’d rather not know about it.”
Maddock spread the blanket atop the sod and sat down. Kendra joined him and began removing items from her pack.
“Digital recorder,” she said, placing a silver object that looked a bit like an old-time microphone on the blanket between them. “Sometimes you can actually hear what a spirit is saying, but that’s exceedingly rare. Spirits tend to communicate on a wavelength outside our auditory spectrum. That’s why sometimes a dog will react to the presence of a spirit while its family remains oblivious.”
Maddock nodded, determined to keep his skepticism at bay and embrace the experience, even if he thought it was a bunch of crap.
“Next we have an EMP monitor.” She handed him a handheld device with a large dial, a screen, and several buttons along the top. Two stubs, like small antennae, protruded from the top. “We use this for yes or no questions. Same with this flashlight.” She took out a small flashlight, turned it on, and unscrewed it until the light began to flicker. She tightened it again until the beam was steady, then clicked it off.
“I wondered how that worked,” Maddock said.
“The spirits can’t manipulate the switch, but they can interfere with the flow of a weak electrical current. We’ll switch everything on once everyone arrives.”
Maddock had texted Bones, apprising him of the plan. Meanwhile, Kendra had invited two friends who were paranormal investigators, explaining that it was common practice to have three or more “true believers” in order to guarantee optimal conditions.
“I take it I don’t qualify,” he said.
“Not even close,” Kendra said. “But I hope you’ll keep an open mind about it. There are a lot of intelligent, educated people who are either believers or who haven’t dismissed the possibility that spirits still exist.”
Maddock nodded. “So, why this particular spot?” He patted the blanket.
“Not long ago, an archaeological dig team uncovered evidence that the old gallows was located on this exact spot. It’s long been believed that they were built somewhere in this immediate vicinity, but only now are we finding supporting evidence that this was, in fact, the spot.”
“So, this is probably where Caesar died?”
“Almost certainly. He and the other pirates, along with other victims, are buried somewhere along this street, but no one knows where. In any case, the place where a person died, or where they lived, is really where you want to look. Burial sites are dead zones for the spirit world, pun intended.”
“Assuming I buy into all this, do you really think we have a chance of contacting Caesar?”
Kendra nodded. “I’ve done it before. Knowing a spirit’s name makes a big difference. They are compelled to respond to you, if only briefly until they can summon the strength to resist.” She looked up and her eyes brightened. “Here come my friends.”
Two men approached, walking hand in hand. Kendra greeted them with hugs and introduced them to Maddock, who shook hands with each. Joel was a rail-thin man in his early thirties with a tanned, weathered face, wispy mustache, and receding brown hair. His husband, Larry, was the opposite of his partner, plump, moon-faced, with fair skin and thick strawberry blond hair that he wore in a bowl cut.
“Are you a first-timer with the paranormal?” Joel asked, sitting cross-legged on the blanket.
“You could say that,” Maddock replied. “I take it you guys are veterans?”
“We’ve been doing this since college,” Larry said. “That’s how we met.” He looked around. “Aren’t there supposed to be more of us?”
“I’m here.” Bones’ voice drifted out of the darkness. A moment later, he and Sandra, the server he’d met earlier in the evening, appeared. Sandra, who had changed into street clothes, was already acquainted with Joel and Larry, and introduced them to Bones.
“This is going to rock,” Bones said, rubbing his hands together. “If this works, I’m totally going to have you guys ring up Jimi Hendrix.”
Joel frowned and Maddock quickly assure him that Bones was not mocking them. “He’s a believer and he’s always wanted to meet Hendrix.” The ghost hunter shrugged and turned his attention to Kendra. “We brought the PX. Want to use it?”
“What’s a PX?” Maddock asked.
“It’s a device that measures certain environmental conditions and matches them up with words in its database. It’s basically a Magic 8 Ball, but with several hundred possible responses.”
“We disagree on that,” Joel explained, “but it’s Kendra’s party so we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.” The meaningful look he directed at the digital recorder explained his meaning.
Kendra pressed her hands to her chest, miming a heart attack. “I get to be in charge!” But despite her moment of levity, she was quickly all business. She reminded everyone to turn off their cell phones. Next, she turned on the EMP monitor, adjusted the knob, and handed it to Maddock. “Keep an eye on the row of lights at the top, as well as the meter on the screen.” She tapped the green digital display, where a black arrow pointed to the left. “Hold it level in your lap where everyone can see it.” Next, she turned on the digital recorder and the flashlight, then nodded to Larry.
“Everyone adopt a spirit of welcoming,” Larry said, “and open yourselves to the spirit world.” He took out a tiny bell, and rang it three times. It produced a thin, high-pitched note, scarcely audible. Seemingly satisfied, he pocketed the bell and inclined his head toward Kendra. A thick canopy of silence drew over the six peopl
e seated in a circle.
“We invite the man called Caesar to join us,” Kendra said in a firm, clear voice. As they waited, Maddock realized his heart was racing a mile a minute, his eyes locked on the device in his hands. After a minute’s wait, Kendra asked, “Caesar, are you with us?”
Nothing.
She waited a few seconds. “We respectfully ask you to join us. We have questions that only you can answer.”
Sandra gasped and pointed to the flashlight, which flickered.
“Caesar, are you with us?” Kendra asked.
Maddock’s jaw dropped as the arrow on his digital display swept over to the right and the first three lights on the device lit up.
“Something happened,” he whispered. He suddenly felt clammy all over as if a pocket of cold, damp air had descended upon this spot.
“We saw,” Joel said, his voice serene.
“If you are the man who was known to some as the pirate called Black Caesar, turn off the flashlight,” Kendra said.
The flashlight flickered and the EMP monitor registered another hit.
“Wicked,” Bones whispered.
Kendra proceeded with a set of questions about Caesar’s life and death, all simple “yes or no” questions. The first few times she asked that Caesar turn off the flashlight if the answer was affirmative, then dropped the reminder after a few positive results. Every time the flashlight flickered, the monitor registered the result. Maddock knew it was possible that some sort of electrical interference could be causing both phenomena, but so far it had only happened immediately after a question. Not a single stray flicker of the light or result from the monitor. Finally, Kendra got down to business.
“Caesar, did you once own a special ring?”
This time the readout on the monitor was off the charts, the flashlight beam flickering strobelike.
“He has strong feelings about the ring,” Larry whispered.
