Solomon Key

by David Wood

  “Glad you could join us. How was your nap?” the woman asked sweetly.

  Constance scowled but did not reply.

  The woman made a clucking sound and shook her head.

  “Manners,” she chided. “We are being gracious hosts. The least you can do is have a friendly conversation with us.”

  “Hosts? I think the word you are looking for is ‘kidnappers.’”

  “Sweetie,” the woman said, a dollop of the American South flavoring her words, “you assaulted a federal agent.”

  “I’m not your sweetie,” Constance said through gritted teeth. Mentally, she kicked herself for letting the woman get under her skin. After all, it was all a game, wasn’t it? “If you are government agents, then I demand you charge me or release me.”

  “Oh, you need not worry about that. My people are busy drumming up charges as we speak. And yes, I said exactly what I meant. What you end up actually being charged with depends on how cooperative you are.”

  “I’ll tell you nothing,” Constance said in a bored voice. She wouldn’t let these people intimidate her.

  “Want me to persuade her?” the big man asked.

  “Don’t you have a tractor pull to get to? A professional wrestling match, perhaps?”

  The big man smirked.

  “Not yet, Sievers. I believe she’ll come around. She seems the sort to see good sense...eventually.”

  “It must be killing you to take orders from a sister,” Constance said, still trying to get under the man’s skin. But, he merely rolled his eyes. She turned her attention to the woman at the end of the table. “Do you have a name?”

  “You can call me Tam.”

  Constance barked a laugh. “Sounds like a musical instrument slow children play so they can feel like part of the band.”

  Everyone around the table laughed, even Tam.

  “I’m going to remember that one,” Sievers said.

  “The hell you will,” Tam said, still laughing. Her expression suddenly grew serious. “Lord Jesus, I got to put a dollar in my cussing jar.”

  “Just a quarter,” Avery said. “Hell is as much a place as it is a swear.”

  “My daddy would say that’s cheating but I’m going to go with your analysis.” Tam rested the palms of her hands on the table, her expression grave. “That’s enough foreplay. Time to get dirty.”

  “Whoa,” Greg said.

  “I didn’t cuss.” She turned her attention to Constance. “Let’s discuss your crimes and misdemeanors.”

  “First of all,” Constance began, “I didn’t assault any federal agent.”

  Avery raised her hand. “Hello? On the island?”

  “That wasn’t me,” Constance said.

  “So it was your accomplice?” Tam asked.

  “Yes... I mean, I don’t have an accomplice. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Shame,” Tam said, inspecting her own fingernails, holding them up to the light as if looking for blemishes. “If somebody else were guilty, I mean, if you could point us in a different direction. That is to say, if we’ve got the wrong person...”

  “Oh, you have the wrong person, but I don’t know who the right person is.”

  “Wrong answer,” Tam said, still staring at her nails.

  “You are wasting my time,” Constance said. “We both know you can’t prove that I assaulted anyone.” She turned to Avery and grinned.

  “No?” Tam quirked an eyebrow. “But I’ve got security video of you assaulting my agent.” She inclined her head toward Sievers, who nodded. “You kicked him and you tried to head-butt him. And that’s just what we have on video. I have witnesses who saw you do much worse.”

  “I will not be railroaded,” Constance said. “I have rights.”

  “Haven’t you heard? If you are suspected of terrorism you could spend a long time in prison awaiting a trial. Without being charged.”

  Constance’s stomach lurched. “I’m not a terrorist.”

  “You’re a person of color from a foreign country who has committed a crime. Under the current administration that’s pretty much all it takes.” Constance didn’t know if Tam’s scowl was for her or for the administration to which she referred. “Also, you pissed me off.” She said the last three words slowly and deliberately.

  “You just cost yourself another dollar,” Constance said, trying and failing to sound glib. She could feel her resistance crumbling.

  “Give us the room,” Tam said. The others obeyed instantly. Constance couldn’t help but be impressed. The woman might dress herself up like a Real Housewife of Atlanta, but she wielded authority as if it were second nature.

  “You going to play good cop or bad cop?” Constance asked.

  “Dealer’s choice. I have a diverse skill set.” Tam stood, made her way down to Constance’s end of the table, and took the seat Greg had occupied. “As much as I would love to bandy words with you, I’m a busy woman. I imagine whatever criminal enterprise you’re involved in occupies a lot of your time too, so let’s talk like two sensible people.”

  Constance made a curt nod but held her tongue. She sensed a deal was in the offing.

  “We both know I can send you to Guantánamo and lose the paperwork. You might get out someday, but by then I’ll be retired to a Pacific island drinking mai tais while an oiled-up man in a Speedo massages my feet.” She paused for a moment to smile at the thought.

  “What’s behind door number two?” Constance asked

  “First of all, you convince me you’re not a terrorist. Then you help me understand why you went after my agent. Last, you tell me who you work for or with. The more you give me, the lesser the charge. That, I promise you. If I find out you’ve lied or held anything back, you might as well cease to exist. That, I also promise you.”

  Constance flinched. Her first instinct was to punch Tam in the face, but seeing how she was handcuffed to a heavy chair, that was not an option. And, the woman was correct. This corrupt American government could not be relied upon to meet out justice in a fair and equitable way. She took a deep breath.

  “All I want is to recover what belongs to my family.”

  Chapter 24

  St. Paul’s Cathedral, London

  Maddock froze, his eyes taking in everything at once. He was flanked by two tall, solidly built men. Both had dark skin and the same East African accent as Nomi. It was no coincidence they were here. It couldn’t be.

  “Make no sudden moves,” the man to his left, a bald fellow wearing all black, said. “We are both armed.”

  “What’s this all about?” Maddock was stalling for time, hoping Bones might be somewhere nearby. One armed man and he’d take his chances. With two, he’d have to get very lucky.

  “Don’t waste our time. Stand up slowly.”

  Maddock rose to his feet and stepped to the side as baldy’s partner moved to block the secret door. The cathedral was nearly empty. No witnesses and certainly no one to come to his aid.

  “What did you find back there?”

  “Dead end,” Maddock said. There wasn’t much to be gained from lying; there was no hiding the collapsed ceiling and Israel Hands’ makeshift vault. Still, anything that might buy him time to escape or for Bones to turn up was a positive. “Not entirely a dead end. There’s a trapdoor that opens into a fireplace in an office. Nothing our television show would be interested in.”

  The men exchanged knowing grins. Maddock saw that each held a small caliber pistol. Easily concealed, but deadly none the less. Without warning, baldy’s partner delivered a punch to Maddock’s gut. He took it with barely a grunt and returned a defiant glare.

  “Solid,” the man said. “You must do your sit-ups.”

  “Your wife works me out regularly.” It was a juvenile retort, something worthy of Bones, but it got a reaction. The man tensed, fist clenched. “Also, you hit like a girl. And I don’t mean Ronda Rousey.”

  “Cleo, keep your head about you,” Baldy said.

  C
leo looked like he was on the verge of trying something reckless, but he acquiesced. “As you say, Ronald.”

  “We know who you are, Mister Maddock,” Ronald said. “Our cousin told us she had killed you and your partner, but we learned otherwise.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Our family has many resources at our disposal. A few of our agents had a chat with your friend, the ghost hunting girl.”

  “If you’ve hurt her...”

  Ronald dismissed Maddock’s concern with a flick of a finger. “She is fine. We don’t kill anyone if we can help it.”

  “Nomi didn’t get that memo.” Maddock was staring into the man’s eyes, but watching the partner in his peripheral vision. If the man were to come closer and lower his weapon just a little more...

  “Nomi is reckless, impulsive. She is being dealt with.”

  “In that case, maybe you aren’t as bad as I thought.”

  Ronald bared his teeth in a mock-grin. “We only want to reclaim our inheritance. If you cease with the interference, you will be unharmed.”

  “You think Solomon’s Mines are your inheritance? You believe you’re descended from King Solomon?”

  “Not from Solomon, though we are his spiritual heirs.”

  “Who, then?”

  “It is of no matter,” Baldy snapped, all business again. “Tell me what you know about Israel Hands.”

  “If you talked to Kendra, then you know just about everything we know. Or at least, what we theorize. We believe the pirate Caesar gave his ring to Israel Hands, who lived out the rest of his days in London. The fact that you’re here tells me you learned of the connection between Hands and the cathedral.”

  “And why did you go through that door?” Ronald gestured with his pistol.

  Maddock shrugged. “The crypt was a dead end. The tour guide told us about a secret door. I figured it was worth a look.”

  “Where is Bonebrake?”

  “Wandering around, hoping his dumb luck will kick in. He tends to operate that way.”

  Ronald sighed, then, without taking his eyes off of Maddock, spoke to his partner.

  “Cleo, see what’s back there.”

  Cleo hesitated. “Should we dispose of him first?”

  “We’ll keep him for the time being. I am certain he has more information. I’ll let you be the one to extract it if you like.”

  Cleo beamed. “Christmas is coming early this year.” He gave Maddock a long stare, then, after checking to make certain no one was looking, slipped into the passageway.

  “Close that door,” Ronald said. “Do it slowly.”

  Maddock turned, squatted, and pushed the door closed. His heart was in his throat. What he was about to do was reckless, perhaps suicidal, but he’d get no better chance. He twisted like a swimmer changing directions and pushed hard off of the wall. He shot forward like a torpedo, driving into Ronald’s knees and bearing him to the ground.

  The pistol discharged and the side of Maddock’s head burned. No time to wonder how badly he’d been wounded. He lurched forward, seized the wrist of Ronald’s gun hand and forced it to the floor. Winded, Ronald could only manage a feeble punch with his free hand. It glanced off of Maddock’s forehead, but he scarcely felt it. Knowing he might have only seconds before Cleo came to investigate the gunshot, he drove his fist once, twice, three times into Ronald’s temple. The man went limp and Maddock tore the pistol free.

  Springing to his feet, he turned to see the secret door slowly swing open. He crossed the intervening space in two steps and kicked the solid stone door with all his might. It flew backward and Cleo’s muffled grunt told him he’d hit his target.

  Behind him, Ronald was sitting up and shaking his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Maddock drove a knee into his forehead as he ran past on his way to the exit.

  “He tried to rob me!” Maddock shouted to a cluster of shocked-looking elderly tourists. “Somebody call the police.”

  He kept running, hoping he wouldn’t hear the report of Cleo’s pistol. Just a little farther and I’m home free. Behind him, someone screamed.

  ISLA STEERED THE hired Nissan around the corner, keeping her eyes peeled for Gowan. She hadn’t heard a peep from him since they’d separated. Their understanding was that, in situations such as these, she would take care of herself, and let him do the same. Still, she didn’t feel right abandoning him. They were partners of a sort.

  Up ahead, she saw a commotion among the pedestrians milling on the pavement. She hit the gas and the car lurched forward. She’d chosen it because it was a nondescript family car that would draw no undue attention, but she wished it had a bit more power.

  As she drew near the front of the cathedral, she spotted the source of the disturbance. Two men stood on the steps just below the doorway, looking up and down the stretch of street in front of St. Paul’s Churchyard. One man’s face was a mask of blood. The other, whom she recognized as the eavesdropper from earlier, was pointing a pistol around as if he intended to shoot everyone in sight.

  “Oh my God. What has happened?” Her first thought was that they must be chasing Gowan. She had to help him. The man with the pistol pointed and the two descended the steps and began to run. “They’ve spotted him.”

  A line of slow-moving vehicles slowed Isla down. Bloody London traffic. She was ahead of the two men but not by much. She pounded the steering wheel. “Move, you bawbags!” Then, with a rush of breath and a dizzying lurch of her stomach, she whipped into the oncoming lane and put the pedal to the floor.

  Horns blared and a taxi cab ran up onto the opposite pavement to avoid crashing into her. Isla kept the Nissan as close to the center line as she could, squeezing past the blessedly sparse line of oncoming vehicles. All the while she kept looking for Gowan.

  “Where the hell are you?”

  A deep, booming blast from the horn of a tour bus reverberated in her ears and she looked up to see a mass of orange and black filling her vision. Cursing, she yanked the wheel to the left, shot through the line of traffic she’d been trying to pass. Somehow, she ended up unscathed, flying down New Change.

  “Bloody hell,” she breathed. She’d outdistanced the men who’d been stalking them, but had she lost Gowan?

  Then she spotted a familiar figure dashing along the pavement, headed toward Paternoster Row. But it wasn’t who she suspected to see.

  “Maddock?” It couldn’t be. But it certainly was, and a few paces ahead was Bonebrake. And if they were here, that could only mean they were looking for the same thing as she. It would be too great a coincidence for anything else to be true.

  She zipped past them and skidded to a halt at the corner of New Change and Cheapside, stuck her head out the window, and shouted at the two shocked-looking men.

  “Get in!”

  Isla felt every muscle in her body tense as Maddock and Bones climbed into the car. Bones spread his bulk across the back seat while Maddock slid into the front passenger seat. He didn’t speak or even meet her eye as they drove away. Her mind was a whirl of emotions. Why was he hunting for the mines? What was she going to say to him? Would he even talk to her considering he’d frozen her out ever since their parting in Scotland? Then again, she had just saved them from their pursuers. He owed her a thank-you, at a minimum.

  “Appreciate the lift,” Bones said, seemingly reading her thoughts.

  “You’re welcome.” She turned to glare at Maddock. He stared straight ahead, but a slight reddening of his ears said he was keenly aware of her gaze.

  “Thanks,” he finally said.

  She nodded and focused on the road. She was certain they had left the two men behind, but she kept checking her mirrors none the less.

  “Any idea who those two men were?” she asked.

  “I don’t know anything,” Bones said. “I was hanging loose outside when all of a sudden, Maddock bursts through the door and tells me to run for it.”

  Isla couldn’t detect any emotion in Bones’ voice. She knew t
he man disapproved of her, and was certain she hadn’t forgotten the way she’d left them the last time they’d been together.

  “You got any ideas, Maddock?” Bones said. “Did they say anything?”

  “I’ll tell you later,” Maddock said in a flat tone. “You can drop us off anywhere,” he added.

  “Not until I’ve gotten you well away, just to be safe. But given that they were stalking me, too, I think it would be fair to tell me what you know. It might help keep me safe.”

  “Dude, you’ve got some nerve saying that to us after what you did,” Bones said.

  There it was. Isla had known it was coming, but her face still turned a crimson mask of shame. “I know how it looked,” Isla began.

  “Looked? Chick, we don’t care about how it looked. We care about what you did. You ditched us and ran off with the people who were trying to kill us.”

  Isla stole a glance at Maddock, who betrayed no emotion.

  “You’re right. I did run away. With my mother.”

  “Who is a bigwig with the Tuatha de Danaan,” Bones said.

  “Who, until a few minutes before that, I had thought dead.” Her eyes began to mist and sadness pinched at the back of her throat. Don’t cry in front of him! “Bullets were flying. I was frightened to death, and in shock at seeing my mother again. I didn’t run from you so much as I ran to her.” She turned to Maddock, a note of pleading in her voice. “Dane, you lost both of your parents. Can you honestly tell me you would be completely in your right mind if you suddenly found out one of them was alive?”

  “Don’t talk about my parents.”

  “I’m sorry. But I want you to understand. I have tried so many times to explain this to you but you won’t communicate with me. I wasn’t trying to abandon you, even though that was the end result. I can’t begin to tell you how badly I want your forgiveness. Both of you,” she added, glancing in the mirror where Bones stared back at her with a flinty gaze.

  Maddock folded his arms, chewed his lip. Finally, he spoke.

  “The people who are after us claim to be descended from Black Caesar. In their minds, that means Solomon’s ring, and the mines, are theirs.”