Virginia smiled. “He wasn’t a drug addict!”
“What?”
“The kid. He wasn’t a drug addict.”
Sam asked, “How do you know?”
“Professional gut instinct, but I can tell you with some level of certainty, he wasn’t a regular heroin user.”
“Go on.”
“His teeth were white and well cared for, which suggests he’s never become dependent on methadone – the drug used to help wean heroin addicts of opium – and his arms didn’t have track marks.”
Sam finished his mouthful of soda. “What?”
“Track marks. It’s the name we use to describe the multiple pin-prick type marks on the inside of a person’s arm, where the easier veins to access are generally located. Basically, they’re scars from regular needle use by drug addicts.”
“And the kid with the pile of cash didn’t have those?”
“No.”
“So, he could still be the Senator’s son. Seems like a hell of a coincidence that he should be murdered on the same day.” Sam grimaced. “You couldn’t find his name or details, could you?”
“No. He didn’t have any ID on him.”
“So he might be the Senator’s kid and he might not.”
Virginia finished the last of her fries. “Where was the kid last seen?”
“Not in New York, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t follow his father over here.”
“But where was he?”
“He was apparently searching for treasure in Lake Superior.”
Virginia’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Yeah, why?” Sam squinted as though he was trying to see what she was getting at. “What does that have to do with your drug dealer?”
“Probably nothing… but possibly everything.”
“Go on.”
“When I finished my shift last night and hid the cash I found something attached to a bundle of banknotes.”
“What was it?”
Virginia reached into her cargo pocket and pulled a Mylar sleeve. She rolled it backward and flattened it on the table as she slid it open. “This.”
Sam’s eyes twisted into a crooked grin. “You found a treasure map?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sam ran his eyes across the document.
Within seconds, he knew the item inside was either genuine, or a very good forgery. At least a hundred years old, the coarse paper within was tattered and yellowed, but still legible. A crude hand drawn map showing a main river, smaller tributaries and a dotted pathway to a mine shaft. An X was located at the end of the tunnel with a small drawing of a shovel next to it, most likely indicating that the treasure was buried at the end of the tunnel. It was like a caricature of a classic treasure map. The left-hand edge of the map had been torn by hand as if from a ledger.
Sam studied the map, looking for any distinguishing landmarks that matched with his memory.
“Any ideas where it might be?” Virginia asked.
He held the pouch up to the light and found a watermark depicting a man in uniform saluting on horseback, the animal passant with its right foot raised while walking. Sam recognised the Great Seal – Confederate States of America 1862, Deo Vindice.
He made an audible gasp. “This is official Confederate States stationery Virginia. Deo Vindice is Latin, meaning, With God as our Protector. It was a national motto of the Confederate States.”
“Wasn’t there meant to be some old story that when the Confederacy fell to the Union, Jefferson Davis took the huge gold stores from the Confederate treasury and attempted to flee to Havana to raise a new army?”
“Yes. Jefferson Davis denied it and no one’s ever found any evidence of the treasury, but the rumors still persist.”
Virginia sighed. “And if they were true, how much gold are we talking about?”
“At the lead up to the Civil War, the southern states amounted for nearly eighty-five percent of all tax revenue coming into the country. One thing’s for certain, at some point the Confederacy had an enormous treasury.”
“The sort of money that could change someone’s life forever.”
“If this map is true, it would explain why someone’s willing to murder for it. Which means, you’re in real trouble, Virginia”
Virginia expelled a deep breath of air. “Tell me about it.”
“With you now dead, is there anyone else they might come after for it?”
“No. I lived alone until my dad got sick.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s leaving for Palm Springs, California, to start treatment now that we have money to pay for it.”
“Which means…”
“Oh Christ! They’re going to go after my father, aren’t they?”
“For a treasure like this, they’ll go after everyone until they get what they want.” Sam dropped a fifty on the table and stood up. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty
The Toyota pulled up to the front of her father’s house.
Virginia’s eyes reached the damaged front door. She felt her chest tighten and her heart hammer faster. Light was shining from underneath the door, and up along the hinged edge, indicating it was not properly hanging as it should.
She watched Sam move with the same military precision he was capable of when she’d first met him, back at Afghanistan. Sam withdrew his handgun from its holster, and stepped up against the door, so that he could listen for anyone still inside.
He waited a full minute. Sam glanced at her. “I don’t suppose the door was like that when you left it this morning?”
“No.”
“All right, you’d better unlock the door.”
Virginia stepped beside him and edged her key in tooth by tooth to the hilt. Sam counted down three on his fingers and she turned the mechanism as he pushed the door and swept his handgun in an arc through the sections of fire as he entered. The door sagged loose from its broken bottom hinge for the second time that day. Sam side-stepped it as he moved toward the single bedroom and cleared it for persons. He shook his head at the violence that had been wantonly unleashed on his friend’s home and belongings.
Looking back towards the door he watched Virginia take in the vision of her destroyed apartment. He guessed everything she owned was here, and was now opened, smashed, upended or displaced. Even the sofa was slashed open bulging it’s stuffing to the floor. She stood firm, feet rooted to the spot. A slight quiver on her lower lip the only hint of how violated he guessed she must have been feeling. She stepped to the kitchen bench and picked up the admission confirmation for her Dad’s hospital treatment and showed it to Sam.
“I have to call my Dad,” she choked out.
“Yes, of course.”
Sam waited, while she tried his cell number twice.
She studied the original itinerary. “He might still be on the flight.”
“We should meet him there,” Sam said without hesitation.
“I agree, but in case you forgot, I’m supposed to be dead. It might be a little hard to keep up the pretense if I board a commercial flight.”
Sam shrugged. “I have a plane waiting for me at La Guardia.”
She grinned. “You really don’t have to play by the same rules at the rest of us who have to work for a living, do you?”
Sam grinned. “Not even a little.”
“All right. Let me get changed and I’ll be out in a minute.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Palm Springs, California
Sam stared up at the entrance to the medical clinic.
The building towered above the surrounding California low rise, housing a tan and glass behemoth, set against the deep blue sky. It was as imposing as it was impressive, with a sprawling front setback complete with palm trees and a water feature centered turning circle. Sam pulled the rental up to the curb and a vested valet promptly arrived with a friendly greeting and handed him a voucher for the car.
Sam stepped in through
the automatic doors into the crisp interior of the lobby. “This place is more like a five-star hotel than a hospital.”
“I should hope so for the money they’re charging,” Virginia said.
Sam stopped to casually study a painting in the foyer while Virginia approached the reception counter, giving her some privacy. He took in the sprawling vaulted room, complete with lounge, cafeteria and florist. He waited a few minutes before his eyes turned to Virginia.
One glance and he could see how much Virginia carried her father in her stride and countenance. Sam remembered meeting him at an award ceremony that he and Virginia had coincidentally both attended post Afghanistan, and how much pride they showed in each other. Her father was the hardened New York city Paramedic whose daughter had followed in his footsteps.
Virginia had cut her teeth in the Military first, taking training as a Navy combat medic and then helicopter Med-evac specialist, and this was where she and Sam had crossed paths. He had flown some mercy missions for crews against the odds, and found her a ready and capable crew member – and a cracking medic in the most difficult of treatment scenarios. Assessing a major trauma in the back of a moving helicopter is a skill set all of its own and Virginia was always composed, calm and effective, no matter what she was up to her elbows in.
Leaning up against the counter now it struck Sam that Virginia was toughness and femininity combined. She wore black cargo pants into combat boots, and her tightly bound French braids met the back of her plain white t-shirt tucked in up top. It seemed she was still most comfortable in fatigues. Some things just become second nature.
The clip of hard soled flat shoes on the polished faux-marble floor drew Sam’s attention back as a well-rested looking blonde lady in her early thirties came down the counter towards Virginia where she leaned up. She greeted her brightly and asked how she could help today.
“We’re here to see Charles Beaumont, please”
Sam noticed a shift in the body language in the reception woman instantly – something was very wrong. He tensed as he stepped closer to hear what had happened.
“Are you his family Miss…”
“Beaumont.” Virginia nodded. “Yes. I’m his daughter.”
The receptionist made a theatrical sigh for their benefit. “I’m afraid Mr. Beaumont signed himself out this morning against medical advice.”
Virginia stepped closer, looking over the counter. “I’m sorry but you must be mistaken. Could you check for me please?”
“I’m sorry Miss Beaumont but I’m quite certain, you see I processed the paperwork myself. Your father was quite unwell so I was trying to reason with him along with one of the nurses but he insisted. He said it was a family emergency. He left with his sister and her husband.”
“He doesn’t have a sister. In fact, he doesn’t have any family at all aside from me. Could you double check for me please? Charles Beaumont.” Virginia’s voice started to crack.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I remember the man. He was adamant that he had to leave straight away. He said that it was important. There had been a problem with his family and he needed to leave. There was nothing we could do to talk him out of it.”
Sam glanced at the ceiling and counted six inverted black domes placed discreetly in a network of sightlines throughout the expansive area. “Excuse me ma’am, do you have access to the security footage in this area?” Sam asked, approaching the counter alongside Virginia.
“There’s a security office down the hall sir, but I’m not too sure how it all works.”
“Could you show us please? We have reason to believe Charles Beaumont has been coerced to leave…”
The receptionist looked like she wanted to protest that Virginia’s father didn’t look like he was being coerced, but saw something in his face, that dissuaded her from the idea. “Of course. Follow me, please.”
Sam turned to Virginia who looked up at him, her icy blue eyes glassed with emotion and frustration.
“Come on soldier. We’ll find out what happened to him,” he stated as fact.
She maintained eye contact with Sam as she hardened herself and drew in a long hard breath and pushed it out, then picked up her bag and he followed her as she hustled to catch the reception clerk clip clopping down the hall toward the security room.
Sam and Virginia stood in the doorway of the security office, which was about the size of a small store-room. It contained a desk which was joined around three walls with room for one chair. On the wall behind the chair there was another small table housing a drip filter coffee machine, and a few of the other essential dietary components required to survive a nightshift in a setting such as this. The main wall was covered in a matrix of out-of-date monitors each showing a view of the hospital sections, each rotating vision through its various assigned cameras.
It smelled of stale coffee and cheap aftershave. In the one chair sat the classic portly middle-aged security guard. He was dressed in the usual white epauleted garb that says, I’m not police, but I may be useful in an emergency, and you should listen to me generally speaking. The reception clerk was explaining the situation to him and he seemed eager to help. Sam guessed by his reaction that this was probably the first time someone had ever wanted to see any of the vision this system harvested day in and day out.
He typed some commands into a PC on the desk and indicated a screen on the wall. Sam watched as the scratchy playback rolled images of a withered version of the man he had met years before standing at the reception counter, half being held up and half strong-armed by a pair of what looked like police in cheap suits, then watched him get jostled out to a locally produced sedan at the curb. Neither one was talking to each other, except the occasional instruction which seemed to be given by the female of the two accomplices quietly into Charles’ ear, after which he would nod and hang his head.
Virginia was peering at the screen, her face inches from the glass, a look of horror and confusion frozen across her face.
“Do you know those people?” Sam asked her.
“That’s the thing. I’ve never seen them before in my life.”
“We need to find out who they are.”
Sam turned to the guard still leaning back in his office chair. “Sir, is there any chance we can grab a copy of this part of the tape? We think this might be a kidnapping.”
“I don’t see why not,” he answered. “Give me an email and I’ll send you what you just watched. Let me know if it needs to go to law enforcement, too.”
“We will sir. Thank you for your help”
Behind them came a two-tap knock on the doorframe and standing there Sam saw the reception clerk, holding a small basket of yellow flowers. “Miss Beaumont, this is going to sound really strange, but these flowers just arrived for you.”
“I’ll take those,” Sam said.
He gently snatched the basket and made a beeline for the exit door. Stepping outside, he placed the flowers on a sandstone railing in an empty courtyard. He stepped back and examined the package carefully in the afternoon sun. He looked for any sign of powder, grease or shadowing on the accompanying envelope. Seeing none he looked closely among the stems for signs of wiring or a device that constitute ignition components. Nothing. It was just a few daffodils in a small basket with a note attached in a matching yellow envelope.
Sam gingerly opened the envelope, leaving it attached to the rest of the gift, and slipped out the note. He motioned for Virginia to join him from where she stood looking in the threshold of the exit door.
Virginia read the note. Her eyes were wide with fear, her lips parted in a panicked breath.
Sam met her worried look and asked, “What does it say?”
She handed it to him. “Here, read for yourself. I’m afraid I’ve dragged you into my problems, but I don’t know how. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather be stuck in this sort of mess with. I hope to hell you know what this is all about, because my father’s life now depends u
pon it.”
Sam ran his eyes across the lines.
Dear Virginia Beaumont,
I see now why you decided to steal my money. You needed it to save your dying father. Just so you know, I ordinarily would have killed you for your simple mistake. Nothing personal, but you know… in my line of work, a reputation is the most valuable thing.
As it is, it turns out you may have access to something I need. It has been brought to my attention that you’re currently being assisted by a Mr. Sam Reilly, who, among other attributes, is regarded highly as an excellent treasure hunter.
It just so happens I’m currently in the process of finding a particular treasure myself.
Somewhere along the Canadian alps, east of Lake Superior, legend has it there is a vast treasure named the Meskwaki Gold Spring. For more than a century, westerners have searched for it, without any luck. But in 1931 an explorer and a seaplane pilot named Jack Holman discovered the treasure. It is believed that the man made detailed notes on the treasure’s location and was on his way back to Lake Superior to organize a team to perform the retrieval of the vast sums of gold, when he crashed and was never seen again.
Now, I’m not an unreasonable man, I don’t expect you to find the Meskwaki Gold Spring that has evaded western explorers for more than a century. All I ask is that Sam Reilly locates the wreckage of Holman’s seaplane and retrieves his journal for me.
Do this by the end of the week and I’ll return your father to the clinic to receive his next treatment.
Good luck.
Sam noted that whoever they were dealing with had intentionally left out the consequences of failure.
Virginia looked up at him. There was a softness about her that he hadn’t seen before, as her wide eyes stared at him imploringly. “Tell me you’ve heard of Jack Holman and his Meskwaki Gold Spring!”
The Ironclad Covenant Page 13
