by David Wood
A noise right beside him made him jump. With a scrabbling and scratching like sharp claws on a wooden surface, something climbed the tree where he stood. The thick trunk blocked the thing from view, but he caught a glimpse of a scaled tail vanishing into the leaves up above.
So complete was his panic, he was scarcely aware of the warm, wet feeling as he soaked his boxers. Clutching a belt loop to keep his pants from sliding down and tripping him, he ran blindly. Limbs slapping his face, he bounded like a pinball from tree to tree.
From somewhere close by, he heard a low moan that he realized was coming from his own mouth. He’d heard that sound many times in his life, always from someone he’d robbed or beaten up. It was the sound someone made when they finally realized they were powerless to stop what was about to happen to them. Now, it was finally his turn.
He broke through a thick tangle of brush and suddenly he was flying. He cried out in shock and flailed his arms as he hurtled through the air and, with an icy shock, plunged into darkness. Down and down he went, certain this was the descent into hell.
Then his feet touched something solid, and he realized he had fallen into water. He pushed up, but his booted feet held fast in the soft muck. Panic, which had momentarily faded, rose anew, and he struggled to break free. He worked his way out of one boot, then the other, only to have his baggy jeans tangle around his knees. He tried to cry out and got a mouthful of water for his trouble. Choking and thrashing about, he opened his eyes and saw a glimmer of light up above. He’d never get there. It was too far.
Somehow, all the fear and panic washed away in the face of his inevitable demise, and he was able to think again. He stopped his flailing about, slipped out of his jeans, and swam for the surface. Light and blessed air seemed to dangle tantalizingly out of reach as he kicked and paddled with every drop of his remaining energy. He clenched his jaw and fought the impulse to breathe. Just a little farther.
And then he broke the surface and pulled in a loud, rasping breath. Sweet air filled his lungs, and even the overcast England afternoon seemed bright and sunny after the depths of the pond and the darkness of the forest. He struck out for the shore, which was only a few meters away, hauled himself up onto the steep bank, and rolled over onto his back. He was dead tired, but he was alive.
It was only after he’d caught his breath that he remembered why he’d run pell-mell into the water in the first place. What had happened to the things that had been following him? Were they still there?
He rolled over again and looked up to where the sloping bank met the edge of the wood. He saw naught but trees and scrub, and relaxed.
And then a grayish-green snout poked out from the undergrowth. It was only there for a moment, but it was enough. Richard whimpered and scrambled crablike along the shore. He had to get away.
He had gone perhaps ten meters when a high-pitched tone, almost above hearing, rang out. It hung in the air for the span of two heartbeats, and then... nothing.
He looked all around. Had it been a signal of some sort?
And then he raised his head.
Something detached itself from a treetop and drifted down toward him. As it drew closer, he realized just how big the thing was, and were those... wings? He was frozen in place, stupefied by the sight. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
And then the world exploded all around him, and he found his voice long enough for one bloodcurdling scream.
Chapter 10
“I’m afraid pumping the water out of the passageway isn’t going to work.” Charlie looked like he’d been sucking lemons. “We’ve been at it for hours and the water level hasn’t gotten much lower.”
“It’s not unexpected,” Maddock said. “This island is like a sieve.”
“Somebody sealed that tunnel up once before, and all they had were primitive tools compared to what we’ve got. This is crap.”
“That was a long time ago, Charlie. New cracks could easily develop over two centuries.”
“You’re probably right,” Charlie agreed. “You know what? Screw the drilling! We’re going straight for the chamber and, when we break through, you diver boys can do your stuff.”
“We’re not certain of the location,” Maddock said. “You have our best guess, and that’s it.”
“I’ll take your best guess every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Now, if it was Bones doing the guessing...” Charlie made a face.
Maddock laughed. There were some significant differences between Bones and Charlie, but they both had a long sarcastic streak that he appreciated.
The old man gave him a wink and headed over to give his crew their new instructions.
Maddock checked his watch. It was late afternoon, two days after the discovery of the underground chamber, and progress was stalled. He and the crew had continued surveying the shore, but they hadn’t found any more underwater tunnels like this one. One more day and boredom would set in in earnest.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his phone vibrated. It was Avery.
“Maddock, I’ve got some weird news.”
“Okay.” What news could she have that would be of interest to him?
“Your father’s chest was stolen from the museum.”
“Seriously? When?”
“Two nights ago. The same day Rodney was murdered.”
Maddock pondered this new development.
“You don’t think the two are related, do you? Unless you let Rodney in on what you knew about the chest.”
“Of course I didn’t tell him anything, but who knows how long he was lurking out of sight that night at the Spinning Crab? He might have heard me telling you about the chests.” She lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. “Rodney was an ass and, frankly, I’m not surprised someone killed him. But he was the kind of guy who gets knifed in a parking lot, not tortured.”
“Tortured?” Alarm bells were going off in Maddock’s mind. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not supposed to know this, but one of the deputies is an old friend. They cut off his ears, his fingers, his eyelids. All kinds of crazy stuff you think only happens in horror movies.”
“Somebody wanted information.”
“Right, and believe me when I tell you, Rodney had no information in that head of his. None.”
In spite of the grisly news, Maddock couldn’t stifle a grin at Avery’s dry sense of humor. Then a thought occurred to him that wiped the grin from his face.
“Do you think he gave them your name?”
“I’ve been wondering that very thing.” Her voice was tight. “I think they would have come after me by now if he had. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”
“Is there any place you can go, anyone you can stay with, where you can hide out for a while?” He didn’t know why he was bothering with the question. He already knew how this conversation was going to end.
“Maybe.” Doubt tinged her voice. “Classes ended today and I’m not teaching this summer, so I suppose I could leave town, but what if they found me? I’m not a helpless Barbie girl, but I don’t think I could do much against professional killers.”
“You can stay with us. Gather what you’ll need and I’ll send Bones to get you.” Maddock wanted to kick himself. Why must he always try to rescue the damsels in distress? He had to admit, he had no romantic interest in Avery, but he felt an odd affinity for her. In the few hours they’d spent together, she’d seemed to really get him, and understand his way of thinking. He liked her and didn’t want to see her get hurt.
“I don’t want to be any trouble. You guys have work to do and I’m sure Bones doesn’t want to chauffeur me around.”
“Trust me. The dive work is done for the moment and a bored Bones is an annoying Bones. He’ll be happy to get off the island and I’ll be glad to not listen to his grumbling.”
“All right, then. Thank you.”
He had just hung up the phone and was about to go find Bones when two sheriff
’s department cars pulled up to the work site. Deputies White and Boudreau climbed out of one, while Sheriff Meade, grinning ear to ear, and a tall man in an expensive suit exited the other.
“What the hell is this?” Charlie had noticed their new visitors and had come to stand beside Maddock.
“Charles Bonebrake?” Meade didn’t wait for a reply to his question. “I have an order here for you to cease operations and leave the island.” He held out a document which Charlie snatched.
“You mind telling me what this is all about?” He scanned the document, his countenance growing darker as he read.
“A man almost lost his life on your job site. The local authorities need to conduct a safety inspection, after which time the Bailyn Museum will be taking over the project.”
“The hell they will! I’ve got a permit!”
“Which has been revoked, effective today.” Meade’s grin grew predatory, his straight, white teeth gleaming in the sunlight. “I’ll need you and all of your equipment off the premises by five o’clock.”
“That’s impossible,” Charlie snapped. “We’re in the middle of a job here. It’s not that easy just to pick up and walk away.”
“It’s a thousand dollar a day fine for trespassing.”
“Pocket change.” Charlie’s grin matched that of the sheriff.
“And you’ll be arrested for criminal trespass and your equipment impounded.” Meade tucked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on his heels, awaiting Charlie’s next protest. Behind him, Boudreau looked pleased and White uncomfortable. The third man’s expression was one of polite interest.
“Why is the museum taking over the project, Sheriff?” Maddock knew the truth, that the sheriff blamed him for Rodney’s death and this was payback, but he was curious what the excuse would be.
“Indian artifacts have been found on the island. We need qualified researchers to do a complete archaeological survey before any other work can proceed. Since they’re going to be doing the survey, it’s more expedient for them to follow up on any leads you might have.”
“Son, the only Indian artifact on this island is me.” Charlie’s voice and demeanor were serene, which meant he was already working on a plan. The old man never surrendered, but he knew when to make a strategic retreat.
“On the contrary,” Boudreau said. “I found this arrowhead just lying on the ground when I got out of the car.” She held up a leaf-shaped, fluted projectile point.
“That’s a Folsom point.” Maddock hadn’t heard Bones approaching. “And it’s obsidian, so it’s from the American southwest. If you’re going to pull a scam, at least try not to make yourself look like an idiot.”
Boudreau’s face reddened, but she was undeterred.
“In that case, I’m sure the museum will be interested in determining how it got here.”
“Oh, I think we all know how it got here,” Maddock said.
“We’re wasting our time with these ignoramuses,” Charlie said. “I’ll give my men their marching orders. Bones, you and Maddock tell your fellows to clear out until I take care of things.” He stalked away, muttering, “When I buy somebody, he stays bought.”
Maddock noticed the man in the suit do a double-take at the mention of his name. Now, the man approached Maddock and offered his hand.
“Dillon Locke. I’m with the Bailyn Museum in New York.” The man had a strong grip and he looked Maddock square in the eye as if he were trying to read Maddock’s thoughts.
“You’re a long way from home, Mister Locke.”
Locke laughed. “I’m a bit of a vagabond. New York is home for now, but I fear I’ll never lose my accent.” His smile faded into an earnest look. “I’m sorry about this, mate. This was all arranged between the local authorities and someone at the museum with a higher pay grade than mine.” He shrugged.
“You’re not buying this charade, are you?” Bones asked.
“I’m just here to do my job.” Locke shrugged. “The arrowhead was absurd, I’ll grant you that, but I promise I’ve no interest in local politics. We’ll do our best to continue the good work you’ve done here.” His eyes fell on the drilling apparatus Charlie’s crew was already disassembling. “Looks like you’re on to something over here.”
“A dead end,” Maddock lied. “We thought there might be something in this spot, but we were wrong.”
“A shame. Sorry if this is an insensitive question, but is there anything at all you can tell me that might guide our search?”
“Give up and go home. There’s nothing here but legends.” Maddock hoped his words sounded sincere rather than spiteful. True, the museum wasn’t at fault, but he wasn’t going to give this Locke fellow a bit of help.
“Too bad. Hopefully the museum won’t keep me on this wild goose chase for too long.” He bade them good day and left.
“If that guy’s an academic, I’m a ballerina.” Bones glowered at Locke’s receding form.
“I don’t think you’re in danger of having to wear a leotard any time soon,” Maddock said. “He’s got a military bearing about him, doesn’t he?” There was definitely more to Locke than a simple museum employee. “Since we’ve got some free time on our hands, I think we should see what we can find out about the Bailyn Museum.”
Chapter 11
Maddock stretched out on the sofa in the living area of his parents’ cottage, feeling the bone-wearying fatigue that had plagued him since the sheriff had shut them down. He hated to think they’d wasted their time, but what did they have to show for their work? One injured crew member and a chamber they hadn’t managed to penetrate. He despised failure.
He was tired, but sleep eluded him. There was too much on his mind.
He opened his eyes and rolled over onto his side, and his gaze fell on The Gold-Bug. He’d read a few pages, but not gotten very far. Might as well give it another go.
It was the story of a man who had to decipher a cryptogram in order to find a treasure buried by Captain Kidd. It wasn’t the best book Maddock had read, but it held his interest to the final page. And what he found there made his heart lurch.
Beneath the words “The End,” his father had written another personal message.
“So, what do you say? Are you in?”
After the inscription, an arrow pointed to the edge of the page. The next page was blank, with another arrow, beneath the words
“Keep going!”
He flipped to the back page cover and was disappointed to find it blank. He was about to toss the book on the floor and try and get some sleep when he saw it. The dust jacket was taped to the cover, and peeking out from underneath it was a thin, wax paper envelope, with a yellowed sheet of paper inside.
“Bones!” he shouted, springing to his feet. “Get out here now!”
Seconds later, Bones burst through his bedroom door wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and holding his Glock. Moments later, a bleary-eyed Avery came stumbling out of the bedroom Maddock had given over to her, while Angel, not wearing much more than Bones, scrambled down the stairs that led to the loft where she was bunking.
“What’s wrong?” Bones had needed only a glance at Maddock to realize they weren’t in danger, and had lowered his pistol.
“What’s wrong is, I’m an idiot. Look!” He held out the book for Bones to see what he’d found.
Bones whistled.
“What is it?” Angel was pressed up against him, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Maddock’s eyes drifted to her taut stomach that her tank top didn’t quite cover, and quickly tore his gaze away, cursing himself for ogling his best friend’s sister. He glanced up to see if Bones had noticed, but Bones was checking Avery out, and making little effort to hide it.
“I think it’s whatever was hidden inside the sea chest. My dad left a note in this book inviting me to help him search for a treasure.” Under any other circumstance, he would have felt a lump in his throat and found it difficult to continue, but excitement and a measure of discomfort at Angel’s
closeness served to distract him. “It was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but he never got the chance to give it to me.”
“He wanted you to help him find the treasure?” Avery’s voice held an odd note he couldn’t quite define.
“I’m his son, and treasure hunting is what I do.” He shrugged. “Anyway, everybody grab a chair and let’s check this thing out.”
“I’m just glad you woke me for a good reason,” Bones said. “I was dreaming about a Victoria’s Secret model.”
“Which one?” Avery asked.
“I don’t know. They all look alike to me.”
With the utmost care, Maddock worked the envelope free of the tape that bound it to the book cover, and removed its contents. There were two items inside: a sheet of stationery covered in symbols, and another sheet, folded, yellowed with age.
“Want me to do that?” Avery spoke in hushed, reverential tones. “I have experience with old documents.”
“Sure. Have at it.” Maddock slid it over to her.
“Give me a moment.” She hurried into her room and returned with a pair of latex gloves. “I was going to color my hair,” she explained. Maddock didn’t miss the way her eyes flitted toward Bones and her cheeks reddened a touch. “This is more important.”
A silence borne of anticipation fell as they watched Avery go about her delicate task. When the sheet was finally spread out before them, they all broke out in grins.
“It’s the island,” Bones said.
It was an aged map of Oak Island, rendered in exquisite detail. It alone would have been an exciting find, but there was more.
“X marks the spot.” Angel gave Maddock’s arm a squeeze. “That’s the place you and Matt found, isn’t it?”
“Looks like it,” Maddock said. “We can’t say for sure, since it’s probably not to perfect scale, but I think it’s the same place.”
