by David Wood
A black rage descended on Fisher. He no longer cared for booby traps, treasure, or Locke’s wrath. He wanted revenge.
This tunnel opened into a smaller chamber, circular, like a turret. A double line of repeated symbols spiraled down from the peak of the domed ceiling, where an odd, wedge-shaped pattern was carved, running all the way down to the floor. The seal at the center of this room showed two knights riding a single horse- another Templar seal. To their left was the trap that had injured Matt’s arm. To their right stood another stone altar, but this one was not empty.
A wooden casket, two feet long, sat atop the altar. As Maddock swam closer, he could see it was coated with some sort of resin that gave it a glossy sheen and had protected it from who knew how many years of immersion. Like many ancient caskets, it was shaped like a split log: wide and flat at the bottom, rounded on the top half. Its hinged lid appeared to be sealed with lead.
Maddock reached out and gently took hold of it, fearing all the while that the wood would crumble at his touch. It did not. Emboldened, he lifted it. It was deceptively heavy. Either the casket was lined with lead, its contents were extremely heavy, or both.
Despite the dim light and the dive mask, he could see excitement shining in Bones’ eyes. They were about to solve the riddle of Oak Island. He put the casket in a mesh bag and hooked it to his belt as an added precaution, though he’d have to carry it. Now, to get out of here unseen and unscathed.
He turned to make for the exit tunnel, hoping it had not closed behind them, when a beam of light sliced through the water. Someone had caught up with them.
Chapter 15
Maddock and Bones drew their Recon knives, extinguished their dive lights, and moved to either side of the passageway that led back to the underground church. Any small ember of hope that the unseen person did not know they were there was doused when something silver flashed through the water and embedded in the limestone wall. Whoever was out there had a spear gun.
Their only hope was to take their pursuer unaware as he entered the chamber. Of course, they’d need to be quick and luck would have to be on their side. The intruder’s dive light cast a faint glow- just enough that Maddock could see Bones swim to a spot above the passageway and cling to the wall Spider-Man style. Good thinking. Their adversary was likely to look to the sides and down before looking up; an instinct honed by life outside the water.
They waited in near-darkness and absolute silence. Energy coursed through Maddock, every nerve on edge. It was amazing how alive he felt when possible death was near. Danger brought everything into focus.
Seconds passed, then minutes. Nothing. The guy was waiting for them to make a move, and who could blame him? He had the projectile weapon and the full length of the tunnel to take shots at them. It would be like a carnival game to him- Maddock and Bones were sitting ducks.
Maddock glanced up at Bones who shook his head and tapped his pressure gauge. Their supply of air was limited. Right now they had sufficient reserves, but it wouldn’t last forever, and only a fool let his tank get close to empty. They were screwed.
He racked his brain for a possible solution. Going down the tunnel was out of the question unless they had something they could use as a shield, which they did not. He wondered if the top of the altar would work, but dismissed the thought immediately. He couldn’t get anywhere close to it without placing himself in the line of fire. Besides, it wasn’t wide enough to provide suitable cover. What they needed was a way out.
And then he remembered the booby-trapped shaft he and Matt had discovered. If they could get through, they could make their way out to the shore, and to open water. He swam to the blocked shaft, turned on his light, and inspected the space closely.
The shaft was three feet square and sealed off by a solid stone block. He already knew it couldn’t be pried up, but he remembered the iron spike trap they’d encountered and the lever that sprang and released it. Besides, he had to believe that whoever constructed this chamber would have left themselves a secondary exit in the event that the tunnel leading to the temple collapsed.
The ornate bands carved in the wall angled past on either side of the shaft. Maddock gave them a close look, all the while wondering when their stalker would show up and start shooting. He pressed on anything that resembled a button, but to no avail. And then his hand passed over a carving of a chalice. This particular image was raised farther than those surrounding it, and the top of the cup was scooped out. Maddock hooked his fingers inside and pulled.
The chalice tilted forward and, with a scraping sound made to seem all the louder by the silence in the chamber, the stone block rose.
He signaled to Bones, who swam over. Maddock released the chalice and the stone remained in place. But would they trigger the trap again by swimming through? He inspected the shaft, searching for anything that would spring the trap, but he saw nothing.
Without warning, the block fell again with a resounding crash. Bones held up ten fingers and shrugged. Ten seconds? Keeping one eye out for the man with the speargun, Maddock pulled the lever again and watched the stone rise. He counted down and, twelve seconds later, the trap sprang.
So that was the trick. You could open the trap from the inside, but you had twelve seconds to make it through. The shaft was only a couple of feet. They could do it.
Just then, the light in the tunnel winked out, followed an instant later by the plink of another spear against the wall. Their pursuer’s patience was at an end. He was coming for them.
Bones brandished his knife and made to swim for the tunnel to meet the attack, but Maddock grabbed him by the arm. Bones understood the reason a moment later when another projectile sliced through the water. The man wasn’t taking any chances.
Maddock pointed to Bones, then to the tunnel as he yanked down on the lever. Bones knew him well enough not to argue, but dove through before the stone came crashing down.
Time was almost up. Maddock turned out his light, plunging the chamber into inky darkness. He pulled the lever and, relying on instinct and sense of direction, shoved the casket through the shaft as the stone was still rising.
A light blinked on behind him and another spear whizzed inches past his face. He knew it would take the man a few seconds to reload, but he was already on his way through. He felt Bones take hold of his arm and yank him through as the trap fell again. Something yanked at his foot as he tried to swim down the tunnel. For a moment, he thought his foot was trapped, but then he realized his fin was caught. He wasted no time working his foot free and swimming down the passage with the speed and grace of a one-legged frog. Bones, carrying the casket, was well ahead of him.
Maddock figured it was only a matter of time before the lever that released the trap was discovered, but their enemies would be waiting for them to emerge in the swamp, not on the shore. He hoped.
A small circle of light swam into view overhead. This was the spot where Charlie’s crew had tried to pump the water out of the tunnel. Charlie’s crew! They had sealed up the end of the tunnel before beginning the pumping. He and Bones had almost found themselves in a dead end.
He flicked his light on and off to get Bones’ attention, and pointed to the opening. It was their only option. Bones stared for a moment, then seemed to catch up with Maddock’s train of thought.
Maddock went first, wondering what he’d find waiting when he stuck his head out of the hole. He treaded water, listening for any sound that would warn of danger, but he heard nothing, not even the rattle of the drill. Locke’s crew must have stopped working when they became aware of his and Bones’ presence. Figuring there was no time like the present, he hauled himself out onto solid ground.
No one was about. Breathing a sigh of relief, he helped Bones out of the hole and, breathing the sweet, night air, they crept into the trees, moving away from the work site and the swamp.
On the north side of the island, they hid in the shadows beneath an ancient oak tree and assessed the situation before hitting t
he water. By the time they came ashore more than a mile away from the island, they were both spent.
“It’s been a long time since our training days,” Bones panted as they made their way to the place, far from shore, where they’d arranged to meet Angel and Avery.
“I can’t say I miss the six mile swims,” Maddock said. They emerged on a hill overlooking a dirt road. Down below sat Avery’s car.
It was empty.
Chapter 16
It took every ounce of Locke’s self-control to keep from pacing. He waited at the edge of the swamp, impatience battling with eagerness. More than once he considered putting on dive gear and going in himself, but that would not do. He was in charge and needed to act like it.
He consulted his watch for at least the tenth time. What was keeping Fisher and his team? Having only begun operations the previous evening, they’d not yet had the opportunity to investigate the warren of tunnels beneath the island. For all he knew, his people were navigating a veritable maze. And then there were the intruders. Who were they? Were they armed? There was too much he didn’t know.
He was about to check his watch again when Fisher appeared. To Locke’s surprise, he didn’t emerge from the swamp, but from the direction of the drilling operation. The look on his face told him the news was not good.
“Report,” Locke snapped, his harsh tone a concession to his mood.
“It’s a death trap down there. The tunnels are like a honeycomb and whoever built this place added a few nasty surprises. I lost everyone.” He took a deep breath and looked away.
“Tell me the rest.” The back of Locke’s neck warmed with his rising anger.
“There is a church down there, clearly built by the Templars. Behind it, I found a hidden chamber.” He paused, stiffened, and swallowed hard. “The intruders got there first. Whatever was in that chamber, they took it.”
“How did they get away?” Locke bit off every word. Calm on the outside, his insides quaked with rage.
“I thought I had them trapped, but the Templars built in an exit. The lever that opened it was hidden and I had to search for it. By the time I made it through...” He shrugged.
“Where are they now?”
“They made it to the surface. I tried to track them, but they left little sign. I finally found a few tracks on the north side of the island. I think they swam for it.”
Locke grabbed his radio, ordered his men to scour the island, and instructed the sheriff to send both of his boats to the island’s north side. It was clear from Meade’s tone that he did not appreciate taking orders from a civilian, but Locke couldn’t care less. Even as he put his forces in motion, he knew it was too late. He would have to admit his failure to Morgan.
Who could have done this? Who had the skill to infiltrate the island, move like shadows through armed and alert guards, navigate the underground tunnels, and swim to freedom? Almost as soon as the question crossed his mind, he had the answer.
Maddock!
A commotion coming from the direction of the causeway drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see two of his men escorting a handcuffed woman toward him. Two of Meade’s people, White and Boudreau, followed closely behind.
“This is our prisoner!” Boudreau shouted. “You can’t just take her. We want to see the sheriff about this.”
“Who is she?” Locke asked as he looked the prisoner over. She was an athletic-looking woman, dark of skin, eyes, hair, her lovely face at odds with the stream of vulgarity she spewed as she yanked at her bonds. She managed to land a kick to the knee of the man who held her, almost sending him to the ground.
“Our people picked her up along the coast road. We were told to be on the lookout for anything suspicious,” White explained. “She was looking out over the water like she was waiting for someone. She had a car parked nearby.”
“I wasn’t waiting for anything,” the girl snapped.
“You were just sitting on the shore, in the middle of the night, doing nothing at all?” Locke took a step closer. “Or were you waiting for someone? Dane Maddock, perhaps?”
“Who the hell is that?” She looked like she wanted to bite his face off.
Now he could see she was Native American, and something clicked into place.
“You are with that fellow who was running the operation here before we took over.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about you poncey...”
Fisher stepped forward and drove a fist into her gut. Surprisingly, she absorbed the blow and grinned.
“Is that all you got?”
Fisher tensed, but Locke put a stop to his foolishness with a wave of his hand.
“Enough.” Everyone fell silent, even the Indian girl. He turned to the deputies. “Something of value was stolen from the island tonight, and I suspect this woman is an accomplice.”
“We’ll take her to the jail.” Boudreau took a step toward the prisoner but Fisher blocked her. “Step away from me.” Her hand went her weapon but, just then, Sheriff Meade returned.
“What’s this now? We have a prisoner?”
“You do not have a prisoner, Sheriff. I do.” Several of his men had gathered round. All were well-armed and obeyed orders without question. As the Sheriff and his deputies became aware of their presence, Locke could see the fire in their bellies flicker and die. “Get my helicopter ready. We’re leaving.”
“To the museum?” Fisher asked.
The idiot! Locke tried to silence him with a glare but to no avail. “I can question her first, if you like.”
“No.” Would he have to choke Fisher to get him to shut his mouth? Clearly, the ordeal beneath the island had rattled him, but that was no excuse.
“Wait a minute, Mister Locke.” Sheriff Meade swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and went on. “I understand you have the support of some important people, but the law is the law. I cannot allow you to take this woman away. She...”
Locke stared him into silence, then stepped so close he could see the one silver hair in the man’s left eyebrow. The sheriff stood his ground, but he worked his jaw nervously.
“Sheriff, you have two choices.” He raised his index finger. “You can set your people back to guarding this island so my museum staff can continue its work here undisturbed, and we shall remain friends. Or,” he raised a second finger, “you and your two deputies can take out your sidearms and attempt to stop us. I would prefer we remain friends, and I would consider it a great personal favor if you permitted me some time alone with this woman before I return her to your custody.”
For an instant, he thought Meade would go for his weapon, but the sheriff thrust his hands in his pockets instead and stalked away.
“Have her back to me by morning,” he said to no one in particular. The deputies sent twin withering looks in Locke’s direction before following Meade.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to question her?” Fisher asked when they were out of earshot.
Locke turned and punched Fisher in the jaw. The man crumpled to the ground.
“What was that for?” he mumbled.
“Stupidity,” Locke said. “You speak of interrogation in front of the man whose son you tortured and killed only a few days ago?”
“He’s too dumb to put it together,” Fisher said, still holding his jaw.
“You don’t know that. In any case, your special brand of questioning gained us no new information and added a complication. Between that and tonight’s fiasco, I no longer trust your judgment.”
“I’m sorry. I always give everything I have to the cause.”
“Morgan will decide whether or not to accept your apology. For now, I want everyone out of here except the museum staff. They may continue their research just as we planned. You will remain here as security until your fate is determined.”
“I’ll see to it immediately.” Fisher wobbled to his feet and staggered away.
Locke shook his head. Fisher’s failure notwithstanding, Morgan would consid
er this Locke’s responsibility, and it was. Morgan could temporarily be assuaged by the news of the temple beneath the island, but he would have to produce results soon or she would grow impatient. Perhaps this girl could help him bring things back into balance.
Chapter 17
Where could they have gone? Maddock looked around, but there was no one in sight.
“Maddock?” A voice called from the woods. “Bones? Thank God.” Avery appeared from the shadows and hurled herself into Bones’ arms.
Maddock raised an eyebrow and Bones shrugged.
“What happened?” Maddock asked.
“Angel’s been arrested. I went over to the shore to look for you and, when I came back, they were putting her in their patrol car. I feel like I should have tried to stop them, but what could I do?”
“Nothing,” Bones reassured her. “They would have taken you in too.” He looked over the top of Avery’s head and scowled. “Let’s go get her. Meade and his crew have pushed this too far. They can’t just take my sister in on some bogus charge.”
“I know,” Maddock said. “First, we need to get out of here in case they come back. Then we’ll figure out the best way to handle this.”
Avery handed him her spare set of keys and, only then, did she notice the casket they’d recovered from the island. She looked at him in surprise and excitement.
“It’s sealed shut. We’ll take a look at it when we’re somewhere safe. Bones, you ride in the back and keep the casket with you. If we get stopped, you might have to slip away.”
“No problem,” he said.
Maddock took them on a route that led up the coast, away from town and, he hoped, the sheriff’s patrols. As he drove, he fought to suppress the rage that boiled inside of him. Right now, all was forgotten except the thought of Angel locked in a jail cell. He wanted to go in, guns blazing, and rescue her. He had a vague picture in his head of carrying her out through the front doors, action hero style, and laughed inside at the image. Where had this sudden hero complex come from?
