The Lost Journal

by Chris Blewitt

  “Yeah, but what’s in it?”

  Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me. There’s not much in it, most of it is maps and drawings. Some are cryptic, some are not. I tried to figure it out when I was your age, as I’m sure this man’s ancestors did before us. I tried to crack that riddle for years but then I gave up on it and put it away for safe keeping.”

  “Whose book is it?”

  Arthur smiled. “You’ll see.”

  “And you have no idea what it’s about?” asked Seth.

  “I have no idea, boy. But I’ll tell you one thing…”

  “What?”

  “Me and you are going to read that book frontways and backways. We’re gonna solve that puzzle. Maybe even get that girly of yours to help.”

  Seth looked at the old man and knew he should’ve objected but he just couldn’t. He hadn’t seen his granddad this happy and full of spunk in a while. Somehow, he had to keep his father from knowing that he was taking his dad on a wild goose chase. Seth walked to him and put his arm around his shoulder, leading him back to the car. “Let’s go find out what’s in that book.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Seth received a text message on his way to Madison’s house that she indeed had gotten into the safety deposit box and retrieved the book. He picked up a pizza and Arthur made him stop at the liquor store for a bottle of scotch, single-malt, imported, from anywhere but Scotland. He parked the car, grabbed the pizza and walked up to Madison’s house. She opened the door and they went in.

  “A drink first!” exclaimed Arthur.

  Madison gave Seth a sidelong glance and he shrugged his shoulders. Seth took in the surroundings of the small ranch house. Small was the first thought that came to his mind. Granted, she had a house and he didn’t. It was sparsely furnished with a TV and a couch and a soft velvety brown recliner in the living room. No coffee table, no end tables, no futon, no TV stand. They followed Arthur into the kitchen where he busied himself opening and closing cabinets.

  “Where’s a glass, dear?” Arthur asked.

  Madison walked over to the far counter and reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small glass. Arthur took it and the bottle of scotch and settled into a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Now, where’s that book?”

  They both looked at him for a brief moment before Madison left the room.

  “Sorry, where are my manners. Can I pour you one?” he asked Seth as he twisted the cap off the green bottle and splashed more than three fingers of the malt into his glass.

  “No, thanks,” replied Seth.

  “I have beer in the fridge, Seth,” Madison called from the hallway.

  Arthur brought the small glass to his lips, sniffed the rusty liquid, swirled the contents around in a circle, toasted to an imaginary drinking buddy, and took a long swallow.

  “Ahh,” Arthur said, staring at the glass. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve had a drink.” He reached into the pizza box and grabbed a slice of the sausage and mushroom pie.

  Seth opened the fridge, grabbed two Sierra Nevada’s and started opening drawers, looking for a bottle opener. Madison walked in and placed the book on the table away from Arthur.

  “You’re not touching this book until you finish eating. Look how fragile these pages are. I have no idea what it even is, but I know it doesn’t deserve your grease-stained hands on it.”

  Arthur put on a fake smile and continued eating his pizza. Madison found the opener and used it to open the two beers. She grabbed some paper plates and brought everything over to the kitchen table.

  “I’m not eating until we look at this book,” she said.

  “I agree,” Seth said and picked up the small leather book. He opened it to the first page and Madison and Arthur leaned in close.

  Inscribed on the first page were the initials “G” and “W” and “February 22, 1732”.

  “GW? What’s that?” asked Seth.

  “Only the most famous GW that ever lived,” replied Arthur.

  It took only about ten seconds before Madison asked, “George Washington?”

  “Really? Wow,” was all Seth could manage to say.

  “You mean we’re holding a book that was written by George Washington?” Madison asked.

  “Holy crap,” Seth responded.

  Arthur nodded his head and said, “Keep reading.”

  He turned to the next page and saw a paragraph of words. The script was black, long and fluid, and the words almost ran into each other. Seth squinted and started to read aloud. “It was. No…that’s not right. It is? I can’t make any of this out.”

  “Here, let me read it,” Arthur said. “I’ve already seen it before.” He turned the book toward him and began.

  It is with great displeasure that I am writing this. My days are coming to an end and I can no longer keep this to myself. Let me tell you that I did what I did under great duress and for the betterment of the country. I will not reveal anything here in this journal. But, if you are worthy enough, it will reveal itself. The revelation could change the future of this great land, so use this knowledge only for the betterment of these states which we now call America. Respectfully, G Washington.

  “What’s he talking about, Granddad?” Seth asked.

  “That’s what we need to figure out, son.”

  They re-read the cryptic message in silence.

  “But how?” Madison asked.

  “Inside,” Arthur flipped a few pages, “are some signs and clues that tell us either where something is, or the actual something itself. I couldn’t figure anything out twenty-five years ago but I didn’t try hard enough.” He turned a page and said, “Look here. This is a list of the Washington family.”

  John Washington

  Augustine Washington ~ Mary Washington

  Lawrence ~ Augustine ~ George

  Martha

  John ~ Martha ~ Eleanor ~ George

  BUSHROD

  “Bushrud? What kind of name was that?” Seth asked.

  “It’s Bushrod,” Arthur answered, emphasizing the rod. “I remember some of these people. I did some research in the library back then. Bushrod was his nephew.”

  “Why’s it in capital letters?” Madison asked.

  “Don’t know. John and Martha were his kids from Martha’s previous marriage, and Eleanor and George were his grandkids.”

  “Really?” Seth asked.

  Arthur just shrugged his shoulders.

  Madison left the room and came back with her laptop. She powered it up and Googled George Washington. While searching, she grabbed a slice of pizza. Seth did the same and Arthur poured himself another drink. After a few moments she found what she needed and read aloud. “Yep, Bushrod was his nephew and the other four were Martha’s and his grandkids. Says here that Washington was rumored to have been sterile. Something about an earlier battle with smallpox. That date on the first page? That was the day he was born.”

  “There’s gotta be something about Bushrod,” Seth said. “He doesn’t have any other cousins, uncles or nephews listed. Also, the name is in capital letters. What’s it say about him?”

  “I’m looking, I’m looking….here.” She read quietly to herself. “Nothing, really. It just says that George always had a special relationship with his nephew. Maybe because he was blood related, unlike his children who he adopted as his own.”

  “Anyway, back to the diary,” Arthur said, turning the page. Madison took another bite of pizza and walked back to lean over Arthur’s shoulder.

  “These next pages stopped me cold,” said Arthur. They stared down at a sketch of some sort. It looked like a child’s connect the dots activity page. There was a sequence of letters starting with A and ending with E that were sprinkled sporadically on the page. “I copied the image onto a piece of paper and connected the dots. Looked like stars to me so I compared them to all of the constellations in the sky. Nothing ever fit.”

  They stared silently at the page, the only sound coming from the
clinking of ice in Arthur’s glass.

  “I haven’t a clue either,” Seth replied. “Madison, gimme a piece of paper.”

  She went over to the island in the kitchen and opened a drawer and came out with a notepad and a pencil. She crouched next to Arthur and tried to copy the image as it was shown on the page. After a few seconds, she had the image drawn and had connected the dots, A through E.

  Seth leaned over. “Okay, let’s come back to that, what else is in the book?”

  A knock sounded at the front door. And not a subtle tap-tap—a fist pound, with knuckles. All three of them froze, Madison with her mouth open, Seth’s around a bite of sausage, and Arthur in mid-swallow of booze.

  Seth was the first to speak. “You expecting anyone?”

  Madison shook her head. “Think it’s those guys you were talking about?”

  Seth got up from his chair, went over to the window, and moved the drapes out of the way. “Yep, black SUV. Shit!”

  Arthur closed the book and grabbed the sketch they had just drawn. He paced around the kitchen muttering something to himself.

  Pound-Pound-Pound

  “Now what?” she asked.

  “Gotta open it sometime,” Seth replied. “They see my car so they know I’m in here. Want me to get it?”

  She walked toward the door and said, “No, it’s my house. They can’t just barge in here. Arthur, hide that book!”

  Arthur looked around and tossed it in the only thing he could think of: the microwave. Seth gave him a disapproving look and sat down on the couch in the living room while Madison put one hand on the deadbolt and the other on the doorknob. She shrugged her shoulders and opened the door. Standing outside was a heavy-set man chewing gum. He spoke first while his eyes scanned Madison up and down.

  “I was hoping it was you who opened the door,” he said.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

  “I’m sure you can, but right now, I need to talk to your boyfriend and the old man.”

  “Sorry, they can’t be bothered.” Madison started to close the door but the man stuck his foot out and blocked it from closing.

  He leaned in close to her and said, “Listen sweetheart, you tell that boy to get out here and talk to me right now or we can make your life a lot more difficult.” He sniffed the air like a dog and waited for her response.

  “You repulse me, wait here.”

  Madison left the door open a crack and turned around and almost bumped into Seth.

  “I’ll handle it,” Seth said.

  “I’ll be watching from the window, and I’m calling 9-1-1 if anything happens.”

  Seth stepped outside and walked the few steps down the path to the man leaning against the SUV. The air was crisp and cool, and a light breeze rattled the leaves in the trees. By the time he had gotten there, the bald guy was out of the car, waiting. The other guy lit up a cigarette when Seth approached.

  This time, Seth spoke first. “At least tell me your names so I don’t refer to you as the bald guy and the heavy guy.”

  “Sure, let’s make this as peaceful as possible,” said Kohler. “I’m Abbott and this is Costello. That suit you?”

  “Perfect. Now, what the hell do you guys want?”

  “You know what the hell we want,” replied Costello, otherwise known as Pierce.

  Kohler turned to his partner and with a glance, basically told him to shut his mouth.

  “Seth,” Abbott started, “just give us whatever you found in that bank vault and we’ll be out of your hair.”

  “We didn’t find anything.”

  “See, that’s a lie. Know how I can tell?” Abbott started pacing around Seth in circles. “And no, you didn’t glance left like you hear in the movies when someone lies. You denied it Seth.”

  “What am I supposed to say when I don’t have it?”

  “No, you denied it too quickly. A normal person who didn’t have anything would ask what it was. You didn’t. Why? Because you already know what it is. Me? I don’t know and I don’t care. I have a job to do.”

  “For who?” Seth asked.

  “None of your damn business,” replied Costello, stamping his cigarette in the ground.

  “As my fine partner just said, it’s none of your business. Listen Seth, if you don’t hand over what you found, I’ll destroy your apartment with sledgehammers, and the old man’s house, and your pretty girlfriend’s house too. Or,” he stopped pacing and leaned in close to him, “Maybe I’ll put a couple of kilos of coke in your house and get a search warrant to look through it.”

  That caught Seth off guard. “A warrant? What are you, cops?”

  Abbott looked back at his partner and they both chuckled a little bit. Abbott leaned in closer to Seth and turned toward his right ear and whispered, “If you were only so lucky.” He brushed an imaginary hair off his jacket and opened the door to the SUV. His partner went around the other side and got into the driver’s seat. The car started and Abbott rolled down his window as Seth was about to walk back up to the house.

  “Twenty-four hours, Seth. Eight PM tomorrow night. And don’t try to call the cops, the National Guard, nobody. Just you, with the package, outside the front steps of this house.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Jonathon Castle received the report from his team in the field, Abbott and Costello, real names, Kohler and Pierce, that the kid was still denying that he had found anything of value. According to his guys, they followed him back and forth the past few days, from the retirement home, to his apartment, to the bank, and now to the girl’s house. Castle had a dilemma to ponder. He could either swoop in now and grab the book with force and possibly cause a firestorm, or he could let the kid uncover what the book contained and then take the real treasure for himself.

  Castle paced in his study which was lined from floor to ceiling on one side with windows and on the other side, framed photographs of famous golf holes around the world. He removed his red striped tie and threw it over the leather chair behind his desk. Castle was a big man, almost six feet two and weighing in at close to two hundred and fifty pounds. He had been trim in his days at Yale while on the crew team, but he no longer had the time or the energy to do much physical activity. The last twenty or thirty pounds seemed to creep up on him these past few years as he approached sixty. His hair started to gray around thirty, and since then he’d kept it close to the scalp, a buzz cut.

  It was nearing midnight on the east coast. He pondered whether to make an important phone call and then opened the bottom drawer of his large desk made of oak, lifted up a few manila folders, and found his nectar, Jim Beam Black. He was never a bourbon or whiskey kind of guy, and always preferred clear spirits like gin and vodka. The problem was they weren’t good straight. He needed some tonic, or club, splash of lime or some fruit juice, so he switched over to bourbon. This way he could hide the small bottle in his office and take a swig whenever the need occurred, which was right now.

  He twisted the cap and tilted the small bottle to his lips. The liquor didn’t settle on his tongue long before it flooded down his esophagus and entered his blood stream, warming him immediately. He wiped his hand across his mouth and took another smaller drink before putting the bottle back in the drawer, tucking it away neatly in the back.

  Castle scrolled through his private cell phone, found the number he needed and sat down at his desk. He had only called this man once, and that was after the man called him a few months ago. Other than that, they exchanged email with each other a few times. Castle wasn’t sure why he wanted to call him right now. Reassurance? Motivation? Help? He punched the green button on his phone and dialed the number.

  After several rings someone picked up. “Bannister.”

  Castle cleared his throat before responding, “Hey, it’s me, Jon Castle.”

  “Jon? What the hell you calling me at this hour for?”

  “It’s just, we got a lead.”

  “You haven’t found it yet?”

&nbs
p; “Well, we think we have located it, yes. It’s not in my possession yet, but it will be soon. I may even let the kid find it for me.”

  “You’ll do no such thing, Jon. Find it yourself. I found out what I need to know, now you go and get the proof. You hearin’ me? We don’t need this kid finding it that’s for sure.” Bannister could be heard on the other end of the line breathing very hard.

  “You alright?” Castle asked.

  “On the treadmill,” Bannister replied, the words broken up by deep breaths.

  “At this hour?”

  “Only time I can squeeze it in. Now Jon, what are your men saying?”

  “They said they think the kid’s got it but they’re not sure.”

  “Not sure? They either have it or they don’t. Have you told your men that it’s a book?”

  “Not exactly, just something old and valuable. I kinda hinted it may be a book.”

  “What the bloody hell, Jon. Hold on.” In the background of the phone, you could hear a few electronic beeps. Then, what appeared to be Bannister swallowing a large amount of liquid. He came back on the line, his breathing more controlled. “What’s the address of this kid?”

  “Huh? Why?”

  “Jon, don’t make me fly across the Atlantic and beat the bloody piss out of you. Give me the address.”

  Castle gave him the address of both the kid and the girl and a few moments later they hung up. The last words he heard were, “If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” followed by a few expletives. He opened the drawer once more and fished for the bottle in the back, his last indulgence of the night.

  <><><><><>

  Seth came back inside and informed Arthur and Madison of the predicament they were currently in. He told them about the threat of a warrant and they all pondered for a few moments who the men were and who hired them. They spoke about the twenty-four hour deadline before they had to turn over the book.

  “Wait a second,” Seth said. They were once again seated around the kitchen table, eating the pizza. “They never even mentioned what kind of book. They said something about a ‘package’, and ‘whatever you found’. They don’t know what we have in our hands. We just give them some other book that looks old and worn tomorrow night.”