The two exchanged confused glances. “How did he know you would come here?” Allyson seemed to read his thoughts.
“I don’t know.” Sean was just as confounded.
Both pairs of eyes scanned the letter as he laid it out on the desk.
Hello, Sean. If you are reading this, then I fear my suspicions were correct. But if you found this letter, you have taken the first step. Edgar Poe’s “The Purloined Letter” trick is certainly a good one.
Recently, our mutual friend Thomas Schultz sent me a most interesting artifact he discovered in the northern part of Georgia . As you and I both know, Thomas has been searching that area and other areas in the state with a reserved, but notable interest for some time.
Until I received his request for help, though, I had no possible idea just how deep his search had gone. I hope that I have not failed him in his quest. It seems that someone else has learned of the artifact and has been watching me ever since it came into my possession. My first thought was that if I put off the translation and pretended that it was of no import, the man following me would consider the possibility that it was just another random piece from a dig somewhere else in the world. That strategy, however, did not work. He continued to follow me and watch my every move. The fact that this stranger and his cohorts did not attempt to steal the stone disc meant that they needed me to translate it just as much as Thomas did. There are only two others in the world who I believe could have performed this translation due to the rarity and the blending of the languages on it.
Unable to postpone the work any longer, I set about translating the mixture of languages on the back of the stone. I was shocked to discover that there were four different forms of writing inscribed into the ancient disc. The languages are rare to begin with, but having them combined together into a singular form of writing was most puzzling. It took many long hours to put together the combination of words and phrases. Almost more confusing than the languages were the pictures on the front of the artifact.
Eventually, I was able to decipher the message on the back, which proved to be interesting but less than helpful. Then, I realized that the inscription on the stone was only part of the message. What was written on the back worked in conjunction with the picture clues on the front. Even for someone as learned in ancient languages as I, it was very difficult, at first, to try and understand the meaning of the engraved scene.
On what I call the front of the disc is a picture of two birds. They are standing on some kind of perch, facing each other. In between the birds is a dividing line that looks like some kind of pole. I was not sure what the picture could possibly mean. Even now, I am not certain what the true purpose is behind it. I regret that I can be of no further assistance. But in relation to the message on the back, perhaps you and Thomas can unravel the puzzle that I could not. I wrote down the translation on the back of a separate piece of paper in this envelope. Good luck to you and your friend in this endeavor. I only hope that what has surely befallen me does not happen to anyone else.
Sincerely,
Frank Borringer
Sean finished reading the note, still puzzled. He set the letter down respectfully on the desk and removed the second piece of paper from the envelope. Its message was odd:
Ancient stones will mark your path and of the chariots of Heaven. The raven and the dove will guide you on your journey home. The key with sacred bones does lie. Make every step true, and unlock the chambers, for they shall light the way to the resting place of mankind.
“The chambers are real,” Sean’s voice was reverent, barely above a whisper.
“What does it mean?” Allyson was befuddled.
“I don’t know.” Sean’s gaze went to the drawings of a circular object on the page. He examined what was labeled as the front and then the back, looking closely at the tiny inscription’s remarkable detail. The picture of two birds facing each other was just as peculiar as the riddle. Indeed, they did appear to be sitting on some kind of railing with what appeared to be a rod in between them. “I have no idea what ‘the resting place of mankind’ could possibly mean. The letter from Dr. Borringer said that the message on the back and the picture on the front were both clues pointing to the same thing.”
“So the stone points the way to the chambers. What do the chambers contain?”
“I suppose that whoever this stone was meant for would know the answer to that. But it seems like the chambers are not the final destination.” Sean seemed to realize this last truth while he spoke.
“So, Tommy has been looking for this for several years?” she asked, looking at the translation. Her mind could not wrap around a possible meaning.
“I would say that one of the birds is a raven, and the other the dove, but they look similar.” He looked closer at the medallion-shaped sketch. Then, realizing he hadn‘t answered her question, “Yes. Tommy has been looking for the Golden Chambers of Akhanan for some time now. I’d say these letters right here prove that they exists. At least, there was enough evidence for Dr. Borringer to believe they exist. The fact that he was murdered for this information makes me think he was on the right track.” His fingers retraced the mysterious words on the paper.
She was leaning over his shoulder; her fragrant hair fell lightly onto his neck as her breath tickled his skin. Sean couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted. It had been a long time since he had any kind of romantic contact. His job kept him out of the country a great deal, and when he was home, it wasn’t for very long. Both facts made it difficult to meet people that way, much less maintain a relationship. For a moment, his thoughts drifted to a few years back to…he couldn’t let himself think about that. Not now anyway.
“It would sure be nice if we knew what we were looking for,” she commented, seemingly unaware of his thoughts.
“We know exactly what we are looking for,” he corrected. “I just have no idea where to find it. I do have a friend, though, that might be able to shed some light on this little puzzle.”
“Yeah?” She perked up. “Who?”
“A buddy of mine works at the Etowah Indian Mounds State Park. He lives near the site just outside of Cartersville. It shouldn’t take us more than forty minutes to get there. The guy knows more about Native American history than anyone I’ve ever heard of. Plus, I’m sure he’s heard some stories that never made it into the history books, and that is exactly the kind of stuff we need to find out about.”
His mind was racing right now. Could this be the first real clue to finding the lost Golden Chambers?
“This friend of yours isn’t one of those crackpot conspiracy theorists, is he?” She gave him a playful, suspicious glance.
“No…well, not completely. He’s okay. We won’t be looking for UFOs, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Sean gave a reassuring smile.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and their smiles turned instantly to concern. Quickly, he grabbed the letters and stuffed them into his inner jacket pocket and stepped over to the door. Allyson leaned close behind him as he peeked around the door.
Around the edge, they could see Mrs. Borringer open the front door. Sean listened intently to a man’s voice on the other side of the door. It sounded like the guy said something about being with the police. He wondered to himself if it were the mysterious Jurgenson, but these thoughts were answered as a black man in a tan jacket walked through the door, putting his wallet and identification into a coat pocket as he crossed the threshold.
Mrs. Borringer politely asked him if he would like something to drink. The lady must treat all visitors like friends. Sean pulled himself away from the door. He whispered, “We have to get out of here. That’s gotta be Detective Morris, the guy that called me earlier from the Atlanta PD. If he is looking for clues, he will want to see this room.”
“How are we going to leave without him seeing us?”
“Mrs. B is still talking to him.” Sean paused for a moment to make sure he was right. Then he whispered, “Let’s move across
the hall to the bedroom. He won’t have any reason to go in there.”
Allyson nodded in agreement. Sean peered around the corner of the doorway again. Down below, the detective was saying something about Dr. Borringer’s research. Silently, the two made their way across the hallway into the master bedroom. Upon entering it, they realized that it was much more tastefully decorated than the hodgepodge of the rest of the house.
The walls were painted a warm tan color with dark wooden nightstands and dressers. A large oak armoire rested in the corner, with intricate carvings of floral and forest themes on the front.
Sean motioned to the master bathroom, and the two of them quickly darted to the open door. Back in the hallway, the voices of Detective Morris and Mrs. Borringer grew louder as they climbed the stairs.
Tucking in around the corner of the bathroom, Sean inched his head forward to see across the hall.
“This is where your husband kept all of his research?” the detective asked.
“Yes, sir.” She continued on, answering the man’s questions the same way she had answered Sean’s earlier.
“What are they doing?” The tension was too much for Allyson.
Sean motioned for her to be quiet with his finger while the two in the other room disappeared from view, apparently looking through some of the things on the desk. A few minutes passed. Suddenly, the detective appeared in the doorway again. Sean quickly ducked back behind the bathroom doorway, unsure if he’d been seen.
He heard the man comment on the nicely decorated bedroom, obviously looking inside. Apparently, Sean’s and Allyson’s presence was unknown because the cop was still talking with Mrs. Borringer about her late husband’s work. The voices continued to move farther away and down the stairs.
Leaving their bathroom hiding place, the two fugitives went to the doorway leading into the hall. Downstairs, Mrs. Borringer politely escorted Morris to the door. He thanked her for her courtesy and invited her to call if she could think of anything he might need to know.
Sean and Allyson heard the front door close and looked at each other, breathing a sigh of relief. They’d caught a huge break not getting caught.
“We’d better get going,” he stated.
“No argument here,” she agreed as they stood and exited the bedroom.
18
Cartersville, Georgia
The gray sedan sped along the interstate, heading toward the rural town of Cartersville. Every few minutes or so, Sean would glance in the rearview mirrors to make certain no one was following them. A couple of times, he thought he had seen a car changing lanes with him, but then the vehicle turned off of an exit a few minutes later. He hadn’t survived this long by being careless, and the people they were up against had to be considered extremely dangerous.
Even though Sean suspected the worst, something told him that his friend was okay for now.
Allyson interrupted his thoughts as if she could see inside his head. “I’m sure Tommy is still alive.” A sincere smile accompanied the hopeful words.
He appreciated the sentiment. And most of him believed his friend was, indeed, alive. Still… “Logic would dictate that he is all right. If whoever kidnapped him wanted him dead, they would have already done it, like with Frank.” Sean shook off the thought, “No, they need him for something.”
“But what is it?”
“The only thing I can figure is whoever took Tommy can’t decipher the clues. I guess they think he can. He knows more about the Golden Chambers than anyone else in the world. If anyone needed someone to help unravel the mystery, Tommy would be the go-to guy.”
He clicked his left blinker and swerved around a minivan with a soccer ball sticker on the back. There was no hiding his cynical smile. She, apparently, didn’t notice.
“I don’t understand,” she began again. “If these Golden Chambers do exist, why hasn’t anyone ever found them? It’s got to be hard to hide four giant golden rooms for so many centuries.”
“Not really. I mean, think about it: Every single day there is a new historical discovery somewhere in the world. Entire cities that were once thriving metropolitan areas of the ancient world are being uncovered as we speak. Whole cultures that disappeared suddenly are found under the very ground people walk across every day.”
“I guess.” She was half-convinced, a smirk on her face.
He gave her an equally teasing look. “I’m just saying, there is a world of stuff out there that hasn’t been found. That’s why the IAA exists.”
“So, let me get this straight, you guys look all over the world for random historical artifacts that no one else knows are there? That pretty much right?”
“Yep.”
“But your organization does other stuff, too, doesn’t it?”
Sean looked at her for a moment, at least glad that he didn’t have to explain the whole story to her. “Yeah,” he said as he turned the Maxima off the interstate and onto the exit. “We do a lot of charitable work, but one of our main functions is in the area of education.” The car turned right off the ramp and onto a two-lane road heading into the foothills of northwestern Georgia.
“Do you go into schools and talk about ancient treasures and all that?”
A small chuckle escaped his mouth. “Sometimes. The kids certainly like to hear about those kinds of things. When you go into a school and tell young people about some of the things that we have discovered, they get excited about history. That’s how we hook ‘em.” Sean smiled at his final remark.
“Everyone gets excited about treasure,” she responded.
“Of course. But the more important part of what we do in relation to education has to do with the establishment of the Georgia Historical Center.”
“It was quite an impressive accomplishment just to get the real estate for that in the middle of Downtown Atlanta.” Now the reporter inside of her was coming out a little.
“Well, we had a few very generous contributors.”
“Like Tommy Schultz?”
He gave her a curious glance but said nothing.
“Oh, come on. Everyone knows that Tommy inherited a ton of money when his family died, and shortly after, you guys started up the IAA and purchased the land near Centennial Olympic Park. That stuff is no secret.”
“We had some generous donations from several contributors. That’s all I am going to say about it. Of course, we did receive some large grants for the project, as well.”
“Well, I think it’s great that you have put such a strong emphasis on the unknown history of the world, especially the state of Georgia.”
“It has been a really cool venture. Kids all over the state have learned about the history that surrounds them. Tommy has been looking for the Chambers of Akhanan for a long time. A find of that magnitude would put the whole region on the historical map. Up until recently, historians regarded the Native American history in this country as less important than European or Asian history. If we can find a connection to the Chambers of Akhanan here in the Southeast, all of that would change. The history of the world itself would change.” The passion with which he spoke was mesmerizing.
Allyson admired the way that he talked. Maybe, if her history professors in college had been more like Sean Wyatt, she might have paid a little more attention in class, or at least not fallen asleep. Sometimes, she wished that she was in a line of work that she liked better. Journalism certainly had some positives about it, but there were times that she loathed her job. Long hours stuck in a cubicle could drive even the most avid writer to madness.
Realizing her eyes had been lingering for a few moments, she averted them to the dark passing countryside. If Sean noticed her look, he didn’t say anything. Silence was blurred only by the hum of the car engine. Up beyond the road ahead, just over the distant Blue Ridge Mountains, the moon peeked out from behind the dark silhouettes.
“What a beautiful view,” she broke the minutes of quietude.
Smiling, he nodded, “I love this part of the c
ountry. Been to a lot of places all over the world, but the Southeast just has something special about it.”
“Are you so passionate about everything in your life, Sean Wyatt?” She laughed.
He thought for a moment, semi-pondering the question then replied, “I have no opinion concerning cats.”
A full laugh erupted from her chest. “What?! Cats? What in the world are you talking about?”
“Well, I’m just saying, I can take or leave cats. I could have one or not. Doesn’t matter to me.” He cast a wry little smile at her. “You asked.”
She continued laughing as the car whirred down the country road.
19
Blue Ridge Mountains
Tommy sat at a table situated in the corner of a cavernous kitchen. The ropes that had previously bound him had been replaced by two security personnel who were almost as large as the room. He’d been sitting there for almost two hours, waiting. For what, he wasn’t sure. Ulrich had left quickly, determined to bring back what Tommy had said he needed from his house.
When he had received the correspondence from Dr. Borringer, there had been no explanation as to what the coded sentences meant. It was simply a translation of the ancient languages that had been combined to mislead and confuse those who would try to decipher it.
A nervous chill went up Tommy’s spine as he considered the consequences. What his captors would do if he couldn’t figure out the riddle from the stone? He figured they would surely dispose of him just as easily as they had done with Frank. Killing, it seemed, was not a moral dilemma for them.
He thought about his friend, Sean, and wondered where he might be at that moment. Internally, he shook the thoughts of uncertainty and fear out of his mind. His demeanor had to stay cool.
The Secret of the Stones Page 9
