The Secret of the Stones

by Ernest Dempsey

  Its enormity wasn’t the only thing that made the instrument so impressive though. Intricate wooden carvings decorated the beast from top to bottom. Trees, vines, flowers, birds, and other animals looked almost as if they could come to life from the wood into which they’d been carved.

  Above them, the sanctuary opened up like a huge airplane hangar. The angled roof soared to its apex near the left wall then dropped off to a much lower point on the right. In the very back, the church balcony loomed with an additional several hundred seats and the control center for the sound and video systems.

  Tommy’s attention went back to the side walls of the church and the stained glass windows. From outside the tabernacle, the windows looked very dark, not quite black, and the colors were much duller. This made it difficult to see the details of the panes. But from the inside, the colors showed much more brilliantly. There were especially a lot of blues and reds used in the mosaic of jagged glasswork. And in each individual window, there were what seemed to be random white dots interspersed through the darker colors.

  He let his eyes gaze at several of them before making his way, almost unconsciously, toward the stage and up its front steps. Closer up, the organ was even larger than he’d thought, with ladders and small platforms built up inside so maintenance workers could have easy access to the necessary spots.

  Tommy turned to Ulrich, his mind leaving the instrument for a moment. “What do you expect to find here?”

  Ulrich cocked his head, “That’s why you are here, Mr. Schultz.”

  “I don’t even know what to look for.” He’d become exasperated. The events of the last few days had taken their toll, and his brain hurt from the emotional and mental roller coaster.

  “Try.”

  Minutes went by. Tommy scanned the entire chamber, searching for something that could possibly be a clue. He could find nothing. No pictures, no words, not even any symbols that could be translated were to be found anywhere. And there was certainly nothing of any Indian influence to be seen.

  Out of nowhere, the sexton appeared in a doorway near the base of the large stage. “Do you gentlemen have any questions or need help with anything?”

  “Actually, sir,” Tommy answered, “I do have a couple of questions.”

  “Yes?” The man looked happy to be able to help.

  “I was curious about the size of this church. It seems fairly large for an area with such a small population. How did that happen?”

  The old man smiled. “Originally, this church only had a dozen members or so. That was back in the mid-1800s. Shortly after the church was organized, the founding pastor came into a great deal of money. No one really knows where it came from. He claimed that the money had come from a generous donor who believed in the ministry of the church but who wanted to stay anonymous. Down through the years, the church has been remodeled and expanded many times to accommodate the growing numbers of members. Where you stand now is the result of the final renovation in the 1950s. Down in the basement areas, the original flooring and foundation still exist to this day.”

  “Would it be possible to get down there and see some of the original structure?”

  A slight chuckle ensued. “Oh my, no. There is only one door that leads down into that area, and it is completely sealed off. Quite impossible to get down there.”

  “Why is it sealed off?”

  “I have no idea. It seems to me that it would be an interesting part of the church’s history to include that as part of the tour, but for some reason, it was closed up long ago, before this final version of the building was ever completed. If I had to guess, I would say there must be some kind of safety or insurance concern with having people in that area.”

  The answer seemed an honest one. Still, the mysterious origin of where the church got its money was never made clear.

  “That organ,” the sexton went on, “is the largest bellows-driven pipe organ in the eastern half of the United States and one of the biggest in the entire world.” He must have noticed Ulrich and the two guards pretending to admire the massive instrument. They all gave the man a blank stare of disinterest.

  “If I may,” Tommy went back to the issue in his mind, “you said that nobody knew where the money originally came from?”

  “That is correct, sir. Of course, now the church has a rather large number of members on its books, so money comes in regularly from tithes and offerings.”

  There was something suspicious about the story they were being told. Tommy believed the church worker was mostly telling the truth, but it seemed like the connection between the dead park ranger’s story earlier and the way that this church seemed to thrive so quickly was more than just a mere coincidence. His eyes once again searched the room, trying to find something that would tip him as to how.

  His gaze stopped on one of the colored windows. There was something different inside it.

  The sexton seemed content to simply stand by and help answer any questions the strangers had. Clearly, he was bored with his job.

  Tommy obliged him. “I do have another question to ask you. These rows of stained glass windows on the walls, where did they come from?”

  “Ahh. I believe they were made somewhere in Spain. A very specialized glassworks company created them, and they were shipped over here. It must have been a difficult thing to communicate back and forth with a company so far away about the specifications of the windows needed for the church.”

  As interesting as Tommy found the history of the windows, he was more concerned with the oddity in their appearance. “What I was really curious about was the white pieces of glass that seem to dot each window. Are they just there to throw in contrast with the dark colors, or is there another reason for them?”

  The old man smiled. “I’m so glad you asked. You see,” he explained, “those white pieces of glass are actually a tribute to one of the most revolutionary forms of communication ever developed.”

  Tommy and the other three stood waiting for clarification.

  “The white dots of round glass inserted in the windows are actually Morse code.”

  “So the clue is in the windows.” Tommy spoke a little louder than he’d intended.

  The statement took the church worker off guard. “I’m sorry. Clue? What clue?”

  He was given no answer. Instead, Ulrich began examining the windows as well, in an attempt to figure out what it all meant. The effort was short lived and futile though.

  “What does it mean? How do you know where to begin?” Tommy asked.

  A curious look came on the wrinkled face. “I’m not sure what you’re so frantic about. It’s just a Bible verse. It begins on that window, over there,” he pointed to a window in the top of the front right corner of the sanctuary, “and reads all the way around, down to the next level, then finishes over there in the back.”

  Ulrich looked as if he’d just won the lottery. “The Bible verse, what does it say?” he demanded.

  “It’s just a text from Genesis. Many people around here know about it. Not like it’s a secret.”

  More impatient now, Ulrich insisted, “Yes, but what does it say?”

  The man appeared thrown off by the sudden change in temperament, but he replied anyway. “It’s from Genesis 8, all taken from verses 7, 8, and 20.”

  “Show me.”

  The sexton raised his arm and pointed at a large Bible sitting on a stand directly below a raised baptismal pool. “Here, take a look.” He shuffled over to the gargantuan book and flipped a few chunks of pages then, one by one until he found the right spot.

  “See, have a look.”

  Ulrich and Tommy stepped up to the podium that held the huge book.

  Verse 7: And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth. Verse 8: Also, he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters were abated from off the face of the ground. Verse 20: Then Noah built an altar to the Lord.

  “What is this? The raven and d
ove? What is that supposed to mean?”

  Confused, the elderly man replied matter-of-factly, “Well, um, it is a kind of motto for this church, sir.”

  Ulrich was incredulous. “What do you mean a motto? What kind of motto is this for anything?”

  “Well,” he was stuttering at this point, unsure about why it mattered so much to this foreign visitor. “Our church is called the Beacon Tabernacle. A beacon is a type of guide, in a manner of speaking. So, the designers of the building thought it appropriate to use this verse because the raven and the dove were used to guide Noah to dry land.”

  “That’s it?” Ulrich stepped over to the old sexton and grabbed him by the shirt and tie and lifted him with both arms, pressing him against the wall beneath the baptism. “Answer me, old man. Is that all you know?”

  A look of innocent fear swept across the sexton’s face, replacing the confusion that had been there. His voice scratched as a result of the fists cutting off his breath just below the neck. “I…don’t…know what you…want me to tell…you. The church represents the altar that Noah built. What else do you want to know?”

  Strong hands clenched tighter around the man’s thin neck, and the pale, wrinkled skin began turning a slight reddish-purple color.

  “What are you doing? You’re hurting him!” Tommy yelled but was restrained by the strong grips of the guards.

  Ulrich turned as if to say, “I don’t care,” when suddenly, another familiar voice filled the sanctuary.

  “Put him down!”

  Both of the guards looked instinctively over to an open doorway where a man with hair that almost matched his dark-khaki pants stood holding a pistol in the direction of their boss.

  Turning his head toward where the voice had come from, Ulrich glared at the new threat that dared interrupt his interrogation. At first, his eyes went immediately to the drawn weapon in the man’s hands, aimed squarely at him. After a moment, though, he focused on the person holding the gun.

  Sean Wyatt had caught up to them. Again.

  48

  Southeastern Tennessee

  For a long moment, everyone stood frozen in a stalemate. Ulrich and Wyatt glared at each other as if waiting to see who would make the first move. Even though it must have only been half a minute, it felt like an eternity.

  Sean wasn’t willing to risk a shot, afraid the old man might get hurt.

  The two guards stood at the ready, each holding Tommy tightly, also making them difficult targets.

  “So, Mr. Wyatt,” Ulrich broke the silence. “You just won’t seem to go away.” Then in one quick, fluid motion, he grabbed the sexton and jerked him around like a rag doll, clenching the old man around the neck with his arm.

  “Most people think of it as an endearing trait.” Sean kept the gun trained on the blond assailant.

  Ulrich snickered, “Hardly the time for joking.” With another swift movement, he pulled his own pistol out and pressed it hard against the side of the old man’s head.

  Though Sean had surprised the group, he was at a major disadvantage. He could see Joe and Allyson crawling behind the cover of one of the church pews on the other side of the sanctuary. That evened the numbers a little, but now the bad guys had two hostages, and the risk of hitting one of them was too high at the moment.

  “So tell me, Sean. How did you find us here?” Ulrich was talking again.

  “It was dumb luck really.” Sean edged slowly behind the nearest church pew. He didn’t want to be a completely exposed target. “That park ranger you killed left a message on his cell phone that said, Beacon. After leaving the museum, I did a quick search on the navigation system in the car. The only thing within twenty miles with the word beacon in it was this church. I figured it was worth a shot.”

  “How fortuitous.”

  Ulrich leveled the pistol with a quick snap of his wrist and fired off two quick volleys that erupted into splinters in the pew right in front of Wyatt. The quick action by the blond man had sent Sean sprawling to the floor below the bench seat. Another shot sounded from somewhere else as a bullet thudded into the wood above his head. One of the guards must have started firing.

  On his elbows and knees, Sean scurried across the carpet to the end of the row. Leading with his gun, he peeked around the corner of the bench and saw that the larger guard was holding Tommy while the shorter held his weapon at the ready, looking to the end of the pew where he’d just fired.

  Across the aisle, Joe and Allyson were crouched in a similar position. Sean gave a quick motion of the hand for his companions to give some cover fire.

  Allyson acknowledged the request and surprised the two suits with a volley of her own, careful not to hit the hostages. Her rounds narrowly missed the stocky attacker.

  Joe was a good shot with long-range weapons as evidenced by his success as a big game hunter. But smaller weapons were a whole different animal, and bullets wildly splashed around the feet of the three men on the stage, a few pinging off the metal of the pipes behind them.

  Allyson gave him a stern look as she pulled him back below the pew. “Why don’t you let me handle this?”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  Ulrich and the guard both turned their attention to where the new shots had originated.

  “I see you brought some friends, Mr. Wyatt.” Ulrich launched another bullet toward their position.

  As poor as Joe’s aim was, the distraction was exactly what Sean had needed. Both enemies appeared confused as to where to concentrate their aim.

  Sean rounded the corner of the pew again, kneeling as he squeezed off three quick bursts of his own. One bullet harmlessly lodged into his target’s Kevlar vest, another completely missed, but the third found its way into the thick upper thigh.

  Suddenly in pain and bleeding, the henchman dropped to the ground, momentarily letting his gun drop at his side.

  From his position, Ulrich couldn’t see anyone, so he sent four shots in both directions, pinning Allyson and Sean under the cover of the church benches. The pungent smell of gunpowder lingered with the smoke that was beginning to fill the air.

  The shorter guard was still on one knee and trying to stand as blood oozed from the wound in his leg. He lifted his weapon slowly, hoping to return fire if Wyatt popped out again.

  Instead of poking around the edge of the seat, Sean slid underneath it and took a quick aim, only pulling the trigger once.

  The guard noticed Wyatt’s new position too late. For a second, the stump of a man had a surprised look on his face. His eyes stared forward, blankly. Then the black hole in his forehead began trickling red liquid down his nose seconds before he fell forward and down the steps.

  Ulrich’s head turned toward the dead body of his associate as it rolled to a stop at the base of the stage. He pointed the barrel at where the mortal shot had come from and unleashed another quick succession of rounds.

  The larger guard who had previously been occupied with Tommy was forced to join the fray. With an almost superhuman strength, the bulky man seized Tommy with one hand and fired his weapon with the other. His .45-caliber resonated louder than everyone else’s, thundering explosions off the walls as he fired.

  With one bad guy down, the fight was a little more even, but the hostages still made things dicey. “Just let the men go, Jurgenson or whoever you are!” Sean yelled from behind the church pew. “It’s over! The police are on their way here right now! And you don’t have many more bullets left in that gun.”

  “I don’t believe you would call the police, Sean. Besides, you are the one they are looking for.” As he answered, his eyes checked out two closed doors with an exit sign over them about twenty feet away. The guard looked over and noticed Ulrich had motioned with his head to follow out the exit.

  The big man nodded his silent acknowledgement and popped off two quick shots at both Allyson’s and Sean’s hiding places. Then immediately, he dragged Tommy by the neck across the stage and down the steps, right behind the tall blond.

>   “What do we do?” Joe mouthed across the aisle.

  “I don’t know,” Sean replied. “I can’t get a clean shot.”

  Allyson shook her head. She had no angle either.

  Suddenly, a muffled shot came from somewhere else in the building. It sounded like the front corner of the sanctuary.

  Sean risked a look over top of the pew he’d been hiding behind and saw the empty stage. His stomach turned at the realization.

  Rising up from his cover, he scanned the corners and crevices of the church, keeping his gun leveled. They were gone.

  Allyson stood too, mimicking Sean’s position. “Where did they go?”

  Through the ghostlike smoke, Sean noticed the doors at the front of the sanctuary.

  They sprinted toward the exit, stopping short to risk a peek in a small square window at the top of the thick wood. Through the opening, Wyatt could see a small antechamber on the other side. There was a short bench, a water fountain, a flowery-upholstered couch, and two legs with black shoes sticking out from around a corner.

  Sean pushed open the door, leading the way with his gun. He rounded the corner of the small room and found the sexton lying on the floor. The chest of the man’s white button-up shirt was beginning to soak with blood. Just beyond where he lay, the short hall ended abruptly with two more doors leading outside into the parking lot.

  Joe took a knee next to Sean, who was crouching over the old man. Allyson ran over to the outer doors, holding her weapon next to her face while she peeked out the window.

  “You…must not…let them find the chamber,” the sexton gasped.

  “Just hang on there, old timer,” Joe replied. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

  Allyson was grabbing her cell phone to call 911.

  The old man kept talking, “We have kept the secret long enough.” His body racked with a cough, and a small trickle of blood seeped from the corner of this mouth. “They are too close now. You must…go to where the raven and the dove meet. Do not…let them succeed.”