He screamed and struggled to roll out of the flames as his entire body became engulfed. Finally, after a moment, the man was able to worm his way onto a part of the stone surface where the fire hadn’t reached, and he continued to turn over in the dust. A few seconds later, the flames had been smothered. The skin on his face and hands peeled and blistered from the burns and his flattop haircut had been singed down to the scalp.
Then he opened his eyes to see Sean Wyatt standing over him with his gun. Without hesitation, Sean raised the weapon and clicked off a shot. The bullet smashed into a knee, shattering the joint into a bloody mass of tissue and bone.
Wailing, the man collapsed onto his side, both hands gripped the bloody mess where his kneecap used to be.
“Don’t move,” Sean remarked casually as he turned to leave the man twisting in agony on the floor.
Wyatt’s attention went to the other side of the room as the elevator continued its ascent.
Tommy was hanging onto Ulrich’s foot for dear life, but the strong blond man was dragging him along, struggling to get to the gun that was only a few feet away. Across the room, both combatants saw an orange-yellow flash followed by a howling scream and then a gunshot. Neither one could see beyond the giant column that was pushing the platform of the elevator up.
Ulrich was only a few inches from the gun, his fingers scratched against the hard floor in an attempt to pull closer to it. He kicked a couple of times, once catching Tommy in the face. Still, the man would not let go.
Tommy realized his attempt to impede Ulrich was futile. His jaw ached from the black shoe striking it. There was only one thing he could do. In one sudden movement, he released the blond man, who tumbled forward just beyond the gun. All Tommy could do was dive behind one of the stone boxes for cover before Ulrich could get off a shot.
The unexpected momentum had thrown Ulrich off only for a few seconds. He recovered quickly and snatched up the weapon, squeezing off three quick rounds at the sprawling Tommy. The bullets ricocheted off the sarcophagus and bounced, momentarily, around the room.
“Very clever, Thomas!” The voice was sinister as Ulrich stood up, firing another shot just over Tommy’s back. It pinged off the golden wall beside him.
“But now your little game is at an end,” Ulrich continued. He took a step forward, moving in for the kill, when another gun popped from somewhere else in the room.
Ulrich froze in his tracks. Looking down at his chest, he noticed blood slowly seeping into his shirt. He spun around quickly to return fire, but his reaction was too late.
Four more shots came from the other weapon, all of them finding the blond man’s torso. His legs wobbled for a moment then gave way, sending his now-heavy body to the ground.
Sean lowered the weapon and walked over to the man lying on the cold stone floor. Blood trickled down Ulrich’s face from the corner of his lips. His icy-blue eyes were wide with shock. His lungs gurgled beneath the crimson-stained shirt, struggling against the damage the bullets had inflicted.
With a final act of defiance, Ulrich tried to raise his pistol.
Another loud bang from Sean’s gun punched a dark hole through the man’s forehead, and the hand holding the gun dropped lifelessly to the floor.
Tommy peeked out from behind one end of the stone box. He saw his friend standing over the body of the dead Ulrich. Sean dropped the pistol onto the ground next to the body.
“Cuttin’ it a little close there, weren’t ya?” Tommy joked, staring down at his kidnapper.
“Sorry. I was a little preoccupied,” he jerked his thumb backward in the direction of the moaning henchman.
“What’d you do to him?” Tommy asked, not sure he wanted to know.
“Let’s just say, he won’t be winning any dance contests…ever.” Sean forced a smile.
“Should we call Allyson back down?” The elevator had gone all the way back up to the top.
“Give it a second, Schultzie.” He slapped his friend on the back. “This is what you have spent your life looking for.”
They both gazed in awe at the unimaginable scene before them. Their heads turned a full circle, taking in the scene.
“It’s amazing. I can’t believe we actually found it. Do you realize we are probably the first people to see this in thousands of years?”
“You’ve earned it, buddy.”
Then Tommy turned to Wyatt with a big smile. “Thanks, Sean, for everything. You’ve always been there for me. I knew you would come.”
“Someone’s got to take care of your dumb ass,” he said with a wide grin.
58
Eastern Georgia
Detective Trent Morris stared in utter disbelief at the scene before him. Around two hundred feet of pure- gold walls wrapped around the entire chamber. The ceiling panels too, were made out of gold. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen in his entire life.
The place was crawling with federal investigators, and a CSI unit had arrived shortly after the other squads. A coroner was there, as well, to tag and bag the body of the mysterious Jens Ulrich.
“He’s an international mercenary,” Will said, pointing a finger at the black bag. “Interpol has been looking for this guy for a few years. He’s been implicated in several assassinations and other murders all over the globe. But no one has ever been able to catch up with him.”
“A fistful of aliases and the right amount of money can get you a great deal of anonymity,” Morris added.
Sean nodded, glancing over at the burned guard being wheeled out on a stretcher, still moaning in excruciating pain. His first stop would be the hospital. After that, it would be on to a cell, probably for the rest of his life.
“Docs said your buddy McElroy is going to be okay. He’d lost a lot of blood when the paramedics found him, but it looks like the bullet didn’t hit anything vital.”
“Not that it matters now. I’m sure his wife is going to kill him when he gets home.”
“Well, we’ll keep homicide on alert.” Morris returned the grin.
Sean let his eyes wander through the room. Tommy was busy analyzing the golden tiles of the walls while talking on the phone with the IAA. At least a dozen researchers and archaeologists were already on their way to the site.
Schultz was in his element, and whatever fatigue he may have had was replaced by the excitement of discovery. Tommy deserved it, Sean thought.
His eyes switched to another spot. Allyson sat nearby on one of the stone boxes, sipping a bottle of water. She noticed him staring at her and offered a practiced shy smile. It was the kind of grin that could pull a man across a bed of hot coals without him ever noticing.
For a moment, his attention went back to the officers who were still going on about all the things that had happened. “So if you could come by sometime next week, it would really help me with filling out my report,” Morris was finishing his spiel.
“What? Oh, sure. No problem. I will give you a call next week.” Then Sean’s attention went to a man and woman dressed in black in a corner by themselves. The woman was on a cell phone, but whatever she was saying could not be heard. “Who are they?”
Will looked back over his shoulder at the couple. “Those are agents Sewell and Yates. They’re with the feds. Apparently, they have been after Ulrich for a while too. I don’t trust them. They’re not very sociable. Haven’t said a whole lot to us since they got here.”
“Interesting.”
Trent gave his young partner a quick nod. “Let’s get out of here, Will.” Then he turned back to Sean as they started to walk away. “Next week, okay?”
“You got it.”
The detectives got on the giant platform of the lift along with the medics. Will removed the disc from the pedestal, and the ancient elevator started its slow ascent.
Sean’s eyes played back over to where Allyson was sitting. She was listening to Tommy, who had apparently finished his phone conversations. He was going on about the different languages that were represented, fou
r in all, one on each wall. She was clearly only half-interested.
Making his way over to them, he stood over his friend and the young journalist/agent. “Sorry to interrupt your history lesson, Schultzie, but Ms. Webster scheduled an interview with me, and I really have to keep that appointment.” He lifted his right eyebrow at his friend.
Tommy looked at Sean and then at her and started laughing. “My bad. I don’t want to keep the good readers of the Sentinel waiting.”
With that, he stood up and headed back over to a couple of people who were tagging some of the panels with Post-it notes and started directing the cataloging effort.
“Well, Ms. Webster, how about that interview?” His eyes smiled more than his mouth.
“You do remember I’m not really a journalist, right?”
“We can pretend.”
59
Nevada
The old man hobbled over to his desk hurriedly to answer the phone. It was ringing furiously, interrupting his nightly dose of brandy by the fireplace in the study.
He leaned his cane against the bulky desk and reached over to pick up the device. No answer to the caller was given. The white-haired man just waited.
“It is done,” the young voice came through the receiver.
“Both of them are dead?”
“Ulrich is. The Russian he hired was still alive when I got there, though he was badly burned. Wyatt shot him in the knee, as well.
“You said was alive.”
“Correct. He will not be a problem anymore.”
“Excellent work. I knew I could count on you. Ulrich had become so sloppy.”
“He served our purpose in the end.”
“Indeed.” The old man stood, contemplating his next question. “Did you find the next clue?”
“Yes, sir. The girl had it, but I instructed her that it would be needed as evidence for the crime scene.”
“I’m sure those pesky agents from the IAA will be clamoring to get their hands on it for their museum.” He coughed as he finished the sentence.
“It will be of no concern. I have already contacted the best stone worker in the country and requested a duplicate be made. By the time those fools have their artifact, we will be well on our way to the next chamber.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you. God be with you, my son.”
“Thank you, Prophet.”
The old man hung up the phone and retreated to his enveloping leather chair by the fireplace. He raised his glass of brandy in satisfaction, filling his nostrils with its rich, warming aroma. Curious, he thought while eyeing the half-filled tumbler, that alcohol was forbidden by the church’s teachings. Soon enough, though, they would be following his doctrines, as would the world. He finished the drink in one gulp and set the glass back on a stand near the chair.
“Who were you talking to?” Morris asked as he met up with Will at their car.
“Oh, that was just my girlfriend. Had to tell her I would be home late tonight.”
“All right, buddy, let’s get back to Atlanta. Good job, Will.”
“Thank you, sir.” The young detective stood for a moment as his partner entered the car. “Thank you,” he repeated, almost inaudibly, peering back at the totem poles nearby.
Everything is going to according to plan, Will thought. Soon, the wicked would perish and the world could start new again.
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Author’s Notes
Author’s Notes
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With any good piece of fiction I have ever read, there are always notes from the author at the end. So in keeping with what my favorites have done, I thought I would provide some of the details behind The Secret of the Stones.
Gold really was one of the biggest reasons the United States government wanted to relocate the Native American tribes. In North Georgia, there have been several documented finds of Indian Gold in different places. Talks about the Indian Problem began as early as the Jefferson administration and ended with the Trail of Tears moving the last great tribes to the west. The government never did find the enormous treasures they had hoped for.
The IAA and the Georgia Historical Center are both fictional. However, at Dalton State College, about an hour north of Atlanta, a new North Georgia Historical Center has been opened and contains a tremendous wealth of history and artifacts.
Chief Vann’s House and the story as relayed in the book are real. His home is situated in the small town of Chatsworth, GA. The two-hundred-year-old plantation house is still one of the best preserved historic sites in the United States
Etowah Indian Mounds State Park, Fort Mountain, Track Rock, Red Clay State Park, and Rock Hawk and Rock Eagle are all very real. The mysteries that these locations present are truly amazing, and I highly suggest visiting them in person. The original location of the Cherokee capital was actually near Cartersville, Georgia.
The riddles and theories concerning the arrival of the first Native American settlers were entirely my concoction. It was extremely interesting, though, to find so many similarities between the ancient cultures of Egypt and the Native American tribes during my research. Also, the likeness of the wall at Fort Mountain when compared to the Nile River is quite fascinating, though that monument’s purpose continues to remain a mystery to historians.
One historical note that I did have to alter was the relationship between the Mormon settlers and the Native American migration. All of the details are true except for one. The Mormon church was not actually founded for almost another decade after the Trail of Tears. That fact does not mean that the Mormons could not have helped the tribes later on though. And their paths certainly crossed many times in the Midwest and beyond.
During the course of the story, the characters find themselves in a church called the Beacon Tabernacle. This church does exist in the small town of Collegedale, Tennessee. I changed the name of it to better suit the flow of the story, but all of the details are as close to the truth as I could make them. The Bible verse that appears in Morse code on the stained-glass windows also exists, but I did take the liberty of changing which verse is displayed.
As to the Golden Chambers themselves, I must admit that they are only a theory of mine. However, much of the research I have done seems to point toward the number four in conjunction with the existence of a Native treasure. And the more research I do, the more I start to realize that the chambers could be a very real possibility.
Thanks for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed the story and will check out the other Sean Wyatt books I’ve written. If you liked this book, share it with a friend. And if you have a Twitter account, sharing it is easy. Just click here: http://ctt.ec/bQwPd
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Other Books by Ernest Dempsey
OTHER WORKS BY ERNEST DEMPSEY
* * *
THE CLERIC’S VAULT
THE LAST CHAMBER
THE GRECIAN MANIFESTO
THE NORSE DIRECTIVE
GAME OF SHADOWS
THE JERUSALEM CREED
THE SAMURAI CIPHER
THE CAIRO VENDETTA (PREQUEL)
THE ULURU CODE
THE EXCALIBUR KEY
THE DENALI DECEPTION
THE SAHARA LEGACY
THE FOURTH PROPHECY
WHEN SHADOWS CALL (SHADOW CELL THRILLER)
WAR OF THIEVES: AN ADRIANA VILLA THRILLER TRILOGY
Copyright
Copyright © 2012-2018 Ernest Dempsey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9887072-0-7
eISBN: 978-0-9887072-1-4
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This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or sold without the expressed written consent of the author.
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction, completely derived from the imagination of the author. Characters and events in no way resemble true-life characters. Any similarity is completely coincidental.
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Enjoy!
Acknowledgments
The Secret of the Stones Page 29
