And besides the first riddle and invitation to hunt for treasure, that was the last entry by grandpa Mike.
Jim sat on the bed where he had been reading. He was shocked. That was his grandpa, an Irish mobster turned straight and then to theft again. So grandpa Mike didn't know where the treasure had come from. Was it Mosby's loot taken by Quantrill as the legend suggested? Or was it jewels stolen from Sterling residents and the local jewelry store? Neither Mike nor Jim would ever know what the treasure was because they never opened it. Jim couldn't believe that the mob who dealt in a lot of illegal money in the 1930s would care about a sack full of rich people's jewels. Maybe it was from a diamond heist. Is that why these modern day Quants wanted it so badly?
Here he was puzzling it out again. Forget it Jim, he said to himself.
The door buzzer went off.
"Someone's here, dad!" yelled Jay.
"Yeah, I hear it Jay." Jim went over to the door and looked through the peep hole. He could only tell that it was a man, with dark hair, wearing a suit and tie.
"Who is it?" he asked through the door.
"Hotel manager," was the reply.
Jim thought, he's probably wondering why we're here instead of Trey. I'd better explain the situation.
Jim unbolted the door. There was the man who he'd seen at the aquarium and at the restaurant. Before Jim could block his entrance, the man had pushed past Jim and walked into the living area.
"What do you want?" Jim demanded.
"Just a few words with you Mr. O'Neill." The man looked at Jim with those same staring, black eyes. "May I come in?"
"You're already in," said Jim.
The man stared at the two children sitting at the kitchen island. They stared back.
Jim said, "Kids, why don't you head to the bedrooms for a little while."
"Sure, dad," Jay said warily as he and Adrianna left the room.
The man sat down. Jim sat opposite him on the couch. "Well?" he said.
"You are a very popular man Mr. O'Neill," said the man, arching his eyebrows. "There are many people interested in you."
"And you are obviously one of them."
"I am, yes, one of many. You seem to have some information that my client wishes to acquire."
Jim was the one who was staring now. The man didn't seem to blink. He seemed to be transfixed, never blinking, never smiling. His gaze was boring into Jim's...not into his soul, but...into his brain.
"What do you want," Jim repeated.
"The document."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," replied Jim, honestly.
The man stared through Jim. "Of course you do, Mr. O'Neill. My client is willing to give you three days to turn it over."
"Well, that's very considerate of your client, Mr...."
"Slipp."
"Uh, Mr. Slipp. You can thank him for me. But I don't have any documents."
"I will communicate that information to my client," he added getting up. "And I mustn't forget to give you this." He handed Jim a white envelope and walked out the apartment door, shutting it behind him.
Jim felt the white envelope in his hand. This familiar object of dread seemed cold and other worldly in the cool light of the apartment. Should I open it?, he asked himself. Of course you should open it. You have to open it.
Inside was the same white card with the same printing. "Three strikes and you're out," it said.
This was another warning... from whom?, this bug eyed intellectual? or "him". The client must be "him," Jim figured. He thought about the other white cards he'd gotten. The first warning was - forget your grandfather's story. The second was - don't go searching for treasure. The third was - don't dig anything up. The fourth was this card - I've already had three strikes, three warnings it says. So this isn't a warning. It's a threat. But they're giving me three days grace. To do what? Jim asked himself. He pulled his fingers through his brown hair. Jim thought that Mr. Slipp must have the wrong guy. He couldn't call anyone to explain his case further. He had no contact information. He checked his phone...no messages. Feeling that his blood pressure was rising, he walked into the kitchen area. The kids were peeking out from behind the door.
"Who was that, dad?" Jay asked.
Jim got a water from the fridge. "That was the guy I ran after at the aquarium."
"Wow, how did he find you?" said Jay.
"I didn't even get that far," Jim responded. "I've been too dumbfounded by what he said to even wonder about that."
"What did he say, daddy?" asked Adrianna coming into the kitchen.
"He says he wants the document. But I don't have a document. Can you think of anything he'd be talking about? Something at the Sterling house? The report from the Sterling police? He says he wants it in three days."
"Sounds like a good time to go home, daddy," Adrianna said as she sat down at the island counter. "Sounds like more trouble."
"I don't think that leaving will change anything, honey." Jim thought to himself, You know how this has been from the beginning of this nightmare. They'll find you anywhere.
"I think we should stay here and take care of this business," Jim walked over to Adrianna and gave her a hug. "Don't you worry about anything. You're safe," he said, looking her in the eye.
"Ok, daddy." She smiled up at Jim.
"Don't you worry either," he said to Jay. He put a reassuring arm around his son's shoulder. "If this guy comes back, I'll tell him to search my things. I'll offer him money. I'll deal with this."
"What about calling the police?" asked Jay.
"I don't think so. Last time we tried to rely on the police we found out they were working with our enemies. It may be the same thing this time. The One we need to rely on is always with us. Let's ask Him for help." Jim sat down at the white island table and the kids followed. "With God nothing is impossible," Jim began.
When they were finished praying, Jim said, "How about some chili? Trey said to help ourselves to his leftovers."
"He's nice," said Adrianna.
After lunch, Adrianna went back to drawing another view, from another window. Jay spoke to his dad while they cleaned up the dishes. "You know, dad, I think I might know what document this guy is talking about."
Jim looked at Jay quizzically. "Oh, not that wretched old pamphlet you found in the "secret drawer" of the treasure box? I thought you threw that out."
"I didn't. I had a feeling I should keep it. I think it's important, dad."
"Why don't you get it," said Jim reluctantly. He went into the living area and sat down on the couch while Jay went to get the pamphlet. I hope this is nothing, he thought.
Jay came back in holding a 3" by 6" thin booklet, with a gold, embossed border.
"Mmm, pretty fancy," he said looking up at Jay. "Have a seat, son. Let's check this out."
It was faded, off white, quality paper. The border was striking with its gold leaf, raised design. "I am impressed. I see why you called this a document and why you didn't throw it out," he said as he smiled at Jay.
"Yeah, dad, it has to be from the 19th century, possibly from the Civil War period."
"That's very specific."
"Well, take a look. You'll see what I mean."
Jim read the cover, "Procedures and Rules of Engagement." Outside, it was still raining. There was a clap of thunder and the windows rattled.
He opened the pamphlet carefully as one would handle an antique. On the first page it read, "Our tribute to America's greatest guerilla fighter, Captain William Clarke Quantrill, Confederate officer." This book is dedicated to his service of our country." Jim continued to page through the pamphlet. There followed a short biography of the man. He was born in 1837, oldest of twelve children. The articles' headings were 'Schoolteacher', 'Confederate Soldier', 'Skill in Warfare', 'Death'. Jim had become somewhat familiar with Quantrill since this trip. Evidently the writer of the piece was sympathetic to this leader of the Bushwackers, who was usually portrayed elsewhere as brutal and even psy
chotic.
At the end of the tribute was a section entitled "Quantrill's Code." Here was a flowery embellishment of Quantrill's qualities and a list of goals or mandates for behavior. '1. Always respect your superiors. 2. Finish an assigned task. 3. Teach Others. 4. Give necessary warnings before engagement. 5. Once engagement has begun, show no mercy.' Jim was startled at the brutality couched in efficient, military directives.
The last two pages were an 'Oath of Allegiance'." Jim scanned this "document" and then began to read to Jay.
" I, ____________, hereby acknowledge that the following mandates are necessary for becoming a member of the organization of the Quants:
The purpose of life is to establish a lifestyle where power can be attained.
The attainment of power must become of primary importance.
The attainment of power supersedes all other interests and pastimes.
The use of power is to further the goals of the leader.
Attaining power when presented with such, must be done without reservation, by any means necessary, spanning the gamut from harassment to murder, with no compunction."
"It gets worse," said Jay.
Jim read the last page. "All who wish to become of a member of the Quants organization must swear allegiance to said organization by speaking the following oath.
I, ____________, solemnly swear to uphold these mandates, beliefs, and requirements and sign with my own blood."
"How cheerful," said Jim. "I wonder if anyone actually ever swore to this?" A streak of lightning pierced the sky.
Jay thought for a moment before speaking. "I've been thinking about this ever since I read it myself. These bikers we ran into called themselves the Quants. Why would they identify with such an unknown group unless they were really a part of it? I mean, have you ever heard of this group before? It's not everyday you hear someone mention the name. It's like a secret society."
Jim thought about what Jay said. "So, you're saying every biker who calls himself a Quant has sworn with this speech?"
"If the speech and rules exist somewhere beyond this book that we have, yes. They could have papers with this same oath that they give to their prospective members. You'd be surprised, dad, at how many kooky motorcycle gangs there are out there."
"Ok, so you think that this ornate document is the real deal? Like this is the original of many other documents like this? And you think that this practice is still done today."
"I don't know. But it seems pretty strange that these people are obsessed with getting the treasure and then some document, which could likely be this very book. "
"Why would they want this so badly?" asked Jim.
"Maybe they forgot some details of the original and they needed to see it."
"Or, maybe," Jim said slowly, "they have to get it because they don't want anyone to see it."
"Like they want to destroy it?"
"Maybe. Maybe it would incriminate someone."
"Who? The bikers?" asked Jay.
"Probably not. But maybe it would incriminate him," replied Jim.
Jay stood up. "You mean the boss of this whole organization? Wow, that's like a scoop. It's like a bombshell. We could be whistleblowers!"
"Let's not get carried away, Jay. We're in enough trouble as it is. Let's give this thing to Mr. Slipp when he comes back in three days. And then it's end of story."
"I guess you're right, dad. It just seems like we could be crusaders for the truth."
Jim said, "No, Jay, people don't do things like swear on their own blood in the middle of the night on Halloween anymore. They're just trying to save themselves any embarrassment. We'll give it back and everyone will be happy."
"I don't know. Their actions seem pretty intense just to keep from being embarrassed, don't they?"
Jim shrugged, "I don't care. My family is more important and I'm not going to make any waves."
"Ok, dad. I'm with you." With that, Jay left the room and went to check on Adrianna.
The rain was beating hard against the large apartment windows and Jim went over to look out at the storm. The windy city had awakened. He stood there numbed by the heaviness of it all. Suddenly, Jim was dumbstruck. Maybe, they never wanted the treasure in the first place. They might have been desperate to get the box not because of the jewels, but for the document they thought was hidden in the secret compartment.
He needed to know more. Who were these people? He used the remote to turn on the tv. He switched channels a few times and found a mindless sitcom and an old western. The next station was the news - another sound bite from the candidates. Brian Foster was saying, "McCann lives in the past. He wants tradition. What we really need is innovation. Innovation in industry and business." Jim stared out the window as he listened.
Now, McCann was speaking, "Our American heritage is the stuff of legend! Rely on the men and women who built this country with guts and bravado. The pioneers, the outcasts of the cities, those who fought for power and attained it! If we band together like brothers and sisters, we can accomplish great things for this country. And I am just the guy to lead those brave warriors!"
Jim had the same feeling that these were hollow words. What was McCann saying? It sounded lofty and important but the words he used struck something chilling in Jim. He tried to remember. He almost felt like he had been hypnotized. Didn't he say, "Attain power." "Guts, bravado, warrior?"
Jim looked at the screen. McCann was still on, even though the anchor was talking now. Jim looked more closely at McCann's image. There was the same "Q". But this time McCann was wearing the same kind of T shirt that the bikers wore with a big, bold "Q" that did not stand for Quincy.
Did this man swear allegiance to the Quants? Did he spill his blood taking an oath to execute absolute power? Would he murder anyone in his way, with no compunction?
Was he him?
Jim jumped as his phone rang. He looked at the number. He didn't recognize it. He pushed 234 and the caller ID came up..it read "M Slipp."
Treasures of Darkness Book 3
Jim decided to ignore Mr. Slipps's phone call. He would not check the message. But why was he calling? Did he want to give Jim an update? Would he keep on calling for the next three days? Slipp had just pushed his way into Trey's apartment and given him another white envelope, a threat. After Slipp left, Jim had seen "evidence" that McCann, the presidential candidate, must be "him", the top guy, the boss, a Quant. Obviously working for McCann, Slipp would continue to play his part as the messenger boy.
Slipp had said that he wouldn't contact Jim again for three days. So, he could probably ignore him 'til then. What should he do? Did Jim really want to hand over the document after all? If McCann were the guy at the top of a violent organization with psychotic roots, then McCann had to be stopped. Was Jim the guy to do it?
Jim looked at his phone again. There was the message from Slipp and another new message from Trey.
Jim dialed his voicemail and listened. Trey was asking if his friend, Maggie, could take the kids to the Museum of Science and Industry tomorrow. She had the day off, loved kids, and could she pick them up at 9 am. She had heard about them from Trey who couldn't say enough good things about Adrianna and Jay.
The kids came into the room, "We're bored, dad," said Jay. The rain had stopped, and the sun was starting to show itself from behind the slate colored clouds.
"I'm sure you are," said Jim. "Would you two like to go with Trey's friend tomorrow to the coolest museum in Chicago?" The kids were thrilled with the idea.
"We're hungry too, dad," they complained.
"Are you up for some Chicago famous deep-dish pizza?" asked Jim.
The meal was great, and everyone felt that the trip to the windy city had been worth it so far. On the way back to Trey's place, Adrianna asked Jim, "What are you going to do about that weird guy, dad?"
"You know, I think I found what he's looking for, what he's been looking for all along. And I'm going to give it to him when he comes back in a
couple of days."
"Oh good, that's a relief!" she said.
Jim and Jay looked at each other. They weren't so sure that relief was actually in sight.
The next morning Maggie came up to Trey's to get the kids. She was an attractive blonde with a welcoming smile and enough energy to handle a field trip with the O’Neill’s. "You are coming along aren't you, Jim?" she asked.
"Well, if it's all the same to you, I think I'll stay here and get some work done." It was decided that the three of them would return for dinner and that they'd keep in touch with Jim throughout the day.
"Have a great time in the coal mine!" Jim called as they headed for the elevator.
"My favorite thing at the museum!" called out Maggie as the elevator doors shut.
Jim needed time to think. He decided to listen to Slipp's message after all. He dialed up the voicemail.
It was Slipp's voice all right but obviously he was leaving a message for someone entirely different. He must have gotten Jim's number mixed up with one of his contacts. The voice mail said, "The initiation will be at 1:00 pm tomorrow. The usual place. There may be others at the bar, but you know they've heard it before and can't really see or hear exactly what we're saying. I think this is a good prospect. The back room at Sally's."
Sally's. Initiation. This had to be an induction of a new Quant. Jim could hardly contain himself. He had wanted more information. What better evidence could he get for the Quant experience than this. So, what was Sally's? Slipp had said "bar." Jim began a search for Sally's bar, Chicago. Nothing came up. Oh, no, he thought. I have to find this place. Maybe it's some woman they know named Sally. He listened to the message again. Slipp had a bit of an accent, some kind of British, Jim thought. This time he heard "Sully's" or was that "Solly's."
He tried a new search. He found Solly's Bar and Grill on Clark Street.
He would have to have a disguise. Slipp and who knows who else, would recognize him. He went through Trey's things, and after a half hour, came up with a very large hoodie and some dark sunglasses. He looked in the mirror in Jim's bedroom. Too obvious, he thought. After some more hunting, he decided on the hoodie and a knit cap, with sunglasses just in case. He decided to go early in case he got lost or in case he had the wrong place. Jim got his car out of the building's garage and drove to the bar and grill. Shady looking place, Jim thought. It was 11:30. He checked his phone again in case there was any update or a message from Trey. Nothing had changed. Jim decided to go to a fast food place across the street so that he could watch out the window to see who was entering. At least some would come early, and he could check them out. Too bad he'd been seen by some of these people already or he'd offer himself up as a prospective Quant in order to get firsthand, in-your-face experience. If it didn't work, he would have gotten punched in the face experience, but that scenario wasn't possible anyway. I wonder if I'd be that brave, thought Jim.
Treasures of Darkness Box Set Page 7
