Midnight Liberty League - Part I

by Brock Law

man settled into his seat, and sputtered out the dank air. Franklin grabbed hold of the barrels on either side for support. He looked back at Will with a regretful appearance, then slumped heavily against the crusty wall.

  “I’m very sorry about all this,” Franklin apologized. “I don’t know how this could have happened.”

  “Hell of a panic room,” Will muttered.

  “Lots of old colonial homes have subterranean escapes,” Franklin reasoned. “Spies moved in and out during the occupation of the city.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Exactly. There’s some unknown history for you.”

  “You’d give my dad a run for his money,” Will said.

  “The advantage of experience,” Franklin said. “This will eventually let out a couple blocks down.”

  With a sniffle and quick brush of the hand, he wiped away his perspiration. Exhausted, the old man’s arms hung limply and his shoes scrapped sluggishly on the ground as his balance shifted atop the barrel.

  “You’re obviously being targeted,” Will surmised.

  Franklin sighed, “It appears so.”

  “I’m afraid to ask this,” Will said with a gulp, “but you’re in the mafia, aren’t you?”

  “Huh?” Franklin said before slowly comprehending, “Oh, that would be a rational explanation, but no.”

  “So why is a Ben Franklin impersonator being hunted by a pack of assassins? We’re going to be tomorrow’s headline, aren’t we?” Will said darkly.

  “Not with my publishers,” Franklin blurted out.

  “I thought you retired?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Franklin backtracked, “Well, I…consult for the Inquirer.”

  “What about that note? Those men who attacked you said something about a cup. Mean anything to you?”

  His demeanor flattening, Franklin was losing interest in keeping up whatever appearance he had thus far maintained. He couldn’t even look at Will as he unthinkingly answered speculation, his visage increasingly anguished.

  “Must be after my silverware,” Franklin said after a moment. “Let them have it.”

  “I don’t think they were breaking in the back door just to collect a ransom.” Will’s tone was heavy with macabre implications.

  “Probably not.”

  “I hope…”

  “So do I.”

  Franklin took in a deep breath and finally looked at Will. Clear guilt washed over him, along with the impediment of uncertainty.

  “Once we get back to the street, we can find an officer,” Will pressed.

  Franklin, without acknowledging Will’s resolution, said simply, “I’m ok now. Let’s get moving.”

  Franklin slid off his perch, dusted himself and wandered back into the tiny dark corridor as comfortably as a mole. Will dragged his palms across his face one last time to remove the sweat and reluctance. Upon standing, he shook out each limb and cracked his neck. Over his shoulder, the resonance of death crawling after set him straight. Knowing that the only way out was forward, he followed Ben.

  “Watch out,” Franklin called back.

  A skeletal bramble of tree roots flung over Franklin’s shoulder, whipped back and thrashed Will across the chest. The force flung him back a step and loosened a few bricks from the ceiling where the roots were protruding. They smashed into the spot where Will had previously been standing. His eyes flashed red with anger in the darkness.

  “Sorry, guess I haven’t been down here in a while,” Franklin apologized.

  “I would hope not,” Will scoffed. “This day just keeps getting better.”

  Around the next corner, the wall had partially collapsed. A hollow room beyond was exposed, out of which rubble overflowed into the corridor. Inside Will spied stacks of busted wood and iron, all meticulously embellished with sculpted impressions along the edges. Another ancient cellar buried by the evolving city. It gave Will further feelings of being trapped in a sarcophagus. The tangle of decaying treasures inside was in the exact semblance of the opening of Tutankhamen’s tomb, being seen for the first time in countless ages.

  As they snaked around another bend, a soft yellow light finally appeared ahead. Will pointed his flashlight to reveal a plank door, tightly secured with thick iron hinges. Franklin paused. “Why are the lights on in there?” he whispered frantically.

  “Is that not a good thing?” Will asked.

  “Well I certainly didn’t leave them on,” Franklin stammered.

  A burst of raucous laughter pierced through the door and vibrated down the tunnel. The voices of at least a pair of men howled, hollering out the melody of an unfamiliar song. The tune was accompanied by a wooden crash and another boisterous chorus.

  “Thank God,” Franklin said with a relieved, yet still nervous sigh.

  Franklin strolled up to the door. Above it hung a large black key from a band of leather, which he lifted and inserted into the lock. The rusty mechanism screeched from his shaky force until it finally clicked open. Franklin carefully replaced the instrument and firmly clasped the lever with both hands, lifting it with even more difficulty. Fine particulates of dust flared up into the flashlight’s beam as the door handle grinded against the dry wood. Shoulder against the door, Franklin rammed and heaved, and eventually it cracked. Light poured out into Will’s eyes.

  “Benji!”

  Will could not see the faces of the yelling voices clearly, but they sounded elated at Franklin’s arrival. Two sets of fists pounded out a happy thunder on a wooden table. Franklin remained relatively calm, though he raised his hands and bowed slightly.

  “You never answered any of my messages,” said one voice, “where have you been?”

  “Weeeeve been tjrink…drinking for a lil while a-ready,” the other voice slurred.

  Over Franklin’s shoulder, Will spied two middle-aged men dressed in tailored shirts with the sleeves rolled up to reveal gilt watches. On the table between them were a couple overturned pint glasses. Each was recently emptied, still with alcoholic bubbles inching down the sides.

  “Gentlemen,” Franklin responded, “you didn’t tell me you were coming to town. I regret I broke my phone earlier.”

  “Just passing through,” one of the men said. “We’re on our way up to Hancock’s place in Martha’s Vineyard. We thought we’d stop in for lunch and a drink.”

  “Which turned into a few,” said the other.

  “Why didn’t you come in by the proper entrance,” the other said, “and…who’s the kid?”

  Franklin had stepped aside, leaving Will exposed. Awkwardly, Will’s eyes transferred to Franklin, who looked back in the same manner. He wrinkled his face in hesitation, stalling as he cooked up an explanation.

  “Nate, Tony,” Franklin began, “this is William…he’s a witness.”

  As the word sunk in, both men’s gaiety dissolved. The drunker one, who Franklin had addressed as Tony, put down his drink and wiped his face with the cold condensation from the glass. The other, Nate, squirmed anxiously in his seat. Will withered under their disappointment, feeling unwelcome despite his protestation against arriving to this point in the first place.

  “You didn’t trip down the bell tower again, did you Ben?” Tony joked meanly.

  “I’m afraid it’s much more serious,” Franklin replied.

  “Car accident?” Nate asked with earnest concern. “Are you both alright?”

  “I was attacked by two men who knew what they were looking for, if you know what I mean,” Franklin hinted. “Will saved me, but they tracked us to my house. We escaped down the tunnel.”

  “I told you you’ve been living too openly,” said Nate. “You and Vivienne can stay with me for a while.”

  Franklin’s despairing eyelashes kicked away a building tear as he spoke. “They took Vivienne.”

  His head drooped, and his gaze diminished. Both men’s summertime joy flew straight up the chimney, leaving the room bereft with overwhelming astonishment. Will observed, still unsure of how to respond. Tony s
lammed both arms down on the table and sprung irately out of his seat. “Damn it Franklin! How did this happen?”

  “I don’t know,” Franklin fired back. “There were two of them, they knew my name, they tasted my blood!”

  Nate chimed in angrily, “What? Ben, that’s not possible. That’s just a myth the Swiss made up to keep us in line.”

  “Perhaps in the same way that we are myths? What if there were more of them? They wouldn’t have told us.” Franklin retorted.

  “You’re mad! Someone must have talked.” Tony accused frigidly.

  “Said what, and to whom? They just appeared at my tour today, and started asking bizarre conspiracy-laden questions.”

  “When was the last time anyone heard from the Swiss anyway?” Tony added. “Maybe they were infiltrated by some investors they slighted. You can’t wield that much power and not raise some eyebrows. Have you spoken to them recently?”

  “That could be true,” Nate remarked. “We should contact them.”

  “I need your help to find Vivienne. They drove off with her and left a note asking for the…” Franklin trailed off mysteriously after receiving a troubled look from Will. “Whoever they are, they know something.”

  “Oh Jes…,” Tony stopped himself by clearing his throat. “Excuse me. We have to deal with this, don’t we? How many did you say?”

  “I saw two, but Will here knocked them out in an alley. I got the feeling that there were more involved in the coordination. Someone followed after quickly and scooped up Vivie in a van.”

  Tony came over and clapped Will on the arm. “Well it’s a good thing you had a little muscle. At least you two made it out to warn