"That's funny, because it seems like they found something in your museum that you didn't tell me you had."
"I...I can explain."
"You'd better."
"It was the Americans. They...they found the original document in one of the file drawers. I swear, I didn't know it was in there. Honest." Wilbur stuttered his way through his explanation.
Jack didn't believe him. "Now, Wilbur. How is it that the museum director doesn't know what his own building is storing?"
Wilbur's eyes welled up. He was on the verge of sobbing. "I'm telling you, I didn't know the original document was here. I swear. It was in some hidden door in an old desk. I don't know how Annie found it or what she was doing with it. I just saw the fake bottom of the desk for the first time tonight."
"The original, what else was on it that I need to know about?"
"Nothing," Wilbur's head twitched back and forth rapidly. "There was nothing different on it. It was the exact same as the email."
"Then why were the Americans so bent on seeing it?" Jack's patience began to wane. He felt the trigger tense against his index finger.
"I...I don't know," Wilbur stammered. "They thought there might be a code or something in invisible ink."
"A code? What code?"
The keys jingled in Wilbur's hands. "Here. Come inside. I'll show you. Just...please, put the gun down. Please."
Jack drew in a slow breath through his nostrils as he sized up the fat museum director. Wilbur's face was flushed red, and sweat poured down his temples and forehead. If Jack didn't know any better, he'd say the man was about to wet himself.
"Hot night out, isn't it?" Jack asked.
"What?" Wilbur was thrown off by the random question.
"You're sweating, Wilbur. Must be because it's warm out."
"Oh. Yes. Yes, that's it. Hot air. Please, come inside where it's cooler. I'll show you what they found."
Jack only took another second to consider the invitation. "All right, Willy. But if you try anything stupid, I'll splatter your brains all over this little museum. Understand?"
Wilbur's head ratcheted up and down.
"That's a good boy. Would be a shame to have to kill you after all the money our employer's invested in you."
"Right. Right...I'm an investment." He fumbled the keys and finally slid the correct one into the lock.
Inside the dark museum, Wilbur hurried over to the alarm panel and turned it off before the incessant screaming began. When he was done, he rushed back over to the vault door and unlocked it. He flipped a couple of light switches, and the two rooms lit up.
"This way," Wilbur said, motioning with his right hand.
He waddled into the next room and pointed at the work table to his left. "See? They didn't take it with them. Said there wasn't anything helpful on it."
Jack followed him and closed the door behind. He gazed at the paper for a moment, rereading the message he'd already seen via email.
Wilbur had been the one to let Jack know what Annie found. The email system was set up so that he'd be notified whenever a message went out. Initially, it had been a precaution to prevent people from goofing around on company time. On this particular occasion, it was a system that made Wilbur a good deal of money.
He knew Bernard Holmes was interested in Aboriginal artifacts, though he wasn't sure why. It didn't matter to Wilbur. All he knew was that the man had money and was willing to pay top dollar for any information that might lead to anything rare from the Aboriginal history.
Jack had been the one to come by and inquire about the email. He'd also warned Wilbur that others might come by to find out what it meant. He'd made a mistake in believing the Americans were dead. Apparently, his assassin who'd bombed the IAA building in Atlanta botched the detonation.
Jack diverted his eyes away from the Mathews document and took a look around. "You certainly have a lot of old stuff in here, Willy."
Wilbur ignored the goofy nickname Jack had decided to use. "Yes. Yes, we do."
"How long you been working here?"
Wilbur swallowed and attempted to keep his composure. "Too long, Jack. Far too long. That's why your...our employer's request was so fortuitous. Thanks to his investment, I'll be able to retire a bit sooner than expected."
"Ripper, Willy. Ripper." Jack slowly stepped around one of the aisles and stopped at a statue of a woman with one arm. Her flowing gown had been pulled down, exposing her breasts. He tapped the stone with the edge of his gun's muzzle. "I always wondered why these artists were allowed to get away with stuff like this."
"Wha...what?"
"I mean, back in the old days, nudity was everywhere. It was on paintings, sculptures like this one. I always wondered why the fascination."
"Well, the human body was considered a beautiful thing, Jack. Anyway, like I was saying, the Americans didn't find anything useful, so they went on their way."
Jack ran the tip of his gun along the sculpture's arm, all the way to the fingertips.
"You in a hurry to get me out of here, Willy?"
"No," Wilbur said. He forced a short laugh. "No. I'm just tired."
"Ah yes. You must be tired. Been here all day, no doubt."
Wilbur answered with a nod.
"You should probably get some rest."
"That would be good."
"I wonder why you call this room the vault."
Wilbur wasn't sure where the conversation was going, but it was all over the place. One thing was certain, he didn't like Jack's tone.
"It's surrounded by concrete. It's fireproof. This whole room is basically a bomb shelter."
Jack's head went up and down. "Pretty much soundproof then, too, eh?"
"Sure, but I don't see—"
Jack whipped his pistol around and fired. The round zipped across the room and tore through Wilbur's right shoulder.
For the first few seconds, he didn't know how to react. Then his nerves sent burning pain to his brain. Wilbur howled and clutched the wound with the opposite hand.
Jack rushed over to the museum director as he dropped to his knees. "I'm so sorry, Willy. It must have gone off by mistake. I'm so sorry."
He caressed the man's fleshy face with the smoking muzzle.
"You shot me," Wilbur whimpered.
"I know, Willy. I know. These things happen."
He pressed the muzzle against Wilbur's temple and stood back. "I'd hate for this gun to go off again, Willy. Now if you don't mind terribly, tell me what the Americans found."
The sobbing commenced. "I told you. They didn't find anything." Wilbur nearly choked on the words.
"Oh? Then why were they talking about a cipher and a key when they left here?"
Wilbur's eyes widened. "Yes. The cipher. They found a cipher in the desk back there." He pointed with his good arm at the antique desk near the back of the room.
"Forgot about that, did you?"
Wilbur couldn't shake his head fast enough. "No. I swear. I didn't think it was important. It's just a bunch of weird symbols. Without the key, it's useless. They don't even know where it is."
"Show me."
Jack dragged the heavier man up by his ear like he would a little child who'd misbehaved. He pulled him back to the desk and shoved him back down on the floor again. "This desk?" Jack asked.
"Yes. Yes, this is the desk." Wilbur clutched his shoulder wound in a vain effort to stem the bleeding.
"Where did they find these symbols?"
Wilbur winced and jerked his thumb at the underside. "Underneath. There's a false panel. Annie must have triggered it to open by mistake. The Americans didn't even know how it happened. They said the cipher was burned into the wood."
Jack flashed a warning glare at the injured man. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" He winked at his own joke. He knew Wilbur wouldn't try anything stupid. The man was a pushover.
Jack slid under the desk and stared up at the opening. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned on the light. "I don't see
anything in here, Willy. Are you having a laugh with me? Because if you are, I think you know what will happen."
"No, please. It's there. They had to look closely. One of them stuck his phone up close to the hole and took several pictures. I never saw the actual symbols, only the images on his phone."
"Fair enough," Jack said. He raised his device close to the hole and shined the light inside. He twisted his neck a few inches and then realized what the fleshy man was talking about. "Oh yeah. There it is. Got it." He pressed the button on the screen several times to get as many pictures as possible. Then he slid out and stood up. "Come on, Willy. Lets have a look, shall we?" He grabbed the collar on Wilbur's shirt and yanked him up again.
Jack passed his phone to the uneasy museum director, who nearly dropped it on the floor. He managed to hold on and showed the image on the screen to Jack, who kept his weapon planted in Wilbur's lower back.
"What are we lookin' at, Willy?"
"I already told you. I don't know. It's just a bunch of symbols. See?" He pointed to the two lines of odd signs. "The Americans didn't know what they were."
"You're telling me that you've been working at this old museum for the better part of three decades and you have no idea what these mean?" Jack's volume increased with each word until he finished the sentence at full crescendo.
Wilbur winced at the booming voice echoing through the room. He managed to calm himself long enough to answer. "No. No one knows what these mean. They're not like hieroglyphs or petroglyphs. These are something altogether different. They were designed to be undecipherable."
"Then they're useless. And so are you." Jack stepped back and pointed the gun at the back of Wilbur's head.
"No! Please! Wait!"
Wilbur grimaced, expecting to hear the shot and his life to end. It didn't come.
"Why, Willy? Huh? Why shouldn't I just kill you right now?" Jack's voice roared.
"Because."
"Because why?"
"You need a key to unlock the meaning of these symbols."
"And where is this key?"
"I already told you, I don't know. The Americans don't know either."
Jack was tired of this blubbering fool. He'd seen men like this before. Cowards, all of them. They were unwilling to stare down the barrel of a gun, as if that would help their pitiful circumstances. The bullet would do its job whether they looked or not. This one, however, was particularly pathetic.
"You're not helping your case, Willy."
"Please, I know where they're going next."
Jack paused a moment and then lowered the weapon. "I'm listening."
Wilbur's heart pounded in his chest. Perspiration dripped off his nose to the concrete floor in huge drops. He hesitated before he felt it was safe enough to turn around and face Jack. "They...they're going to a cave north of the city. It's called Baiame Cave, close to Milbrodale. I got the impression they believe the key might be there somewhere. If you just get me to a doctor so I can have my shoulder patched up, maybe I could show you where it is. I might even be able to find the key for you and decipher the code."
Jack listened to Wilbur's plea. Milbrodale? He'd never heard of it. Then again, he'd never heard of most of the backcountry towns in Australia. He'd grown up in the city. After his rugby career ended due to a catastrophic knee injury, no team would even take a look at him. So Jack did the only thing he ever knew how to do. He mugged people, beat people up, and he did it well. When Bernard Holmes offered him a job, he sharpened his skills further and eliminated anyone who stood in his way.
He considered Wilbur's offer. The portly man was injured. He'd slow things down. His request for a doctor was absurd. No way Jack was going to take the guy to a hospital. That meant he'd have to take him to Holmes's private physician, a man who only worked for cash.
There was another option that Jack kept coming back to. He didn't need Wilbur anymore.
"I have to say, Willy, you do a good job of begging. I mean, you really go for it with the tears and the choking voice thing. I've seen my fair share of it through the years, and you're probably one of the best."
Wilbur's eyes filled with hope. "Does that mean you're going to take me with you? You won't regret it. I promise."
"Actually, no. You see, they invented this new thing called the internet where I can find information on pretty much everything I need—say, a map for example. So I can find this cave and Milbrodale on my own. Seeing how you probably wouldn't know what to look for or where to look for it when we got there, there's really no point in me bringing you along. And then there's the problem of your bleeding shoulder. I can't have you getting blood all over the interior of my car. I just had it cleaned two days ago. I'm sure you can appreciate my predicament."
Fear crept back onto Wilbur's face. "Okay, sure. You don't have to take me along. I can take myself to the hospital. No worries."
Jack wagged the gun around carelessly. "Now you see, I can't have that either."
"Why not? I won't tell anyone what happened. I'll tell them it was an accident. They'll never know."
"Ah yeah, but there will be an inquisition, Willy. Those docs are nosy types. Always trying to get to the bottom of things with their reports and such. Sooner or later they'll come around. And you don't exactly strike me as the strong type who can keep his yap shut."
Wilbur's desperation reached its height. "I'm an investment, Jack. Mr. Holmes has spent a good deal of money for my help. He won't be happy if you do this."
A thin, sickly smile crossed Jack's lips. "Do you really think Mr. Holmes cares about that paltry sum he gave you? He writes off ten times that every year. He won't have a problem with me writing you off as well."
"No. Please. I can. I won't say anything."
"I know you won't, Willy. I know you won't."
The muzzle flashed suddenly. For a moment, Wilbur's body wavered, leaning one direction and then the other. The bullet hole in his forehead made sure he was dead before he hit the floor.
"There you go, Willy," Jack said, taunting the dead man. "Have a rest. You've had a tough day."
Jack stepped over the body and made his way to the front of the room. He stopped next to the document and leaned over. For a brief moment, he considered stealing it, but it was the same as the one he had in his email. Email could be accessed through his phone. Carrying that paper around was a pointless hassle.
He strode out the door and closed it behind him. A quick search on his phone yielded the results he wanted. It was getting late, so he'd wait until morning to head to Milbrodale. No way his quarry was going there tonight. They'd be exhausted from their journey. He might as well catch a little sleep too.
Tomorrow, he'd get the key to the cipher and take out the Americans.
11
Milbrodale
Sean got out of the car and stretched his legs. Then he put his arms over his head and stretched them as well.
The drive from Sydney to Milbrodale took right at two and a half hours, although Reece claimed he could make it in two flat. The cave was only a few minutes away from the little town. Its location was on private property, but the owners allowed visitors due to the historic nature of the cave.
The others got out of the car and looked around.
Reece was the first to speak up. "Awfully quiet around here."
They got an early start in an effort to beat any tourists to the site. Tommy and Sean had long ago found it best if they could work without prying eyes on them at all times. Their plan had worked for now. They were the only people around.
"Let's take a look at this thing," Sean said.
He led the other three up the steps of a narrow trail until they reached the huge overhang known as Baiame Cave.
"Looks just like in the pictures I saw online," Tommy said.
"Yeah, but it's much bigger than I expected," Adriana added.
The cave drawing of the Aborigine god Baiame stood out against the backdrop of sandstone. The body of the deity was thin with a ba
ld head, painted a dark reddish brown. Two bright white orbs occupied where the eyes would be. While the legs were fairly long, the arms were what most people noticed first. The long appendages stretched more than a dozen feet across the cave ceiling. Under the arm to the right, two illuminated boomerangs were depicted hanging in midair. To the left, tracings of hands and tools were surrounded by a chalky white substance.
"How old is this thing, again?" Sean asked.
"Some have suggested thirteen thousand years," Tommy answered.
Sean raised an eyebrow. "Give or take a few thousand, right?"
"Almost always."
Adriana stared up at the cave art, mesmerized. "This is incredible. It's just stunning to look at."
"Indeed," Sean said.
The four stood silent for a minute before Reece spoke up again. "So what is it exactly that we're looking for?"
"A foreign stone," Sean answered. "Turned and unturned."
"That second part is a little odd. What do you think it means?"
"No idea."
Tommy stepped closer to the ceiling, keeping to the path so as not to disturb the integrity of the site. He tilted his head one way and then the other. "Maybe there's something in the drawing we're supposed to figure out. Look at these hands." He pointed to the left side of the figure. "They appear to be in sort of random positions. But if you look closely, you'll see it looks like they're turning from one spot to another."
"Maybe," Adriana said. "But is this whole thing a foreign stone?" She put her hands out wide. "This cave rock looks just like the other rocks from around here."
"She has a point," Sean said.
Tommy put his hands on his hips. "So what is it then?"
No one had an answer.
"Maybe we should have figured that out before driving two-plus hours to get here," Reece joked. He chuckled and then noticed Tommy's ill expression. "Hey, I'm only kidding with you. We'll figure it out."
Sean stepped back away from the viewing area and gazed at the cave art. A foreign stone, turned and unturned. He ran the words from Mathews's document through his mind. This stone couldn't be turned, not by anything they had back then. It's too big. He had to be referring to a different rock, something smaller that he could have turned around or moved.
The Sean Wyatt Series Box Set 4 Page 8