“Of course. Like I said, we’re not after any loot.”
He took a deep breath, and then coughed. It didn’t sound good.
“Thank you,” Robbie said. “But be careful. There are supposed to be booby traps built into the side tunnels. Watch for trip wires.”
“Okay. Will do.” I started to walk away. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He called out to me. “Wait!”
I returned to the barred window. “Yes?”
“Who did you say you were again?”
I chuckled. “I’m Gus LeGarde. I’m here on vacation.” I waved over my shoulder and headed down the dark hall.
The overhead lights were dimmer here. I flicked on my flashlight and played it across the width of the tunnel. The temperature dropped as I moved away from the footprint of the mansion. As I walked down the passage, I knew I had to be somewhere under the Waterfords’ lawn. It seemed to go forever.
After walking for about fifteen minutes, which I figured was maybe a half-mile, I found the first of the side tunnels. Square-cut openings appeared to the right and left at ninety-degree angles from the main run. Rooms appeared off of the side tunnels, some with wooden doors that could have been locked, but to my surprise they were not. I wondered what in the hell they’d been originally designed for, and then realized that if Tooly McNabb had indeed built this house, it could have been to stash the treasure he stole from innocent travelers whose ships he pillaged.
I chose the opening on the left, and decided I’d investigate in case there were multiple exits in this underground labyrinth. Or maybe, if I was lucky, I might even run across the Cooks’ treasure chest.
The floor was uneven and cobwebs hung thickly overhead. I grabbed a stick I found propped against the wall and began to swipe across the width of the tunnel to clear the webs.
After about ten minutes, with stick still in hand to test for trip wires, I’d found room after room filled with empty wooden boxes and shelves. There were no trap doors or ladders leading to the surface. I fantasized that at one time they might have held the treasures of nations. There were no booby traps, or if they existed, they weren’t functioning any more.
I knew I had to find an exit, and quickly, but I couldn’t help but check around in case the gold crosses were hidden nearby.
The offshoot on the opposite side of the main tunnel proved to be filled with the same: empty boxes and shelves.
On the last shelf in the seventh room I checked, I found a small bag of pearls hidden at the back of one of the higher shelves. I peered into the velvet drawstring pouch and drew in my breath. If they were real, they’d be worth some money. I found one long string nestled in a pile of loose pearls. Pocketing them, I walked on. I didn’t consider whether it was right or wrong to simply take them, but I planned to secretly turn them over to Albert and Jane, particularly in view of what Marla had done to us.
The next three branches off the main tunnel revealed the same type of layout. Rough planks lined the walls filled with empty sea chests, metal boxes, and shelves, sometimes piled high with empty liquor bottles, as if someone had sat in there, drinking and gazing at his treasures. I found candlesticks with half-burned candles on a circular table in the fourth corridor.
I was nearly to the fifth set of cross passages when I realized I must have been walking for at least a mile. Was I under the sea, the dunes, or beneath someone’s home? It was hard to tell in which direction I’d been moving.
The left side of the fifth tunnel offshoot was a bust. With a burgeoning sense of excitement, I headed for the right arm.
I swiped the stick ahead of me, once again looking for thin wires that might trigger some kind of Indiana Jones-type trap. Apparently it was a myth, because no poisoned arrows came shooting out of the walls at me.
I walked into a room much like the others, but this one seemed more recently used. The cobwebs were minimal, and the room was chock full of boxes and chests.
I opened the nearest chest, heart pounding. Winking back at me was a mound of antique jewelry, including rings, necklaces, bracelets and broaches of gold, copper, silver, and gemstones, with rubies, emeralds, amethysts, and diamonds. I lifted a few of the sparkling pieces and whistled. One long necklace included surprisingly heavy solid gold beads.
But was this related to the Cooks’ treasure, or had it been some other poor soul’s family heirlooms?
I had no idea about the value of such stuff, but it had to be worth a great deal, or it wouldn’t be hidden. And it certainly looked old, probably hundreds of years old, at that.
I tried the next chest, full of drawstring bags with more jewelry. In one satin bag labeled “circus elephant jewelry” I found a string of what seemed to be rhinestone and silver elephant headdresses. I didn’t think they could possibly be diamonds.
Could they?
I wondered if Marla knew about this and if she’d ever come down to gloat over the collection.
Well, of course she did. Why else would she imprison Robbie? Or us?
I closed the second chest of jewelry and found another filled with pewter cups and steins. I pictured a knight sitting in a noisy hall in France around a long trestle table in a king’s court, hefting one of the tall steins filled with ale.
The riches continued to grow, revealing items I had never seen before. I knelt before a wooden box. Inside straw packing material I found intricate figurines carved from ivory. The harvesting of ivory isn’t approved in this day and age, but I had to admit the craftsmanship of the tiny figures of elephants and people was beguiling.
I knew, as I examined trunk after trunk, that there was much more here than could have come out of the one Cook treasure chest. I suspected maybe it was the last of all the pirated treasures that hadn’t been sold off in the past centuries. Unfortunately, this wouldn’t help the Cooks much. There was no proof that any of it was related to the original theft of the church treasure chest in 1767. And sadly, I’d seen no gold crosses.
Another chest revealed leather-bound books with gilt-edged pages. I didn’t dare open them, fearing that my soiled hands might damage the fragile pages. I continued on, in spite of the speed at which I felt pressured to examine these, to minimize the time my fellow prisoners would have to stay in this dungeon. I knew they were counting on me, and I didn’t plan to let them down.
I lifted another lid. Inside was a velvet and sequined purple outfit that seemed like something Aladdin would wear. A matching pair of curly-toed slippers went with the ensemble. Surprised it hadn’t disintegrated, I wondered if the cool temperatures were suitable for preservation.
A root cellar back home kept my vegetables from rotting. Maybe it did the same for fabric?
When I reached the end of the room, in the far, dark corner I found a table set up like an altar. Purple velvet curtains hung on either side of the table with gold-braided loops strung across them. Atop a lacy tablecloth stood two brass candlesticks flanking a large treasure chest.
The initials on the latch were ZDC, and immediately I wondered if Zebediah’s middle name started with a D.
My mind went a little crazy.
Dennis. Douglas. David. Donald. Doolittle.
I laughed out loud and tried to pry open the latch, but it resisted my touch. The sturdy table on which it sat had two drawers. I slid them out and found papers, a leather folder, but no keys.
Then I remembered a trick I’d seen used before. I removed the left hand drawer and flipped it over to look at its underside.
Yes!
Taped to its bottom was a key.
I gently disengaged it and tried it in the lock. The old clasp snapped open.
When I opened the trunk, I held my breath. I played the flashlight over its interior, but my breath slipped out slowly when I saw what was inside.
I stared at a toy soldier and horse collection, unfortunately not the three heavy gold crosses I’d been hoping for.
Dozens of painted soldiers in various positions, with swords in hand, and
some astride horses, were jumbled in the chest.
I removed them all, searching for a false bottom. I was sure I’d found the hiding place for the three gold crosses, but had no luck.
Slowly, I repacked them in the chest and straightened, feeling deeply disappointed. I’d pictured myself the avenging hero for Zebediah Cook, and had envisioned saving the Cook homestead for Albert, Jane, and Mason.
So much for heroes.
“Enough treasure hunting,” I said aloud. I turned the flashlight back toward the main corridor. “It’s time to find a way out of here.”
Chapter 26
How long had I been trudging through this damn tunnel? It felt like forever, but I guessed it had to have been no more than two or three hours. I kept going in the direction away from the mansion, toward the sea.
I wanted to check my phone for the time, but knew I’d find no signal. How could it update from this underground labyrinth?
With a determined snort I said, “Just keep walking. There has to be an end to this thing. And it’s gotta be close.”
The walls—which previously were dirt supported by wooden timbers—now turned to wooden walls and ceiling. A few more storage rooms appeared on the sides of the main artery, but I glanced in briefly and found they were empty.
I stopped to listen. What was that sound? Stomping? Pounding? It didn’t sound like the storm, which nevertheless I occasionally heard wailing in the background.
“Hello?” I called, not really expecting anyone to hear me.
I nearly bumped into a wall, signaling the end of the tunnel.
A dead end?
No way.
It couldn’t end like this, so close to civilization, hearing the sounds of some living thing up above and me trapped below. It was just not possible, and I wouldn’t accept it, even if I had to dig my way to the surface with my bare hands.
I backtracked to the storage rooms. More carefully now, I swung the light into all corners of the first room.
There.
A rickety old ladder led up to a wooden ceiling.
Above the ladder was a square hatch.
And now, I smelled something very familiar.
Horses.
I put my weight on the first rung.
It held, but groaned.
The second one snapped, but I climbed to the third and it seemed solid. My knee didn’t hurt as much as it had yesterday, and I was able to hang tight to the vertical rails and climb to the top. With a prayer, I opened the latch and pushed on the overhead door.
It didn’t give.
Again, I shoved it with all my strength. A cloud of dust filtered onto my face, but the thing didn’t budge.
I heard the sound again and now recognized it for sure: horses’ hooves clomping on their stall floorboards overhead.
“Hello?” I cried again. “Anyone up there?”
Silence.
I pulled the long pair of shears out of my pocket and tried prying them into the opening around the wooden hatch, and after about five minutes I was able to remove the old nails and pull the first board away. On top of it was another layer of wooden planks. But faint light leaked through a crack, and realized I might have a shot at getting out, after all.
With dogged determination, I eventually removed all of the boards from the hatch, prying out the old rusty nails one at a time. Now the light of dawn came through the overhead floorboards. The sounds of the storm grew fainter as I worked, and I hoped that meant it was passing.
I was able to shove the shears into the cracks between the upper boards, but in this case the nails holding the boards down were pounded into the wood from above. I couldn’t pry them out like I’d done with the door. I needed something heavier to slam upwards to have a chance at loosening any of the planks.
I was about to head back down the ladder and go all the way back for my big rocks in the cell, when I heard a blessed sound. Someone slid open the barn door.
I heard a familiar voice talking to the horses.
“You guys okay? That was some storm, huh?”
A wide smile formed on my lips. Scout Remington. I was under the Seacrest’s barn.
“Scout! Over here!” I yelled, pressing my lips to the crack in the floorboards. It tasted dusty, but I didn’t care. I’d found salvation.
She didn’t hear my cries at first, but then her footsteps came closer. “Hello?”
“Scout! It’s me, Gus. I’m trapped under the barn. I can see you. Look down.” I held the flashlight to the crack and played the light around. “I’m here.”
“What the hell?” She bent down and pressed an eye to the crack. “Gus LeGarde? What are you doing under the barn?”
“It’s a long story. Can you pry up a few floorboards and let me out?”
“Oh my God, of course I will. Just wait a sec. Let me find a crowbar.”
I heard her feet clattering over the floor, some rustling around in a nearby room, and then the returning sound of her footsteps.
“Got one. Hold tight, Gus. I’ve got to find the end of one of these boards. They’re really long.”
I heard her scraping away the dust and hay overhead, and then her shout of joy.
“Found it. Hold on.”
A metallic screech followed, and I pictured her pulling out a long nail. Again, the same sound. “I’m getting it.”
I saw the end of one board being pried up. Slowly, she worked the length of the board until it was free. I popped my head through the opening, but couldn’t squeeze my shoulders through it. “Thank God you came out here, Scout. Can you get one more board loose?”
“I’m on it,” she said, biting her lower lip and bending over the next board to remove the nails.
In another five minutes, she had the second board opened and I climbed out, collapsing onto the barn floor. “There are others,” I said. “They’re trapped below the Waterfords’ mansion.”
“What?” She shook her head as if she hadn’t heard me right. “Then how the hell did you get under our barn?”
“There’s a tunnel. I think it was built by McNabb and he used it to bring in the pirated treasure.”
“But why use our barn?”
“Maybe it was built before The Seacrest was even dreamed of, Scout. Maybe it was the floor of a boathouse or an old shed. When they built the barn, they may have gone right over the old floorboards.”
“My God,” she said. “This is unbelievable.”
“We need to call the police. I’ll tell you the whole story.” I took out my phone, but had no signal. I held it up and moved it around.
“Um…” Scout grimaced. “The cell towers are out.”
Jack appeared in the doorway with his daughter in his arms. “Gus? Are you okay? You look like hell.” He glanced with a frown at the dark hole beneath the open floorboards. “What the—?”
I filled him in quickly, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “I need to call the police. Marla’s crazy. She’s got a dungeon under her house, filled with prisoners.”
Jack blinked once and stared at me.
“Listen. I know it sounds insane. It is insane.” I stood up and dusted off my jeans. “Do you guys have a landline?”
Jack shook his head. “We do, but the wires are down. Telephone poles snapped all over because of the winds. And on the radio, the police said they’re overwhelmed with emergencies, saving people stranded in the flood and helping the elderly get to centers with generators. The hospitals are overflowing, but still functioning. But it’s a mess out there.”
“Flooding?” I worried about the people in the basement. “Around here?”
“It rained twenty inches in less than twelve hours.” Jack handed the baby to Scout and came closer to me. “The floods are mostly in the village. Fortunately, the surge wasn’t as bad as they predicted so we’re still okay on the beach. But it’s chaos out there. Roads are impassable. Houses are destroyed.”
My heart beat faster. “I’ve got to get over to the Waterfords’. Marla’s got t
he keys to the cells. If I surprise her, I’ll be able to overpower her, get the keys, and release everybody.”
Jack still looked as if he didn’t believe me. “You’re serious.”
I locked eyes with him. “Dead serious.”
He finally believed me. “Okay. Let me get my brother-in-law’s gun first. We’ll need a weapon, don’t you think? He’s up at the big house with his wife and daughters. Just wait here. We’ll go to the Waterfords’ together.”
Scout set Iris in a stroller parked by the tack room door. “She’ll drink her milk while I feed the horses. But I don’t dare let them out until we’ve patrolled the fences and until we make sure there’s no debris in the pasture that could hurt them.”
“Good idea,” I said, sinking onto a hay bale. “You want some help?”
She shook her head. “No, don’t be silly. I’ve got this. You rest. You’ll need your strength.”
She began to fill up the feed and water buckets in each stall, greeting every horse as an old friend. A few whinnied for her before she made it to their end of the barn, and she talked to them as if they were humans.
Exactly how I do it with my own two horses.
By the time Jack returned from The Seacrest mansion with a revolver in hand, Scout had fed all the horses and picked up Iris again.
“God speed,” she said, kissing Jack and giving my arm a squeeze. “You two be careful out there.”
Chapter 27
“We’ll take the Jeep,” Jack said, digging for his keys. “Got a feeling we might have to go off road.”
“Good idea.” I jumped in beside him, noting that his driveway was full of downed trees.
We skirted around the first one, wheels spinning on the muddy lawn. But the rugged vehicle found a grip and pulled us back onto the oyster shell drive. Around the next bend, a pink child’s playhouse lay upside down in our path. It looked intact, but must have been displaced over three hundred yards from its original spot in the pine grove. I remembered seeing it the second time I’d been here to practice the Danse Macabre by Saint-Saëns.
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