Madalina glanced up. She didn’t think it could hurt. “No, of course not. Here. He’s a bit eccentric—just a warning.”
Damon smiled with one side of his mouth and accepted the phone. “Is this the only relevant e-mail he sent you?”
“It was the one that had the address to this house in it. And it was the last one he sent before he passed. He wasn’t a big e-mailer.” She watched Damon scan the contents. His dark brows drew together.
“What is it?” she asked, straightening from her lean.
“I see where he bolded the numbers and the name for the house. What I’m wondering is this passage here where he’s talking about his health,” Damon said.
“Oh. Well, he was sick at the end. His health suffered in the final weeks, so it’s not unusual for him to talk about it. Wasn’t unusual, I mean,” she said, correcting herself.
Damon glanced up at the correction, as if checking to see whether she was upset at the remembrance. Then he said, “See here? Where he mentions acceptance now that his health is in the basement? And that he can’t hide any longer from the inevitable? Then he waxes poetic and talks about the doors to his heart remaining open on the other side,” Damon said.
“I see it. You think he’s trying to tell me something,” she replied. It wasn’t a question.
“I believe there’s a message here, yes. He used this e-mail to give you the address to this house, right?” Damon didn’t wait for an answer. “If you apply this passage to the house itself, what matches? Basement, hiding, and doors.” Damon looked up again and met her eyes.
“But we checked and rechecked—oh.” Hidden doors. Now she got it. Madalina surveyed the basement, which was rather large, like the house, and tried to figure out where a hidden door might be located. She’d looked for hidden latches or loose tiles in the walls and floor, but had come up empty so far.
“Yes. Exactly. If he’s protected the dragon, or dragons, all these years, then he wouldn’t simply say, hey, check my basement for a hidden door, you know? Even a beginning hacker can crack e-mails and extract information. He wouldn’t have made it that obvious. Not the precise, final location.” Damon handed the phone back and began to search the walls.
Madalina accepted the phone and stuffed it into her pocket while she shadowed Damon. She watched him run the tips of his fingers across the baseboard and along the edge of a wall near the staircase. He bent down to search beneath the stairs themselves, grunting when he’d spent fifteen minutes there and come up with nothing.
“I just don’t see anywhere else it could be. We’ve covered the whole room,” Madalina finally said. “And the floor.”
“The value of hidden doors is that they’re all but impossible to find. If it was easy, then securing collectibles or cash there would be useless.” Damon knocked on a different wall, studied the ceiling, and crouched to inspect the tile.
Pausing before a wet bar, Damon put his hands on his hips and surveyed both the bar and the wall behind it. The bar itself was constructed of rich cherrywood, with a granite countertop in pale veined marble, and had a work space in the back for a bartender. Crown molding decorated the wall, making a large rectangle that added flair to the cream-colored paint.
“What is it?” Madalina didn’t see any hint of a door in the wall, and after a brief inspection of the bar, didn’t locate any hidden compartments or drawers.
“I’m not sure. Something, though.” Damon walked behind the counter and ran his hands over the wall. Skimming his fingers along the edge of the molding, he followed the line all the way to the floor. “No latches or buttons.”
Madalina memorized Damon’s technique; it might come in handy later. “What about the floor?”
“I don’t feel a loose tile or see anything that resembles a trigger,” he replied.
Madalina stepped closer, trying to see the space through Damon’s eyes. Something about the setup had interested him enough to come back and check it twice. It was then that she noticed an irregularity in the far strip of molding. It wasn’t visible from a straight-on viewpoint, only at an angle. This angle, to be precise. Walking up to the particular section, she ran her finger along the inner line as she’d seen Damon do. The irregularity appeared to be a break in the wood.
“Is this normal? The molding here looks like it’s been cut or something,” she mentioned to Damon.
He straightened from his crouch and came over to examine the spot. Suddenly he smiled. “I think you’ve hit pay dirt. Look. I bet this piece pivots out.” He grasped the molding and applied pressure. Sure enough, an eight-inch section tipped aside, exposing a small keypad. The construction of the movable molding had been so well concealed that they might have never found it unless she’d either known the location beforehand or been standing in exactly the right place.
“Damon, we found something!” Madalina couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Yes, we did. Question is, do you know the access code?” he asked, slanting her a hopeful glance.
The first thing that came to Madalina’s mind was the keypad at the gate and the one at the back door. Reaching up, she tapped in her birth date. It had worked before; it might work again.
A quiet hum disrupted the silence. The section of wall encompassed within the molding started to move, almost like a large door set within the wall itself. One side slid out, perhaps six or seven feet, more than enough room for a body to enter.
“Come on,” Damon said, cupping her elbow. “The entrance is right here.”
She didn’t mind the escort, and stepped up to the expanding opening until the wall stopped moving. A light had come on in the hidden room automatically, and as soon as Madalina stepped past the door, she gasped in shock.
“Holy hell,” Damon muttered behind her. “Even I didn’t expect this.”
Madalina estimated the hidden room to be perhaps twenty by twenty-four in size. Floor-to-ceiling glass cabinets filled two walls, each glass shelf inside stuffed to the gills with objects and artifacts. There was so much to look at—a bombardment of gold, silver, jewels, and metal—that she wasn’t sure where to go first. Showcased on the wall directly opposite the moving door were several Japanese swords. The sword sheaths, intricately carved, rested on pegs in a neat vertical line. What appeared to be rolled canvas—probably oil paintings—sat on a wooden counter built into the wall next to the swords. Beside that were shelves, made of the same wood as the counter, filled with old trinket boxes.
In the center of the room stood no fewer than ten trunks—the kind Madalina would expect to find on a pirate ship—with the wood appearing beaten and weatherworn and the iron bands a bit rusted. One trunk in particular was enormous, the rest of varying sizes. All added a salty, musty smell to the scent of wood and stone.
“What is this?” Madalina whispered to herself, overwhelmed at the collection. Clearly Walcot had been doing more than woolgathering on his endless trips.
“It’s a treasure hoard, that’s what,” Damon said. “Are you sure your grandfather wasn’t part dragon himself?”
Although Madalina mourned Walcot’s passing and missed him more than she could say, Damon’s quip startled a laugh out of her. That was exactly what the collection reminded her of . . . someone hoarding goods! “It almost seems that way, doesn’t it? I’ve never seen so much stuff in one place before.”
“And he never mentioned any of this?” Damon asked, pulling out his phone.
“No. Never. I’m sure my mother doesn’t know, either, because she would have told me.” Madalina dragged her attention from the collectibles to Damon as he tapped out a text. “You’re not telling Thaddeus or anything, are you? What if someone intercepts the message?” Madalina’s paranoia kicked into high gear. If the people who were after the dragon knew about this room, she had no doubt that they would pull out all the stops to break in and raid it.
“No, I sent Sam a text to come to
the basement. Didn’t mention this.” Damon put the phone away and whistled low as he approached one tall cabinet of glass. There were three full cabinets on each side of the wall.
Relieved that the word about this hidden jewel wouldn’t hit the airwaves yet, Madalina circled the pile of trunks and approached the trinket boxes. Sitting on open shelves without glass casings, the boxes ranged in size and color—some with carved surfaces, some with enamel inlay, and still others with a smooth finish. She picked up one with a floral motif surrounded by gold leaf, and a cameo of a woman’s portrait on the lid. Judging by the clothing and hairstyle, Madalina guessed the picture had been painted sometime in the early forties. Who was this woman? It wasn’t her grandmother. Madalina had seen plenty of photos, and this was not her.
So who, then? A lover of Walcot’s? Madalina rejected the idea that her grandfather had taken a mistress while still married. Or even after his wife’s untimely death. Madalina instead thought this box might have been a gift from the woman for services rendered or safekeeping. Perhaps she was like Walcot’s Tibetan friend, someone he engaged with in long talks and intellectual conversation. The mystery nagged at her and would until she discovered the truth.
“There’s a note sitting atop a trunk over here,” Damon said, pointing behind him to the center stash of trunks.
Madalina paused her reach for one of the trinket boxes and instead circled the trunks to find an envelope, a familiar one at that, with her name on the front.
It looked fresher and newer than most of the other items in the room. She opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. Because she wasn’t sure what information the letter might contain, she didn’t read it aloud.
At last. You’ve discovered me. Or should I say, the remnants of my life. Every single item contained in this place was acquired by me, either purchased or given to me as a gift, during my lifetime of travels. All anyone ever saw of me was Walcot and his backpack, and I didn’t mind the illusion. In truth I’m a pack rat, a lover of all things interesting and old. I would acquire a piece, keep it with me, and bring it back to Brazil, where I stored it in a secure facility until I was given this house. Then it all went here, into this hidden room, where it would be protected from thieves. I have a special affinity for boxes of all sorts, especially those carved or jeweled.
Some of these items were chosen by your grandmother before her passing. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of them, of course, so they joined my collection. She wasn’t quite as passionate about travel as I, but she did love it a little.
If I had enough money to travel and feed myself, I preferred trading as payment for jobs until I needed cash once more. You’d be amazed what some people are willing to part with, my dear. One man’s disinterest is another man’s treasure, hmm?
You will find what you seek here, though I will let you peruse the items and find it yourself, so you can enjoy each different piece as you come to it. There is a master list of the items and the stories behind them in the trunk with the lock (the lock is broken and does not need a key). I took care to make notes about each one, because I know that you love the stories.
I want to take this time to explain something to you. Although I was not around for much of your life, your childhood, I want you to know that I love you. I always have, always will. The time we spent together was quality time, each and every occurrence. I hope it has left you with memories to cherish rather than a gaping hole of regret.
Now, perhaps, you can embark on your own adventures and compile memories of far-off places. In one of the trunks, you’ll find pictures of us, me and your grandmother, as well as some of your mother when she was a child. Some of these photos she’s never seen.
You may consider this place something of a time capsule, I suppose. I purchased some of these artifacts back in the thirties and forties, and while most were antiques when I got them, I did purchase some brand-new things that I thought might be interesting all this time later. Don’t be surprised to see scarves, jackets, hats, and shoes, among other things, with their original price tag still on.
I have had an interesting life, Madalina dear, and I hope something about these travels and these collectibles (pieces of my heart) will add richness to yours.
All my love,
Walcot Nagel
Knuckling a tear away from the corner of her eye, Madalina read the letter again. So much nuance came through in these personal notes that she almost felt as if she was having a conversation with Walcot in real time. She could almost believe he wasn’t gone. Madalina didn’t realize the paper was shaking until Damon set a steadying, gentle hand on her wrist.
“You okay?” he asked.
She glanced up, unafraid to show her emotion. “Yes. It’s hard sometimes, you know? He hasn’t been gone that long.”
Damon nodded in apparent understanding and compassion. He slipped his hand away from her arm. “I get it. Was there anything in there that might tip you off to the whereabouts of the dragon?”
Madalina had to remind herself that while she was on a personal odyssey of a sort, Brandon was still being held captive elsewhere. The brothers were interested in getting the dragon back so they could exchange it for Brandon’s release.
“It’s in here somewhere. He said so.” She folded the note and slid it into her pocket, which was becoming full of Walcot’s letters. The envelope went back on the trunk for now.
“What in the . . .?” Samuel stopped in the open doorway, staring at the contents of the room.
Madalina imagined that’s what she’d looked like upon first seeing the hoard. Surprised, disbelieving. She said, “Damon sussed out a hidden message in my e-mail, and we uncovered this secret space. If it hadn’t been for him, we might never have found it.”
“Is all this his? Your grandfather’s?” Samuel asked, stepping all the way inside. His gaze darted from glass case to glass case, then to Madalina.
“Yes. Or it was. I guess now it’s mine.” The thought overwhelmed her.
“And we’ve got to go through it all to find the dragon. It’s here somewhere. So take a break from patrolling and help us out,” Damon said with a gesture to the room at large.
Pushing up her proverbial sleeves, Madalina said, “We won’t stop until we find it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After an unexpected flight delay due to a tropical storm, Cole finally disembarked the private aircraft and climbed into a waiting sedan. The trip had taken much longer than necessary, leaving him tense and irritable as he tossed his duffel bag onto the passenger seat. Ignoring jet lag, he was just sticking the key into the ignition when his cell phone rang. He answered on the third ring without bothering to check the caller ID. “Cole.”
“I got loose, brother. I’m out,” Brandon said. “I’ve tried to call you several times today.”
Cole froze with one hand on the door, about to pull it closed. A wave of relief washed over and through him. He said, “What? Are you serious? Where are you?”
“I’m dead serious. I’ll give you the details later, but suffice it to say that I’m in the wind. Have been for hours. I’ve hidden out, waiting until I could make contact with you to figure out where we can meet besides your house. Didn’t want to go anywhere near it until we talked. By the way, don’t call my number. The agents didn’t take my wallet, but they did take my cell, so I’m having to use pay phones. I suggest you be on alert because the agents might come back to your house—”
Cole interrupted Brandon. “Madalina and I were in Brazil—well, she’s still there, but I’m not—so they won’t find us at the house in California. I just landed in Pennsylvania. You won’t believe what happened when we got to Brazil.” Cole closed the car door and started the engine.
“What? What happened? Talk fast; I don’t want to stand in plain sight too long. I’m sure they’re looking for me,” Brandon said.
“Long story short: Westr
ich sent some guys after us in Brazil. Attacked us twice, killed three of ours.” Cole waited through Brandon’s curse before continuing. “We’re okay, but we’ve been on the run. Madalina’s at a place I can’t talk about right now with Damon and Sam, looking for the object. Guess we don’t need it as urgently now that you’re free, but I still have to shut Westrich down.”
“I didn’t see that coming. Westrich? You sure, Cole? You want me to fly to Pennsylvania and meet you there?” Brandon asked.
“I didn’t believe it, either, but Thaddeus apparently has proof. You call Thaddeus and fly home to Rhode Island, where you’ll have some protection. I’m already on my way to Westrich’s house. I’ll be there long before you land.” Cole exited the private airstrip and got on the road. He knew the way without the aid of GPS.
“Does Thaddeus know you’re going alone?” Brandon asked. “And I did try to call Thaddeus, but he’s not answering. It’s probably because he doesn’t recognize the numbers of the pay phones so it’s not a priority.”
“Yeah, he knows. And no, he’s not happy about it. Right now, I don’t care. The faster I stop Westrich, the faster the other attacks end,” Cole replied.
“I’m coming to Pennsylvania anyway. If you get into trouble and need backup, at least I’ll be on my way.”
Cole couldn’t say no. Mostly because his bullheaded brother wouldn’t listen. “I’ll talk to you later. Don’t call me on this phone, though, because I’ll be in blackout mode shortly.” No one would be able to get through once he turned off the device. He didn’t need it ringing at a bad time.
“Will do. Be careful.”
“You, too. Watch your back.” Cole ended the call and set the phone on the seat beside him. He had perhaps a fifteen-minute drive to reach Westrich’s estate.
As he drove he concentrated on how to penetrate Westrich’s defenses and not die in the process.
On the third-to-last box behind all the other trinket boxes, Madalina caught sight of a dragon carved into the wood. She knew at once that this was the box Walcot had mentioned in his letters. It could be no other. One of the telltale giveaways was the red eye of the dragon on the lid, the same kind of red eye that had been present on the Treasure Dragon. More dragons with different-colored eyes decorated all four sides, most in similar postures.
Rendezvous in Rio Page 15