“True, I don’t have anything concrete,” acknowledged Jake. “But everything adds up to Nero pulling the strings. He thinks that keg of loot and gold belongs to him. He wants it to finish his collection on Thomas Boyd. Look how fast he acted on researching and stealing that rifle. It wasn’t but a day after buying the Boyd Box at Fort Niagara. I’ll even wager he’s going for Sullivan’s sunken cannon of gold too as his ultimate prize. Its location is on a clue supposedly inside of that buried keg.” Jake winked at his uncle.
“Not good enough Jake!” retorted Jacobson. “I’ve got a public relations fiasco down here. The media is camped at our front doors. On top of that I’ve got the Secretary of the Army breathing down my neck wondering what the hell kind of ship I’m running. I’m supposed to report back to him later this morning and it ain’t gonna be pretty—”
Jake cut him off to plead his case. “Give me some time and I’ll get you answers. I’m here. I’m in the field. I’m still working with the police. I’ve got tons of experience in tracking down killers—”
“That was in the battle zone. The rules of engagement are different in civilian life. You can’t just go out and call in an air strike on a target to bring him to justice.”
“I understand there are limitations. I understand I need hard evidence. But the means to accomplish the mission remains the same. It’s down and dirty leg work that’s — that’s up my alley.” Jake closed his eyes, cringing at using Ashland’s line.
There was a pause on Jacobson’s end.
Jake took advantage, sensing he had Jacobson moving to his side. “We get that keg and its contents then we start calling the shots.”
Jacobson sighed. “I want it just as much as you do. Hell, if I were any younger I’d be right by your side. But I can’t ask you to go this alone and risk losing another employee.”
“Well, that’s just the thing, sir. When you hired me I told you straight up you’d never have to ask me if I wanted to take these kinds of risks. You knew you could count on me that I would.”
“You better know what the hell you’re getting into. Don’t mess this up, for your own sake.”
“Thank you sir.” Jake looked at his uncle and nodded with a smile. Joe frowned back.
“Call me as soon as you’ve got something. And listen, good hunting out there.” Jacobson hung up.
Joe took off his coat and threw it on the bed. He shrugged angrily. “What’s going on? I got in the truck and drove over as soon as Billy told me you called. Said you couldn’t let on. And then I hear you talking about Nero and the keg and a murder?”
Jake sat down hard on a lounge chair. He was still in his sleeping clothes of gray sweat pants and t-shirt, both with silk-screened Army logos. He pointed to a white pocket folder on an end table. “Open that up. You need to see for yourself.”
Joe picked up the folder, sat on the edge of the bed, and opened it. He pulled out the first of several documents — a laser print of the September 12th Boyd journal page. Jake pointed to the lower corner. Expecting to see the partially ripped Freemason Cipher at the corner, Joe instead noticed that an old fragment had been taped next to it, fitting perfectly to complete the code. Joe looked up. “You found the rest of the code?”
Jake nodded. “Let’s just say I acquired it — if you will. Look at the next page.”
Joe pulled out the next sheet and saw the Freemason Cipher legend key in its decoded form. And right below that was Boyd’s buried keg directions – fully deciphered. It read:
“You’re kidding me?” whistled Joe. “Where did you find this?”
“I didn’t. It was my boss who found it.” Jake mumbled while rubbing his temples.
“The one on the phone?”
“No, he’s the director of MHI. My immediate boss, Stephen Ashland. He took it upon himself to research some of Boyd’s items. And then he was murdered last night — a bullet in the head. Oh, then promptly scalped.”
Joe’s eyes widened. “What the hell?”
“We saw the killer face to face. An Indian named Ray Kantiio. Goes by the nickname of The Mouth because of some gold teeth he has. We picked him out of a criminal database. Most likely he’s one of Nero’s guys. The bastard shot a cop too. Then got away. The cop is all right. She had her vest on.”
“What were you doing with a cop?”
“Listen, there’s no time to rehash all the events that led up to his murder,” said Jake, rubbing his bleary eyes. “The thing is the cops don’t know I have this stuff. So, I’ve made a decision that we need to jump on this today before they or Nero move in.”
“You’re with us then? You’re convinced of the threat. You’ll help us?”
“Yes, Uncle Joe. Yes, I am. You heard me on the phone. After what happened last night, this changes everything.”
Joe crossed his arms. “Does your director know about Nero seeking the crown?”
“I kept that part secret.”
“Thank you.”
“He only knows of Nero’s role in wanting to find the keg to add to his collection, not his ultimate goal of gaining the crown. You heard me.”
Joe nodded.
Jake went on. “He has no idea about the Kendaia cave directions or even what it means. So, let’s make a deal. If that particular fragment of paper is still in the keg, then it will go to you and Lizzie to do with it what you want. Everything else goes to MHI. Agreed?”
“I do want the silver broach though — Swetland’s broach. That’s supposed to be in there too.”
“Agreed,” nodded Jake. “I am on call right now with the state police. They want me around for more consultations, as they’re calling it. So, I need you to do some recon and shopping for me today. We are going in to find the buried keg at dusk.”
Joe ran his fingers through his long hair. He peered at the other documents in the folder.
“The Groveland Ambush map in there will help you,” directed Jake, standing up. “It shows the village of Kanaghsaws and the two parallel creeks.” Joe pulled it out. “I’ve already compared that ambush map to a terrain contour map online,” Jake continued. “Plus, Google Earth gave me satellite imagery. Go to the next page.”
Joe shuffled the papers. “This one?”
“Yep. I found that the old Indian paths are in perfect alignment with the present day paved roads. So, we know the route going in. But I’m concerned because there is a house right near the north creek. Which means private property—”
“—and people interfering,” finished Joe.
“Which is why I need you to shoot down there and scope things out, a fact finding mission. Make contact with any landowners. Be honest. Explain you’re doing some historical research of the old Indian village that was once part of your tribe. Ask for permission to walk their lands. Be sincere. See if you can locate three large rocks at the closest point of the convergence of the parallel creeks. That is the key.”
“Got it. But say I find the boulders. I can’t just start digging. And what if I can’t even get on the property?”
“That’s Plan B. We go in as soon as it gets dark. So, I need you to do some equipment allocation beforehand. I have a list in the folder of what we need.”
Joe took the paper out and went down the list. “Shovel. Got one. Cold weather clothing, dark colored. I’ll find some. A backpack to carry the keg. Got one. Two-way radio phones. Just got a pair for my birthday. Extra flashlight and batteries. Okay. And a metal detector. No problem, I’ll dig my old one out.”
“We can’t waste any time on this,” pressed Jake. “We can assume Nero is racing to get there too. He’s already killed for it. So, tonight is it. This has already gotten way out of hand as it is.”
“Okay. I’ll make it happen. Hey listen, can I borrow your digital camera?”
“Good thinking. Let me get it for you.” Jake fished it out of his briefcase and handed it to his uncle. “I’m thinking we should meet up at the junction of Routes 390 and 5 and 20 at the Avon exit. That’s a good halfway po
int. What’s a good landmark to meet at?”
“There’s a McDonalds at that exit.”
“Fine. Then we can transfer all the equipment to my truck. We’ll make it official government business if we get into a jam. My director will back me. Okay? We all set?” He grabbed Joe’s coat off the bed and handed it to him.
“What about weapons? I mean just in case,” asked Joe, with a concerned look.
“It is deer season, right?” pointed out Jake.
“As of yesterday. I’ve got a couple of shotguns we could use.”
“A shotgun is fine for you but I want my Colt M4 semi-automatic rifle I left at your house for target practice,” ordered Jake. “Make sure my night vision scope is on it too.”
“But it’s shotgun season.”
Leading his uncle to the door Jake said, “I don’t play by the rules.”
Later that morning. Strathallan Hotel.
Just after pulling on blue jeans and a button down shirt, Jake received another knock at his hotel room door. Rae Hart stood before him again.
“Hey there!” greeted Jake with a mixture of surprise and relief to see that Rae was doing well. “You holding up alright?” he asked. He let her in and took her coat, hanging it in the closet.
“Sore as hell but overall pretty good,” she said, sensing his excitement at seeing her. She was still dressed in her suit pants and blouse from the night before — a bit wrinkled but still accentuating her lean, fit body.
“Come in. Sit down,” offered Jake. “You’ve got to be exhausted.”
Rae walked by Jake, her long auburn hair swaying at her shoulders, several strands falling across her face. She flipped her hair back and Jake caught her stirring natural scent. She stopped at the window and a set of facing chairs and stood with her hands on her hips. “You know Jake, I’m just glad the bastard already served time in jail or we would never have identified him so quickly on the database.”
Jake chuckled. He stood right behind her, a little too close. “His gold teeth did him in.”
Rae turned and smiled. “Yep. Ray The Mouth Kantiio. I still can’t believe that’s his nickname.” She sat down.
Jake took the other chair. “When you pulled that cross reference of distinguishing body features on top of his Native American background it gave us all we needed for the ID.”
Rae nodded. “And check this out. After you left we contacted the prison where he and Nero served together. They said he gained that name not so much from his teeth, but the fact that he talks too much and always had an excuse for everything.”
Jake caught himself staring at her. Rae caught it too and met his eyes briefly. Jake then blinked and said softly, “Well, once you catch him, he’ll sing like a bird.”
Rae tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Not gonna be me who bags him,” she replied with angry eyes. “My captain slapped me on administrative leave because of my injuries. Oh, and get this — due to the fact that I have a biased conflict of interest, as he put it, because of the potential Nero factor.” She then slouched in her chair. “Told me to take a week off, that the case had been turned over to another BCI investigator out of Albany.”
“That’s bullshit,” said Jake.
“The real reason is top brass wants Nero handled very delicately because he is a well-connected political figure and a heavy contributor to the key players in the state.” She couldn’t help but let her eyes meander across his body. She partially did it on purpose.
Jake caught her looking him over. He felt a surge of excitement wash over him. “Isn’t it really a matter of bringing him in alive?” he asked. “I mean cop shooters usually come in with about fifty bullet holes in their bodies.”
“It does save the taxpayers a whole lotta money,” laughed Rae. “But you didn’t hear me say that!”
“Say what?” He winked.
“So listen,” Rae said softly. “I’ve got some good news. We performed Ashland’s autopsy this morning and the slug he took matched the two that Kantiio fired at me. With you and I giving positive identification that he was in that room, we’ve got our suspect nailed on the evidence.”
“Nice,” replied Jake.
“And also,” continued Rae, leaning forward and looking into Jake’s eyes. “They cleared you too. That’s the real reason I’m here.”
“Why thank you investigator,” Jake said, smiling.
Rae smiled back. “Your story was still crazy to consume, but by you being very candid in the interviews and when your director at MHI confirmed what he knew about Ashland and the Boyd journal it all came together. So thank you. You’ve been an incredible help.”
“You’re welcome Rae.”
Rae leaned back in the chair and shook her head with a muffled snicker. “I tell ya Jake, this Mouth guy was sloppy, very sloppy. He is nailed on so many fronts. That parking lot security tape we confiscated—”
Jake nodded, his interest stoked. “Yeah?”
“We just finished piecing it together before I got here. We’ve got him on video with the rifle.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose.
“Yep. Plus,” she continued, “earlier on the tape a black Lincoln Navigator pulled up next to Ashland’s Mini-Cooper. It had New York plates that match his registration. This was just after Ashland checked in around eight o’clock. Kantiio then got out and looked inside of Ashland’s car. He checked all of the doors to see if they were unlocked.”
“So, he must have been trailing Ashland then if he pulled up that quick,” suggested Jake.
“We’re unsure of that because he never reappeared until later that night,” Rae countered. “Where he was from eight until eleven, who knows? We thought maybe Ashland contacted him for a meeting, but his cell phone and room phone records don’t back that up. We aren’t ruling it out though. He could have used a pay phone.”
“So you’re suggesting Ashland was playing Nero too? Damn, I never thought of that.” Jake rose up and started pacing. “Steal the rifle, sell it to Nero — it would round out Nero’s collection on Boyd.” He stopped and looked down at Rae. “Those rifles go for a cool sixty to ninety thousand dollars each. Add in an extra mark up for Nero to purchase and you up the ante.”
“But why did Kantiio try to break into the car as soon as he pulls up? His actions don’t make sense if they were to have a meeting later. He seemed to know the rifle was in the car and he wanted it right away.”
“And once he found it, he killed the only witness — the original thief Ashland,” Jake summarized, sitting back down.
“We do know for a fact that Ashland was planning on digging up that keg of war loot just as you speculated.” Rae unbuttoned the top of her blouse and rubbed her upper chest and throat. “He made the trip all the way up here, had digging tools in his car, and did have the Conesus Lake inlet area circled on the road atlas we found in his room. So, if he was going to cut a deal with Nero, then why drive all the way up to the Dansville area? Why not go directly to Nero’s casino in the Catskills?” She inhaled slowly and grimaced.
“You okay?” Jake asked with sincerity in his voice. He glanced at her chest where the rounds had hit.
“To be honest Jake, it freakin’ hurts.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“No thanks, let’s stick with our train of thought here. We’re on to something.”
“I know, investigator, but you’re not supposed to be on duty anymore, right?” Jake smiled.
“I know what you mean by having a bruised ego.”
Jake laughed then nodded his head at her partially exposed chest. He swallowed hard.
“Will these bruises get me a Purple Heart?” She gestured to where he was looking.
Jake laughed, shifting in his chair. “I’ll let you borrow mine.”
Rae leaned forward reaching for his hand. “Hey listen, there’s something I really need to tell you.” She held his hand in hers. “Jake, I want to thank you for bringing me back, for saving my life.”
J
ake felt the warmth of her hand. He had trouble concentrating. He shrugged. “Your decision to wear your vest saved your life. All I did was blow some hot air into you, not that I minded doing it.” He grinned.
She laughed and sat back, slightly blushing. She buttoned up her shirt and returned her demeanor back to business. “Have you heard the murder on the news yet?” she asked.
Jake cleared his throat. “Just that short paragraph in the paper this morning when they released Ashland’s name. No details though. I haven’t even turned on the TV. Been trying to catch up on sleep.”
She checked her watch, then grabbed the remote control on the end table to turn on the TV. “It’s just before noon. They’ll have it at the top of the hour.”
Within a few minutes a local news station aired the murder as a top story to start the segment. A yellow crime scene tape graphic appeared over the male anchor’s shoulder. Rae and Jake both stood in front of the television set. She placed her hand inside of his arm as they listened in. Jake liked it. He felt comfortable.
“Breaking news from the murder in Dansville of Doctor Stephen Ashland of the Army’s Military History Institute. We’ve just been told that there was actually a State Police Investigator who was shot when trying to apprehend the suspect last night. A fifty thousand dollar reward has been issued for his capture. Let’s go live to Amanda Linder who is on the scene where the murder and cop shooting took place. Amanda?”
“Wow!” exclaimed Jake. “Fifty grand. They must really like you.”
“Shut up you,” replied Rae in a playful way. “And watch the news. Let’s see if they get everything right.”
A younger female reporter dressed in a purple hat, matching coat, and scarf stood stern-faced with her microphone in hand. The second floor balcony of Hogan’s Inn was plainly seen just over her shoulder. Yellow and black crime scene tape fluttered around the perimeter.
“That’s right Chuck. I’m here live at Hogan’s Inn in Dansville, just off of Route 390 and we have some more details from the brutal murder that took place around eleven last night. A high-ranking law enforcement official told me that State Police Investigator Rae Hart was shot twice in the chest as she approached the room where the murder had taken place, not minutes before. She was wearing her bulletproof vest and survived without serious injury. She is currently on administrative leave as is the policy when a shooting occurs.” The reporter paused for effect, nodded, and sighed heavily with rising shoulders to accentuate her act of genuine concern.
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