“We’d like three student tickets,” Bailey said.
The woman took their money and handed each a brochure.
“Could you please tell us where the painting of Ponce de León in Florida is?” Liam asked.
“It’s popular today. A man came in earlier asking about it.”
“Did he have an accent?”
“Yes, Irish, maybe Scottish. The painting is in the second room through those doors,” she pointed to the right hallway.
“Thanks.”
They angled ahead, past the open gift shop on the right, pressing through the glass doors.
“The Scottish man may still be somewhere near,” Random warned.
It was an obvious conclusion. Still, Liam felt his pulse quicken when she said it aloud. “Let’s get this over with and get out of here. He may have already gotten the code.”
They glided through the first room without slowing. It connected to a second room with a high ceiling and a set of cushioned chairs, one facing forward, the other backward. A few paintings hung on the near and far walls. Liam turned to his right. On the back wall, close to the ceiling, a large placard proclaimed: THE ANN CURRY AND DAVID MILTON HICKS GALLERY. Below it, taking up most of the wall, was the massive painting of Ponce de León in Florida. The spotlighted work showed a brilliant scene of the Spanish Conquistadors meeting with Native American Indians in a clearing. The painting was set within a thick, ornate wood frame. Although he knew the dimensions, the enormity of the work still struck Liam. “Jeez, this thing is huge.”
“That should be easy to get down,” Bailey said sarcastically.
Liam gazed upon the rest of the room. On the opposite wall, on the ceiling in the right corner was a surveillance camera.
****
Farlan had arrived just as the museum opened. He went inside, viewed the painting, and returned to his car. For several hours he sat devising a plan. There was no easy way to access the back of the painting. Ideally, he could create a distraction, but he was a team of one.
Minutes ago, he watched a white Toyota Corolla pull into the parking lot. That teenage boy, who he had seen at the house on Magnolia Avenue, exited the vehicle along with two teenage girls. Now he knew for certain they were after the treasure. If, by some miracle, they were successful in obtaining the information, it would make his task far easier.
He would wait patiently and see what happened.
****
Bailey, Random, and Liam continued through the gallery into the next room then decided to backtrack to the hallway and follow it to the other end of the building. So far, they had only seen the front desk person, but Liam stayed on the lookout, concerned that the Scottish man might be around.
Liam noticed an unlabeled door on the left. He felt certain it was the security monitoring room. They continued past to another set of rooms which led to a gallery where they could chat.
“Okay, here’s what I got,” Liam began. He told them his plan in a whisper.
Both girls seemed doubtful it would succeed. In reality, so did Liam.
Five minutes later, Bailey checked her watch. At the designated time, she knocked on the unmarked door.
****
“It’s time,” Liam whispered, positioning himself next to the frame.
“I hope Bailey got his attention,” Random said, moving to the far side of the large painting, “and a guard doesn’t wander in here.”
“On the count of three,” Liam said.
They each grabbed a side of the frame.
“One, two, three…”
****
“I’m hurt. Please open up,” Bailey cried, leaning against the doorway.
There was no response.
“Please, I need help.”
Suddenly, the door opened. To her relief, a middle-aged uniformed security guard emerged. The door remained ajar, and Bailey got a glimpse inside the tiny room. There was a single chair before a bank of screens showing the galleries.
The officer’s expression was hard, until he saw her, then he softened. “What’s the matter, miss?”
“I fell and twisted my ankle badly. I can’t walk,” she whimpered, manufacturing some tears. On one of the screens behind him, she saw an image of two people grabbing either side of a large painting. It was more important than ever that she keep the guard preoccupied.
****
“…lift,” Liam whispered.
“I am. It won’t budge,” Random grimaced.
“We can do this. I felt it give. Once more. Now.”
This time, the heavy painting rose and came free of the wall.
“Pull it away from the wall,” Liam grunted, feeling the immense weight.
Together they edged it out.
“Now lower it.”
“I don’t know if I can hold it,” Random said through labored breathing.
Slowly, they eased the painting to the tile floor.
****
Bailey continued the false tears.
“Come in here and sit down,” the guard instructed, putting an arm around her waist. He led her into the small room.
This wasn’t what she wanted, but there was no time to object. As the guard helped her into his seat, he gazed up at the monitors. His eyes widened as he saw Liam and Random and the large painting now propped on the floor.
“Holy Geez.” He pushed a button, and an alarm blared. He keyed a desktop microphone. “Security alert! Curry and Hicks Gallery!”
****
Liam stood at the front of the painting, leaning it toward him. Random circled to the back, straddling what little space there was between the painting and the wall.
An alarm blasted.
“Oh, crap,” Liam said.
Random ducked down behind the painting out of sight.
“Do you see anything?” he asked over the shrieking alarm.
“Don’t move,” a burly female guard arrived holding a Taser.
Liam froze. His plan had been a huge failure.
In a flash, Random flew from behind the painting. She reached the guard before she could react, catching her in the stomach with a kick. She dropped the Taser and doubled over.
“Here,” Random said, tossing Liam her keys. “Get Bailey, and get out.”
Liam was conflicted. He didn’t want to leave her behind.
A second male security guard arrived. With a kick, Random sent the man staggering. “Go. Now!”
The female guard righted herself and pummeled into Random. Together they fell. A smartphone skittered across the floor.
Liam took off, hitting the glass doors and reaching the hallway. Coming fast from the other direction was Bailey. The alarm continued to sound, and two more guards raced up the hallway behind Bailey. Without a word, they ran into the atrium and flew past the admissions desk and out the front door.
They tore down the steps and across the street, barely avoiding a passing car. Liam mashed the unlock button as they neared the car. They jumped in, slammed and locked the doors.
“I can’t drive,” Liam announced, plunging the keys into the ignition.
“I’m climbing over.”
Liam slid to his right, trying to avoid the handle of the parking brake between the seats. Bailey shifted on top of him, placing her hand on Liam’s chest for support, then tumbled into the driver’s seat. She trapped Liam’s left leg under her thigh as she adjusted in the seat. Struggling, she finally freed herself.
Bailey turned the key and the engine revved. A pursuing guard reached the car and banged on the front windshield, but she didn’t wait. She threw the Toyota in drive and raced from the parking lot with the guard shouting in the background behind them.
“Where’s Random?” Bailey panted.
“She got caught so we could get away.”
“Wow.”
Liam slammed the dashboard in anger as they zipped up the road. “All that was for nothing. We didn’t have time to check the back of the painting.”
Bailey didn’t respond. S
he made a sharp turn into a parking lot and braked.
Liam watched as she pulled out her phone. “No, it wasn’t in vain. Random sent me a text with a photograph she took.”
“The back of the painting?”
“Yes.”
She held it out for him to see. The image had been taken of the base of the frame on the back, and showed a series of letters:
BH - XII RII LVII RIIII
Liam had hoped it would be a clear message, not more code. “We better get going before the police show up.”
Soon, they were on I-95 returning to St. Augustine.
“I can’t believe Random sacrificed herself,” Bailey said, shaking her head as she drove.
Although she hadn’t given her life, what Random had done so they could get away was heroic. The question was, how long would it be before she gave up their names to the police as accomplices? “Why do people keep doing that?” Liam shouted in frustration.
Bailey flinched. “Jeez, Liam, please don’t do that. I’m not used to driving this car or being on the Interstate.” She paused, “Why do people do what?”
He felt a deep ache. He lowered his voice, “Why do they get in trouble for me? First Drew, now Random.”
“Because they’re your friends, Liam, and that’s what friends do.”
Liam didn’t want to think about it any longer. “Did you know Random could fight? She handled two guards back there long enough for me to get away.”
“Her older brother is a kickboxer, and she’s been training with him for about the last two years. She thinks guys will see it as a turn-off.”
Liam shook his head. “I thought I at least knew the history club gang. Now I find out Random’s a badass.”
“Also, One has a crazy IQ. Like off the charts. He tries to hide it.”
“Really? So does Patty talk to animals and did Cal qualify for the Olympics?”
Bailey’s phone chimed. She glanced at the number. “It’s Random.”
“No it’s not. Don’t answer.” He motioned for her to hand him the phone. After sending the call to voice mail, he removed the paper from his pocket and jotted down the letters from the image Random had sent. Then he shut the phone off. “With it on, I’m pretty sure the cops can track us.”
Bailey raised her eyebrows. “We’re not murderers. We didn’t even steal anything.”
“We can’t take the chance. We have to figure out what this message means.”
He glanced back at the letters, thinking. He tapped the page. “The painting once hung in the Grand Parlor of the Hotel Ponce de León, correct?”
Bailey nodded. “It was there while Henry and Ida Alice lived in St. Augustine.”
“So we’ve got five sets of letters. With the exception of the first set of letters, each set contains a Roman numeral.”
“And that means…?”
“The last set is IIII. Normally, IV is the Roman numeral for four, but sometimes, especially clock makers back in the day, used IIII instead.”
“You’re right. I remember the antique clock in Rita’s shop. It has IIII.”
Liam nodded. “As does the white onyx clock in the Grand Parlor. I believe this code is referring to that clock.”
“Read me the letters again,” Bailey asked.
“BH - XII RII LVII RIIII.”
“The dash after the first set seems to indicate it’s separate from the rest.”
“Let’s deal with the last four. The first is the Roman numeral 12. The last three are two, seven and four, but each is preceded by either ‘R’ or ‘L.’ ” He studied them then confessed, “I got nuthin’.”
“Me neither,” Bailey said. “Back to the first letters, ‘BH.’ Any guesses on that one?”
“No.”
“Regardless, I think you’re right. This clue refers to the white onyx clock. It’s after 1:00. The last tour of Flagler College is at 2:00. The only way we can get into the Grand Parlor is on that tour.”
“Can we make it in time?”
“We have to,” Bailey said, pushing the car faster down the Interstate. “If the Scottish man somehow got the clue, he’s ahead of us.”
67
They devised a plan on the way. Bailey wasn’t thrilled with it, but it was really their only option. They were running out of time.
Back in St. Augustine, they parked near the college. Liam raced across the street to the Lightner Museum grounds, snapped a selfie in front of the large Menendez statue with his phone, and returned across King Street, joining Bailey at the entrance to Flagler College. They passed through the courtyard, into the rotunda, and to the gift shop on the left.
As they had done exactly one week ago when following the riddle left by Mr. Mast, Liam and Bailey acquired tickets for the 2:00 p.m. tour with only minutes to spare.
The tour crowd was small: 18 patrons by Liam’s count. Beyond that, there were a few other tourists milling about; quite the departure from last week. They gathered in the rotunda where the tour guide—a pudgy older female with a drawn face and short gray hair—began. Liam had pulled the hoodie up around his head in advance, and kept his gaze away from the guide. It was important that she didn’t see his face.
As the tour proceeded, they were herded from the rotunda, led outside near the fountain, brought back in through the main doors to the dining hall, and lastly directed to the door of the Grand Parlor. All the while, the guide imparted facts regarding Henry Flagler and the history of the hotel and its construction. He and Bailey made it a point to remain side-by-side the entire tour. For their plan to work, the guide had to recognize them as a couple, while keeping his face obscure.
Using a key, the guide unlocked the Grand Parlor door. The group flowed through in single file. Bailey and Liam were in the middle of the pack. Just before passing through the door, Bailey grabbed Liam’s hand and took the lead, making a point to acknowledge the guide who stood smiling inside the door. Liam continued to avert his face.
The tour group congregated and sat on folding chairs across from the central fireplace with the white onyx clock. Bailey and Liam sat in the second row, keeping Liam’s face hidden behind a large man. Here, the guide talked about Flagler and his wife, paying particular attention to Ida Alice, which Liam found somewhat ironic.
When the presentation ended, the group was allowed to explore the large room. Since this was the final stop on the tour, once the patrons had finished admiring the Victorian era furniture, ceiling artwork, intricate fireplace, and assortment of oil paintings, they would trickle out of the room as the tour guide stood by thanking them for their attendance.
Before anyone had left, Bailey asked the tour guide for directions to the bathroom, while Liam lost himself in a far corner. He stayed close to one of the partition walls adorned by heavy drapes reaching from ceiling to carpet.
The bathroom was just outside the door, and Bailey exited the Grand Parlor for several minutes before returning. Already, some of the patrons had left.
Her concern grew that their plan wasn’t going to work.
Bailey remained near the door, trying to be inconspicuous. After the majority of the people had departed, Bailey walked to the exit. Just as she reached the tour guide, her phone chimed with a text message. “What? Pretty cool,” she said aloud to herself, eyeing the screen. She smiled at the tour guide as she was about to pass, “Thank you. You did a great job.”
“Thank you,” the tour guide said with a smile.
Bailey noticed that the tour guide craned forward to look down the length of the long room.
“Miss,” the tour guide said, “weren’t you with someone?”
“My boyfriend. He’s already over at the Lightner Museum.” Bailey showed the phone screen to the guide. It showed a selfie of Liam standing in front of the Menendez statue along with a message that said, “Waiting 4 U.”
The guide was skeptical. “Hmmm, I never saw him leave.”
“He walked out after you finished talking. Oh, you probably didn’t recognize him
because he finally dropped that hoodie.”
“That must be it,” the guide said, continuing to scan the last few people wandering the room.
“He said you did a great job, too,” Bailey smiled. Just then, she got another text message. “kk,” she spoke her response aloud as she typed. Then she looked to the guide, “He’s waiting on me. Have a great day.”
“You, too.”
****
As the last of the tour group left the room, the lights were extinguished. Liam heard the door close in the distance, and a mild rustling from the turning of the key.
Liam stepped from his hiding place. The room was lit only by the faint light seeping around the heavy curtains covering the windows. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and withdrew the flashlight he had taken from the trunk of Random’s car. He hoped the batteries were fresh. The room had no security cameras, so there was little risk of being caught now that he was locked inside.
The plan was for Bailey to wait in the courtyard. If there was any sign of trouble or she saw anything unusual, she would alert Liam.
Liam pulled out his phone and texted Bailey to let her know he was okay. She responded with “KK.”
Using the flashlight, Liam looked from his notes to the clock face. The time was still stuck at 3:27, as he expected. The Roman numeral IIII was as he remembered it.
He pulled out his notes: BH - XII RII LVII RIIII.
He still had no idea what ‘BH’ meant. The next group of letters was the Roman numeral for 12. He studied the number on the clock then glanced back down at his notes. Next was Roman numeral two, preceded by ‘R.’ He returned his gaze to the clock. II was to the right of XII.
That was it. ‘R’ and ‘L’ stood for right and left, but he had no idea what purpose that served. Assuming XII, or 12, was some sort of starting point, then go right to two, left to seven, and right to four. He followed the path with his eyes. In a way, it reminded him of a locker combination.
Then it clicked. BH stood for big hand.
Collecting Shadows Page 25