She got off the elevator on the fourth floor and headed toward Sybil’s flat at the end of the hall. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the bottom of the door. There was light coming from inside. Had she forgotten to switch off the power the day before? Who knew? She shrugged and sorted through the keys on her ring. When she turned the lock, she thought she heard a click coming from inside. Cassie swung the door open wide. She stood on the threshold listening for a moment. The place was dark, completely still.
She walked across the room toward an end table to turn on the lamp. Something or someone slammed into her, shoving her sideways. She hit the wall, knocking the breath out of her lungs. As she scrambled to her feet, she caught a glimpse of a man fleeing through the open door. Cassie gasped. He was wearing a Stetson hat, and he was holding an object she remembered seeing the day before.
Before she could react, he was down the hall, through the fire exit door, and halfway to the ground floor.
“Hey, hey you! Stop!” She started to run toward the lighted hallway when she collided with another man. He shoved her back into the apartment. She didn’t think she recognized this one, but the place was still dark, so she couldn’t be sure.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Who are you?” she countered. “Where did you come from? What are you doing here?”
“No time for that now!” His voice was urgent. “What happened?”
“A... a man. He must have broken in. He... he was wearing a cowboy hat,” she stammered.
The stranger grabbed her by the arms and shook her to get her attention. “Now listen! This is important! Did he take anything?”
Cassie was having a hard time thinking clearly. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears. “Yeah, I think…”
“What?” the man shook her again. “What was it?”
“It was a stone ruler. Five-sided. About a foot long with weird markings all over it.” She twisted away from his grasp. “That’s all I could see. Now, who—” Before she could get the rest of the question out, the man vanished.
She heard him shout back at her from down the hallway, “Call the police!” Then she heard the fire exit door slam and the sound of feet clattering down the emergency stairs.
Cassie was shaking from delayed shock. She collapsed on the couch and switched on the table lamp. Trying to get her eyes to focus, she looked around at the contents of the room. Everything was just as she’d left it the day before except for one thing. The stone ruler was gone. It had been stolen by the man from her nightmare.
She got up weakly and crossed over to a bombé chest that held a telephone. When she picked up the receiver to dial 911, she noticed an envelope underneath the base of the phone. It had been hand-addressed. All she could see was the initial letter C. Putting the receiver down, she slid the packet out from its hiding place. In Sybil’s script, the letters C-A-S-S-I-E were scrawled across the front. Her hands were trembling as she ripped the envelope open.
***
Erik could hear footsteps ahead of him at the bottom of the stairwell. He waited until the man had gotten to the ground floor before he moved forward. He didn’t want Cowboy to know he was being followed.
Once the exit door slammed shut, he raced forward. Outside he saw Cowboy climbing into a red pickup parked across the street from the high rise. It tore away from the curb, heading north. Erik noted the license plate number. Shouldn’t be too hard to follow. He jumped into his car and tailed the thief, careful to keep several vehicles between them. With all the early evening traffic on the roads, he didn’t think he’d been spotted. Cowboy got on the northbound expressway. He drove past the looming shadows of downtown high rises, past the suburban bedroom communities, past the overcrowded shopping malls, past the point where any expressway lights remained to illuminate the road. It was almost an hour before the pickup took a westbound exit that led to nothing but farm land. Erik knew it would be harder to keep from being noticed out in the middle of nowhere. He got behind a semi-trailer that was going in the same direction. Cowboy drove on for another half hour through pitch black countryside then turned right onto a side road marked with a yellow Dead End sign. Erik couldn’t follow him in there. It would be too obvious.
He pulled his car off to the shoulder and got out, hoping he wouldn’t find one of those “Do Not Park Here” stickers plastered on his windshield when he got back. He started walking. Fortunately, lights appeared in the distance almost immediately. The road turned out to be a very, very long driveway. The building at the end of it couldn’t be more than a quarter mile away. Erik kept to the shoulder, in the shadows.
The road ended in front of a pair of iron gates about ten feet high. Each of the gates was decorated with a capital letter P with an X through the middle of it. Erik didn’t know anyone with that monogram. He noticed a guard shack with security cameras mounted on either side of the gates and quickly ducked farther into the shadows. A ten-foot chain link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the property. Company was clearly not welcome in this place.
He couldn’t be sure how long the fence was, but he could guess it stretched around several acres. Beyond the gate at the far end of the gravel drive, Erik could see Cowboy’s car. Somebody had been expecting his visit.
Erik headed for the trees that bordered the fence to the east where more of the layout was visible. He focused his attention on the house if you could call it that. The building was as big as a castle, or maybe “fortress” would be a better word. It looked as if it could withstand a siege. The design was squat and square with a flat roof, like a massive cinderblock. Towers flanked the front of the building on either end. Erik guessed there might be two on the back end as well. The fortress was studded with tall narrow windows recessed deep into the walls. Light glowed through drawn curtains making it impossible to tell how many people were inside. Floodlights bleached the limestone façade to a blinding whiteness.
Aside from the main building, Erik counted at least eight other structures around the perimeter—smaller replicas of the main house. Then he noticed an odd assortment of sheds, garages, and trailers that must have been used for storage. A compound. He smiled to himself. It had to be them. Nobody else would live like this. Now he knew for certain who had hired Cowboy to steal Sybil’s find. The only thing he still couldn’t figure out was why.
Chapter 7 – Key Issues
Leroy pressed the doorbell several times before the oak double doors swung open to reveal a clean-cut teenager in a suit.
The young man blinked once. He didn’t ask Leroy’s name. He simply motioned the visitor inside. “Come in, Mr. Hunt. Father has been expecting you for some time now.”
The youth stepped aside to allow Leroy to enter the foyer. It was two stories high, with a single pendant light suspended from the ceiling. The only furniture the room contained was a pair of deacon’s benches facing each other from opposite whitewashed plaster walls. The effect was simple and austere. Like a monastery.
Hunt followed his guide down a long, uncarpeted corridor. Doors on either side were shut. Other than the sound of their footsteps echoing on the stone floor, everything was silent. Eventually, the pair turned right at a hallway that intersected the corridor. It too contained row upon row of shut doors. The doors were plain slabs of dark wood with no carving of any kind. They stretched off into the distance with absolute uniformity. It was disorienting, like walking through a hall of mirrors.
“A feller could get lost easy in a place like this,” Leroy observed to his guide.
The teenager smiled stiffly but made no comment.
Finally, they paused in front of another set of double doors. These opened to reveal a dining room whose dimensions were vast enough to rival a great hall in a medieval castle. Despite the grandiose size of the room, its furnishings were not designed to impress. They were ruthlessly functional.
The trestle table could have served forty guests easily. This evening a smaller party was dining
there. At the far end sat Abraham Metcalf in a high-backed armchair. On either side of him were eight children, the boys on one side of the table and the girls across from them. Instead of chairs, the children were seated on rows of benches. The boys were all dressed alike in black pants, white dress shirts, and black ties. The girls wore shapeless grey smocks. Aside from the grouping by gender, they also appeared to be arranged in age order with the oldest girl and boy sitting closest to Metcalf while the younger ones took the places below. They ranged in age somewhere from early teen to toddler. On the girls’ side of the table, in the place farthest from Abraham sat a woman. She might have been thirty. Her long hair was braided and coiled around her head like a beehive. She wore a simple gray cotton dress which was covered by a white apron. Though she wore no makeup, she was very pretty. At the moment, she was also very frightened.
Abraham was leaning forward over the table and glaring at one of the younger boys. Unaware that a visitor had entered the room, he continued to address the child. “Silas, I’ve warned you before about this behavior.”
The boy squirmed in his chair, afraid to meet Abraham’s gaze. He was about seven.
“Father, he didn’t mean—” the woman pleaded.
“Silence!” Abraham commanded. “He knows his sin. Look at me, boy!”
The child stared down at the floor.
“I said look at me,” the old man thundered and stood up. He rested his hands on either side of his dinner plate and leaned over the table. “Now, Silas!”
Quaking with fear, the boy complied.
“What is the greatest of all sins?”
“Disobedience,” the boy squeaked.
“What did you say?”
“Disobedience, sir,” this time the voice was louder.
“Disobedience is the greatest of all sins. The first of all sins.” Abraham jabbed his index finger in the air for emphasis. “It is the reason that the human race lost paradise.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered.
“Do you wish to burn in hell?”
“No, sir.”
“You are risking your immortal soul, boy. Your immortal soul!”
The child gulped but said nothing.
“If I hear one more report of your bad behavior, just one more…” He paused for effect. “Then I will have no choice but to pronounce judgment.”
The woman at the end of the table was twisting her napkin into knots. Her agonized gaze shifted back and forth from the boy to Abraham.
“Yes, sir,” the boy said meekly. “I understand, sir.”
Somewhat mollified by the child’s abject submission, Abraham sat back down to resume his meal. The other children and the woman took their cue from him. They were about to do likewise when Leroy interjected himself into the scene.
“How y’all doin’ this evening?” he asked pleasantly.
Metcalf looked up in surprise, aware for the first time that he had a visitor. “Mr. Hunt? Who let you in here?”
Leroy pointed behind him to the youth quaking in the open doorway. “That nice young feller over there.”
“Y… y… you told us to let you know the m… m…minute Mr. Hunt arrived, sir. I… w…w… would never dream of interrupting your d… d… dinner otherwise.”
Metcalf scowled at the teenager for a moment. “You might at least have announced your presence.”
“S… sorry, sir. I didn’t want to break into your ch… ch… chastisement.”
“Enough!” Metcalf barked. “You may go.”
The teenager fled, shutting the double doors behind him.
Leroy advanced into the room. He doffed his hat, his eyes fastened on the woman. “You must be the missus. Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am. My name’s Leroy Hunt.”
The woman nodded nervously, casting her eyes downward. She said nothing.
Hunt surveyed the other occupants of the table. “These all your young ‘uns? What do I count here… five, six, seven, eight? My, my, you surely are a busy lady.”
The woman now looked panic-stricken and turned toward Metcalf in mute appeal.
“Martha, take the children and go. I have business to discuss with this man.”
Wordlessly, noiselessly, the woman and children slipped from the room like so many ghosts. They left their dinners uneaten.
Leroy dropped his hat on the table, walked up to the woman’s plate, and helped himself to a chicken leg. He looked questioningly at Metcalf. “OK if I help myself? I’ve had me a long night, and it’s a shame to see all these fine vittles go to waste.”
Metcalf watched him eat, his face expressionless. Ignoring the question, he asked one of his own. “Do you have it?”
Leroy tossed the chicken bone back on the plate, fastidiously wiped his fingers on a napkin, and then advanced to the head of the table where Metcalf sat.
Reaching inside his coat pocket, he produced the stone ruler. “Yessir, I do.” He laid it in front of the older man’s plate.
In a rare show of pleasure, Metcalf smiled. “Excellent! This is the Lord’s doing. Praise be!”
Hunt’s expression was sour. “Beggin’ to differ, boss, but it wasn’t the Lord’s doin’. It was mine. I don’t recollect him bein’ anywhere around when I nicked the thing.”
Smoothly Metcalf replied, “You are the Lord’s instrument, Mr. Hunt.”
Leroy grimaced. “That bein’ the case, your Lord must be mighty hard up for tools.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways…” Metcalf trailed off. He picked up the ruler, examining its intricate symbols with keen interest.
Leroy watched him for a few moments. “You call that doodad a key?”
Metcalf nodded.
“Strange shape for a key. What’s it unlock if you don’t mind me askin’?”
Metcalf was lost in contemplation of the object. “Someday you’ll know. Someday the whole world will know.”
“Guess I’ll wait then.”
The older man frowned as a thought struck him. “You didn’t have any trouble this time, did you?”
“Nope.” Hunt put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels with satisfaction. “I got it before that little gal come in to straighten up her sister’s place.”
“Did she see you?” Metcalf transferred his attention from the ruler to Hunt.
“Not hardly. The place was dark, and I knocked her into a wall before she could get a bead on me. Lit out of there while she was still collectin’ her breath to holler fer help.”
Leroy noted that Metcalf’s brow was furrowed in thought. “Something botherin’ you, boss?” he asked casually.
“I wonder if she knows anything about this.”
Leroy snorted. “Nope!”
“Why do you say that, Mr. Hunt?”
“Cuz if she did, she woulda done a better job of hidin’ the damn thing stead of leavin’ it settin’ right on the coffee table like it was some kind of knickknack.” Hunt sounded annoyed and a trifle disappointed. “Didn’t hardly make it worth my while breakin’ and enterin’. Didn’t have to ransack nothin’. Just left it settin’ out in the open, plain as day.”
Hunt stopped speaking. A sly smile crossed his lips as a new idea occurred to him. “Course if you want I should go back and tidy up the situation for you, I aim to please.”
Metcalf appraised Hunt with a look of thinly-veiled disgust. “I think that leaving a suspicious trail of bodies behind can hardly be considered tidy.”
Leroy shrugged. “Whatever you say. So long as I get paid, it don’t make no never mind to me.”
“You’ll get your money.” Metcalf stood up from the table, indicating that the interview was nearing an end. “I am satisfied that the antique dealer’s sister is not involved in the matter. You no longer need to concern yourself with her.”
He walked with Hunt toward the dining room door. “Once this key is translated, I will have more work for you.”
“You know
how to reach me, boss. Always happy to oblige.” He retrieved his hat, tipped the brim to Metcalf, and left.
Chapter 8 – Digesting the Information
Much later that same evening, a familiar group of four people gathered together in Faye’s kitchen. The mood was somewhat less grim than their last meeting as the old woman bustled about fixing them a midnight snack.
“Despite the lateness of the hour, I’m glad you were all able to join me to discuss Erik’s latest findings,” she said as she passed out platters of cold cuts and bread.
The security coordinator started building himself a three-decker club sandwich. He didn’t need any further encouragement from Faye to launch into his report to the group. “You were right, Maddie, it was them.”
“And you’re surprised that they were behind it all along?” The red-haired woman blew a smoke ring into the air. She rose to help Faye bring a tray of cups and saucers to the table.
“At first, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t fit how they’ve operated in the past.” Erik bit into his sandwich. “Besides, they aren’t where we expected them to be.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dear,” Faye corrected gently as she poured coffee.
Griffin distributed the cups around the table. “Where we expected them to be? It isn’t as though we encounter these people every day. When was the last time our path crossed theirs, Faye?”
“Long before you came to join us. About ten years ago, I think.” Faye sat down and stirred cream into her coffee. “Much can change in a decade.”
The Arkana Mysteries Boxed Set Page 3