by David Wood
Freedom
A Dane and Bones Origins Story
By David Wood and Sean Sweeney
What dark secret did the Founding Fathers of America hide, and who will stop at nothing to uncover it?
Navy SEALs in-training, Dane Maddock and Bones Bonebrake can’t be in the same room without trying to kill each other, but soon find themselves caught up in a race with a secret society to solve a mystery that dates back to the founding of America. Find out how it all began in the action-packed first Dane and Bones Origins novella… Freedom!
Praise for the Dane Maddock Adventures
"Freedom rocks! David Wood and Sean Sweeney serve up a great story of how it all began. Dane and Bones are in perfect form as they unravel a devilishly clever historical mystery that traces back to the early days of the nation."—Sean Ellis, author of Fortune Favors
"David Wood delivers again with a fast-paced romp through sunken treasure maps, hidden Templar churches and a secret organization that wants to resurrect an ancient kingdom. Dane Maddock and his sidekick Bones wisecrack their way through adventure, aided by Angel and Avery, two strong women who bring a romantic spin to this action-adventure chase. I loved the Cornish citadel with dragons guarding it and the echoes of Arthurian legend. Fantastic!" -J.F.Penn, author of the ARKANE thrillers.
“With the thoroughly enjoyable way Mr. Wood has mixed speculative history with our modern day pursuit of truth, he has created a story that thrills and makes one think beyond the boundaries of mere fiction and enter the world of ‘why not’?”–David Lynn Golemon, Author of Ripper and Legend
“Ancient cave paintings? Cities of gold? Secret scrolls? Sign me up. A twisty tale of adventure and intrigue that never lets up and never lets go!” –Robert Masello, author of The Medusa Amulet
“A page-turning yarn blending high action, Biblical speculation, ancient secrets, and nasty creatures. Indiana Jones better watch his back!”–Jeremy Robinson, author of SecondWorld
“Let there be no confusion: David Wood is the next Clive Cussler...”–Edward G. Talbot, author of 2010: The Fifth World
Freedom- A Dane Maddock Adventure
Copyright 2013 by David Wood
Published by Gryphonwood Press
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.
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PROLOGUE
Boston, Massachusetts
July 3, 1791
“Tell me it is not true.” Samuel Adams stood ramrod straight, staring at the closed door of his guest room.
“It is.”
If Adams harbored any doubts about the gravity of the situation, Revere’s wan face and trembling hands drove it home. The silversmith collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Adams drew up a chair opposite him.
“What happened?”
Revere spread his fingers and looked between them at Adams. “The carriage had just pulled up in front of your house. A shot rang out and he slumped forward. He never uttered a sound.” He sat up and rested his hands in his lap. “They heard a second shot, but it must have missed. His guards chased after the assassin while we brought him inside.”
Adams had heard the shots, but never dreamed what they meant. “Where was he hit?” Adams realized he was holding his breath while he awaited the reply.
“The base of his skull. It is a grievous wound.”
Adams let his breath out all in a rush. A cold certainty filled him. “Is there any hope?”
Revere shook his head. “I don’t think so. He was still talking as we carried him in, but I’ve never seen anyone survive such a wound.”
“What shall we do? Our union is weak. This could shatter us.”
Revere raised his palms in a gesture of defeat.
They waited in silence for the physician. There was so much Adams wanted to say, but the words would not come. Finally, John Hart stepped out of the room and closed the door gently behind him.
A highly respected surgeon who had served admirably in the Revolution, there was no one Adams trusted more in this situation. Hart began to speak, but choked on his works. Adams and Revere looked away to permit him a moment to compose himself.
“I have done what I can for him,” Hart finally managed.
“And?” Adams already knew what Hart’s reply would be, but he felt compelled to ask.
“I fear he will not last the night.”
Adams kept an iron grip on his emotions. There would be time later to grieve. Right now, he needed full command of his faculties. He turned to Revere. “Gather the others. The old meeting place at midnight.”
Revere, rendered mute by despair, clasped hands with Hart and Adams, and hastily departed.
“You may see him if you wish.” Hart sounded exhausted, or perhaps it was despair that rendered his voice weak as a newborn babe’s. “He is awake, though I’m not certain he is aware of his surroundings.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
Adams saw Hart to the door, then returned to the sick room. He paused, his hand hovering above the doorknob, and steeled himself. Of all the trials he had faced for the cause of freedom, nothing had prepared him for this.
“May God help us,” he whispered. His hand shaking, he opened the door and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 1
Dane Maddock looked up from his copy of The Art of War as the barracks door banged open and a voice boomed.
“Oh, yeah! BUDS is over, buddies!” Uriah Bonebrake, a six and-a-half foot tall Cherokee with a personality like fingers on a chalkboard, raised his fists in triumph. “Next stop, SQTs!”
“Don’t forget jump school,” Willis Sanders called down from his upper bunk.
“Child’s play. I’ve been jumping off crap since I was a baby.” Bonebrake high-fived Willis and turned to address the room at large. “Tonight, I’m gonna take five hundred dollars out of my account and hit the town. I’ll spend half of it on cheap beer and loose women, and the other half I’ll just waste. Who’s with me?”
Dane muffled a fake cough as ragged cheers arose from the exhausted survivors of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training. The candidates had completed eight weeks of Special Warfare Preparatory School, and a grueling six months of SEAL training. The past three-plus weeks had been spent on San Clemente Island, with Dane and his comrades put through grueling exercises designed to replicate days spent in action on the field of battle. How Bonebrake still had the energy to party was anyone’s guess.
“I think Pope Maddock is judging me again. You have something you want to say, Your Holiness?”
“Would it matter if I did, Bonebrake?” Dane didn’t bother to look up from his book. They’d had this conversation before, and he always found it a waste of time. Bonebrake was a clown destined for failure. Dane was amazed the man had made it this far.
“You think if I put termites in your skivvies they’d eat that stick that’s up your butt?”
Dane sprang to his feet and squared off with the taller man. Bonebrake had six inches and twenty pounds on him, but Dane knew how to handle himself and, if truth be told, he’d been itching for a fight since day one of training.
“What the hell is your problem, Bonebrake? Why can’t you, even once, conduct yourself with some decorum?”
“Big word from a little man. That’s another reason nobody likes you. You’re all superior.”
“Co
me on, Bones,” Willis said. “Don’t be like that.”
“Am I lying? Show of hands. Who here is Maddock’s friend? Hell, who knows where he’s from or what he does for fun when he’s not strutting around with proper decorum.”
“We don’t not like him,” Pete Chapman, a lanky, sandy-haired man who’d earned the nickname “Professor” for his vast knowledge of useless trivia, called out. “He just does his thing.” Chapman looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Dane’s cheeks burned. He took his training seriously, and he wasn’t about to waste it goofing around with Bonebrake and his crowd.
“You’re a joke, Bonebrake, and I’m going to laugh when you finally wash out.”
“I’m going to earn the trident, and when I do, I’ll have it tattooed on my ass so I can moon you every day.” Bonebrake took a step closer, so they were almost touching. “And I’ve told before, call me Bones.” He tried to poke Dane in the chest, but Dane slapped his hand aside.
Dane wasn’t sure who threw the first punch, but suddenly he and Bonebrake were in the midst of an old-fashioned brawl. Bonebrake caught him over the ear with a right cross, which Dane answered with an uppercut, then bounced a jab off the big Indian’s chin. Bonebrake didn’t as much as wince. He grabbed Dane in a clinch, drove a knee into his rib cage, and head-butted him across the bridge of the nose.
Ignoring the pain, Dane broke the clinch and landed a solid roundhouse to the side of Bonebrake’s knee. The bigger man wobbled and Dane leapt atop him. He managed to land a couple of solid elbow strikes before strong hands yanked them apart.
“Y’all done lost your minds!” Willis was the only man big enough to hold Bonebrake back on his own and, right now, it was all he could to keep him in check. “We’re supposed to be brothers.”
“Not a chance in hell,” Bonebrake spat.
“Fine with me,” Dane rasped through the Professor’s choke hold.
“Maddock! Bonebrake!”
The sharp voice froze Dane’s marrow and caused Bonebrake to immediately cease his struggles. Hartford Maxwell, or “Maxie,” was their commander and a man for whom Dane had the utmost respect. Never before had he heard such anger in Maxie’s voice. “My office in ten!”
“Yes sir!” both replied, but Maxie had already turned away from them. He strode out the door and closed it behind him with a bang.
Dane and Bonebrake exchanged looks of loathing, but otherwise ignored each other until they reached Maxie’s office ten minutes later.
Maxie was on the telephone when they arrived. He waved them inside, and they stood at attention until he ended the call. The office, austere as Maxie himself, held only a matching gray metal desk and file cabinet, and a chair. A single pad of legal paper, an empty “In Box,” a telephone, and a framed photograph of an attractive blonde girl of about sixteen sat atop his desk. When he finally hung up, he propped his feet up, laced his fingers behind his head as if he were lounging in a hammock, and regarded them with a steely gaze that matched the hair on his temples. He was solid in every way, and not a man to be trifled with.
After an uncomfortable silence, he let his breath out in a huff. “At ease.”
Dane tried to relax his posture, but found himself too tense to do anything but stare straight ahead. Bonebrake didn’t seem to have that problem. He sidled over to Maxie’s desk, picked up the photo, and whistled.
“Is this your daughter? Man, she is going to be a beauty. She must get her looks from your wife’s side of the family, huh?”
Maxie sat up, relieved Bones of the photo, and replaced it on his desk. “That’s my daughter Kaylin and, yes, she does take after her mother. A fate that hopefully awaits any children you might have.” He laced his fingers together, rested them on the desk, and gave them another silent stare.
“I’m sorry...” Dane began.
“I don’t want your apologies, Maddock. I want the two of you to change your behavior. You’re two of the finest I’ve ever trained, and I don’t want to lose either of you, but you pull a stunt like this again, I’ll come down on you like Ric Flair. You get my meaning?”
“Yes, sir!” Bonebrake said. “My grandfather loved Flair.”
Dane had no idea who Ric Flair was, but he got the gist. “Yes, sir.”
“All right, Bonebrake. Tell me what you know about Maddock.”
“What do you mean?” Bonebrake cocked his head like a confused puppy.
“I’m sorry. Was that question too difficult for you? Tell me about Maddock. And I don’t mean what he looks like or what he eats for breakfast. What do you know about him as a man?”
“Not much. I just know he thinks he’s better than everyone else. He doesn’t respect or appreciate the rest of us.”
Dane wanted to object, but held his tongue
Maxie turned to Dane. “Your turn. Tell me about Bonebrake.”
“He doesn’t take anything seriously. He wants respect, but he has no respect for anyone or anything.”
Maxie sighed. “You morons do realize I could make your lives miserable if I wanted to?”
Dane and Bonebrake nodded.
“If you don’t want that to happen, you’re going to do something for me. Blow this chance, and the next time you step out of line your dreams of becoming a SEAL are over.”
This time, their nods were reluctant.
“My family and I were supposed to take a little trip to Boston during leave time,” Maxie continued, “but now her mother has decided to come for a visit.” He rolled his eyes. “The tickets are non-refundable, so I’ve had two of them transferred into your names.” Maxie tore the top sheet off his note pad and slid it across the desk. On it was an airline name, and dates and departure times for the outbound and return flights.
Dane’s mouth went dry. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You two are going to take a trip to Boston. I happen to know that you like Colonial history and Bonebrake likes bars. You’ll find plenty of both there. You’ll be in the birthplace of the American Revolution on the Fourth of July. Maybe that will remind you two why you serve and who is and isn’t your enemy.”
“Maxie, you can’t...” Bonebrake stammered.
“Do you really want to finish that sentence?”
Apparently, Bonebrake did not, because he lapsed into sullen silence.
“I expect you two to spend your leave together. Every minute of it. I’m going to interrogate you when you get back. Don’t give me reason to believe you did anything other than spending time getting to know and respect one another. You leave tonight, so you’d better get packed. Now get out of my sight.”
A million thoughts raced through Dane’s head, but he voiced none of them. What would be the point? Leave time at close quarters with Bonebrake. He had to hand it to Maxie. The man knew how to dole out punishment.
CHAPTER 2
Even within the confines of the subway car, Dane covered his ears as the screech of steel wheels sent a shrieking tremor down his spine.
North Station, the screechy, tinny voice called out. Exit on the right, please. Thanks for riding the T.
The doors slid open. A wall of exhaust and thick, humid air hit him right in the face. Who would have thought Boston could make him miss the sweltering heat of South Florida?
“I really don’t get why we’re doing this.” Dane grimaced and surveyed the scene. “I was all ready for a nice evening of resting up from the flight and doing absolutely nothing. But no, Bonebrake, you had to drag me out here.”
“Relax, Maddock.” Bones gave Dane’s shoulder a friendly shake. “You’re wound up tighter than my grandmother’s girdle. Loosen up and get into the spirit of things. We’re on leave, dude. Guys like us, we’re supposed to have a few drinks, maybe get into a fight. You know, experience life.”
They turned right and headed down the stairs to the turnstiles. Another passageway skewed off to their left, across Causeway Street. Several people walked that way, some wearing
replica Red Sox jerseys. “Cheer up. You’re going to get to study that Colonial History stuff that you like so much.”
“I was going to do that... after I slept,” Dane countered, “but somebody wouldn’t shut up until I agreed to go drinking with him.”
Bonebrake smirked as they passed through the turnstiles and headed down the long staircase and out to the street. Dane looked around and saw the filth that coated the once-green steel of the elevated subway station, as if exhaust fumes clung to the metal and constricted it, squeezing the life out of the neighborhood. They entered the converging shadows as they walked along the sidewalk adjacent to the decaying Boston Garden. Several of the street level store fronts were empty, the windows blackened. Dane wrinkled his nose at the acrid stench of stale urine.
“We’ve already learned one new thing about Boston.” Bonebrake fanned the air in front of his nose. “It’s apparently the world’s biggest urinal.”
Dane smirked. He refused to laugh at Bonebrake’s wisecracks. He still couldn’t believe Maxie had bullied them into this trip. Then again, Maxie was a good judge of character. If he saw something in Bonebrake, Dane knew he ought to give the guy a chance.
They walked a few more feet before Bonebrake guided him through an open door. “Now, this is my kind of place.”
Dane grimaced. It was exactly what he’d envisioned, perhaps “feared” would be a better word, when Bonebrake suggested they go out for a few beers. It wasn’t a high-class establishment where the wood had a high glossy shine on the bar, or well lit during the day to let potential customers know it was open to quench a hearty Bostonian thirst. Bonebrake had laid out their options for him: this place, or a bar in something called the Combat Zone. Dane had figured this to be the safer option. No telling what Bonebrake might get them into in a place with that name.