by Sean Salazar
“Is that why Al was sent to Spain?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The driver slowed as they approached the second entrance into the tunnels that led under the White House. It consisted of a narrow alleyway, and as they got closer Ed was pleased to see two military vehicles parked at the curb on each side of the entrance.
The car stopped next to one of the vehicles and the driver immediately jumped out and opened the door on Natalie’s side. Ed saw the rain had lightened up. He opened his bag. “Put your papers in here to keep them dry.”
She folded the papers and stuffed them inside. “Okay, thanks.”
They climbed out and the two security men led them to the alley entrance. As they did, Ed explained, “I want you to be aware of what you might be seeing underground here.”
“I was wondering about that,” she said.
“Remember, finding this location was from your advice, although what is down there is disturbing.”
“Well, I guess,” she said, returning a prideful grin. “All I said was a shootout was here between a dark-haired gal and two men. After Al and Vance heard that, they both demanded that I bring them here, and that is all I really did.”
“What you are attempting to say—if I am hearing you correctly—” Ed said, helping her to take credit for the discovery, “is that you gave Al and Vance a preliminary briefing before leading them to the scene.”
Natalie smiled, “I suppose that would be a more appropriate response, I think.”
As they entered the cobblestone alley, Ed took note of another military vehicle, a tan Humvee in the distance guarding the opposite entrance. Two armed soldiers were standing by the front bumper. As he approached the section where the subterranean entrance was, two more soldiers were near the ground-level window and two more men with hard hats were feeding in cables.
Natalie walked ahead and pointed up to the side of the building. A large, black, spray-painted X covered the wall on the side of a building. “That symbol is called the hooked X. I’m researching its meaning as part of a college project.”
“I do believe that the security here is inadequate,” Ed said, looking up to the roofline, then back down at the two men near the window.
Apparently catching on that he ignored her comment, Natalie stepped next to him and asked, “You think more soldiers are needed?”
The closest security man overheard his comment, stepped up to him and asked, “Sir, would you require me to increase the security in the area?”
Ed looked both ways, pointing, “I see concrete barriers placed to block the entrances, armored vehicles on each end, and about four soldiers. Are there any reinforcements scheduled to arrive?”
“No,” he said. “This is it. The Army Humvees patrol both sides, rotating every thirty minutes. Would you require more?”
“I would recommend posting at least two more at each entrance,” Ed said, glancing up at the rooflines on each side of the alleyway. He knew if the Brotherhood attacked, they would easily get past this setup. “I would also recommend posting lookouts on each roof, and another armored vehicle positioned inside the alley, preferably near the window. I understand that you gentlemen have not dealt with the Brotherhood quite yet. If you did, several heavy tanks would be patrolling this area constantly.”
The security man answered, “I’ll get right on it.”
Ed then turned back to the hooked X that Natalie referenced and asked, “Is that symbol what prompted you to investigate this scene?”
“Kinda,” she said. “I told agents Al and Vance that I thought this and the other events in D.C. were suspiciously Templar-style, if that makes any sense.”
“Yes, it does, my dear.” Ed said. He turned to the CIA men, “I will take it from here.” He then turned back to Natalie and asked, “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
“Very well, let’s go.” He led her into the small courtyard that bisected the alley and the security men cleared them with the soldiers. He knelt down, looked into the window, and saw the hole dug into the dirt floor below. Two power cords traveled from a generator in the courtyard, through the window and into the hole. He climbed through the low window and when his feet hit the dirt, he turned and helped Natalie down and handed her a flashlight.
“Thank you,” she said, turning it on. She eyed the hole and looked around. “It smells bad in here.”
“The smell of staleness would be old rotten wood indicating that this location is very old and fragile, so please be careful where you step.”
“I will,” she said, aiming her light back into the hole. “It actually smells like a sewer.”
Ed glanced into the hole and saw a faint light visible from inside. “Shall we join who is down there?”
“By all means,” Natalie said, putting the light in her pocket. “Do you think what is below this hole is what the shootout was about?”
“I believe so,” Ed answered.
“There is so much that I don’t know,” Natalie responded.
“The CIA director felt confident enough to recruit you into this crisis,” Ed said with as much a serious expression as he could muster. “So you successfully convinced her that you are helpful and more important, trustworthy. And I must confess that I had you thoroughly checked out myself.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” Natalie said. “I know that I can, I mean, I want to help in any way I can.”
“Very well,” Ed said, lining himself up with the ladder. He gripped the top and began stepping down. Once his feet reached the bottom, he again turned to assist Natalie. He knew she was very capable and not needing help, but being an English gentleman, he would assist a lady until informed otherwise.
“Thank you,” she said again as she reached the bottom.
Ed aimed his light around, illuminating the dirt walls and heavy wood supports and beams. A light stand positioned at the end of the tunnel provided some light, but not enough. He aimed his light down at several boards full of nails. “Be careful of those,” he cautioned.
Natalie carefully stepped around the boards and asked, “So what is this place?” He then aimed the light at where the red bricks lined the narrow entrance and answered, “My guess is that it was most likely a secret hideout of some sort.” He then led the way inside and stepped over the brass statue lying face up on the other side. Shooting his light around, he spotted the dusty cabinets, the shaft, and it all appeared to be where they all were when he and Vance came through the first time. He stepped to the side, aimed his light on the statue so Natalie would not trip over it.
As she entered, she eyed the statue and asked, “What, or who, is that?”
Ed knelt down, brushed away the dust off the face and upper torso and said, “We were in such a hurry last time we went through here I didn’t get a moment to investigate who this chap is.”
She eyed it from head to toe with her light and said, “It looks to be a medieval knight.”
“By the looks of it,” Ed said, “I would say probably a Scottish knight.” He then stood up, “Well, let me see if there is any writing nearby.”
She aimed her light around the ground, “I don’t see anything.”
“Hm-m,” he said, aiming his light at the face. “You, sir, are determined to be a mystery.”
Natalie retrieved her camera and, as she began taking pictures of the knight, asked, “What would be the reason for burying the statue this way?”
“It’s possibly a tomb,” Ed said, looking up at the ceiling. “We just need to find a marker of some sort indicating who or what it may be.”
“Do you have any idea at all who might have put it here?” Natalie asked.
Ed backed up, looking around with the light. “Not yet, but if I were to put a secret inscription in here, where would I...” He abruptly stopped what he was about to say, holding his light on a spot on the far wall. His eyes caught something suspicious above the open trap door. He stepped over to it and wiped the wood-lined wall with his hand, revealing an etch
ing. “Look here.”
Natalie aimed her light at the spot he was looking at. “I don’t see it,” she said.
“It’s an X,” Ed said, pointing directly at it. “Look closer.”
She stepped right up to it and said, “Oh, I see it. X marks the spot.”
“It’s very old,” Ed said, running his hands down the board as Natalie held the light. “I wonder,” he said, pushing in the lower half of the board, “if this comes off.” The old board pushed in and he was able to slip his fingers between each piece. He then wiggled the board loose and pulled. A pie-shaped piece broke off, revealing black writing underneath.
“I knew it,” Ed said. “The writing looks to have been etched into the stone and continued under the lower plank of wood.”
Natalie excitedly said, “Is it a secret message?”
“X definitely marked the spot,” Ed said. He then pulled his hands away from the boards and said, “Wait.”
“What, why?”
“Follow me,” Ed said as he turned around. He then stepped around the open trap door and knelt over. “My instincts are telling me to investigate the chaps below before observing the message any further.”
“Chaps?”
“At the bottom of this ladder is the beginning of a tunnel and several skeletons.”
“Skeletons?”
Ed was concerned about how she would respond and replied, “We were in such a hurry to rescue Al that we didn’t bother examining the poor chaps.”
Natalie aimed her light into the square shaft illuminating extremely thick cobwebs and a frail ladder going straight down into darkness. “I guess I am going to have to get used to this, huh?”
Ed sat down, put his feet in and squared himself with the ladder. “Oh, this is the best part of the job,” and he began descending.
Natalie watched him slide down into the darkness. She watched the top of his head move down, his shoulders scraping the masses of scary cobwebs as he descended. She aimed the light on the shaft edges looking for big black spiders scampering about as he passed but did not see any. Normally she would squash spiders on sight, but this was different. The spiders would have the upper hand, jumping on her as she went down, eating her alive. At that moment, she realized that she was alone in this dark room. She could hardly see Ed’s light at the bottom and had to overcome any fears of going into this hole. Well, at least he went down first, clearing the way, so now she had no excuses. She then sat down on the cold ground and put her legs in the hole. She aimed the light to the side so she wouldn’t see any spiders. Using both hands for support, she twisted her torso, let her foot hit the wood step, and slowly allowed her weight on it. She could actually feel the soft wood give slightly so she slid her foot to the edge where the wood should be stronger. Again, she put her weight on it and it held. She then put her other foot on the opposite side and released the pressure from her supporting hands. She lifted her hands off the concrete, balancing her weight. Next, she grabbed the light, shut it off, stuffed it in her pocket, and yelled, “I’m right behind you.”
As she approached the bottom, Ed positioned himself to assist her. He grabbed her legs and guided her feet so as not to step on any of the human remains.
When she had planted her feet firmly on the ground, Natalie pulled out her light, combining it with Ed’s, and when it hit the scene before her, she froze.
Ed noticed her reaction and calmly said, “It’s obvious that they have been here for a while.”
“I see that,” she answered, covering her nose.
Ed carefully stepped back through the bones and tattered clothing but found it difficult since the pathway was very narrow and every available spot to step had a bone or something filling it. He did the best he could and maneuvered himself to where the bodies ended. He then asked, “We have a shaft and a pile of bodies at the bottom, so what would you conclude, Ms. Natalie?”
She removed her hand from her mouth, “Like they were tossed down the shaft.”
“That would be my guess,” Ed said, attempting to keep her mind off the bodies. “How many do you think are here?”
Natalie aimed her light back and forth, then down the passageway, pausing on each of the crushed or damaged skulls. Her light moved to the torsos and limb bones. “I have no idea, but it looks like a lot.”
Ed backed up to where the last of the sprawled limbs were, which were little more than dark brown bones with dried skin. He reached down, grabbed two pant legs, or what was left of them, and slowly pulled them back, careful not to allow the bones to spill out. He placed the limbs down and pushed them to the side, away from the other limbs.
“Apparently there is only one way to find out,” he said. He slowly began separating a few of the skeletons, attempting to ascertain how many poor souls were there. “Considering the beating these bones recently went through,” he explained, reaching for a partially crushed skull, “I’d be surprised if they could be reassembled without DNA assistance.” As he said that, he noticed something underneath a few scattered neck bones and for a second he thought he recognized it. He placed the skull down, reached over, and grabbed it. It was a tarnished gold medallion attached to a darkened cloth-like strap.
As he held it up, Natalie aimed her light on it and said, “That’s a Masonic emblem.”
He stood up and analyzed it. “Yes, it is,” he said putting it back.
Aiming his light carefully, Ed maneuvered himself over to the skeletons that he had not moved yet. Most were contorted, tattered, but he could now make out several more Masonic medallions buried among the bones. Now that he knew what to look for, he saw several more of them lying on or around other neck- and head bones. He decided to finish his attempt to separate the skeletons the best he could before investigating the medallions. He carefully reassembled several more in the passageway.
“It looks like they are all Masons,” Natalie said.
Ed knelt down and fished out a decomposed finger bone with a ring on it. The bottom half of a ring was visible. It loosely held and hung low on the bone. Oddly, the dried small ligaments were still holding the small bones together. He twisted it around, and when he saw the face of the ring, he let out a small laugh, “It appears that the plot thickens.”
Natalie aimed her light down and made her way over the skeletons to see it. She leaned in to see it. “19?” she asked quizzically.
“The Masons are a peculiar group divided into degrees.” He slipped the ring off the bone and handed the ring to her. “The 19 on that ring indicates we are on the right path because the Masons, more specifically the 19th degree Masons, have been watching us and Al since this crisis began in Iraq.”
She looked at the ring closely, “I don’t get it.”
“I don’t entirely understand either, but this is beginning to make sense. Although, I am inclined to believe that you may be correct.” He stepped under the shaft and aimed his light up inside.
“About what?” she asked, stepping closer.
He lowered his light, aiming it back at the bodies, “That an old Masonic Lodge may have been positioned over this murder scene at one time.”
Natalie stepped around the skeletons, placing her free hand on the rough stonewall to support herself as she bent over. She shot her light onto each one as she moved the bones around. When she reached the last of the bones, she stood up and announced, “Ten... I count ten bodies here.”
Ed looked around for a few seconds at the mess of broken bones, crushed skulls, and asked, “And how did you come to that conclusion?”
She knelt down, lifted a skull, and said, “I didn’t count the skulls but instead counted the patches of hair.” She rotated the skull around, allowing the hair to spill off. “The hair is still attached and that is what I counted.” She placed the skull down and stood up, turning around. She aimed her light down the tunnel, “Where does this lead to?”
“That goes straight for a kilometer or so and leads to the cavern under the White House.”
“Where
the bomb was?”
“Yes,” Ed answered, aiming his light back up the shaft. “I believe it is now time for us to investigate the secret message in the room above.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Ed was impressed how quickly Natalie adapted to this type of research as difficult as it was. He reached up and began climbing.
Chapter Sixteen
Georgia
The second group of knighted horses galloped towards a community on the west side of campus. They were moving so fast that onlookers barely got a look at them. They avoided the roads and cut behind several homes, smashing gardens, fences and hedges.
On cue, one of the horses peeled off from the pack and trotted straight to a one-story building; the other three horses continued on. The horse stopped on the side of the building and the knight climbed off, pulled out a gun, and walked into the building through the front door.
Two teenage boys walking up to the building of the Student Islamic Faith Center were about to enter through a side entrance when they heard rapid popping sounds.
Issam, who was from Lebanon, instantly recognized automatic weapons fire when he heard it. Instinctively, he pulled his friend back away from the door.
The slightly obese Hazim relented, allowing his friend to pull him back. “What was that?”
Issam knelt down to the side of the door. “That was shooting. I remember Israeli soldiers would sometimes carry smaller machine guns that sounded like that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, that was a machine gun,” Issam said, opening the glass door.
“I don’t hear anything now.”
“Shhh,” Issam whispered, stepping through the entrance.
Quietly, they walked down the hallway towards the main auditorium. As they continued, Issam stopped and whispered, “Don’t breathe so damn loud.”
Hazim nodded, following behind. They were nearing an intersection of the hallways when something large rounded the corner.
Issam’s eyes widened at the image of a giant knight, all decked out exactly like he had seen in pictures, was coming directly at him. The metal helmet had thin slits for the eyes and he saw that the huge right hand held a machine gun. Issam stopped in his tracks and reached out his arm, pushing Hazim against the wall. The knight was very tall and twice as wide and as he approached, Issam knew that he was going to die now. He turned his head to look at Hazim, who was turning purple, because he was holding his breath.