One positive was that he didn’t have to leave a length of rope dangling from the stern of the ship where it could draw unwanted attention. He coiled up the fallen rope and carried it with him to the closed exhibit where he hid it beneath the fallen pirate figure. He paused to listen in case anyone was still here and had heard his fall, but the museum was silent as a tomb. Figuring it was time to move on, he took a deep breath and stepped through the door at the back of the exhibit.
He found himself in a spartan hallway that ran along the back of the exhibit hall. Doors on either side provided access to the various exhibits. In front of him, a stairwell led down to a lower level, and he spotted another smudged, bloody footprint a few steps down. Hand resting on his Beretta, he made his way down into the darkness.
He found himself in a poorly-lit basement area. He spotted more footprints and followed them past doors labeled according to what was stored inside them, to a small room, perhaps a large janitor’s closet. Inside, he found a folding chair and a stainless steel table.
And a great deal of blood.
A dark spatter slashed across the wall to his right, and more spots trailed down to the floor, where more dark, dry patches spotted the gray surface. Trembling with rage, he gave the room a once-over, in case he’d missed an important detail. A small wastebasket was shoved into the corner on his left. At first, he thought it was empty, but then he spied a glint of silver. He knelt and fished it out. It was a broken necklace with a turquoise and silver Kokopelli pendant. He recognized it as Angel’s. This definitive proof she had been here.
“I’m gonna kill somebody,” he muttered, pocketing the necklace.
“Not today, my friend,” someone said from behind him. Damn! He’d let his anger distract him, and someone had crept up behind him. “Very slowly take that gun out of the holster.”
“Hey man, I was just looking for the john. Is it anywhere around here?”
“If you don’t want a hole in your head, do what I say, and do it now.”
He did as instructed, slipping his Beretta out of the holster with two fingers, making it clear he was not reaching for the trigger, and setting it on the ground.
“Good. Now turn around slowly.”
Still squatting down, Willis turned to see Shears pointing a gun at him. The man smiled, clearly pleased with himself.
“Slide the gun over to me.”
Willis did as he was told. He gave the Beretta a shove, sliding it toward Shears’ gun hand with enough force that it slid past him.
Shears took his eyes off of Willis for only a split second, but that was all Willis needed. He whipped his Recon knife from his belt, hurled it at Shears, and dove into a forward roll as a bullet pinged off the ceiling. He came to his feet ready to wrestle the gun from Shears, but there was no need. Willis’ aim had been true, and the hilt of his knife protruded from Shears’ chest. He’d gotten him in the heart.
Willis retrieved his knife and his Beretta, and dragged Shears’ lifeless body into the room where Angel had been held. He regretted taking the man’s life, not because he placed any particular value on it, but because he would have liked to question him. As it was, he had no clue as to Angel’s whereabouts. He only knew she had been here. He guessed that would have to be enough.
The space beneath Hamilton’s tomb was a tight box, but deep enough that even Bones could stand up straight. A round seal was carved in the center of each walclass="underline" the Templar cross, an Eagle clutching a spear in its talons, and the familiar temple seal and two knights seal.
Dane moved immediately to the two knights on horseback, as it was the one drawn in the corner of the map. He ran the beam of his flashlight back and forth across the carving. It didn’t take long to realize what made this seal different from the traditional rendering. In most versions of the seal, each knight carried a lance. In this carving, the two lances were carved as one thick lance with a prominent point. Closer scrutiny revealed a fine seam running around the top half of the lance. Dane blew the dust away from the edges.
“This looks like a button,” Avery said. “May I?”
“Sure.” Dane stepped back and watched as she gingerly pressed on the top half of the lance. It sank into the stone with a hushed click, and the seal slowly rolled to the side, vanishing into the wall and revealing a dark shaft with handholds in the side leading deeper into the ground.
“Maybe you should stay here.” Dane looked at Avery. “I don’t know how far down we’ll have to climb. It could be dangerous.”
“Are you stupid?” Avery looked scandalized. “This is Dad’s quest and we’re going to finish it together. Besides, despite what our first meeting might have indicated, I can climb a little.” With that, she clambered through the hole, ignoring Dane’s urges for her to exercise caution, and began her descent.
“Sisters,” Bones said. “You gotta’ love ‘em.” He grinned. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.” He followed Avery into the shaft, and Dane went last.
At the bottom of the shaft, a doorway opened onto a dark chamber, with steps leading down into the bottom. Dane and Bones played their lights around the room. It was another Templar church. Like the church beneath Oak Island, the walls were adorned with ornate carvings but, instead of scenes showing knights in combat, the images told the story of the crucifixion. Directly in front of them, behind a simple stone altar, the image of the centurion piercing Jesus’ side looked down upon them. The agony on Jesus’ face was almost palpable.
“This is amazing!” Avery took out a camera and began snapping pictures. “A Templar church beneath New York City. Hard to believe.” She paused, lowering the camera. “Wait a minute. This had to be here long before the Hamilton tomb was constructed. So that means…”
“Someone was in on the secret and built the tomb specifically as a cover-up,” Bones finished.
“The Freemasons?” Avery asked.
“I think it was Elvis and The Colonel, but that’s just me.”
“You’re useless.” Avery looked around, and her eyes suddenly widened. “But if someone or some group knew about this place, what if they took whatever was hidden here? I don’t see anything.”
“If it’s like the church under Oak Island, and I think it is, this place hasn’t revealed all its secrets.” Dane pointed to a spot high on the wall and the symbol of six crosses in a circle, identical to that in the Oak Island church. “If my guess is right, the map to this temple didn’t include everything someone would need to know. Bones, a boost?”
Bones chuckled and hunched down against the wall below the crosses and served as a ladder for Dane to climb. Bones stood up straight, then took Dane by his feet and lifted him up until Dane reached a ledge beneath the crosses.
“Maddock, you have got to lay off the bacon cheeseburgers,” Bones grunted. “You’re too fat for me to keep doing this.”
“Quit whining.” Dane hoisted himself up onto the ledge and cautiously climbed to his feet. The ledge was narrow and the drop was far enough that he didn’t want to risk a fall.
“Careful,” Avery warned.
He smiled down at her, then reached up to the topmost cross, took hold, and turned it in the same way Bones had turned its counterpart in the Oak Island church. It didn’t budge at first, but then, slowly, it moved. Gradually, he rolled the circle back into the wall, and climbed through.
The space here was much like the one beneath Oak Island— a domed, turret-like chamber with the same double-line of symbols spiraling from ceiling to floor and the same wedge-shaped pattern in the ceiling’s center, and a stone altar off to one side. In this chamber, however, there was no wooden casket atop the altar, but a long wooden cylinder. He took a minute to make a photographic record of the chamber before moving to the altar.