“I have the document that was in the envelope.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Think they’re dead?”
O’Meara leaned back in the plush seat as they cruised eighteen thousand feet above the Pennsylvania countryside. The trip back to Philadelphia was short and they’d soon move out of level flight into the descent. O’Meara was not accustomed to traveling on a private jet, but he decided it was something he could get used to.
The raspy voice carried disdain in response. “You were there as well, O’Meara. What do you think?”
He looked across the aisle at the old woman. He still didn’t know what to make of her. To see her move across a room most of the time you’d think she needed a walker, but she had easily kept up during the two short hikes through the snow. He’d watched her going down the stairs into the hidden cellar, watched her lean over the treasure chest with no hesitation. She wasn’t nearly as feeble as she liked to pretend.
“If they had no digging tools, then even if they survived the collapse, there’s no way they got out either of those entrances. But these guys are like bad pennies. I’d be surprised if they don’t somehow turn up.”
“So you answered your own question.”
“I have some contacts in the Pennsylvania State Police. I could probably find out if they dig up any bodies.”
The old woman finally met his eye. “You can do what you want, but right now no one even knows an explosion occurred, let alone suspects casualties. This was an old ruin, and by spring any damage we created will be indistinguishable from what was there before.”
“Unless someone knows the area well enough to know that those piles of collapsed wood and stone are new.”
“Which doesn’t really change the lack of wisdom in calling attention to it now.”
O’Meara knew she was right, but inside he burned at her condescending attitude. In theory they shared the same goal, but he was getting close to telling her to piss off. Especially now that they had the document.
Correction, she has the document. Once they were out of the elements and in the car, she had handed it to him, and he had forced his hands not to tremble reading what he had sought for so long. It was exactly as expected and would be one piece of a chain reaction which the puppet-masters in the government couldn’t control or contain. She had taken it back after five minutes and he hadn’t seen it since.
“So we just wait to see if Maddock and Bonebrake reappear?”
“Can you think of a better idea given our resources and what we know? Nothing they can do will stop us now.”
“We know the hotel they’re staying at. I’ll have my guy keep watching it.”
“You do that. I also know they are due back in San Diego in a week. Perhaps they’ll show up, perhaps they won’t.”
O’Meara sighed. “Presumably you’ll let me know. When should we reveal the document?”
She raised her eyebrows. “It can wait a few days for the perfect opportunity. I was thinking of reserving time to speak at the Patriots rally in D.C. this weekend.”
“Makes sense.” And it did. What better place to reveal what the founders really thought than a rally dedicated to returning to their ideals?
Despite his verbal agreement, O’Meara wasn’t focused on the nature of the rally. He instead pondered the old woman’s choice of pronoun. Despite working closely with him over the past months to obtain the Randolph document, her use of the first person singular made it clear how things now stood.
O’Meara didn’t like it. But he wasn’t without skills or the ability to discover things on his own. In these situations, knowledge could be power. Before they had headed out to the Marshall place, he’d made a discreet phone call to someone he knew in the Pennsylvania State Police. It didn’t sound like the old woman’s thug had gotten himself arrested. But without O’Meara even giving him a name, his contact had mentioned a murder in the city at an apartment owned by one Cornelius Marshall.
Murders are common enough that O’Meara was surprised his contact would have happened to know about it. Until his contact told him the unusual part. O’Meara didn’t know yet how he could use the information, but he figured he’d think of a way.
The police had found not one but two dead bodies in the apartment of Cornelius Marshall.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I hope I’m not the only one who suspects this document is a load of crap.” Bones said.
Dane’s only surprise at this comment was that Bones had waited nearly an hour to voice it. After agreeing to meet Marshall back in Philadelphia the next day, they had made their way back to the Mustang and hit the road.
“Maybe. But it won’t hurt to check it out.”
“Unless it’s a trap.”
“You think they sent Marshall out there to lure us to a spot in Philadelphia when they could have instead taken us out while we were talking to him? Even for a guy who believes in Bigfoot and Atlantis, that’s a stretch.”
“Hey, dude, Bigfoot is real and Atlantis is a documented historical place. Narrow minds can’t see that, but I won’t hold it against you.”
“Atlantis is historical fact?” Dane rolled his eyes.
“Just you wait. One day they’ll find it and you’ll owe me a beer.” Bones paused. “You’re probably right about Marshall. He’s kind of.. ”
“Weird?”
“Exactly.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Bones laughed. “Good point. Isn’t it my turn to drive?”
They arrived in Philadelphia without crashing or getting a speeding ticket, which Dane could only conclude meant that their luck had taken a turn for the better. They decided to check out of their motel and find another one, as it seemed like the Sons knew where they were staying. Bones parked a few blocks away and Dane went in through a back door with a winter hat pulled down around his ears and a jacket with the collar turned up. Not the most clever disguise, but hopefully enough misdirection to get him in and out without being recognized.
They checked into a place several miles away, paying cash. They chose a non-chain motel that didn’t ask for ID, so Dane was able to use a fake name. Despite all these measures, they slept in two shifts.
The precaution proved unnecessary. After an uneventful night they headed to meet Octavius Marshall, who lived in an apartment in a suburb on the New Jersey side of the city. Both men remained vigilant as they exited the car and went into the building. The neighborhood seemed fine, but four attempts on their life in recent days had triggered a healthy increase in Dane’s paranoia.
In the elevator on the way up, Dane watched floor numbers climb. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched.”
“Normally I’d say it’s just that stick you have up your butt, but in this case I have the same feeling.”
“And you don’t have a stick up your butt?”
“Exactly.”
Octavius Marshall opened the door before Dane had managed a second knock. He looked different in the daylight and without the hat and winter jacket. Not a single hair adorned his skull, and he seemed even thinner dressed in jeans and white collared shirt. He stood only two or three inches shorter than Dane but couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and thirty pounds.
“Come on in guys, have a seat.”
Dane looked at him. “We just walked right up here. You realize you might be in danger too, right? Do you have any security?”
Marshall gestured with his hand. “Here? No, but I don’t even live here. It was just a convenient place to meet.”
“Wait, then who owns it?”
“I do. It’s my official address. In fact, it’s just about the only thing I own that’s in my name.”