“How is it unfortunate? You already said you were going to kill us, just not yet.”
“You make a good point, Bonebrake. So will one of you tell me what you found here, or do I have to start shooting out kneecaps?”
Dane could see the details of the gun now — one of the massive .50 caliber Desert Eagles favored mostly by certain special forces troops and wannabe militiamen. He had no doubt into which category O’Meara fell. Properly used, the gun would do more than just take out a kneecap, it would effectively result in a lower leg amputation.
Dane slowly stepped aside so the full shelf behind him was visible. “We haven’t had a chance to find anything yet. We tried to look at some of the books but they are in danger of disintegration. Bones wanted to look at a map of Paris that we found, and I was trying to talk him out of it when you arrived. See for yourself.”
He gestured towards the spot where he had tucked the map. Dane tried to avoid showing the anxiety that he felt at this gamble. By mentioning the one document he wanted to avoid, he hoped O’Meara would be tricked into figuring it couldn’t be important.
O’Meara’s eyes moved from Dane to Bones and back again. “It’s possible you’re telling the truth. So tell me what did you hope to find? And how did you know to look here? Assume I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Dane pondered this last remark. How would he know if Dane lied? Unless… O’Meara had been on their trail all along and knew about Octavius. For a fleeting second he worried about Octavius being in danger, but then decided that not only could he do nothing about it now, Octavius seemed like he could take care of himself. He didn’t want to reveal everything to O’Meara, but he’d have to give enough of the truth to avoid getting shot.
“Cornelius Marshall’s brother had a letter from Richard Bache, Benjamin Franklin’s grandson. The letter gave clues on how to find this place. It implied that Franklin’s secret would be hidden here. Like Bones said, we were looking for the copy of that agreement.”
The Desert Eagle did not move, but Dane sensed that the man believed him. O’Meara called over his shoulder out into the tunnel. “Smyers, Dantry, Get over here.”
One man appeared immediately behind O’Meara, holding a more traditional Glock automatic. A few second later following the echoing of footsteps, a second man became visible behind him. O’Meara’s eyes never left his two captives.
“We’re going on a short hike back to the truck. And before you get any ideas about calling out for help, think about those kneecaps. We bypassed a couple of the barriers and parked well into the woods. I have more men out there keeping watch. We won’t run into any bystanders between here and there, so all you’d accomplish is becoming a cripple.”
O’Meara moved to one side of the small room, while one of his men stood just outside the doorway and another stood a few feet down the hall. Dane put his hand on Bones’ shoulder, trying to communicate that they should play along for now. He couldn’t determine if the message was received; the rage in Bones’ eyes dominated all else.
They made it out of the tunnel and up the stairs without incident. One of O’Meara’s men walked about ten feet in front of them, while O’Meara and the other stayed right behind. Dane had to admit the formation was smart and would prevent Dane and Bones from jumping them. Dane had another thought in mind.
After a few minutes, they had reached some of the boulders that had interested Bones earlier. Dane knew that on one upcoming section, the creek was on the other side. He allowed Bones to catch up and walk next to him just long enough to catch the big man’s eye and give a tiny nod towards the boulders. Bones’ eyes glittered with confirmation that he understood.
“Back in line. The next time you do that, the response won’t be verbal.”
Bones dropped back again and Dane kept his head down, feigning submission. All the while he watched the rock formations they passed. Finally they reached one he thought would work.
With no warning, he leaped to the side, scrambling five feet up the angled schist in a fraction of a second. He could hear that Bones had reacted quickly and done the same thing. The key now was another half-second hesitation on the part of O’Meara. He felt sure that O’Meara’s men wouldn’t risk shooting them without some sort of sign from the boss, but O’Meara himself might react quickly enough to stop them.
Two shots did come, deafening sounds coming from the Desert Eagle. A piece of rock exploded next to Dane’s head, sending chips into his face. He kept driving upward, though, and disappeared over the top out of firing range. He wondered whether Bones had made it, but he couldn’t stop to check. Instead he kept going and jumped off the other side into the creek.
The water was only a couple of feet deep, and the fifteen foot drop jarred his spine. The cold hit his shins through his fatigues, but compared to any number of experiences during SEAL training, it barely registered as an annoyance. Then he heard a splash next to him.
He whirled and saw Bones still crouched from absorbing the impact. Not waiting any longer, Dane forged the creek, splashing his way through water that rose until he was forced to swim. He reached the other side a couple of steps ahead of Bones and shook himself like a dog after a bath.
“Bones, you okay?”
“Never better. I told you we didn’t need a pool at our hotel.”
“Yeah, well even big tough SEALS aren’t immune to hypothermia. The temp is high enough that we should be okay if we keep moving, but we need to focus on getting somewhere warm sooner rather than later.”
“Silly me, I thought we need to focus on getting away from the guys armed with hand cannons.”
“That too.”
They launched themselves into the trees next to the creek, quickly leaving both the water and any chance of being spotted by O’Meara behind. They kept up a steady jog, though. The Mustang was parked on the other side of the river and Dane had to assume that O’Meara would have people watching it. They needed to get to a road, find a cab, and get back to the motel as soon as they could.
Dane could feel the cold starting to seep into his marrow. The motel might not be completely safe, but it was much better than the wilderness in terms of confronting O’Meara.
Plus, it had hot showers.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
O’Meara had given up on the old woman. She had her own agenda, her own sources, her own soldiers. Unfortunately she also had the Randolph document. It would be revealed at the rally in Washington. All fine with O’Meara.
But he didn’t like the unknowns. Franklin’s copy of the agreement might be found in the lost Library of Congress. Although he didn’t know of any surprises it might hold, he didn’t share the old woman’s certainty that none existed. Even if none did, having his own copy held no downside at all.
To avoid the old woman’s scrutiny, he’d moved from known buildings to a small hotel outside the city. She might have followed him and be watching him at this moment, but he doubted it. She was too self-confident to bother.
He counted himself lucky to have caught Maddock and Bonebrake. Upon returning from Hamiltonban, two of his men had staked out the motel where they were staying. Maddock’s attempt to sneak in the back door had failed to escape their notice. But they had almost lost the two when Bonebrake floored the Mustang and went through several lights en route to their new lodging.
From there, Maddock and Bonebrake had gone to Octavius Marshall’s apartment. Unfortunately, when one of O’Meara’s men went into the apartment after the two Navy men had left, Marshall wasn’t there. They had not seen him enter or leave, but it seemed to O’Meara that the two SEALs must have been meeting the man. O’Meara’s intuition from years on the police force told him that Marshall was hiding something, but he’d have to catch him before he’d know for sure.