Legacies

5.

As Jack reached the bottom of the steps, he wondered if whatever abuse Alicia had suffered had been committed in the basement. Good chance, judging from her reaction.

He found the light switch and checked out the place.

Maybe Ronald Clayton once had a basement workshop. Sure as hell couldn't tell from the look of the place now. The Arab's wrecking crew had done their thing down here too—maybe they'd started here. They'd torn out the dropped ceiling, ripped the paneling from the walls, dismantled the furniture, and sliced up the cushions. He saw what looked like a disemboweled mattress and box spring, so he guessed there must have been a bed down here too.

Jack kicked through the debris and found miscellaneous electronic equipment—circuit boards, memory chips, and the like—but if they'd found a working computer, he was sure they'd carried it off to where they could inspect its hard drive down to the last byte.

He also came across some old, rusted-looking track lighting fixtures and noticed the oversize bulb holders. Doc Clayton must have liked it bright down here.

Jack poked around a little longer, then went back upstairs. He found Alicia in the dining room where he'd left her, standing by the pile of debris, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, looking ready to jump out of her skin.

"Find anything?" she said.

"Just another pile like this."

"I… I'm sorry I couldn't go down with you," she said, not looking at him. "It's just…"

"You don't have to explain."

"I wasn't going to. I'm just telling you that this is the way I am right now, and there's not a lot I can do about it."

"Okay." Just as well, he thought. This wasn't the time or place for an explanation. "Then we'll have to work around it."

She spread her hands toward the carnage. "Are we wasting our time?"

"Maybe," Jack said. "But I know some things about hiding stuff, maybe a thing or two they don't. One thing I do know is that you tend to hide your most valuable stuff close to you, where you can keep an eye on the hiding place, and get to it quick if you need it." He looked at her. "Where was your father's bedroom?"

"Upstairs."

"Any problem with going upstairs?"

"No. My room used to be up there."

Jack led the way, with Alicia directing him. A left at the top of the stairs took them to the master bedroom.

Maybe it had been masculine-looking, maybe it had still retained feminine touches from the days when Alicia's mother had lived here. All guesswork now. The room had been stripped to the walls; whatever once might have lent it character or personality now lay in a heap in the center of the floor.

He spotted a sledgehammer and a couple of crowbars leaning near a particularly damaged area of the wall in the far corner. He crossed the room for a closer look.

"Look at this," he said as he fingered the shattered edges of the wallboard. "They opened up the wall here."

Beyond the ragged opening was a tiny room—a converted closet, really—lined with shelves—empty shelves.

"Looks like some sort of secret library. Did you know about this?"

Alicia, stiff and pale, was standing at the other end of the room, near the door, just over the threshold.

She shook her head. "No."

What had Clayton kept here? Jack wondered. Research journals and papers? His notes on whatever it is the others are after?

He turned and kicked through the pile of debris. No paper.

"Well, whatever was stored here is gone—either gone when they got here, or they took it with them." He moved toward Alicia. "Let's try your room."

"My room? Why?"

"Well, he left the whole place to you, didn't he? Maybe he left you something else. Which way?"

Alicia pointed down the hall to a dark doorway. Jack stepped through and found another example of methodical destruction. He pointed to the central pile of debris.

"Recognize anything?"

"No." Alicia had entered behind him and was stepping gingerly through the room. "Why should I? I left when I was eighteen and haven't been back."

"Not once?"

"Not once."

Something round and shiny black caught Jack's eye, and he bent to pick it up. A tiny rubber tire.

"Were you into toy cars?" he said, holding it out to Alicia.

She took it from him and stared at it.

"No. Never."

"Maybe your brother, then."

"No… Thomas was a couch potato… books, movies, video games. I doubt his interest in cars went beyond the fact that they allowed him to ride instead of walk." She held the tire up to the light, rolling it over in her fingers. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Somewhere in there, I'd guess," he said, indicating the pile. "I'm going to check out the bathrooms."

"Why?"

"Because they've got pipes." At her quizzical look, he added, "I'll explain as I go."

"That's okay," she said. "I'll stay here."

He left Alicia on her knees, picking through the rubble pile.

Jack returned to Clayton's bedroom, grabbed one of the crowbars, and headed for the master bathroom. One thing you could pretty much count on in these older buildings—unless someone had done a wall-to-wall renovation—was copper plumbing. He'd noticed copper pipes in the kitchen, and metal pipes offered unique opportunities if you wanted to hide something metallic.

A peek into the bathroom showed that the sink and toilet had been ripped out, but the searchers hadn't chipped off the tile to expose the pipes. Not yet, at least.

Jack next went to the bedroom closet, which shared a wall with the bathroom. A knock on the wall brought a hollow sound. This wasn't part of the original house. The bathroom probably had been enlarged. He knelt and ran his fingers along the top of the wide strip of molding at the base of the wall until he found a tiny gap. He inserted the flanged tip of the crowbar. A gentle twist was all it needed—a screwdriver would have done the job—and the molding popped free, revealing a three-inch gap between the floor and the wallboard.

Just like home, Jack thought.

Over the years he'd put a lot of his money into gold coins—bad investment, yeah, but how else could he store his savings without getting a bank involved? He hid them in his apartment by taping them to the water pipes. That way the coins were safe from anybody who boosted his place, even if they brought a metal detector: The detector was expected to beep when it passed over the water pipes.

Jack slipped his hand inside and found the pipes running to and from the bathroom. It took less than a minute for his searching, fingers to locate the object taped to one of them.

"Hello."

Jack stripped off the tape and pulled it out.

He couldn't see the thing here in the darkness, but it felt hard and flat, encased in vinyl. He crawled from the closet to get a look at it in better light.

A wedge-shaped red vinyl case. He lifted the flap and pulled out a key with "#137" stamped on the bow.

Jack smiled. "Am I good, or am I good?"

The Arab and his wrecking crew would have found it eventually, especially if they were planning to take the place apart brick by brick. But now they wouldn't find squat. Served 'em right.

A safety deposit box key, from the look of it. Or maybe to a storage locker. But where?

Worry about that later, when they didn't have to watch the clock.

He went to find Alicia.