Code

CHAPTER 22

SEWEE KNIFED THROUGH the surf, tossing spray from her bow.

Ten p.m. We’d waited as long as possible.

We couldn’t poke around the city’s most famous golf course with people still out and about. But time was not on our side.

The clock expired in two hours. Whatever needed doing had to happen before then.

Everyone wore dark-colored athletic clothing. Nothing too sinister—the Ocean Course was famous, and even late at night we might be seen. No sense looking like criminals if we intended to commit a crime.

I sat in the bow, one arm looping Coop’s neck. The wolfdog hadn’t been on the guest list, but his whining had threatened my escape. Kit had continued snoring, but I’d decided not to risk more doggie noise.

Ben piloted, of course. He’d opted for the ocean route rather than risk the twisty, confusing Intracoastal Waterway after dark. Our target was close, a mere two islands to the south.

Hi and Shelton were huddled in the stern. No one spoke. Sneaking out early was trickier than our usual post-midnight jaunts, and the boys seemed on edge.

A crescent moon lit our path down the coast. The breeze was mild, but brisk. I wore a blue LIRI windbreaker, which I’d leave in the boat.

We’d cruised past Folly Beach and reached the Stono Inlet when a dark shadow appeared on the horizon just ahead.

Kiawah is a long, thin barrier island operated primarily as a high-end resort. Exclusive and private, with roughly a thousand permanent residents, the slender strip of land stays relatively quiet. Five world-class golf courses stretch from the densely wooded interior right up to the Atlantic.

The Ocean Course is the most famous of the lot.

Ben motored along the shoreline, passing a series of manicured holes. Minutes later we spied a large structure rising just beyond the first row of dunes.

“I’ll pull as close as possible,” Ben said in a low voice.

“Eighteen is right on the beach,” Hi whispered. “Near the clubhouse. No one should be in there this late, so we shouldn’t be spotted.”

The three-story clubhouse was U-shaped, with massive, towering windows facing the ocean. Exterior lights burned, revealing a putting green at the base of the building. Between the halogens and the moonlight, visibility was excellent.

“We’d better hope nobody’s home,” Shelton said. “Anyone in there will have a front-row seat.”

Ben cut the engine and dropped anchor. We slipped off our shoes and waded ashore, Coop splashing along beside me. Cresting a low sandbank, I was relieved to note an absence of residences close by. So long as the clubhouse was empty, we’d be okay.

The green was flat, oval, and groomed to perfection. A deep sand trap ran along its far side. A short hedge at its tip was all that screened it from the clubhouse.

Hi moved directly to the hole and reached inside.

“Nothing.” He pounded his leg with a fist. “What a letdown.”

I double-checked, hoping Hi was somehow mistaken. Ridiculous, but I was sure this was the place.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” said Shelton. “Let’s bounce before security shows up.” Hi nodded, but neither Ben nor I moved.

“It has to be here,” I insisted. “The clue led directly to this spot.”

“If we read it right,” Shelton countered. “And who knows, maybe the whole game is a put-on. The Gamemaster might be full of crap.”

He’s not. And I’m not wrong. We’re in the right place. I can feel it in my bones.

Something didn’t add up. But what?

Ben was watching me. “What are you thinking?”

“The timer gave us seventy-two hours.” The problem crystallized as I spoke. “But we could’ve solved the puzzle at any time. What if we’d cracked it earlier, and come during the day? The Gamemaster couldn’t just leave something inside the hole. People golf here all day, every day.”

“That’s true.” Hi pursed his lips. “So what are you thinking?”

“We’re not wrong.” I peered into the hole. “We just need to go a little deeper.”

“Don’t tell me you want to dig up this green!” Shelton stomped a foot. “Don’t say it! I’m begging you.”

“Whoa.” Hi ran a hand over his scalp. “Tory, that’s some pretty hefty vandalism. These greens take years to mature. They’re worth tens of thousands of dollars.”

Ben kept silent, face inscrutable. But his body was as taut as a snare drum.

“The clue points to the hole itself,” I said. “That’s all we need to excavate.”

“Wait!” Hi’s face lit up. “My metal detector is still in the boat!”

Ben snapped off a nod. “Grab it. We can scan the turf before doing any damage.”

“Good idea,” I agreed. “Go.”

As Hi lumbered back over the dunes, Ben trotted to the clubhouse and peered inside. Coop ran beside him, quiet now, in stealth mode.

With nothing to do, Shelton and I sat on the green. For minutes I heard nothing but waves crashing on the beach and the whine of mosquitoes.

Shelton slapped his arm. Scratched. “If Hi doesn’t find anything—”

“We leave it alone.” I raised both palms. “Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. No sense trashing the place just because we’re frustrated.”

Ben and Coop reappeared first, and dropped down beside us.

“The coast seems clear.” Ben rubbed Coop’s ears. “The hound agrees. At least, he didn’t act like anyone was inside.”

Moments later Hi returned, device in tow.

“Scan the area around the hole,” I instructed. “If that strikes out, we’ll sweep the whole green.” My eyes found Shelton’s. “If that doesn’t work, we call it a night.”

“I like it.” Hi fiddled with the dials, then positioned the wand. “If anything’s down there, this baby should—”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Everyone jumped. Coop barked once.

“That was easy.” Hi took several steps back and the noise ceased.

I felt a surge of excitement. “Whatever’s dinging is directly beneath the hole.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” Hi powered off the detector.

Shelton exhaled the mother of all sighs. “So we’re really going to dig?”

“Just inside the hole,” I promised. “If we’re careful, we won’t cause any damage.”

“Then let’s be careful.” Shelton’s gaze swept the landscape. “Coop might’ve just triggered some unwanted attention.”

“I’ll get the trowels.” Ben loped toward Sewee.

Coop moved to follow, but I called him back. Shelton was right—that yap hadn’t helped our cause.

Ben returned moments later with my pack. I dug out a trowel, then slipped the bag on my back, ready for a quick getaway should the need arise.

“Avoid enlarging the circumference,” Ben said. “If you can.”

Prodding gently, I worried inside the hole until the cup came loose, exposing the earth beneath. Then I scratched with my trowel, hoping for something close to the surface. No such luck.

“The space is too tight to maneuver. I’ll have to expand it the tiniest of bits.”

Shelton groaned. Ben shifted his feet. Hi placed both hands on his head.

“There’s no other way?” Shelton asked.

“None. But I know how to make this go smoother.”

Eyes closed.

Mind clear.

I reached.

SNAP.