Dourado

CHAPTER 4

The books in Maxwell’s library were arranged in meticulous fashion by subject, author and date of publication. The precise rows were totally in keeping with the commander’s personality. Everything in the room, from the painting of the shipwreck on the wall above the computer, to the single, framed family portrait, reminded Dane of his mentor and friend. A pang of sadness welled up inside, but was immediately overwhelmed by a wave of bitterness. He wanted to find whoever it was who had done Maxie in. He wanted them bad. He clenched his fist, imagining the murderer’s throat.

”I wonder what bible Father Wright was talking about.” Kaylin asked. She stood next to him, looking over the books. “I know what Dad had in his library, and I never saw an old bible.”

“I didn’t know Catholics even read the bible,” Bones said, “at least not in English.”

“He didn’t read it, genius. It was in French,” Dane shot back. “You don’t see it anywhere? Maybe whoever broke in took it.” He didn’t know why someone would steal a bible. He scanned the shelves but saw no obvious empty spaces where a book might be missing.

He set about the task of examining the library, pulling books off the shelves at random and thumbing through, looking for notations, papers, anything that might give a clue as to what they were looking for. Kaylin searched through the file cabinets, while Bones sat popping Maxie’s CD-ROMs into his laptop one at a time, scanning their contents.

His cell phone vibrated against his chest. Dane withdrew it from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. It was the call he had been waiting for.

“Hey Jimmy, what you got for me?” Jimmy Letson was a writer for the Washington Post. He had access, legally, to a myriad of internet databases. He was also a hacker who had access, illegally, to resources Dane didn’t even want to know about. The two had been friends in the service, remaining in contact even after Jimmy had rung out of SEAL training, and left the service when his tour ended.

“What’s that? No, ‘Wow, Jimmy, that was fast!’ or ‘Hey Jimmy, thanks for dropping everything to check on this for me,’ or ‘Gee Jimmy, thanks for risking your job…’ “

“I get the point,” Dane said, laughing. “Fine, I declare you the Pope of Cyberspace. Now what did you find out?”

“Funny you should mention the Pontiff. This guy, Rienzi, he came back from his world travels sounding off to anyone who would listen about all the great treasures he had lost.”

“We knew that much already. Did he ever say what, exactly, he had lost?”

“He must have, because within several months, he had managed to tick off all of the scholars in his field, or at least the ones we have any writings from. Unfortunately for you, they all talk about his ‘ridiculous’ claims, but they never say what specifically those claims were. A year after his return, he pretty much shuts up, and goes back to being a run-of-the-mill writer.”

“Do you think the ridicule got to him?” Dane asked.

“I think it was bigger than that.” Jimmy paused. He loved drama. “NAILS turned up a letter from the bishop in Paris to a cardinal back at the Vatican, written nine months after Rienzi’s return to France.”

NAILS was an acronym for “National Archive and Informational Linkage System,” an amazing connection of informational resources used by the CIA. Jimmy had somehow found a way to clandestinely link up to the system. Dane had told his friend on more than one occasion that he did not want to be around when Jimmy was finally busted. Jimmy just laughed and boasted that he was much too smart to be caught by those bozos. His cockiness made even Bones appear humble.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me why I should care,” Dane said, feigning disinterest.

“The cardinal wanted Rienzi excommunicated. That interest you?”

Dane reflected on this new bit of information. Could they be connected in some way? The timing was certainly right.

“Thanks, Jim, that’s great. Anything else?”

“Probably nothing you don’t already know. I’ll shoot a summary over to you. Anything else you need?

“Actually, would you see what you can find out about the Dourado?”

“I suppose you’re in a big hurry on this one too,” Jimmy groaned.

“No, last night will be soon enough.” Dane ignored Jimmy’s profane reply. “Thanks again. I’ll stand you to a bottle of Wild Turkey next time I’m in DC.” Maxie had taught him long ago how helpful it could be to know a man’s weakness.

“You’ve got a deal,” Jimmy replied, and broke the connection.

Dane hung up the phone and shared this new information with Bones and Kaylin.

“So Rienzi comes back from his trip and starts ruffling feathers,” Bones said. He stood with his chin cupped in his hand. His brown eyes stared vacantly out the window. “Whatever claims he’s making, they’re enough to get somebody in the church all riled up. They threaten him with excommunication, and he clams up.”

“With the kind of clout the church carried, it wouldn’t be out of the question for the Vatican to find a way to get rid of any written record of Rienzi’s claims, whatever they were,” Kaylin added. “What could he have found that would upset the church that much?”

A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye caught Dane’s attention. “Did you see something out there?” he asked Bones, pointing toward the window.

His friend shook his head. “Sorry, man. Lost in space.” He tapped his temple with a deeply tanned finger.

“Thought I saw something.” Dane drew his pistol, a German-made Walther P-99, and moved to the windowsill, carefully peering out over the narrow backyard that ran down to the shore of the Cooper River. It was a calm, sunny afternoon. Nothing seemed amiss in the quiet neighborhood. Bones appeared at his side, Glock drawn.

A knock at the front door broke the silence, causing the two of them to jump. Kaylin looked at him questioningly. Dane nodded, and walked with her to the door. She opened it to reveal an elderly black woman in a neatly pressed dress.

“Bernie!” Kaylin cried, crushing the woman in a tight embrace. The old woman smiled and hugged her back.

“Gently, child,” she said in a tender voice, “I’m not as young as I used to be.” She smiled a warm smile and patted Kaylin.

Kaylin pulled back and held the woman at arm’s length. “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too. Can I come in?” The woman gave Kaylin a motherly pat on the shoulder and stepped through the doorway. After Kaylin introduced Dane and Bones, the four of them made their way to the kitchen, where they sat down around a stout oaken table in front of a wide bay window.

“Bernice took care of me when I was little, after Mom died,” Kaylin explained. “I call her Bernie.”

“I’m so sorry about your father,” Bernie said. “I’ve been in Mississippi visiting family for a few weeks. I went to your apartment as soon as I heard, but you weren’t there.”

“I’m glad you found me,” Kaylin said. Her smile underlined the sincerity in her words.

“So am I. There’s something I have to give you.” The woman fished into her bag and produced a large, manila envelope with something thick and rectangular inside. Dane could see that it was one of the packing envelopes used for mailing delicate items. “Your father gave me this a few months ago. He made me promise to keep it a secret. He said that I should give it to you if anything should ever happen to him.” She shook her head. “I never thought it would be so soon, if ever. Your father always seemed indestructible.”

Dane turned his head toward the window, giving the two a modicum of privacy to share this painful moment. Outside, a solitary boat drifted lazily down the Cooper River.

Kaylin nodded to Bernie, her eyes misty, and carefully undid the clasp on the envelope. Reaching in, she carefully withdrew a battered, old bible, the leather cover worn with age.

Dane leaned forward, his heart beating faster. This had to be it.

After a moment’s pause, Kaylin opened the old book, and gingerly flipped through the pages. The writing was French! In various places, someone had written notes in the margins in a bold, ornate hand. The ink had faded with time, and was, in parts, nearly invisible. Beside her, Bones whistled, and leaned closer. She turned back to the inside cover. There, on the front page, in the same flowing script, was the name: Louis Domenic de Rienzi.

“Rienzi’s personal bible,” Bones marveled, his tone near reverential. “This is what the priest was after.”

As Dane sat staring at the ancient volume, something drew his attention. The boat had stopped drifting. A solitary man stood on the deck, and appeared to be pointing in their direction. Immediately, Dane realized what was happening, and he sprang to his feet.

“Down!” he shouted, grasping the edge of the table and upending it toward the bay window. The others fell to the floor as bullets shattered the glass and ripped into the heavy tabletop. An instant later, the sound of rifle fire drifted across the water, echoing hollowly through the house. Dane drew his Walther with the futile knowledge that boat was too far away for him to have any hope of hitting the shooter.

“Out the front,” he ordered. He did not have a clue who was shooting at them, but he had an idea why. In any case, they had to get Kaylin and the bible out of there right away. He reached up over the table and fired blindly, the report of the Walther loud in the small space.

“Come on, Granny!” Bones yelled to Bernie. His pistol in his right hand, he wrapped his left arm around the woman’s waist and pulled her toward the door. Her eyes were wide with fright, but she did not argue.

Dane followed behind, snapping off two more hasty shots at the boat in hopes of slowing the sniper’s fire. He turned to see Kaylin rummaging through a drawer. “What are you doing?” he shouted. What could she possibly need from the kitchen that could not wait?

She turned back toward him, a .380 automatic and two reloads in her hand. “Dad kept guns everywhere. Let’s go.” She nodded toward the door.

He was impressed by her lack of panic, but there was no time to remark on it. He rushed to the front door where Bones and Bernie waited. He nudged the door open and looked up and down the deserted street. Behind them, the sniper continued to rain bullets on the house. From the sounds of shattering glass, Dane determined that the shooter was methodically firing into each room, working his way across the back of the structure. They needed to get away immediately.

“Bones, you take Bernie in her car. Kaylin and I will go in mine.”

They hurried to the vehicles, weapons at the ready. Dane threw open the door of his rented green Tahoe and fired it up. He glanced at the rear-view mirror and saw a silver Taurus whip around the corner and come barreling down the street toward them. The passenger side window was down, and the man opposite the driver reached out the window and opened fire. Kaylin, bible clutched in one hand, returned fire with her .380 before joining Dane in the SUV. Dane floored it, hoping to stay ahead of the attacker’s vehicle.

He looked in the rear view mirror in time to see Bones make a u-turn in Bernie’s cream-colored Lincoln and tear down the street, headed on a collision course with the Taurus. Bones thrust his pistol out the driver’s window, blazing away left-handed with his nine as he charged their assailants.

“He’s crazy,” Kaylin whispered in awe. She climbed into the back seat, 380 still at the ready, and watched out the back window.

“You have no idea,” Dane said. In his rear-view, he saw the windshield of the Taurus shatter. The driver yanked the car hard to the right as Bones flashed by, still shooting. The silver car fishtailed as it drifted into Maxwell’s front yard, but the driver recovered quickly and continued the pursuit. Dane groaned. “Are you all right using that thing?” he asked, tilting his head toward Kaylin’s pistol.

“Please,” she said. “You knew my father.” She turned back toward the rear of the vehicle, her .380 trained on the pursuing car.

He took a hard right, nearly bringing the Tahoe up on two wheels. He stepped on the accelerator and weaved through the sparse afternoon traffic heading into downtown Charleston. Behind them, the Taurus whipped around the corner, tires screeching. Dane cursed as he watched the other drivers move out of the way of the speeding silver vehicle. How were they going to get away?

“Maybe they won’t shoot at us with witnesses around,” Kaylin said. Her hope proved in vain as shots rang out, and spider webbed cracks spread around a bullet hole in the bottom corner of the rear window. “Okay, forget I said that.”

“Gotcha,” Dane said as he whipped the wheel back-and-forth, zigzagging as he sped along, but trying not to slip into a pattern that would make them easy targets. He heard the rear driver’s side window roll down, then the report of Kaylin’s pistol as she squeezed off rounds, maintaining a slow, steady fire at their attackers.

“Where are the cops when you need them?” he growled. The light ahead turned red. He pressed the pedal to the floor and veered into the oncoming lane to pass the traffic that had stopped for the light, narrowly avoiding a collision with a cab that was crossing the intersection. The cab screeched to a halt, and he heard the cabbie shout a physically impossible suggestion as they shot past. Once through the light, he yanked the Tahoe back onto his side of the road and continued on.

“They’re through,” Kaylin called to him, snapping off another shot. Unfortunately, the light traffic worked in both drivers’ favor.

A quick glance in the rear-view mirror showed the Taurus again narrowing the gap between the two vehicles.

“How can they possibly keep up with us when they’re driving with a broken windshield?” Kaylin grumbled.

Dane did not answer. It was further confirmation that whomever Maxie had run afoul of, they were good. He turned a hard right onto Market Street, the Taurus now in close pursuit. Kaylin exchanged a few more shots with the passenger in the pursuing car.

“Something has got to give, here,” she said, popping a reload into her pistol. “They’re way too close.”

“That’s an understatement,” Dane replied, glancing in his mirror. The traffic ahead of them was at a standstill. The oncoming lanes were almost gridlocked, and tourists packed the narrow sidewalks. The last thing they needed was an Old West-style shootout, but it might come down to that. He looked around for a side street, anything that would afford an escape. Ahead of him, the stalled traffic loomed ever closer. And then, to his left, he saw what he was looking for. It could work, but they would have to be fast.

He tapped the brake and then yanked the wheel hard to the left, nearly rolling the top-heavy vehicle. Horns blared as a he cut across the street directly in front of oncoming traffic. Hitting the brakes hard, he maneuvered the Tahoe into a controlled skid, then released the pedal and whipped the vehicle into an empty parking space.

“Out,” he barked. He hopped out of the car and looked across the street, where the sheer volume of vehicles had managed to hold up the Taurus. The driver was trying to force his way across through the heavy oncoming traffic. Through the driver’s window, Dane was finally able to get a look at their pursuers.

The two could have been twins. Each had short, dark hair, and wore wrap-around sunglasses and dark colored polo-style shirts. Dressed to blend in with the crowd, Dane thought. That’s what I intend to do. He took Kaylin’s hand, and led her away from the car. They hurried across the parking lot and into the Charleston Slave Market.