Freedom

CHAPTER 15

Dane gazed up at the steeple of the Old North Church. Fitting that the search would end here at this 270 year-old house of worship where, in 1775, sexton Robert Newman hung two lanterns, thus warning the Charlestown patriots of the movements of British forces.

“One if by land, two if by sea,” he whispered.

“Talking to yourself?”

Dane jerked his head about, startled by Bones’ sudden appearance. “How did you manage to sneak up on me like that?” Dane prided himself on his acute hearing and vision, and sharp instincts. Seldom could someone do to him what Bones had just done.

“I’m your worst nightmare: a SEAL-trained Indian. You ought to see me up in the mountains. Of course, that’s impossible.”

“Do you see Jillian anywhere?”

“She should be here any minute. I kept an eye on her most of the way, but don’t let her know that. She looked so proud of herself, getting all sneaky.”

They had split up before making their way back up the Freedom Trail to the church, figuring they stood a better chance of eluding O’Meara that way. Dane hoped the police officer and Son of the Republic had gone to work on deciphering the journal, and would leave them in peace, at least long enough for them to find the Gates of Freedom and whatever lay beyond them. He caught a glimpse of a shadow moving toward them, and relaxed. Jillian had made it.

“Here she comes,” Bones whispered.

“I see her.”

“Maglites on three. One… two…”

On three, they spun and shone their lights in Jillian’s face.

“Fine, I suck at sneaking. Now turn those things off.”

“So, how do we get in?” Dane asked. “Bones, could you pick the lock?”

“Probably, but I’ll bet the door is alarmed. Let me take a quick look around.”

They circled the old church, Bones scrutinizing every window. Finally, when they reached the back, he stopped. “I don’t see alarms on any of these windows. I hate to do it, but I think our best bet is to pop out one of the small panes of glass,” he indicated the window just to the right of the back door, “and raise the sash.”

“Do it quietly.” Dane looked around, still expecting O’Meara to appear at any moment. He watched as Bones took out a handkerchief, wrapped it around his hand, and knocked out the pane above the window latch. The tinkling of shattering glass sounded like gunfire in the quiet night. Still using the handkerchief to cover his hands, Bones reached inside, opened the latch, and forced the window upward. It rose with a shrill squeak, and Dane stole a glance around the side of the building to see if anyone was on the street, but they were still alone. So far, so good.

Minutes later, they were inside the church. Bones closed the window, expressing regret that, if he’d only had the proper tools, he could have removed the glass without shattering it.

“How many burglaries did you commit when you were a kid?” Jillian asked.

“More than seven, less than a thousand. That’s all you need to know.”

“So, where do we begin our search?” Dane asked Jillian. “Downstairs, I assume.”

“Most people don’t realize there’s a crypt beneath Old North Church. Thirty-seven tombs and over a thousand bodies. I think it will be down there.”

She led the way into the basement. They descended a winding, narrow staircase, their footsteps echoing loudly off the wooden steps. At the bottom, a door on the left opened into the crypt.

Here, the walls were rough brick, some tombs sealed with doors of wood or slate, others covered in plaster. Above them were gray slate nameplates memorializing those entombed beneath the historical church.

“What are we looking for?” Bones whispered.

“Anything that catches your eye. The crossed circle, something related to the Sons of Liberty. Go with your gut.”

As they moved through the crypt, the weight of history seemed to settle on Dane. His eyes passed across name after name, the dates driving home the significance of this place. The longer they searched, however, the less hopeful he felt.

“It has to be here,” Jillian whispered.

“Keep looking.” His voice rang hollow. The dark, twisting passageway ended up ahead, and nothing looked promising.

Bones held his light up to the nameplate above the last tomb. “Here lies Culper Ring. That’s a weird name. No birth and death dates.” He turned back to face Dane and Jillian. “Guess we’ve hit a dead end.”

“I don’t think so.” Dane brushed past Bones and began a careful examination of the tomb and the surrounding wall.

“What do you mean?” Jillian’s hopeful voice held a measure of doubt, as if reluctant to believe they hadn’t failed.

“It’s not a person’s name. The Culper Ring was one of George Washington’s spy rings during the war.”

“You’re sure it’s not just a coincidence?” Bones asked.

“Nope, but I’ve got a feeling.” He lowered the beam of his light to the floor and his heart leapt. “Now I’m sure.”

On either side of the tomb, shallow indentations in the shape of the lantern bases were carved in the stone. Metal bands formed the lines of the cross.

“That’s got to be where the lanterns go!” Bones exclaimed.

Dane and Jillian removed the lanterns from their backpacks and carefully set them in place.

“Any day now,” Bones muttered.

The tomb remained sealed.

Dane tried switching the lanterns, then turning them as if they were keys, but met with no success. He removed one and touched the recessed area in the floor. The metal bands seemed out of place. The crossed circle could have been carved into the stone, so why the metal? He ran a finger across the smooth, cold surface of one strip.

Cold!

Inspiration struck in a flash. Could it be?

“Maybe the lanterns need to be lit!”

“If they do, we’re screwed,” Bones said. “I doubt there’s still oil in these babies after two hundred years.”

Dane cursed and pounded his fist into his open palm. Could they escape unseen, find a store open and selling lamp oil on Independence Day, and sneak back down here without getting caught or once again running afoul of the Sons of the Republic? Would their quest be thwarted by something so mundane?

“Actually, we’re good to go.” Jillian pulled a small can out of her pack and handed it to Dane. “I know it’s dumb, but I thought it would be cool to explore the Gates of Freedom using Paul Revere’s lanterns, so I replaced the wicks and brought a little lamp oil.” “You might have saved the day.” In short order, he had filled the lanterns. Jillian offered him a disposable lighter, but Bones objected.

“Put that crap away.” He produced a Zippo and handed it to Dane. “Only the best.”

“I’ve never seen you smoke.”

“I don’t. I just think Zippos are cool. You can’t deny it came in handy.”

“True. Now, let’s see if I’m right.” Dane set the lanterns back in place, lit the first, then held his breath and lit the second. He was out of ideas. If this didn’t work…

He hadn’t needed to worry. The lanterns blazed brightly and, with a hollow clack, the doorway to the arched tomb slid sideways into the wall.

“Yes!” Bones raised his arms in exultation. “You are the man!”

Stale, damp air wafted forth, causing the lanterns to flicker. Dane shone his Maglite through the opening, revealing a downward sloping tunnel. The Liberty Tree was engraved in the stone floor beneath the words, “The Gates of Freedom.”

Here was the passage they had sought- the hidden entrance to the secret headquarters of the Sons of Liberty.

“Let’s move, Maddock. Think we should take the lanterns with us?”

“I do. Maybe we can find something to wedge the door open, though. We don’t want to be trapped inside.

Bones pried a few of the loose bricks out of the wall and set them in place.

“All right.” Dane handed one lantern to Bones and hefted the other. “Let’s see where she leads.” Heart racing, he took a step inside.

A sense of exhilaration surged through him at the knowledge that he followed a path no one alive had taken. He felt the same heady sensation that came over him whenever he dove on a sunken ship, or into an underwater cave, but more intense.

Behind them the door began to slide back into place until, with a loud thump, it ground to a halt halfway across.

“I wonder if it’s still under warranty?” Bones mused. “I guess we didn’t need to wedge it open after all.”

Dane led the way down into the darkness. Bones’ and Jillian’s footsteps echoed, one heavy, one light, as they followed. Constructed of the same brick as the crypt, the tunnel peaked in an arch about six feet high — just enough clearance for Dane to pass without ducking. Bones wasn’t so fortunate, and he complained vociferously as they descended.

“Shut up, Bones. You’re ruining the mood,” Jillian scolded.

The tunnel curved to the left and then, straight ahead, ended at a set of double doors.

“Oh my God, we’ve found it.” Jillian’s voice trembled. She quickened her pace, hurrying past Dane.

“Stop!” Dane called, taking her by the arm and pulling her back.

“What’s up?” Bones poked his head over Danes shoulder.

“Look.” Dane raised his lantern high. Here, the sloping passage leveled out, and the walls and ceiling were perfectly square. Up above, a single, gray slab hung with no visible means of support. “I don’t like the looks of this.”

“A booby trap?” Bones sounded doubtful. “I think you’ve seen too many movies, Maddock.”

“Why else would they square off just this part of the passageway, when everything else, even the doorway, is arched? And check that out.”

He pointed to the floor, where the coppery scales and onyx eye of giant, segmented rattlesnake gleamed in the lamplight.

“Creepy.” Bones shifted his weight from foot to foot, evidently discomfited by the sight. “Why use a chopped up snake? Some weird cult?”

“No, it’s from Benjamin Franklin’s Join or Die cartoon. It symbolized the need for the colonies to be united against the British.”

“You think those are the steps?” Bones asked.

“The opposite, I believe. Do you remember your American history?”

“Don’t Tread on Me.” Jillian squeezed Dane’s arm. “I think you’re right.”

“Fifty-fifty chance, then.” Bones ran his fingers through his hair. “Is it really worth it? I mean, I want to see this through, but do we want to take the chance of getting squashed just to see this headquarters, or whatever is back there?”

“I’m going.” Before they could stop her, Jillian stepped over the snake’s rattle and onto the slate floor. She froze, looking up, but the ceiling held fast. “Come on, chickens,” she called, carefully making her way to the other side.

Dane and Bones followed along. Bones’ feet were so large, and some of the places they could safely step were so small, that Dane worried they wouldn’t make it across without a misstep, but Bones proved to be more than agile enough to safely navigate the passageway.

“It wasn’t any worse than the obstacle courses we’ve run through in training.” Bones saw the relief in Dane’s eyes. “Quit worrying about me and open these doors.”

Carved in the face of the two doors, the Liberty Tree spread its branches before them. Dane reached out and twisted the handles, and was pleased to find they turned easily. He pushed the doors open and damp air, heavy with the smell of mold, assaulted his nostrils.

Inside, a stone staircase led upward. Dane counted the risers — thirteen steps. Fitting. When he reached the top step, he froze, awestruck.

They had found the secret headquarters of the Sons of Liberty!