Liberty

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The final door proved no challenge at all. The steps had led to a tunnel that was largely natural, though Dane’s light shone on signs of tool-marks directed at widening it. He and Bones both had to duck a little bit to walk through it. It wasn’t completely dry, but it also wasn’t as wet as Dane would have expected if some sort of care hadn’t been taken to keep out moisture.

After forty feet or so, they reached a large door constructed of wood and iron. Dane expected one more puzzle to solve to gain entry, but Bones simply reached for the huge handle and turned it. It didn’t turn as easily as an average doorknob, but it eventually succumbed to his efforts.

As soon as the door had opened enough, Bones slipped through.

Dane moved it further, surprised at how heavy it was. He could tell the door had been carefully crafted to marry closely with its frame to minimize the amount of air and water reaching the room. His surprise at this evaporated when he beheld the contents of the room, replaced by a much greater shock.

“Whoa! It’s the first Library of Congress.” Bones’ voice contained the kind of tone he normally reserved for moments when an exceptionally attractive woman passed by.

The room was similar in size to a small bedroom, and unlike the tunnel its walls were made of a combination of wood and iron similar to the door. Like the door, the wood remained in surprisingly good shape despite what Dane assumed was nearly two centuries of wear.

The walls only attracted a moment of his attention, however. Two of the walls contained shelves filled with books. Dane didn’t move, just standing and taking in what they had found. Eventually he found his voice.

“We did it Bones.”

Bones cracked a smile, which reflected something different than his normal combination of mischief and feigned innocence. This smile conveyed pure joy, and Dane couldn’t help matching it.

“Of course we did, Maddock. I never doubted us. You ready to find us a map?”

They approached one of the book cases, and Dane carefully put his hands on one volume. As he attempted to pick it up, he could feel the cover beginning to crumble in his fingers, and he immediately let it go.

“Maybe we better leave the books alone. There were three maps, right? Should be easy to find the one we’re looking for.”

Bones frowned. “If it’s even here. There were three thousand volumes in the library in 1814 when it disappeared, but there aren’t more than a few hundred here.”

“Bache wouldn’t have directed us here if the map we’re looking for wasn’t saved.”

Finding the single group of maps didn’t take long. When Bones reached for one, he immediately withdrew his hand. “If we even breathe on that paper wrong, it will disintegrate.”

Dane scratched his chin, then peered more closely at one of the maps. “Bones, I may be wrong, but this one looks different.”

He reached for a map that was thinner and more yellow than the others. He applied a delicate touch and felt something sturdier than either the book cover or the other map Bones had tried to get. Very slowly, he slid it out, holding his breath as he did.

“Bones, the texture of this feels exactly like Bache’s letter.”

“Just like I said, they must have used some sort of preservative. Don’t keep us in suspense; open it up.”

Dane unfolded it, again moving with great care. It was more like a short book or pamphlet than the typical folded style of modern maps. Bones watched over his shoulder. “Dude, it’s a map of Paris.”

Dane had noticed. He’d chosen to ignore that fact when he spotted the corner of another piece of paper peeking out from the last page. He opened to that spot, and his eye went immediately to the signature on the bottom.

Benjamin Franklin.

Neither man said a word as they read.

“Whoa.” Bones breathed.

Dane couldn’t get his mind around this. A secret agreement literally on the eve of the signing of the Constitution. One that could rend the Union. What could they possibly have done?

“Bones, this is big.”

“Bigger than what we learned about George Washington?”

“Maybe not more interesting than that, but it certainly could have a bigger impact in the here and now. It sounds like we need to find more clues before we’ll know.”

Bones’ eyes lit up. “Wait. Maybe we don’t.”

“What do you mean? What kind of clue is the number of copies of the Constitution by itself?”

“What I mean is, we already found the other clue. Remember in the warehouse?”

“The warehouse? Yes, the paper said… holy crap, ‘Seek the Creator of the Five Hundred.’”

“Bingo. They’re talking about the Constitution.”

“The creator of the Constitution could be one of several guys. Madison is the guy who usually gets the most credit.”

Bones shook his head. “You’re not thinking literally enough. What we need to seek is the printer of the Constitution. Dunlap or Claypoole.”

“Bones, that’s genius!”

“Genius is my middle name. The only downside is that both those guys are long dead. I smell some more research in our future.”

“After spending so much time underground and getting shot at in snowstorms, I think I’m okay with more research.”

“Don’t forget making deals with the mob.”

“We didn’t—”

They whirled as the door creaked on its hinges. A figure appeared in the doorway, a large pistol in his right hand and his face illuminated by the beam of Dane’s light. Dane had retained a nagging doubt about Bones’ claim of who he had seen in Hamiltonban, but those doubts evaporated as he saw the man with his own eyes.

“O’Meara.”

“You’re quite a useful man, Maddock. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve found here?”

Dane had instinctively let the map drop to his side when he’d spun around, and now he allowed his hand to drift back to the shelf behind him. He prayed that O’Meara wouldn’t notice the movement. He also could feel the tension emanating from Bones, and he worried that his fellow SEAL was about to try something stupid.

Bones’ voice was light. “Hey what about me? Maddock wouldn’t be nearly as useful without me. Are you prejudiced or something?”

O’Meara barked something that could have been a laugh. “Uriah Bonebrake. Sure, you’re useful too. Feel better now?”

“Yep. Nice to be invited to the big kids’ table.”

O’Meara took a few steps closer and Dane suddenly had doubts about the man’s identity.

“Who are you? You look a lot like a dirty cop we met back in Boston.”

“Dirty? My brother was a true patriot, and that takes precedence over anything else.”

“But now he’s just a bug squished under our boot,” Bones said.

O’Meara’s gun hand twitched and, for a moment, Dane feared Bones had gone too far too quickly, but the man visibly relaxed.

“We’ll settle that score later. So, what have you found?” O’Meara waved the gun. “I’d prefer not to kill you quite yet, but I don’t feel that strongly about it.”

Whether intentionally or not, Bones had provided the cover for Dane to slide the map next to a book on one of the shelves. He had to assume it looked out of place and would be easy to spot, but at least it was better than having it in his hands. Now he sighed. “This is the original Library of Congress.”

O’Meara did a double take and spoke almost to himself. “The original… of course, that makes sense. There was already talk about the need for it when Franklin died, so he must have arranged for his copy to be put in here.”

Dane broke in. “Franklin’s copy of what?”

O’Meara regained Dane’s eye. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Bones said, “Maddock, I think he means the secret agreement between Franklin and Randolph and several others the night before the Constitution was signed. They already have Randolph’s copy from Hamiltonban.”

O’Meara shined his light directly into Bones’ eyes, but Bones didn’t flinch from the glare. “So you have concerned yourself with it. That’s unfortunate for you.”

“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.