Solomon Key

Chapter 25

The Boleyn was a tavern on Barking Road in London. Reading Maddock’s mood, Bones refrained from making puns with the street’s name or any jokes about beheading wives. He followed Maddock inside, eager to learn who, exactly, was after them, and what, if anything, Maddock had found behind the secret door.

The tavern was impressive. Lots of old wood and stained glass. The floor was a little sticky and the place could have used some spit and polish, but it was what Bones imagined a London pub would be like — old, with a strong sense of history. They ordered two craft beers and a pizza at the bar, then found an out of the way table. The crowd was sparse this time of day, with only a few men in West Ham Football t-shirts or jerseys occupying a few seats here and there.

They settled in and Maddock filled him in on what had transpired — the descendants of Black Caesar, finding the body of Israel Hands, and the message carved in stone.

“You think H. Rider Haggard took the ring and, I don’t know, gave it to his wife?”

“Something like that,” Maddock said.

“You think he used it first? Found Solomon’s Mines and opened it?”

Maddock shook his head. “Haggard wouldn’t have been a young man by then. I don’t think he’d have been up to the journey, which is why he planned on giving the ring away.”

“Why bother stealing it, then?”

“The legend of King Solomon’s mines was his passion, maybe even an obsession. I think he figured out where the mines were, but without the ring he couldn’t get inside. And that meant he couldn’t prove the legend was true.”

Bones rubbed his chin. “So, finding the ring was the completion of his quest? It satisfied him that he’d been right all along?”

“That’s what I think. He knew he couldn’t survive the demands of the journey back to Africa. Maybe he couldn’t afford to fund an expedition. So, he satisfied himself with the knowledge that he’d assembled all the clues. And he couldn’t resist leaving that message with Israel Hands’ remains, just to show who had solved the riddle. I guess that had to be enough for him.”

“Wouldn’t be enough for me,” Bones said. “Or you.” He and Maddock could back out of this search anytime. Let Isla and the descendants of Caesar fight it out. But the truth was, the two of them were cut from the same cloth as men like Haggard. Treasure hunting was an obsession. Despite the danger, there was no way either of them would give up the chase.

“You’re right about that. I’ve got the bit in my teeth now.” Maddock took another drink.

Maddock’s phone vibrated. He took it out and spent a minute reading the text message.

“What’s up?” Bones asked as Maddock pocketed his phone.

“After Avery and the guys had the encounter at Caesar’s rock, Nomi’s partner, a woman named Constance, ended up following Avery to work.”

“Oops. Bet Tam didn’t like that.” Tam Broderick was a babe, but she took no crap from anyone.

“Exactly. They detained and questioned her. Didn’t learn much except these descendants of Caesar call themselves ‘the family’ or ‘the cousins.’ They don’t have a name or an oranizational structure as far as she can tell; just a lot of powerful people working with or against each other depending on the circumstances. They all answer to a man they call ‘Uncle.’ Tam suspects ties to African warlords and terrorists.”

“The Trident?” Bones asked.

“No reason to think so. At least, not at the moment.”

“I assume these cousins are working together?”

“A few of them are, at least. Anyway, Avery was burglarized and the artifact stolen. She still has photographs of the code she’s trying to decipher, so that’s not a problem.”

Bones clenched and relaxed his fists. “But that means the cousins have it, too.”

Maddock nodded. “The race is on.” He looked up. “Hold on. I’m going to see if they have a phone I can borrow.”

Bones thought that was odd, but he was sure Maddock had his reasons. While his friend headed over to the bar, Bones took out his smartphone and looked up H. Rider Haggard’s burial site. The famed author was laid to rest, along with the remains of his wife and other family members, at St. Mary’s Church in Ditchingham, a two-and-a-half hour drive from London. Bones found a photograph of the grave marker, which listed the dead who were buried there. It was a close-up photo and he couldn’t tell if the remains were buried, or contained in some sort of crypt. He didn’t relish the idea of digging up a grave.

Maddock returned, the ghost of a smile playing across his face. He drained his glass and let out a satisfied sigh.

“You going to tell me what that was all about?” Bones asked.

“I just called in an anonymous tip to the Norfolk Constabulary. I wanted them to know someone is going to deface Haggard’s grave tonight.”

“What the hell did you do that for? I thought Haggard buried the ring with his “beloved soulmate.’”

“I think he did,” Maddock said. “But although he loved her, his wife was not his soulmate.”