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“That’s the thing, Danny,” Paul said. “We had nothing to do with involving Alex, his death, or what Vance is planning. Nothing at all. Which is why we’re talking to you right now.”
* * *
Diane had fled the apartment just after Daniels departed. She no longer wanted to be anywhere near the place. Too many ghosts, too many visitors. She still hadn’t heard from Grant, which was bothering her, and she decided that a hotel would be better.
Everything seemed to be unraveling. Where just a few hours ago things had been progressing, now the situation dangled perilously. Vance was panicked, but not to the point of being paralyzed. That was the thing about strong men. Adversity acted more as stimulant than impediment. He’d assured her that all would happen in the morning when the Rules Committee voted, then the full House would vote the next day. Regarding the treasure, they now had three of the five stones. Hopefully Grant was securing the Heart Stone so they could start the final search for the vault. But who’d broken into the apartment and stolen the key? She’d tried twice to call Grant, but both attempts had gone straight to voice mail.
She sat in her hotel room in the quiet and tried to force her mind onto new thoughts. But worry, anger, and despair had settled in.
Depressing her.
Her phone chiming startled her. She grabbed the unit, hoping it was Grant. Instead, she saw it was her brother.
“What is it, Kenneth?” she said, answering.
“Mrs. Sherwood, it’s important we speak.”
An unknown voice.
Male.
“Where is Kenneth?”
“He’s here, with us.”
Not a threat, but fear still prickled her spine.
“Who are you?”
“What you pretend to be.”
It took her a moment to grasp the significance.
“What do you want?”
“For you to bring me every image and note you have relative to the stones.”
“How do you know about those?”
“As I said, we are what you pretend to be.”
Was that possible? Her father had assured her the Order was gone, and had been for a long time.
“The knights don’t exist.”
“Unfortunately for both you and your brother, that’s not true.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Grant watched as Richard Stamm and the man from Fossil Hall opened Smithson’s tomb. He’d worked his way, unnoticed, down from the north tower and into a gallery on the opposite side of the north vestibule that faced the crypt’s entrance.
While he’d maneuvered himself into position, his father had used the spiral staircase to descend to the basement, the idea being to shut off the lights and provide them with a few moments of surprise. A text between them, from his phone, which had been returned, served as their communications link. He’d also noticed two calls from Diane, but ignored them. He’d been surprised to learn that his father owned a cell phone, but a lot about the past few hours had been shocking. His father certainly knew every inch of the Castle, including its wiring, so once he signaled that the Heart Stone had been found the building had gone dark.
He used the moment to rush ahead through the vestibule and into the crypt. The Heart Stone lay on the floor. His father had told him that there would be only a few seconds before emergency lights switched on, which would glow a dull red, but would offer more than enough illumination to betray his presence.
So he moved fast.
He knocked both men, who’d been crouched down, aside, and grabbed the Heart Stone.
* * *
Cotton tumbled to the floor as if blocked by a lineman. He was having trouble seeing, as everything was out of focus from the jarring switch from light to dark. But somebody had definitely appeared. Now that someone seemed to be heading away.
He rolled over and hopped to his feet.
“You okay?” he asked Stamm.
“I’m fine.”
Red lights switched on in the vestibule, near the exit doors.
“The emergency lighting,” Stamm said.
He ran from the crypt just in time to see a shadow turn into the Great Hall, cradling something.
The Heart Stone.
He found his gun.
Aimed.
And fired.
* * *
Grant felt exhilarated. He’d managed to steal the stone, which was small and light, and was now making his escape. He was back in the Great Hall where he’d eluded the Justice Department woman. A few more feet and he’d be away.
A loud bang echoed off the walls.
A bullet pinged past him, ricocheting off one of the stone columns.
He found safety behind another column.
“You’re not getting out of here,” a voice called out.
* * *
Cotton had the guy trapped.
Even in the dim reddish light, he could see that there was nowhere to run where he could not take him down. He had no idea if his target was armed, but he had to assume so.
Stamm came up close from behind.
“Everything locked tight?” he asked Stamm.
“Absolutely. No fire escapes this time.”
They were standing against a partial wall, the Great Hall exposed through archways.
The double doors that led to Schermer Hall suddenly swung open.
“Captain Adams,” a voice yelled. “So good of you to join us.”
Frank Breckinridge.
Still playing the part.
And the old man aimed a gun and fired three rounds. They were exposed in that direction and Cotton reacted by taking Stamm and himself down to the floor, a half wall above them now offering protection.
Bullets zinged by overhead.
* * *
Grant used the moment of his father’s entrance to rush from his hiding place, through the double doors, his father following and closing the doors behind them.
“We have to hurry,” his father said.
They hustled ahead.
* * *
Cotton sprang to his feet and saw that the two intruders had fled the Great Hall. Stamm should stay here, but he needed the curator’s local knowledge. So Stamm led the way, down a narrow, closed corridor, then into the vaulted exhibition space of Schermer Hall. He stepped over to the doorway that led to the fire escape and tested it.
Still locked.
And no alarm had sounded.
That meant they’d used the concealed spiral staircase.
Stamm pointed at a wooden arched doorway, marked for employees only, and produced a key from a thick ring.
“The old man had a key?” he asked.
Stamm nodded. “Apparently.”
They descended the spiral staircase since Stamm had already told him that, unless they could fly, there was no other escape from the upper reaches.
Back in the basement they entered Stamm’s office.
And heard movement.
* * *
Grant saw that his father was not nearly as spry as the old man wanted others to think. Their descent of the staircase had been slower than they could afford, their escape into the Castle’s basement corridors slowed even more by the old man’s lack of breath. Unfortunately, this mission was definitely a two-man operation.
