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Sean held up a calming hand. “Just take your time, South.” He sat down in a chair across from Freeman and glared at Michelle, who reluctantly perched on the edge of the desk and gazed stonily at the journalist.
Freeman looked appeased, sat back and began again. “You remember me telling you about that Lord Dunmore character?”
“The last royal governor of Virginia, yes,” Sean said.
“Well, local legend has it the British sent over tons of gold to help finance the war. They were going to use it to pay for spies, for the German mercenaries fighting for the Brits and also to get the population on their side. And Dunmore was supposed to get the Indians ri
led up against the Americans so they’d have to fight them at the same time they had their hands full with the redcoats. A lot of people don’t realize it but back then most citizens kept flip-flopping on which side they wanted to win. Mostly, it was based on who’d won the last big battle and which army was in their backyard. So the gold Dunmore supposedly had could’ve caused a lot of damage.”
“But Dunmore was in Williamsburg,” Sean pointed out.
“But he got run out by the colonials,” Freeman countered. “And he had to hightail it to his hunting lodge, Porto Bello, the same lodge that’s on the National Register. It’s located pretty much smack in the middle of Camp Peary.” He stood and pointed to a map. “Right about there.” He resumed his seat.
“If the gold ended up in Porto Bello what could’ve happened to it?” Sean asked as he started pacing.
“Who knows? But it didn’t end up there, because it never existed.”
“You’re certain of that?” Sean said from across the room.
“Let’s be realistic here. If that treasure was at Camp Peary somebody would’ve found it, and they would’ve told somebody. You can’t keep something like that quiet.”
“What if no one has found it yet?” Sean replied.
“I doubt Dunmore was smart enough to hide a mountain of gold so well that nobody could find it.”
Michelle said, “Camp Peary is thousands of acres. There are probably some parts of it that to this day neither the Navy nor the CIA has even explored.”
Freeman looked extremely doubtful about that. “Yeah, well even if it is there ain’t nobody gonna be able to get to it now. So unless the spooks find it, it’s not gonna get found. Right?” He looked over at Sean, who was staring at something on the wall. “Am I right?” Freeman said again in a louder voice.
Sean’s gaze was fixed on a piece of paper tacked to the wall.
Michelle looked concerned. “Sean, what is it?”
Sean spun around. “South, this list of places in Virginia that no longer exist, the one you showed us before, is it accurate? You’re sure?”
Freeman rose and walked over to him. “Sure I’m sure. That list came right from the folks in Richmond. It’s the official list.”
“Damn, that’s it!” Sean exclaimed.
“What’s it?” Horatio cried out.
In answer Sean stabbed his finger at one name on the list. “There was a county in Virginia named Dunmore.”
“Yep,” Freeman said gleefully. “Only after they run the rascal out, they put an end to that. Now it’s called Shenandoah County. Real pretty area.”
Sean rushed out, the others following him. It wasn’t the damn musical notes, or the lyrics. It was the name of the song. Shenandoah. That was the key.
Freeman ran to the door and called after them. “What’s so important about Shenandoah County?” He fell silent and then yelled, “Don’t you forget our deal. I want a damn Pulitzer! You hear me!”
CHAPTER
78
THE NEXT NIGHT THE BOAT crept along the river at under five knots, just enough to maintain steerage. Its running lights were on and a solitary figure stood at the wheel. Horatio Barnes zipped up his windbreaker as a wind from an approaching low pressure front chilled the air. A light chop, pushed by the wind, jostled the slow-moving Formula. Horatio had boated around the Chesapeake Bay for decades, so the York, even at night, wasn’t much of a challenge for the man.
As he sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup Horatio knew he had the easy job tonight, just moseying down the river. But human and electronic eyes were, without doubt, watching him and his vessel. But these were public waters and so long as he didn’t stray too close to the opposite shore the CIA was powerless to stop him.
Then Horatio recalled that someone had taken a shot at Sean when the man was on private land. He immediately plopped down in his captain’s chair and hunched forward. No reason to give the bastards too big a target. Then his thoughts turned to the fates of two people he’d grown to care about very much. “Be safe,” he said in the face of the cold, raw wind. Then he looked to the sky. “And if we get caught, God, can You make it a minimum security prison?”
