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This is what Heinrich Fuchs had told Monk about in return for the American’s help in getting Fuchs back to Germany. Sean realized that it might be more than a king’s ransom hidden here. South Freeman had been wrong. Dunmore had been smart enough to keep the treasure undiscovered all these years by using a false foundation wall. Until an enterprising German POW trying to dig his way to freedom came along.
As Sean looked at his hands, another mystery was cleared up. And it also had to do with Monk Turing. He smiled in triumph, a feeling that was cut short by a sound.
Feet running. Feet running toward the house. Not his imagination this time; it was the real thing.
He grabbed a couple of bricks and jammed them in the gap in the wall to cover the treasure, slipped the gold coin and emerald inside his bag, raced to the part of the floor over the tunnel and removed it. He piled some of the bricks on top of the wooden cover, slid it partially over the hole, dropped through, reached back up and pulled the heavy cover closed over the tunnel entrance.
Then he started to run, bad leg and all.
When Sean reached the other end of the tunnel he realized he was totally screwed. He stared up at the exit to the tunnel that was three feet above his head. Even if he could jump that high on his bad wheel, there was nothing for him to grab on to. Michelle had had to stand on his shoulders to replace the cover. Their exit plan had consisted of Michelle being hoisted up on his shoulders and setting in place a knotted rope for him to use to climb out.
Wait a minute. If he was right, and Heinrich Fuchs had escaped alone, how had he done it? He dropped to his knees next to one of the fallen timbers they had passed on the way in. He managed to push the timber out of the way and frantically scraped away dirt until a rough-hewn ladder was revealed. It must have lain there undisturbed since Fuchs had made his escape all those years ago, until a fallen support timber had covered it along with decades of dirt.
He hoisted the ladder up and set it against the top of the tunnel entrance. Like Monk Turing, Heinrich Fuchs had also been a very precise man. It fit perfectly into a ledge of wood just below the tunnel’s cover. He slung his bag over his back, gripped the ladder and clambered up as fast as he could. He pushed aside the cover, climbed up and then pulled the ladder up with him. Then he stopped. If Michelle hadn’t gotten out of Camp Peary by truck she might need the ladder to escape through the tunnel. The next moment this thought was dashed from Sean’s mind as the sounds reached him. There were other people in the tunnel now. Michelle wouldn’t be getting out this way. He threw the ladder into the woods.
Sean put the tunnel cover back in place, turned and started counting off paces back to the clearing as a light rain started falling. Very troubling noises were coming at him now from all directions. Searchlights slit the black sky like a knife racing across a throat. Oh shit! He dropped to the ground, his hand fumbling in his bag.
A few seconds later the man almost stepped on him. Sean saw the MP5, the black-painted face, the eyes starting to swivel in his direction. He fired and the man stiffened and then dropped to the ground. Sean put the stun gun back in his bag, took the man’s gun belt and checked it. A pistol, cuffs, baton and something that Sean could actually use: two grenades. He put the gun belt in his bag but, keeping one of the grenades out, crouched in the woods.
He would be heading to the right to get back to his gear. Unfortunately, the sounds he was hearing were coming from that direction. Sean hefted one of the grenades, pulled the pin and threw it as far as he could to the left. He hit the ground, covered his ears. Five seconds later all of Camp Peary came alive as the explosion rocked the night.
Sean could hear yells and feet running. And still he waited. Ten seconds, twenty seconds. A minute. Then he jumped up and ran flat-out.
Two minutes later he was through the fence and had located the propulsion units. He left Michelle’s just in case she made it back this far.
Sean could hear a boat, its engines racing, coming from the south. He didn’t wait to see what it was. He inserted the nozzle from the oxygen tank in his mouth and dove under the water. He went down far enough to avoid the boat’s prop, engaged his propulsion unit and made a beeline straight across the York, emerging on the other side about two hundred yards down from the boathouse. It had been an exhausting trip back but he had no time to rest. He plunged into the woods, grabbed a bag they had earlier hidden there, stripped off his wet suit and changed into street clothes. He stashed most of his things in the bag and hid it back under a bush. His video camera had a copy function and he took a few moments to copy the video he’d taken onto another digital stick. Then Sean raced through the woods to Babbage Town. Somehow, he didn’t know how, he had to find Michelle before it was too late.
CHAPTER
83
THE SMALL PLANE WAS LOADED with the cargo from the truck. There was plenty of room with the seats removed. Champ Pollion climbed in the cockpit and readied the Cessna for takeoff. Even with the rain starting to fall more heavily and the winds picking up he figured he’d have no problem meeting his schedule. The men finished loading the cargo on the plane, but, out of Champ’s sight, kept several large plastic bales on the truck. They drove off and quickly disappeared into the darkness.
Champ nimbly went through his preflight checklist and next hit a switch; the prop roared to life. Champ had just put on his headset when the door was thrown open and Michelle poked
her head in.
“Hey, Champ, got room for one more?”
He looked at her for several seconds, as though she couldn’t possibly be real. A moment later his hand flew to the sidearm on his belt, only Michelle’s fist was faster. The blow knocked Champ sideways in his seat, blood spurting from his nose.
He rolled over into the co-pilot’s seat and then out the other door. Michelle jumped across the seat after him.
Champ fell out onto the ground and Michelle was right on top of him. As he tried to get up she hit him with a brutal kick that caught the man on the side of his head and dropped him again. His leg shot out and tripped her. She went tumbling back against the plane. The Cessna was vibrating, its engine chafing against the plane’s restraints.
Champ managed to pull his gun, but Michelle’s well-aimed kick sent it flying out of his hand. A second later he landed a fist to her side and Michelle’s ribs screamed in agony. The next second, a foot followed the fist and Michelle realized she was in for a real fight as she fell to the ground but just as quickly regained her feet.
The two faced off against the backdrop of the whirring plane.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Champ screamed.
“Making a citizen’s arrest,” Michelle yelled back as her gaze darted over him, looking for any opening.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“Me! Since when does a respected physicist turn into a drug runner for the CIA? That’s what’s in the bales, right? Drugs?”
“Michelle, you don’t understand what’s going on here.”
