Justice (13 page)

December 25, 1718

The cold has
added its burden to my grievous wound and I’ll not see the morrow. This room which has served me in life will provide my tomb. A man could do far worse.

The two swords should have finished me, but somehow I surfaced from the fall. When I finally washed ashore, word of my death had already spread. Truth be told I felt more dead than alive. Hiding in my cave to await my recovery seemed the wise course. I learned of the legend of the cave years ago and, upon finding it, knew it could serve as an occasional retreat from the forces intent on my capture. It served one additional purpose which I will describe presently.

My expected recovery has been the opposite. The pus and blood in my neck is now a demon intent on snatching my soul. I will be free of it before the next sunrise. Or so I speculate, as I have not seen a sunrise in over a week. So be it.

I only hope I can finish this entry before I meet my final end, an end which I can only guess targets the inferno. Think not that in my final moments I am attempting to make amends. It is far too late for that. Still, there is no purpose in taking my knowledge to the grave.

It was but a year ago that I captured
La Concorde
near the Isle of Saint Vincent. Such a large guineaman was a prize indeed and I determined at once to rename it
Queen Anne’s Revenge
and re-purpose it as my flagship. I discovered its real value later.

The ship had originally departed from France before taking on the cargo of slaves in Africa. The captain bore the markings of the ancient order and it is for that reason I know the treasure I found in his cabin to be genuine. Indeed, the very sight of it pierced my heart as it once pierced sacred flesh, and righteous fear froze my blood. I had only to touch it to realize it was an object which commanded great reverence. The fates were guarding me that day, protecting my find from the wild eyes of my men until I secured it.

I came to believe it a gift to me, a source of power and good fortune. Now that the failures have compounded, I consider that it was the opposite. In any case, I have told not a soul about it, nor even mentioned it in this journal until now.

The object is contained in a quite ordinary wooden box. Strange that such an item should rest in such a simple vessel, but our Lord came to us as a simple man, so mayhap it is fitting. Perhaps it deserves a better resting place, but it will rest with me in my chosen place. Providence brought this treasure to me and perhaps, some day, that same providence will bring this journal, or this treasure, to a worthier man. Or maybe it will remain a mystery for eternity. I will not be there to see it.

E Teach

Maddock didn’t say a word when he finished reading the final pages of the journal. Bones, looking over his shoulder, wasn’t so reticent.

“I was right. Blackbeard survived the fight. Even I wasn’t going to buy that he swam around a ship three times without a head. This totally rocks.”

Dizzy with the thrill of discovery, Maddock absently turned the page over and was surprised to see a single line of text.

This treasure I will take to my
grave
. G Washington

The word “grave” was written in larger letters than the rest of the sentence, and underlined.

“Son of a…” Bones said. “Washington
did
get here first. He took the treasure. Or treasures, I guess I should say, because I don’t see a wooden box anywhere.”

“That’s all right,” a voice said from behind them. “I know where to look. Now, hands in the air.”

Maddock’s first instinct was to fight, but he knew the situation was hopeless. There was nowhere to take cover and to go for his weapon would be suicide. Slowly he turned to face Edmonia Jennings Wright. Flanked by two of her men, they all held weapons trained on Maddock and Bones.

Maddock glanced at his friend and the two of them slowly raised their hands above their heads.

“You, Bonebrake,” Wright snapped. “Put the sword and the paper back into the scabbard and toss it over to me. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if I even think you’re about to try something.”

Glowering, Bones complied with her instructions, pitching the aged weapon in a slow arc, softball style, to the old woman. Had there been fewer weapons trained on them, Maddock might have been tempted to draw his weapon and start firing while all eyes were on the sword, but Wright was too wily for that. Her gun never lowered and her eyes never left the two SEALS as she snatched the sword with her free hand.

“Very good. Ransom,” she said to one of her men, “disarm them.”

“How did you find us?” Bones asked as Wright’s man relieved him and Maddock of their pistols and knives.

Wright chuckled. “The two of you have done a remarkable job of confounding my plans. I fear your success has caused you to underestimate me and my resources.” She fell silent, her thin-lipped smile indicating that was the only answer she was going to provide.

“If you know where the treasure is, why are you here at all?” Bones continued. “Were you after the sword? Is it the real treasure?”

“I thought you were smarter than that,” Wright said. “Not a great deal smarter, mind you. Think about it. The mention of our Lord, piercing sacred flesh, contained in a simple wooden box. The esteem with which Blackbeard and Washington both held it.”

Maddock understood. “You’re after the Crown of Thorns.”

“Very good. I’d heard you were the intelligent one, relatively speaking.”

“Yeah, but I’m the good-looking one,” Bones said.

“What could the Sons of the Republic possibly want with a religious artifact? You’re a political group.” Maddock was buying time. Sterling was hiding in one of the vaults, and he hoped she was waiting for Wright and her men to lower their guards.

Wright clucked in disapproval. “You have no imagination. The truth is, someone else wants it—a powerful ally. He believes the discovery of the crown, proof that the Gospel is true, will lend authority to proper-thinking men and women in government, will undermine the Godless, and will enthrall the populace. It will smooth the path for the advancement of our agenda and expand our ally’s already formidable power.”

“And the politicians who aren’t swayed by the crown?” Maddock asked. “You’ll buy them off with Blackbeard’s treasure, I suppose.”

Wright shrugged. “Different incentives for different people.”

“So, is this over?” Bones asked. “You say you know where the treasure is, you’ve got the sword, so you’re good to go. All we wanted was to bring this to an end so you’d leave us and Maddock’s girlfriend alone.”

“I wish I could believe you,” Wright said. “But we both know the two of you have been thorns in my side for too long. Pun intended.”

Maddock knew the moment had come. “Lights,” he whispered to Bones, so softly that he wondered if his friend would hear.

As Wright steadied her aim, Maddock dropped hard to the ground, smashing his MagLite as he hit the stone floor. Bones did the same, and darkness blanketed the chamber as the sound of gunshots thundered through the confined space.

In the strobe-like light of muzzle flare, Maddock saw Sterling shooting from the protection of an empty vault. He saw Wright’s men turn and run, the old woman following suit a moment later. Sterling fired off another shot and then silence filled the room.

“Are you alive?” Her voice scarcely registered above the ringing in Maddock’s ears.

“I’m okay,” Maddock said.

“I’m good,” Bones rumbled a moment later. “But I think I ripped my jeans. She’ll pay for that one.”

“Do we go after them?” Sterling asked. “I thought about trying to get them when they crawled out of the cave, but there are three of them and only one of me.”

“You did the right thing,” Maddock said as Sterling flipped on her MagLite. “We’re outgunned and I doubt you have much ammo left. Let’s just try to get out of here alive and then we’ll see if we can’t beat them to the treasure.”

“How are we going to do that?” Bones asked. “We don’t know where it’s hidden.”

Maddock smiled.

“Actually, I think I know exactly where it is.”

Twin obelisks flanked
the wrought iron gates that barred the entrance to the tomb. Like miniature versions of the famed monument that stood at the center of the National Mall, they shone in the moonlight with an ethereal glow.

Wright paced back and forth, filled with scarcely contained impatience, as Ransom worked at the lock. Nearby, Jamison kept an eye out for security. She was convinced her men could handle whatever came their way, but she preferred they do this without bloodshed.

And then there was the specter of Maddock and Bonebrake, always looming just over the horizon. She was convinced the men had not given up, and regretted not having killed them when she had the chance. She knew better than to play with her food before eating it.

“I’ve got it,” Ransom whispered. He took a moment to spray lubricant on the hinges of the gate before giving it a push. It swung open with barely a hiss, and Wright led the way forward. The tomb lay in a marble vault beneath a brick archway. The entire brick façade of the structure loomed dark and forbidding, a bloody reddish-brown in the faint light. She glanced up at the stone tablet that hung above the archway. A beam of silver moonlight shone on the words engraved there.

Within this Enclosure Rest the remains of Gen’l George Washington

A chill ran down her spine. She stood literally feet away from the prize. Inside the crypt lay two marble sarcophagi: the final resting places of Martha and George Washington. And somewhere here, the treasure was hidden.

Ransom opened the gate and held it for Wright to enter first. She felt like a queen taking her throne as she stepped inside. The moment was here.

“Open them up,” she ordered. “Start with Washington. He took the treasure to his grave, so I expect it to be here.”

Ransom winced, but set to work immediately with the aid of his companions. Wright moved back to the arched entrance and gazed up at the moonlight. She would remember this night forever.

“Do you think
you can pick this lock, Bones? It’s pretty old.” They stood before a heavy wooden door set in the crumbling, ivy-draped wall of Mount Vernon’s so-called “Old Vault” or “Old Tomb” on the bank of the Potomac River. Maddock had gambled that Wright would not be aware that Washington’s first intended resting place was, in fact, this aged family vault, originally constructed at the behest of his brother, Lawrence Washington.

So far, so good. Knowing that the Sons would likely be covering the roads and gates, they’d come by canoe, keeping close to shore, and then crept uphill through the forest cover until they reached the vault. On the way up, Bones had scouted the New Tomb and spotted the approach of Wright and her men. So it was a race. Could Maddock, Bones, and Sterling find the treasure before Wright and the Sons discovered their mistake and learned of the Old Tomb.

“Seriously, Maddock? You really think that motivates me?” Bones knelt, fished a few tiny implements from his pocket, and set to work.

“What does motivate you, anyway?” Sterling asked.

“The love of a challenge and the joy of making mayhem.” He grinned, his straight white teeth shining in the moonlight, as the door swung open.

“Impressive,” Sterling said. “Products of a misspent youth, I take it?”

“Products of an awesomely fun youth. But I’ll tell you about it later.”

They stepped inside and closed the door behind them, so as not to draw the attention of security. This was actually a low risk, as the minimal roving patrols at Mount Vernon never came by the old tomb. Guards would only pass within a quarter mile of their location two or three times the entire night.

In the course of their research, Maddock had come across the results of a seismological analysis that suggested the existence of half a dozen caves or open spaces beneath the grounds of the Mount Vernon estate. One of these spots lay near the side wall of Washington’s old tomb, providing the obvious place to search for a hidden treasure. He really didn’t have any sense of how far down the open space was, or its size. The survey showed some space, but not anything really defined.

The cool air inside the old crypt smelled of mold. Maddock shone his light around, revealing crumbling brick walls, but no sign of a trapdoor or entrance to a hidden treasure vault.

“Do we do this the slow way or the noisy way?” Bones asked.

“Noisy. Hand me the sledgehammer.” Maddock hefted the heavy tool and gave it a swing. His first blow thudded on stone. Maybe not as loud as he had feared, but still a risk. He put the concern out of his mind and resumed the task at hand. Sterling held a flashlight while Bones kicked away debris after every stroke. Behind the brick wall lay a thick slab of mortar that crumbled and cracked with each stroke, reverberating with hollow thuds that promised open space beyond. Soon he had created a hole three feet across.

Bones poked his head through and shone his light into the opening.

“It looks like an old root cellar. Must have fallen into disuse and been covered over.”

Maddock’s shoulders sagged. “So I was wrong.”

Bones popped his head back out of the hole. “Just messing with you. There’s a shaft with metal rungs leading down. I think we’ve found it.”

Sterling clenched her fists. “Can I shoot him now? Please?”

“Not yet. We’ll need him in a fight.”

Maddock took out his MagLite and peered into the hole. The shaft appeared to be no more than eight feet deep, and below it a short drop to a stone floor. He caught sight of a shape which might have been a body, but he couldn’t be certain. Heart racing, he clambered through the hole in the wall, stepped over to the shaft, and tested the first rung.

Rust pitted its surface, but it didn’t give. Gingerly, hands braced on either side of the shaft, he tried the next rung. It held too. Emboldened, he worked his way down. The iron was like ice beneath his grip, the surface rough. The dank, moldy smell was stronger here, but he scarcely noticed, intoxicated by the thrill of discovery.

When he reached the bottom rung, he dropped down to the floor and swung the light back and forth. A skeleton clad in the remains of colonial garb, a uniform by the look of it, lay sprawled at an awkward angle in one corner. As much as he wanted to stop and examine it, he owed it to Bones and Sterling to call them down. He yelled up to them.

“Bones, send Sterling down, and then come down yourself. If it seems like the rungs won’t support your weight, don’t take the chance. Otherwise all three of us will be stuck here.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Bones asked.

“Yes. Now get down here.”

“Roger that.”

In no time, the three of them stood in the chamber. Looking up at the ceiling, they spotted a wooden trap door in a spot which would have led into the old tomb if actually opened.

Sterling shook her head. “Wow, whoever covered that up did a great job. If you go in the old tomb, there is no sign of the floor being repaired.”

Maddock nodded. “Washington must have completely redone the floor to obscure their real intention. That way no one would stumble onto the treasure.” He shone his light past the skeleton and into the open space beyond. “Speaking of treasure, let’s see what we can find.”