Shadow Cave (7 page)

“
No. No
,
”
I started, staring down in disbelief at the pages in front of me.
“
Mike, you are NOT sending me on a wild goose chase.
”

“
The key, by rights, does not belong to me or to you.
Perhaps I should have turned it in or even disposed of it myself.
But I am a man of science, Claire, and an adventurer as well
, and
a find of this magnitude could change the world.
Everything that we once thought impossible
—
but I
’
m getting ahead of myself, when there are more pressing matters to be addressed.
There are notebooks in my apartment that will explain a bit more.
I used our old code from when we were kids. Clever huh?
Get them and de-code them.
Don
’
t give them to John.
”

“
Too late.
”

“
But just in case someone has intercepted them
I
’
ve included the more pertinent information for you in this document.
Your instructions are simple enough, dear sister.
In a storage facility
,
you will find a box marked
‘
Dishes.
’
There
’
s a large serving plate at the bottom of that box.
You
’
ll find the key taped to the bottom of that plate.
If I
’
m not back in six months
,
find that key and destroy it.
That
’
s very important Claire; you have to finish what I
’
ve started and destroy the key.
Don
’
t try to follow me.
”

“
Right
,
”
I snorted.

“
I love you.
I
’
m sorry.
”

“
P.S
.—what
about John
,
you ask?
Look under the tree in your backyard.
I hacked his computer and broke into his office.
I
’
ve given you enough evidence against him to put his embezzling ass in prison for a long time.
It should be plenty of incentive for him to leave you alone.
Unless you want to give it to the cops and let him hang.
I
’
ll leave that up to you
,
Claire Bear.
”

“
P.P.S
—
Bring a shovel.
”

“
Bring a shovel?
Bring a shovel.
Oh
—
oh, that
’
s just
—damn
it!
”
I threw the papers down and began to pace.

“
Bring a goddamned
shovel
,
”
I swore, spacing the words out for good measure.
Well,
isn
’
t
that just great.
Yes, I would get right on that
—
if my place wasn
’
t being staked out.
By men who want to kill me.
Thank you, Mike.
Thank you ever so much
,
I thought bitterly.
Immediately I felt guilty for being angry with Mike when he was
...
was what?
I thought helplessly.
Lost? Dead?
No, I still refused to believe that.
He was smart.
He wouldn
’
t go and get himself killed.
Would he?
Only one way to find out, I figured.

“
Looks like I
’
m going on that wild goose chase after all
,
”
I murmured and sat down to finish what I had begun to think of as the story from hell.

It was almost the middle of the night by the time I had read everything.
Oh God, that was everything, right
?
was all I could think for a moment.
The rest of the pages Mike had included in his file detailed the various creatures and beings of the world in specific and terrifying clarity.
The rest had detailed the treasure of sorts throughout the land.
Mines and caves and oceans full of gold and jewels and oil.
Well
, I thought, shaking my head,
that probably explain
s
John
’
s involvement
;
rather
, his apparent obsession to get to Mike and now me
.
He didn
’
t really want either of us.
He wanted at least one part of the key and he wanted to get rich.
Richer, I amended silently.
Follow the money, right?

I glanced down at the pages again as I shoved them into my bag.
I had a choice to make.
I had enough information to find the key, destroy it and consider my brother as good as dead, for he would certainly be forever gone to me.
According to the legend
,
if the key was destroyed, the doorway to the
‘
other
’
land would be closed forever.
The key was actually believed to have been destroyed.
If it had been, I would be at home
, I thought bitterly.
Mike would be safe.
Things would make sense.
Hard as I tried, I couldn
’
t see the excitement in the situation the way Mike had.
Not that I tried too hard.
There was nothing like running for your life to dampen the mood.

I pressed a cold hand to
my
forehead and surveyed the room one final time.
I was pitifully lacking, I suddenly realized.
What did people do when they were on the run?
False identification?
Yes, I nodded, smiling a bit.
That
’
s what I needed.
A fake I.D, lots of cash. A fake passport and hair dye.
Oh, and scissors.
I would have to cut my hair.
Every spy movie I had ever seen was running through my head.
Yes, I nodded again
,
pleased with myself for such quick thinking.
I had to effectively cease to exist.

But where did one go to purchase a fake I.D.?
I exhaled then, feeling deflated and defeated. I realized I had no idea how to go about getting a fake I.D
.
or even
who to ask.
A computer search might help,
but I wasn
’
t sure I had that kind of time.
I doubted that people would advertise their services for a quick and confidential fake record transfer
,
anyways.
With the limited resources I had at the moment, it wouldn
’
t do any good to learn the process for myself.

Well, shoot.
I could pay in cash, but realistically, I would have to leave the country soon.
There would be no way to go unnoticed at the airport.
I had to use my passport.
I had to use my credit card too; my bank was six blocks from my home
,
and I could only take $300 dollars from an ATM.
I chewed a fingernail and gave this a moment
’
s thought.

“
Can
’
t be helped
,
”
I muttered, and on that sentiment, I closed the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Unfinished Business

I sang in a nervous pitch as I drove along the highway to the storage facility Mike had left directions for in his note.
I thought that was as good a place as any to start.
Going back to my house and digging up my backyard was not going to happen
,
as much as I could have used those documents.
And I really did need them, but…
.

But nothing
, I told myself firmly.
It was foolish at best to think about going back there.
So I steadied my hand on the wheel and tried not to stare at the world
’
s gaudiest bracelet, which now hung at my wrist, and turned off the main road into the parking lot.
The storage
‘
building
’
was more like ten buildings
...t
he place was huge.
For being off the highway and on its own, it was remarkably crowded.

It was close to three o
’
clock in the afternoon and the sun was bright and cheerful.
I stepped out of the car and was glad I had opted for flat shoes instead of heels as I navigated the rough gravel of the parking lot.
The clothes were flashy enough without drawing further attention by falling on my face in a parking lot.

The storage facility was actually my second, or rather third, stop of the day.
The first had been an outlet mall close to the motel where I had purchased a few necessities.
Clothes, a couple of pairs of shoes, a very tacky makeup kit, some jewelry, bandanas, and a couple of hats.
Mike had always said rule number one was to keep it simple. Black clothing and the lurking through the darkness were out.
For one thing, it was too predictable.
For another thing, it was a moot point.

Too
many things were simply not in my immediate power to change.
T
he little things, like my name and my car, for example.
I paused and turned my eyes to the sky in a silent prayer.
I supposed I could have stolen a car and found a wig shop but, like I said, once I left the country the hiding would stop.
John had enough information to figure out that I would go to Africa
;
I hoped he didn
’
t know where.
No, I assured myself, if he knew where then I wouldn
’
t have been necessary at all.
I felt a chill as I looked up the number on the extra-large steel door in front of me.
42.
This was it.

My hand shook badly as I tried to fit the key into the lock
, which
wouldn
’
t have been so bad except that it caused the half dollar sized rhinestones on the gold bracelet to catch the sunlight and damn near blind me.
I cursed and forced myself to calm down.
I
am
safe for the moment
, I told myself.
There were no men with
semi-automatics
waiting for me on the other side of that door.

I peeked over my shoulder one final time before shoving the door open and leaping inside.
I shut the door behind me and nearly jumped out of my skin when I quickly realized there was no light switch and I didn
’
t have a flashlight.
You would think I would have kept one in the car.
After all
,
most people do.

At any rate, I was forced to leave the door open.
I sent up another silent prayer of thanks as I looked around the large room.
Even through the dim lighting it was easy to see that the place was immaculate
, or
as immaculate as stacks of boxes could get.
Either way, I was grateful.
I walked around the unit twice before I found the box marked
‘
Dishes
’
buried in the back under three other boxes.

My arms ached and I was seriously re-evaluating the wisdom of the pencil skirt I had changed into at the gas station, my second stop.
The plan was to
‘
hide out in the open
.
’
I had figured that clothing and accessories I wouldn
’
t normally wear were a good bet.
I
’
d decided to leave my hair alone.
Never in my life had I been so grateful to have light brown hair that was medium length.
Had it been
ultra-blonde
or red I probably would have ended up dying it
—more
time that I couldn
’
t spare.