Part 35 (1/2)
Neither spoke till they'd stepped inside and shut the back door behind them.
”Not to be paranoid, but let's lock that.”
”Done,” Ann said as she locked the door. ”I need you to explain a mystery to me if you don't mind. If the book is genuine, why would Taylor hide the book in the heart of town where someone is more likely to go down to the bas.e.m.e.nt and find it? Why not hide it in the bas.e.m.e.nt of his home? Or in a cave out in the middle of nowhere? Or bury the thing in the ground?”
”Two reasons. The first is Poe.”
”What?”
”Edgar Allan. 'The Purloined Letter.' The best place to hide something is-”
”Right out in the open,” Ann finished. ”I wouldn't call the bas.e.m.e.nt out in the open.”
”All I'm saying is you wouldn't expect him to hide it on his own property right in the center of Three Peaks.”
”And the second reason?”
”The same reason we're here in the middle of the night. With this place filled all day long, seven days a week, it would be a little tough for someone to explain why they were headed to the bas.e.m.e.nt, especially if it's locked, which I'm guessing it is.”
Cameron moved through the restaurant's kitchen and looked for a door leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt. ”Taylor owns the building and The Sail & Compa.s.s?”
Ann stared at him, concern etched into her face. ”No.”
”But he started it, didn't he? The restaurant?”
Ann nodded. ”Yes.”
”I'm supposed to know this, aren't I?”
”Yes.” She hugged him and whispered, ”It's going to be okay. We're going to find the book and you're going to be healed.”
A few moments later they found the stairs to the bas.e.m.e.nt and Cameron started down them. The restaurant's dim night lights illuminated enough of the pine stairwell for Cameron to see his way down, but not much more. Two thirds of the way down he stepped on a stair that screeched like a catfight.
He glanced back at Ann. ”I think you might want to avoid that step.”
”Good call, H.”
The quote from the K2 K2 movie. Cameron smiled. He remembered. movie. Cameron smiled. He remembered.
At the bottom of the stairs was another door, this one with a double lock. ”I'll take this as confirmation we're on the right track.”
After Ann did her lock magic, they stepped through the door and snapped on their flashlights.
They stood in a large room filled with dusty cobwebs hanging from rough-hewn dark wooden beams. A light brown carpet, which might have been white once, covered the floor.
”It's a museum; no one's been down here in years,” Cameron said.
”Museum is right.”
Along the far wall was a series of shelves piled with an extensive a.s.sortment of Native American artifacts: arrowheads, clothing, tools, bows, cooking pots, animal skins, and numerous photos.
While Cameron studied the collection, Ann made a clean sweep of the room. ”We need to go down to the next level. But I don't know how.”
”You didn't find a door?”
”Not an obvious one.”
”Let's start a little light stomping.” Cameron started in a corner of the room, stomped the wood floor with the heel of his boot, scooted a few feet forward, and stomped the floor again. Ann did the same at the opposite corner of the room. They both coughed from the small tornado of dust they kicked up.
A little over half the room had been covered when Ann said, ”I found it.” She took a silver-handled Swiss Army knife out of her pack, knelt on the carpet, and sliced a perfect square in four quick strokes and peeled it back.
”Let's go a little deeper, aye?”
”Aye, captain.”
Cameron bent down and pulled on the trap door. It didn't budge. Not even a quarter-inch. He yanked it again. Nothing. After grabbing a screwdriver from his pack and wedging it into the microscopic slit between the door and the floorboards, he put his full weight on the handle of the screwdriver.
A second later the door popped open and a whoosh of stale air filled the room.
”Why do I feel like we're about to lower ourselves into our own crypt?” Ann said.
Cameron flopped the trapdoor over onto the carpet, shone his flashlight down into the opening, and peered in. The concrete floor below was at least twenty feet down. ”No stair, no ladder. Get ready to climb.”
”This is a pretty remote location for a wine cellar,” Ann said.
”It would be nicely aged by now. I think it's been a while since someone took a stroll in the bowels of The Sail & Compa.s.s.”
Ann tied her ropes to one of the thick wooden beams so they could repel into the darkness. Two minutes later Cameron dropped through the opening, flashlight clamped securely in his mouth.
”The water's fine, come on down,” he called out twenty seconds later.
After Ann reached him, Cameron did a slow scan of the room with his light. It was small and square, maybe six-feet across and eight-feet wide. He expected it to be damp, but other than smelling a bit musty, the room was dry. Long tapestries of mountain scenes hung high on three of the four walls, running all the way to the floor. The rest was empty.
”There.” Ann pointed to a narrow black opening in the uncovered wall to the left, not more than twelve-inches wide and five-feet high.
Cameron bent down and shone his flashlight into it. ”I hope your claustrophobia insurance is paid up.”
Ann ma.s.saged her temple and he realized she didn't find it funny. ”Sorry.”
”Let's do this.” Ann slapped her hips with her palms.
Cameron turned sideways and slid into the opening, with Ann close behind. He shone his light on the wall inches from his face, illuminating jagged cracks in the concrete that ran from floor to the ceiling.
”How much farther?” Ann asked after a few seconds.
”It can't be much more.”
”You don't see the end yet?”
”Sorry, it curves slightly up ahead. You doing okay?”