I had no legacy, no lasting achievements to pass onto future generations. Almost all of my discoveries were locked up in private hands. The others were little known outside of treasure hunting circles. In other words, I was doomed to be forgotten.
But I wanted to be remembered. I needed to be remembered. I wasn't so foolish as to think Cy Reed would ever be a household name. But the Amber Room was one of the greatest lost treasures of all time. Surely, my discovering it would be remembered by future generations of historians, archaeologists, and treasure hunters.
But how long would that fame last? I tried to think of people from the distant past. Jesus of Nazareth obviously lived right after the switch from Before Christ to Anno Domini. Alexander the Great was born three hundred and fifty years before that. Socrates preceded Alexander by about a century. And Amenhotep I ruled around 1520 BC, making him one thousand and fifty years older than Socrates.
I thought hard but I couldn't think of a single ancient person who predated Amenhotep. Of course, many fossils predated him. Some of them, like Lucy and Ardi, were millions of years old. But they were just fossils. I knew nothing about their lives. Neither did anyone else. And even they were just blips on the scale of time. Dinosaurs appeared millions of years before them. And who knew what forms of life preceded those creatures? Hell, Earth itself was over four billion years old.
Emptiness spread over me. Life felt meaningless in the vast expanse of time and space. I took no comfort from the realization. I felt no freedom from my worries. Instead, I just felt lost, alone. Empty.
I reached the dark blotch. It was another snow bank. Kneeling down, I studied the powder. It was windblown and lacked moisture. So, it felt extra dense, nothing like the powder at a ski resort.
Coldness crept over my toes. I wiggled them, trying to retain some feeling. Then I started brushing away the snow. Almost immediately, my hands struck something hard.
My nerves tingled. Quickly, I scraped away more snow. A patch of red fabric appeared.
My hands worked like shovels. In less than a minute, I managed to clear away most of the powder. "Ted?"
Ted Ayers' eyes were open. But he lay perfectly still. His skin was pale. His lips looked blue.
I checked his pulse. Then I closed his eyes.
I looked around, trying to spot the power plant. But I couldn't see it. I glanced back at Ayers. My eyes passed over him. I didn't see any wounds from the explosion.
I reached for his parka hood. Gently, I pulled it away from his body.
My gaze fell on a long cut. It ran across his neck. The skin beneath it was stained with blood. My face tightened.
This was no accident.
This was murder.
Chapter 50
"Goddamn, it's good to see you." Graham spun around. His eyes traced my body. "You look even worse than I remember."
The common room smelled like alcohol. Candles and battery-operated lights provided some illumination. Trotter was situated near the door, lying on a couch. Jenner knelt next to him, propping his head up. Baxter held a bottle of rum, which he proceeded to tip toward Trotter's chapped lips.
"Thanks." I nodded at Trotter. "How is he?"
"He's fine, just cuts and scratches."
"How's everyone else?"
"Good. Ted's still missing though."
I sighed. "Not anymore."
"Where is he?"
"I took him to the vehicle shed. Someone cut his throat."
Graham inhaled sharply. "Who?"
"Good question."
Trotter tilted his head toward me. His expression changed from hopeful to depressed. My chest tightened another notch. "Give me a second."
I walked over to Trotter. A big bandage was plastered over his right temple. "How do you feel?"
Trotter's eyes were bleary. "How do I look?"
"You could be worse." I paused. "I found Ted."
Baxter and Jenner turned to look at me.
Trotter's eyes widened. "And?"
I shook my head.
"Are you …?" He swallowed. "Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"Did he … was he …?"
"It looks like he died instantly."
"I want to see him."
"I carried him to the vehicle shed."
Trotter tried to stand up. Then he collapsed back to the couch. His eyes closed over. His breathing slowed and he passed out. Baxter and Jenner quickly went to work making him comfortable.
I grabbed Graham's arm and pulled him into the kitchen area. "You know how this place is supposed to be some kind of eco-miracle?"
"More like eco-fascism. I tell you, I'm sick and—”
"It's a fraud."
His brow furrowed. "Come again?"
"I went inside the power plant to look for Ted. There's a diesel generator hidden under the floorboards."
"Well, I'll be damned." He shook his head. "Can't say I'm surprised though. Green technology doesn't make much sense out here. Think about it. There's no sun for half of the year. Without wind, power vanishes."
"I agree. But this building isn't Fitzgerald. Hell, it's not even close to that size. How difficult can it really be to keep it warm?"
Graham gave me a curious look. "It sounds like you've got something brewing in that head of yours."
I tried to piece the puzzle together without success. "We'll worry about it later. Beverly still needs our help."
"Let me get Pat. He agreed to come with us."
"Okay, meet me in the vehicle shed."
"Will do." He hesitated. "Why would someone want to kill Ted?"
"Maybe he saw something he wasn't supposed to see."
"Like what?"
"Like the bomber."
"The explosion was deliberate?"
"Most likely."
"But why? The bomber needs heat just as much as the rest of us."
"Perhaps. But he or she might need privacy even more." I started ticking off my fingers. "First, the satellite phones stopped working. Then the regular line went dead. Now, the power plant is gone. Since the wires ran through it, I'm guessing that means we won't be able to fix the regular line anytime soon."
"Which means we're isolated, cut off from the rest of the continent." He rubbed his forehead as if he had an ache in it. "I suppose it's possible. But why would someone want to do that?"
"I don't know but we'd better find out fast," I replied. "Before we all end up like Ted."
Chapter 51
Holly held her breath as she climbed down the ladder. Darkness shrouded the room below. It had been covertly hooked up to Kirby's power plant. When the plant went off-line, the hidden basement had lost power as well. But the emergency generator should've kicked in by now. Without it, all hope was lost.
Her right sneaker slipped on a rung. She dropped a few inches. Her left sneaker lost its purchase.
Her fingers tightened around the rusty metal. Her body jolted to a halt. Pain shot through her arms. For a moment, she flailed twenty feet up in the air, trying to regain her footing. But her sneakers kept missing the rungs.
Her hands began to ache. She did her best to maintain her grip. But her fingers could only take so much. Slowly, they uncurled before her eyes. Holly shrieked. Then she plummeted toward the concrete floor.
Ten feet down, an arm wrapped around her waist. It firmed up, strong as a steel cable. She jerked to a stop. She hung there for a few seconds, her legs dangling in mid-air.
Carefully, Rupert adjusted his other arm, wrapping it securely around a rung. "You okay?" he grunted.