He was there for treasure, not some weird stone statue.
Problem was, as far as he could tell, the rest of the room was empty.
There also didn’t appear to be any other way out except the one he had created.
Now what?
He stood still and thought for a few moments, eventually deciding that there must be another secret room hidden inside this one. No one would take the time and energy to carve a room out of solid rock to stick some ugly statue in it, would they?
Turning his back on the statue, he began running his hands over the surface of the walls, searching for hidden levers or switches that might activate an opening. He occasionally struck the wall roughly with the haft of the pickax, listening for echoes that might indicate the presence of an open space beyond. That was how they always did it in the movies. He figured that it might work for him as well.
After fifteen minutes of searching, he hadn’t found anything, despite circling the entire room twice.
Frustrated, Kyle turned to face the statue. Suddenly the room seemed to dip and sway like an unstable boat in rough seas. He put out a hand to steady himself, only to discover that the wall seemed to be receding. That upset his equilibrium further. His feet tangled, and, before he knew it, he struck the floor heavily, knocking the breath from his lungs.
For a moment he stayed where he was, regaining his breath. After a minute or two he realized that a sharp pain was radiating from the palm of his right hand. Pulling himself into a sitting position against the base of the statue, he reached out with his other hand and dragged the flashlight back from where it had fallen when he dropped it. By its light he could see a deep cut crisscrossing his right palm.
Must have fallen on the pick,he thought to himself, and a quick glance in that direction with the flashlight showed a faint red smear along its blade.
He shifted his position, intending to climb to his feet. He only managed to pull himself up on his knees before another wave of dizziness washed over him.
His head spun, the room reeled around him, and the flashlight fell from his hand with a distant crash, shattering against the base of the stone.
The darkness that suddenly enveloped the room matched his own.
He was unconscious by the time his body hit the floor.
* * *
With the echoes of his shout reverberating in his mind, the old man awoke. His heart was trip-hammering in his chest like a snare drum, sending a sharp pain through his left side. For a few anxious moments he was certain the frail vessel would burst asunder.
No,he thought.Not now, not yet, he silently pleaded. It seemed someone heard him, for the pain slowly receded, and his heartbeat settled into a more stable rhythm. He breathed a bit easier and raised a weak hand to wipe the thick sheen of sweat from his brow.
The chill in his gut and the sudden joyous laughter that echoed in his mind told him all he needed to know about the effects of his warning.
The beast was free.
6
BENEATH THE SURFACE
Early the next morning Jake drove his Jeep into Sam’s driveway and sounded two quick taps of the horn. Then he dug into the bag he’d placed on the floor behind the passenger seat, pulling out a cup of coffee and a donut.
Sam came down the steps dressed in jeans and a Benton University sweatshirt, a pair of thick hiking boots on his feet. Around his neck were slung two cameras and an assortment of lenses. A fanny pack strapped around his waist bulged with additional gear.
“What is all that?” Jake asked, as Sam climbed inside the vehicle.
“Necessities, Jake. You don’t expect me to go on possibly one of the most interesting finds this town has seen in two hundred years and not bring along some means of recording the event, do you? I just wish my damn video camera wasn’t in the shop, or I’d have brought that along, too.”
Jake chuckled as he handed the coffee and donut to Sam and dug another donut out of the bag for himself. He couldn’t blame Sam for his enthusiasm; he, too, was anxious to see just what it was that had been worth burying beneath a living river. In the short time it took to cross town and arrive at the mansion, Jake felt his excitement grow.
At the end of Stonemoor’s drive, Jake turned left into the construction area proper and parked in front of his trailer, where something caught his eye.
The door to the toolshed was wide-open, hanging in its frame by only one hinge.
Jake grunted in surprise, and walked over, with Sam at his heels. Jake had experienced robberies at other sites, had even bought a pistol he kept in his desk drawer in the trailer so that he’d feel some protection while working alone at night, but he had never expected to have one at Stonemoor. For a moment he was more surprised than angry. There wasn’t anything of great value in the toolshed.What would somebody want with some old shovels and a pickax or two? he found himself wondering.
“Why would anybody want to…” Jake began, then stopped, his eyes widening in sudden realization. “The tunnel!” he exclaimed.
Without a word, Sam turned to go, anxious that someone else had beaten him to what he considered the story of his lifetime, but Jake grabbed his arm.
“Hang on. You’ve got to help me with this stuff.” He let go and turned to the shed, pushing the door aside and disappearing within. He returned a moment later with a couple of shovels, a crowbar, and a pickax cradled in his arms. He gave a shovel to Sam and kept the other for himself. Then he moved over to the trailer and, unlocking the door, went inside. He had a large ring of keys and two battery-powered lanterns in his hands when he emerged. His pistol was stuck in the waistband of his jeans.
“We’re going to need them to see down there,” he said, indicating the lamps. “We haven’t had a chance to string any lights yet.”
They crossed the yard, headed for the front door. As they walked, Jake felt his concern growing. Very few people knew of what they’d uncovered the previous day. Unless some of the crew had shot their mouths off to friends, it had to be one of his men who had caused the damage they’d seen. After all, they’d be the ones most likely to know just where the tools were kept and what they might need down in the cellar.
His suspicions that someone had been after whatever was hidden in the tunnel were confirmed when he and Sam mounted the steps, only to discover the front door standing half-open like an invitation.
That pissed him off. Blake was going to have a fit when he told him about the break-in, and Jake fervently hoped nothing had been stolen from inside. That would make matters even worse.God help me when I find out who did this, he thought grimly.
Behind him, Sam was taking pictures. The click of the camera sent Jake over the edge.
“Will you knock that off, for Christ’s sake?” he snapped angrily.
Sam wisely lowered the camera without a word.
The same gouge marks were in the frame of this door, and on closer inspection Jake recognized them as having come from the notched end of a crowbar. Just to be sure, he hefted the one he had in his hand and laid it against one of the marks. It was a near perfect match.
Looking at the state of the aged oak that made up the doorframe, Jake ruefully shook his head.Add another itemto the list of things that need to be replaced, he thought to himself.
He reached out to the door, intending on going inside, when Sam’s voice stopped him.
“Ah, Jake?”
Jake turned, a questioning look on his face.
“Don’t you think we’d better call the police?” Sam asked, nodding in the direction of the trailer and the phone he knew to be inside.
Jake thought about it for a minute, then shook his head. “Not just yet. I want to have a look around first, try to get an idea of what kind of damage has been done. See if there’s anything missing.”And I want to have a look at that tunnel, he added silently.