“That was part of it; there was more. King Solomon had a magic ring that allowed him to control demons, or genies, depending on the story. And then there’s what Bones and I found inside Caesar’s headquarters.”
“What was that?”
He reached into his pocket and took out the memory card on which his photos of the headquarters were stored. “If you’ll let me borrow your laptop, I’ll show you.” A few minutes later, they were staring at a high resolution of the strange seal that had been carved into the floor of Caesar’s cave.
“That’s King Solomon’s Seal, all right.” Avery brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and leaned in closer. “You think it’s possible that Black Caesar’s magic ring was Solomon’s ring?”
“This was Solomon’s signet,” Maddock tapped the screen. “It was engraved in his ring. How else would Caesar have known the particulars of this image?”
To his surprise, Avery didn’t raise any objection. “It’s the wrong time period for the Star of David. Besides, these six dots set it apart.” She stood and began pacing. “Caesar was raised in Africa. Somehow, this ring falls into his hands. Maybe he knows what it is, maybe not, but he begins to tap into its power. When he turns pirate in the New World, he uses its power to his advantage. The ring is the source of his success and he adopts its symbol as his own. Carves it into his headquarters.”
“As you know, I’ve seen far more unlikely scenarios prove to be true.”
“As have I,” she agreed. “Again, only since I met you. So, what do you think happened to it?”
“I’m almost certain it wasn’t in his headquarters at Caesar’s Spring. I don’t think Nomi expected it to be there, either. She was really only interested in his journal and papers.”
“Nomi’s the chick that threw the grenade at you?”
“Not at me, exactly, but she definitely didn’t care if she killed us.”
Avery seemed not to hear. “She probably thought the journal would lead her to the hiding place. But what if he didn’t hide it? What if he kept it with him until he died?”
Maddock pondered the question, slowly chewing his pizza. Black Caesar had ended his career in the service of Blackbeard, whose treasure he and Bones had discovered years before. Rather, they had confirmed the fate of the treasure, and he was confident that nothing resembling Solomon’s ring had been a part of it.
“Caesar was captured, tried, and executed,” he said. “Wonder what happened to his personal effects?”
“He was a pirate. Anything he owned would have been forfeit.” Avery was still pacing. “But it’s also true he didn’t have the ring with him. Maybe he was afraid Blackbeard would try and take it from him.”
“Which he probably would have,” Maddock said.
Avery nodded. “In which case he would have left it somewhere safe until he returned for it.”
“Any ideas?”
“Caesar’s Rock. The headquarters here in the Keys.”
“It’s awfully small,” Maddock said doubtfully. “And I can’t imagine how many people have been over it searching for artifacts.”
“I know,” Avery admitted. “But I think it’s worth checking out. In fact, maybe I’ll give it the once-over while you follow the other trail.”
“Sure, send us a thousand miles away while you spend an afternoon paddling over to Caesar’s Rock.”
“Hey, I’m the one with a full-time job, remember?”
“All right, but I don’t want you to go alone. Most likely, the island was one of the first places Nomi searched, but I’ll send one of the crew just to be safe.”
“Not Bones,” she said quickly. “You can take him with you.”
“Gee, thanks,” Maddock said. “I can’t wait to tell him he’s missing out on a beach trip.”
Chapter 10
Isla descended the winding staircase into the bowels of the earth far beneath Modron castle. She’d never been invited down here before, and she supposed it was an honor to be granted access to whatever lay beneath the dungeon level.
She passed along a narrow corridor lined with cells. Rusted bars sealed off primitive-looking stone cells. Beyond lay a torture chamber equipped with racks and an iron maiden. She gave a little shiver at the sight. Modron was a replica of an ancient castle, at least on the outside. Inside, it was equipped with all sorts of modern trappings and high-tech bells and whistles. Why had the builder chosen to include a dungeon from out of the Dark Ages?
On the far end of the torture chamber, a solitary suit of armor kept silent watch over the grim scene. Feeling an irrational tremor of anxiety, she raised the visor to reveal a touchpad.
A suit of armor hiding the secret entrance. How cliché.
She pressed her hand to it and watched as a green light scanned her palm. A tremor ran from the soles of her feet, up her legs, along her spine, and up to the base of her neck. She realized, with a touch of surprise, that the floor was vibrating. Slowly, the spot on which she stood sank into the floor.
Darkness surrounded her, and she soon lost all sense of how deeply she plunged into the depths. Finally, the platform ground to a halt and a line of tiny, red lights clicked on in front of her, pointing the way down a short passageway to a closed door.
The floor was of polished concrete, the walls bare cinder blocks. There was a newness about the space that suggested it was a very recent addition. It certainly did not fit in with the rest of the Modron ambiance.
She had almost reached the door when it swung open before her and a figure cloaked in shadow stepped through. She recognized the shaved head and sturdy build of Gowan. The presence of the security guard, or whatever he was, was a sure sign that Nineve waited on the other side of the door. The man always shadowed her.
“About time,” Gowan said in his slow, southeastern United States drawl. He made a show of checking his watch. “She’s been pacing the floor ever since she got word of your find.”
Isla swallowed her retort. She could have told him that she hadn’t spared a moment, had driven as fast as she dared from Glastonbury to the castle here in Cornwall. But to do so would imply that she owed Gowan any sort of explanation. She didn’t answer to him, and she wouldn’t act as if she did. Instead, she merely made a one-shouldered shrug and turned sideways in order to slip past him.
Gowan caught her wrist in a powerful grip. Instinctively, she twisted and yanked her arm back, breaking his grip. “Hands off.”
Surprise dawned across his broad, pale features, and he let out a huff that might have been a chuckle. No longer trying to grab her, he extended his arm at waist level and pressed it to the door frame, impeding her path.
He leaned in close. The red lights danced on the beads of sweat that rolled off his shaved scalp and shone on his blond, almost white, stubble.
“I’m on your side.” His breath smelled of peppermint, but Isla found it disconcertingly sour. “Nineve’s impatient. If she makes up her mind that you’re late, contradicting her will only make it worse. Trust me.”
Isla couldn’t quite bring herself to smile, but she managed a nod. “Thank you.”
Seemingly satisfied, Gowan moved to the side and let her pass. She heard the door close behind her.
“Did you stop for breakfast?” Nineve’s voice asked from the darkness.
Isla wasn’t sure how to respond without coming across as if she were arguing. She settled for the simple truth. “No.”
“Good. I won’t tolerate time-wasting. We have too much to do.” She let out a long, loud breath. “Forgive me. I am not always easy to work with.”
Isla didn’t know if the woman was sincere but decided there was no harm in playing along. “I understand. You’ve met my mother.”