Wilbur wasn't sure where the conversation was going, but it was all over the place. One thing was certain, he didn't like Jack's tone.
"It's surrounded by concrete. It's fireproof. This whole room is basically a bomb shelter."
Jack's head went up and down. "Pretty much soundproof then, too, eh?"
"Sure, but I don't see—"
Jack whipped his pistol around and fired. The round zipped across the room and tore through Wilbur's right shoulder.
For the first few seconds, he didn't know how to react. Then his nerves sent burning pain to his brain. Wilbur howled and clutched the wound with the opposite hand.
Jack rushed over to the museum director as he dropped to his knees. "I'm so sorry, Willy. It must have gone off by mistake. I'm so sorry."
He caressed the man's fleshy face with the smoking muzzle.
"You shot me," Wilbur whimpered.
"I know, Willy. I know. These things happen."
He pressed the muzzle against Wilbur's temple and stood back. "I'd hate for this gun to go off again, Willy. Now if you don't mind terribly, tell me what the Americans found."
The sobbing commenced. "I told you. They didn't find anything." Wilbur nearly choked on the words.
"Oh? Then why were they talking about a cipher and a key when they left here?"
Wilbur's eyes widened. "Yes. The cipher. They found a cipher in the desk back there." He pointed with his good arm at the antique desk near the back of the room.
"Forgot about that, did you?"
Wilbur couldn't shake his head fast enough. "No. I swear. I didn't think it was important. It's just a bunch of weird symbols. Without the key, it's useless. They don't even know where it is."
"Show me."
Jack dragged the heavier man up by his ear like he would a little child who'd misbehaved. He pulled him back to the desk and shoved him back down on the floor again. "This desk?" Jack asked.
"Yes. Yes, this is the desk." Wilbur clutched his shoulder wound in a vain effort to stem the bleeding.
"Where did they find these symbols?"
Wilbur winced and jerked his thumb at the underside. "Underneath. There's a false panel. Annie must have triggered it to open by mistake. The Americans didn't even know how it happened. They said the cipher was burned into the wood."
Jack flashed a warning glare at the injured man. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" He winked at his own joke. He knew Wilbur wouldn't try anything stupid. The man was a pushover.
Jack slid under the desk and stared up at the opening. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and turned on the light. "I don't see anything in here, Willy. Are you having a laugh with me? Because if you are, I think you know what will happen."
"No, please. It's there. They had to look closely. One of them stuck his phone up close to the hole and took several pictures. I never saw the actual symbols, only the images on his phone."
"Fair enough," Jack said. He raised his device close to the hole and shined the light inside. He twisted his neck a few inches and then realized what the fleshy man was talking about. "Oh yeah. There it is. Got it." He pressed the button on the screen several times to get as many pictures as possible. Then he slid out and stood up. "Come on, Willy. Lets have a look, shall we?" He grabbed the collar on Wilbur's shirt and yanked him up again.
Jack passed his phone to the uneasy museum director, who nearly dropped it on the floor. He managed to hold on and showed the image on the screen to Jack, who kept his weapon planted in Wilbur's lower back.
"What are we lookin' at, Willy?"
"I already told you. I don't know. It's just a bunch of symbols. See?" He pointed to the two lines of odd signs. "The Americans didn't know what they were."
"You're telling me that you've been working at this old museum for the better part of three decades and you have no idea what these mean?" Jack's volume increased with each word until he finished the sentence at full crescendo.
Wilbur winced at the booming voice echoing through the room. He managed to calm himself long enough to answer. "No. No one knows what these mean. They're not like hieroglyphs or petroglyphs. These are something altogether different. They were designed to be undecipherable."
"Then they're useless. And so are you." Jack stepped back and pointed the gun at the back of Wilbur's head.
"No! Please! Wait!"
Wilbur grimaced, expecting to hear the shot and his life to end. It didn't come.
"Why, Willy? Huh? Why shouldn't I just kill you right now?" Jack's voice roared.
"Because."
"Because why?"
"You need a key to unlock the meaning of these symbols."
"And where is this key?"
"I already told you, I don't know. The Americans don't know either."
Jack was tired of this blubbering fool. He'd seen men like this before. Cowards, all of them. They were unwilling to stare down the barrel of a gun, as if that would help their pitiful circumstances. The bullet would do its job whether they looked or not. This one, however, was particularly pathetic.
"You're not helping your case, Willy."
"Please, I know where they're going next."
Jack paused a moment and then lowered the weapon. "I'm listening."
Wilbur's heart pounded in his chest. Perspiration dripped off his nose to the concrete floor in huge drops. He hesitated before he felt it was safe enough to turn around and face Jack. "They… they're going to a cave north of the city. It's called Baiame Cave, close to Milbrodale. I got the impression they believe the key might be there somewhere. If you just get me to a doctor so I can have my shoulder patched up, maybe I could show you where it is. I might even be able to find the key for you and decipher the code."
Jack listened to Wilbur's plea. Milbrodale? He'd never heard of it. Then again, he'd never heard of most of the backcountry towns in Australia. He'd grown up in the city. After his rugby career ended due to a catastrophic knee injury, no team would even take a look at him. So Jack did the only thing he ever knew how to do. He mugged people, beat people up, and he did it well. When Bernard Holmes offered him a job, he sharpened his skills further and eliminated anyone who stood in his way.
He considered Wilbur's offer. The portly man was injured. He'd slow things down. His request for a doctor was absurd. No way Jack was going to take the guy to a hospital. That meant he'd have to take him to Holmes's private physician, a man who only worked for cash.
There was another option that Jack kept coming back to. He didn't need Wilbur anymore.
"I have to say, Willy, you do a good job of begging. I mean, you really go for it with the tears and the choking voice thing. I've seen my fair share of it through the years, and you're probably one of the best."
Wilbur's eyes filled with hope. "Does that mean you're going to take me with you? You won't regret it. I promise."
"Actually, no. You see, they invented this new thing called the internet where I can find information on pretty much everything I need — say, a map for example. So I can find this cave and Milbrodale on my own. Seeing how you probably wouldn't know what to look for or where to look for it when we got there, there's really no point in me bringing you along. And then there's the problem of your bleeding shoulder. I can't have you getting blood all over the interior of my car. I just had it cleaned two days ago. I'm sure you can appreciate my predicament."
Fear crept back onto Wilbur's face. "Okay, sure. You don't have to take me along. I can take myself to the hospital. No worries."
Jack wagged the gun around carelessly. "Now you see, I can't have that either."
"Why not? I won't tell anyone what happened. I'll tell them it was an accident. They'll never know."
"Ah yeah, but there will be an inquisition, Willy. Those docs are nosy types. Always trying to get to the bottom of things with their reports and such. Sooner or later they'll come around. And you don't exactly strike me as the strong type who can keep his yap shut."