Junina stopped in her tracks. “There was, but it’s downstairs. I don’t like to go down there.”
“Could you give me directions?” Constance asked.
“No, I will show you. You shouldn’t be alone in case Klaus is down there. He doesn’t get too forward as long as there are others around.”
As they descended the stairs to the lower level, Constance felt a rising tension. The air was cool and damp here, and the air smelled of mold. She tried to lighten the mood with casual conversation.
“Junina is a beautiful name. Is it from the Bible?” Constance couldn’t believe she was babbling about name origins. This place unnerved her. A chill ran down her spine and she was forcibly reminded of the ghost stories surrounding the so-called school for insane girls.
“Junina is the name I was given when I came here. My birth name is Colestah. She was a powerful warrior and medicine woman who could speak to the spirits.”
“I wouldn’t mind having her around if we encounter Klaus,” Constance said.
Junina managed a tiny laugh. “Your friend said something very much like that.”
“Trinity is a brave woman and she takes courage from stories of women like Colestah.”
“I am afraid she is too brave for her own good,” Junina said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She was asking about dark, dangerous things.” Junina clenched her fists and began to shake.
Constance seized the girl by the shoulders. “Listen to me. You are exactly right. My friend has a tendency to get herself into trouble. I understand that you don’t want to talk about these dark, dangerous things, but it is very important that you tell me.”
“She wanted to see the cursed cellar,” Junina whispered.
“And what else?” Constance asked firmly.
The young girl squeezed her eyes shut. A single tear trickled down her cheek.
“She wanted to know where I saw the hairy men.”
12- The Cellar
Stone crept along the dark hallway. The musty air and dim lighting made this lower level feel like a basement. It took a few minutes of searching before he found a stout wooden door with the words In Vino Veritas carved in the polished surface. In wine there is truth. Stone smiled at the thought. He touched the shiny brass doorknob. It was clean and free of rust. Someone had kept the door polished. But what was the point?
Not surprisingly, the door was locked. Stone, however, was an accomplished picklock, and he had the door open in short order. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him before clicking on his flashlight.
A vaulted stone ceiling rose above him. To his left and right, wooden crates were stacked in neat piles. A beautiful mosaic depicting a bunch of grapes adorned the far wall. The space was dry and free of dust. Someone was regularly cleaning this old storage space. Stranger and stranger.
He examined the crates, walking up and down the rows, shining his light on each, but nothing leaped out at him. Perhaps it wasn’t the contents of the room, but the room itself that was special. He examined the floor and the ceiling, then moved to the mosaic on the far wall. And then he saw it. Inside one of the fat, purple grapes was an eye inside a triangle. The Eye of Providence, also known as the All-Seeing Eye. It appeared on the Great Seal of the United States, but it was also a symbol of the Illuminati.
He reached out to touch it, but then he heard the soft sound of a doorknob being turned gently. Someone on the other side of the door was trying to enter quietly. Stone clicked off his light and hurried to stand beside the door. There was nowhere else to hide. The door swung open and the electric light clicked on, bathing the cellar in rheumy light. Klaus strode inside, carrying a monkey wrench the length of Stone’s forearm.
The German was no ordinary caretaker. He sensed Stone’s presence immediately, and lashed out with the monkey wrench. The heavy steel missed caving in Stone’s skull by inches. It took a chunk out of the wall, sending sharp bits of rock flying like shrapnel.
Stone dodged to the side but before he could attack, Klaus whipped the wrench around in a powerful backswing aimed at Stone’s chest. The blow missed, leaving the German open for a sharp kick to the groin and a solid right cross to the chin. The combination would have sent most men to their knees, but Klaus only grunted and took a step back before swinging the wrench again. Stone saw it coming. He dodged the blow, then drove his fist into the back of Klaus’s elbow. He caught the man in the perfect spot, causing the nerves in his hand to go temporarily numb and forcing him to drop the monkey wrench.
It hit the ground with a loud clang. Klaus dove for it, but Stone managed to kick it away. It skittered across the smooth floor and out the door. Better that neither of them had it than the beastly German get his hands on it again.
As Klaus clambered back to his feet, Stone aimed a roundhouse kick at the man’s head. Klaus raised his arm to block the kick. Stone’s foot struck a slab of muscle so dense it was like kicking a tree trunk. Klaus let out a beastly roar and tried to tackle Stone around the waist. Stone managed to escape the giant man’s powerful clutches, but now found himself circling away, trying to figure out how to disable this behemoth.
He struck with the flat of his hand and poked Klaus in the eye. It was a cruel blow, one that could blind the big man. But, the German had just tried to turn Stone’s skull into pulp, so he didn’t feel too guilty about it. Klaus cried out in pain and instinctively put his hands to his face. Stone kicked him hard in the kidney. Klaus froze for a second, then his knees buckled. Stone seized the advantage, battering the big German with fists, feet, and elbows. Klaus reeled. Stone drew back his fist to throw a hard right cross.
White light flashed and a loud boom filled Stone’s ears. It took him a second to realize Klaus had punched him.
“Gosh all Potomac!” he said, habitually uttering one of the few swears his mother had tolerated during his teen years. No one had ever punched him that hard. He took a step back, and shook his head.
Klaus stood hunched over in front of the door. His fists were clenched and hate burned in his eyes. But he still had some fight left in him.
“What are you?” Stone asked.
A grin split the big man’s face. “I am an Aryan. You will not leave this place alive.”
“What is Ward hiding down here?”
The German’s only answer was a simian bellow. He sprang forward with surprising agility and crashed into Stone. The two big men smashed into a pile of crates, shattering them. Old, dusty papers spilled over Stone’s head. Another falling crate spilled out china and a kerosene oil lamp someone had not bothered to empty. The contents splashed all over Klaus.
Stone saw his chance. He headbutted the bigger man across the bridge of his nose and shoved him away just long enough for Stone to pull his Zippo from his pocket and flick it on.
“Here, catch.” He tossed the lighter to Klaus, who stared at it dumbly for a few seconds even after the kerosene on his arms caught fire.
Klaus let out an angry shout but he didn’t run or try to extinguish the flames. Instead, he resumed his attack. A fiery fist just missed Stone’s chin. Stone returned a right cross that buckled the German’s knees. His eyes rolled back and he slumped to the ground. Stone was surprised to see Constance standing behind him, holding the monkey wrench in both hands.
“I think I got him.” She stared blankly at the fallen man, the golden light of burning crates flickering off her fair skin.
“Well done. Now, let’s get out of here before this whole place goes up.” Stone seized her by the elbow and took a step toward the door only to see it slam shut.