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“That doesn’t look like a deputy to me.” Bones kept his voice so low that Maddock could scarcely hear him over the gentle ebb and flow of the surf. They were a scant twenty yards from shore, floating in the dark waters of the bay under a moonless sky.
“You’re right,” Maddock agreed. The causeway leading to the island had indeed been guarded by the sheriff’s department- White and Boudreau to be exact, and they’d swum unseen past a patrol boat anchored offshore. He imagined another boat guarded the island’s far side. But the man who stalked the shore of Oak Island was nothing like the deputies. He was tall, lean, and prowled the coastline like a predator on the hunt, his eyes taking in everything around him. Despite the quiet night and calm surroundings, he was clearly on alert.
“Let’s slip right past him. You know, a little SEAL-style stealth for old time’s sake,” Bones said.
“Maybe, but we’ll give him a minute and see if he moves on.”
They watched as the man continued on his way, eventually disappearing around a bend. Maddock and Bones didn’t wait, but swam for the shore, their powerful kicks driving them through the water like torpedoes locked onto their target. They hit the shallows, slipped their fins off and tucked them into dive bags- they’d need them again soon.
There was no need to speak. They’d done this so many times Maddock had lost count. His eyes took in everything to the east, while Bones scanned the island to the west. At first glance, all appeared clear, but then the smallest of glimmers caught his attention. The scant starlight flashed off a badge as Sheriff Meade himself strode out of the forest.
Maddock needed only to incline his head a fraction of an inch to indicate the man’s presence. Bones scowled and nodded once. Moving as one, they submerged and worked their way along the coastline, moving in the opposite direction.
They emerged in a pool of darkness on the rocky beach a stone’s throw from the swamp. Meade had positioned himself on the sea wall that separated the swamp from the beach. The sheriff stood with his thumbs in his belt, gazing out at his patrol boat.
Maddock led the way, creeping wraith-like through the deepest shadows and noiselessly moving through the undergrowth that surrounded the swamp. He paused when he reached the edge of the brackish water. Here they would have to cover ten feet of open ground before reaching the swamp. He glanced at Meade, who had not moved, and then back to Bones. It was unlikely the sheriff would spot them, but Meade just might be mad enough to take a shot at them.
Bones held up a fist, thrust his chin in Meade’s direction, and gave Maddock a quizzical look. The question was clear- Want me to knock him out?
Maddock shook his head. He wanted to slip in and out with no one the wiser. If they harmed the sheriff, the finger would point either to them or to Charlie and his crew. They didn’t need that. Besides, this way was more fun.
After slipping back into his fins, Maddock stretched out on the ground and slithered forward, keeping his eyes on Meade, who shifted his weight, but continued to gaze out at the bay. He aligned himself with the stone that marked their destination, and entered the swamp. The water, warm after the chill of the bay and the night air, enveloped him as he vanished into its dark depths. Visibility was almost zero, but he navigated the tangle and muck with ease. Finally, he arrived at the stone, Bones sliding up beside him.
Now would be the most precarious stage of the operation. They didn’t know what they might find when they surfaced. For all Maddock knew, someone might be standing above them when they emerged from the water. Also, they’d need light to inspect the area around the stone.
Slowly, like a sodden log drifting upward, Maddock rose up until his mask broke the surface of the water. He immediately looked for Meade, and felt the shock of cold surprise to see the sheriff facing them. Reflexively, he reached for his Recon knife, not that it would do any good at this distance, but, as his fingers closed on the handle, Meade turned away again.
The sheriff unhooked his radio and spoke into it.
“You boys awake out there?” So the boat crew was on his mind. Maddock couldn’t make out the garbled reply, but it must have been a question or a complaint, because Meade barked out a sharp retort. “It doesn’t matter if you haven’t seen anything. We’re keeping this place sealed tight.”
As the sheriff continued his tirade, Maddock seized the opportunity to turn on his waterproof flashlight and sink down beneath the water at the place where the stone vanished beneath the surface.
He saw nothing but mud.
Unwilling to give up, he scrubbed at the silt, stirring up a muddy cloud. He was about to give up when his fingertips scraped on coarse rock. He kept working until he had uncovered a stone, two feet square, with a cross carved in its surface. Remembering Matt’s accident, he inspected it closely. Unlike the seal on the booby-trapped opening he and Matt had found, this cross was sunk deeper in the stone and was wider on the inside than at the surface. It was like it was made to grip.
He considered for a moment. He was convinced this stone had to be removed in order to gain access to the passage shown on the map. But what if it was another trap? Somehow, he didn’t think so. This passage was marked on the map while the other was not, thus indicating that this one was the way in. The directions telling them which passages to take were likely the safeguard on this end. He’d have to take a chance.
Maddock had taken hold of the stone with both hands when Bones, who was keeping watch, grabbed him by the shoulder. He raised his head out of the water and looked around. Meade was still talking on his radio, but someone else was approaching. It looked like the same man they’d seen patrolling earlier.
They’d have to hurry. Meade might be useless as a guard but Maddock felt certain the other guy was of a higher caliber. Speaking in the lowest tone possible, he gave Bones a hasty set of instructions, and the two of them sank beneath the surface, took hold of the stone, and pulled.
It did not budge.
Maddock surfaced and stole a glance back toward shore. Meade had spotted the approaching figure and was walking in his direction. Neither had spotted the intruders in the swamp.
Submerging again, he made a corkscrewing gesture, indicating they should add a counterclockwise turn this time. They tried again, pouring all their strength into the effort. Maddock felt the burn from his hands all the way to the base of his neck as he strained against the rock. Finally, as if something had broken free, the stone rotated a smooth quarter turn and stopped with a hard knock of stone on stone. In the silence, it sounded like an explosion, and he dared another look above the surface.
“Fisher,” Meade greeted the approaching man. “Quiet night?”
“So far,” Fisher replied in an accent twin to Locke’s. “Of course, anyone could have slipped past while you were waffling on with your mates out there and we’d never have heard.”
Meade started to say something but, just then, a burst of sound that Maddock recognized as a drill filled the air. Locke and his crew were already trying to break through to the chamber. On the positive side of the ledger, the noise should cover any sound they might make removing the stone.
He and Bones set to the task, and worked the stone free of its socket just as the sounds of drilling ceased. This time there was no whooshing sound, as the passageway they had uncovered was already filled with water. They lay the stone aside and Bones forged ahead. Maddock was just about to follow when a glimmer of light up above caught his eye. Someone was playing a flashlight across the surface of the water directly above him! The mud and debris they’d stirred up made it impossible for anyone to see him, but it would be obvious, even to as dim a bulb as Meade, that something or someone was down here. And when they investigated, they’d find the underwater passageway.
The thought had just occurred to him when a bullet sliced through the water inches from his face. These guys weren’t messing around. Adrenaline surging through him, he plunged into the passageway, wondering what they would find, and how they would get out again.
“What the bloody hell is going on here?” Locke called as he trotted up to the shore of the swamp. Sheriff Meade leaned against one of the boulders that formed the so-called Oak Island Cross, staring down at Fisher, who was waist deep in the water, shining his light all around. “I heard a shot. Who fired?”
“It was your man here,” Meade said. “I don’t know how you do things at your museum, but we don’t take pot shots at everything that moves.”
In the reflected light of Fisher’s torch, Locke could see the sheriff’s scornful sneer.
“Remind me to put up a sign reading Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight,” Locke said. “Because that is precisely what will happen to anyone who invades my work site.”
“I’m the law around here, not you people.” Meade’s back was ramrod straight and his voice trembled with anger. “I don’t care who you’ve bribed. I will take you to jail.”
“Of course you will.” Locke gave the man a tight smile and turned to Fisher. “What concerns me is, in shooting at a muddy swirl and not a target, you might have alerted potential intruders that they have been spotted.”
“Nobody came out of the water,” Meade said. “It was probably a beaver.”
“A beaver.” Locke could not keep the sarcasm from his voice. “As a professional law enforcement officer, that is your assessment of this situation?”
Meade grimaced but had no reply. Just then, Fisher called out.
“I’ve found something. Hold my torch.” He handed the light to Meade, who shone it where Fisher indicated. Fisher took a deep breath and vanished beneath the dark surface, emerging ten seconds later clutching something to his chest. He staggered to the bank and set the object on the ground and Meade turned the beam of the torch onto it.
The circle of light revealed a stone disc with a Templar cross adorning its surface.
“God in heaven,” Locke whispered. “Someone has found it!” He produced his own torch and shone it on the boulder, where his sharp eyes immediately caught something Fisher and Meade had not noticed. “There’s an outflow of clear water coming up from underneath the stone. See what’s there.”
Fisher swam for the stone, vanished from sight, and resurfaced moments later.
“There’s an underwater tunnel down there,” he sputtered, water streaming down his face.
“You’re certain it’s a tunnel, not a chamber?”
“I think so,” Fisher gasped. “I couldn’t see well, mind you, but it looked like a long, narrow tunnel.”
“Good. I want divers down there immediately.” He rested his hand on the grip of his Browning HP Mark III. Meade noticed and frowned. “Sheriff, please put your people on high alert and resume your patrol. I will see to things here.”
Meade didn’t bother to argue. He returned Fisher’s torch, unhooked his radio from his belt, and walked away, barking orders as he went.
Locke gazed down at the Templar symbol. Finally, after centuries of searching, they were close, and no intruder was going to stand in the way...
...or live through this night.