The Secret of the Stones (11 page)

“Matthew.
 
Why?”
 
His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I
think we just found what we were looking for.”

Chapter
16  

Georgia
Mountains

Ulrich
left the car parked on the street in a parallel spot about a half block from
Tommy’s home.
 
Bringing the captive
archaeologist along would have been too difficult.
 
Instead, leaving him behind in the care of his associates
seemed the more logical thing to do.
 

As
he approached the house, Ulrich moved stealthily from the open view of the
street to the cover of a neighbor’s home a couple of doors down.
 
More than likely, if the cops were
there, they would be stationed at the front and back of the house.
 
He crept around the back porch of the
first house, careful to stay low and in the shadows.
 
Inside, an enormous flat-screen television was aglow with
some late night police drama.
 

Ulrich
reached the corner and maneuvered to the house directly next to Tommy’s.
 
There, he crouched behind a wooden
fence and waited next to a small gate.
 
He reached up and cautiously unhooked the latch, careful not to make any
noise.
 
The last thing he needed
right now was a dog to wake up.
 
Fortunately, no canine appeared.
 

Keeping
close to the back wall, Ulrich moved closer to his target.
 
He could see the silhouette of what had
to be a cop standing on the back porch smoking a cigarette.
 
Amateurs.
 
Any moron could have seen the guard from a mile away.
 
The man was pacing back and forth,
obviously bored with his assignment for the night.
 
As he turned the opposite direction, Ulrich silently scuffed
under the porch, squatting as he moved.
 
Fortunately, the porch was about five feet high.
 
Crickets chirped their night songs
loudly.
 
Hardly enough sound cover,
but he didn’t need much.
 
To get in
the house, he would have to take out the guard.
 
Maybe he didn’t need to kill the man.
 
Knocking him unconscious could have the
same effect.
 
Ulrich preferred not
to leave loose ends, though.
 
Killing was something he’d been doing a long time, and through the years
he had become quite proficient at it.
   

Above
him, through the cracks of wood, the guard stopped his movement and spun slowly
back the way he’d just come.
 
His
moment at hand, Ulrich was on the steps flying up them in twos, careful not to
trip.
 
Unfortunately for the police
officer, none of the planks made a sound and in one swift motion, the long
blade was pushed through the back of the cop’s neck and out the front of his
throat.
 
A sickening gurgle was the
only noise he made before falling to the deck, shock imprinted lifelessly in
his wide eyes.
 
Blood poured freely
from the wound and oozed in between the gaps in the wood to the ground
below.
 

Ulrich
wiped the blade clean on the man’s shirt, then took a quick inventory, making
sure there was no one standing directly inside.
 
There wasn’t.
 
He stepped to the door.
 
It
was unlocked.
 
He imagined if he
had shown up thirty minutes later the “guards” might have been discovered
passed out on the couch with ESPN playing in the background.
 
Little wonder crime was so rampant in
parts of the city.

Carefully
opening the door, he slipped into what seemed to be the dining room.
 
The house was dark with the exception
of a fluorescent light in the kitchen casting a pale glow into the adjoining
rooms nearby.
 
Ulrich moved
stealthily across the hardwood floor.
 
Rounding the dining room corner, he could make out the shape of the
other officer through the front window, standing obliviously unaware to what
had just happened to his partner.  A few quiet steps up the stairs and
Ulrich was standing in Tommy’s study.
 

He
had to search quickly.
 
It would
only be a matter of time before the other police officer would go back to check
on his partner.
 
Schultz had said
there was an envelope on his desk that contained what he needed.
 

Ulrich
scanned the workstation for the parcel.
 
He’d taken a big chance coming here.
 
It was fortunate that Atlanta’s finest had never received a
level of training to deal with his skills.
 
Still, had there been a larger force things may have gotten
sticky.
 

A
stack of envelopes sat at the edge of the desk.
 
Setting the blade down on the black wooden surface, he
picked up the letters and shuffled them through his gloved fingers, not
sure
 
for what he was looking.
 
He arrived at the bottom of the stack
having found nothing but ordinary junk mail and statements from various service
institutions.
 
Frustrated, he let
the bunch fall back to the surface of the desk next to his knife.
 

Had
he been tricked?
 
He’d considered
the possibility that Schultz had sent him here knowing full well there would be
police around the area.
 
Perhaps
the archaeologist had underestimated the talents Ulrich possessed.
 
Then again, surely his captive would
not be so foolish as to trust that the police would be able to subdue him.
 
No.
 
It had to be here.
 
He picked up the envelopes again and scanned them more
meticulously.
 
About half way
through the pile, he stopped at one that seemed peculiar.
 
It was from a financial institution
he’d never heard of.
 
Granted,
there were a million financial advisors out there but this one struck him as
odd.
 
It had already been opened
where as the rest were still sealed.
 
Unconsciously dropping the other mail, he removed a piece of paper from
within the frayed top.
 
At the
bottom of the correspondence he recognized the name of the professor he’d
killed a few nights before.
 
It was
a letter from Dr. Borringer and on it were the translations of the disc Schultz
had found in North Georgia.
 
The
words were still in the form of a riddle: “The chambers will light your
path.”
 
A chill went up his spine
as he read the last few words.
 
This had to be it.
 

Suddenly,
a noise came from downstairs.
 
The
front door closed.
 
Ulrich tucked
the letter into a cargo pocket in his black pants as he shifted over to the
door of the study.
 
Below, he could
hear the careless footsteps of someone who had no idea what had happened and
what was about to.
 
As the sound of
the shoes on the hardwood moved toward the kitchen, Ulrich took a few
precipitous steps downward, pressing close to the wall.
 
Even though this flatfoot beat cop was
surely no match for his level of talent, the blonde assassin still preferred to
always use the element of surprise if it was available, a policy that had
probably saved his hide more than once.

In
the kitchen, the refrigerator door opened, the light flooding the kitchen with
a mixture of natural and florescent light.
 

“Hey
Billy!”
 
The gruff voice of the cop
froze Ulrich on the bottom step of the staircase.
 
“This guy’s got some cokes in here.
 
You want one?” 

The
Southern accent grated against Ulrich’s European ears.
 
The hapless cop, probably about five
foot ten inches looked more like a reject from a junior varsity offensive
line.
 
Ulrich judged his weight to
be around two hundred fifty pounds and from the looks of it.
 
He watched as the chubby man reached
into the refrigerator and grabbed two red cans from the bottom drawer.
 
Receiving no response from his
partner on the back porch, he called out again, “Hey Billy!
 
You thirsty?”
 
Silence.

Setting
down the cans, the cop stalked towards the dining room where the door to the
back deck was located.
 
“Dad gum it
Billy!
 
If you’re on that cell
phone again I’m gonna kick your…” The officer stopped in mid sentence as
he stared out through the glass door at the prostrate body on the other
side.
 
“What the…Billy?!”
 
Panic flooded his face as he reach for
the handle of the sliding door.
 

Abruptly,
he felt something thin and cold run across the breadth of his neck.
 

With
fleshy hands, the blubbery cop clutched his throat and turned around to see a
tall blonde-haired man holding a knife.
 
Blood gushed from the open artery and vein, his fingers doing little
more than filtering the flow.
 
The
man’s beady eyes quickly clouded and the room began to spin.
 
Finally, his heavy body crashed to the
floor, torso and head leaning up against glass.
 
After only a few seconds, the head toppled onto a shoulder,
lifeless.

Ulrich
simply stood for a moment watching the last few ounces of life spurt from the
wound.
 
Then, turning, he strode
swiftly towards the front of the house, concealing the blade in its jacket
sheath.
 
He closed the front door
of the house casually and returned to the quiet suburban sidewalk, unaware of
the eyes that watched him from a black luxury sedan nearby.

Chapter
17

Atlanta,
Georgia

Allyson
handed the envelope to Sean.
 
“Would you like to do the honors?”
 
She smiled at him like a kid who’d just found the last Easter egg.

What
he took from her hand looked, on the outside, like an ordinary correspondence
to a financial advisement company.
 
The men who had come in to the Borringer house looking for something
profoundly significant would have passed it off to be a typical everyday
letter.

They
would have no way of knowing that the institution to whom the letter was
addressed did not exist.
 
In fact,
the only people that might recognize the initials, were the two people looking
at it at that very moment.
 
In the center
of the envelope, the words SMW Financial Advisors were the “send to”
address.
 

Sean
stared at the envelope.
 
“That
clever dog,” he laughed.
 
“A
purloined letter with my initials on it, no one else would have ever realized.”

Allyson
smiled proudly.
 

He
opened the envelope carefully and removed the contents.
 
Inside was something that Sean did not
expect.
 
Instead of finding a
translation of some ancient code, as he assumed, he realized it was a letter
written specifically to him by Dr. Borringer.

The
two exchanged confused glances.
 
“How did he know you would come here?”
 
Allyson seemed to read his thoughts.

“I
don’t know.”
 
Sean was just as
confounded.
 

Both
pairs of eyes scanned the letter as he laid it out on the desk.
 

Hello Sean.
 
If you are reading this, then I fear my
suspicions were correct.
 
But if
you found this letter, you have taken the first step.
 
Edgar Poe’s “Purloined Letter” trick is certainly a good
one.
 

Recently, our
mutual friend Thomas Schultz sent me a most interesting artifact he discovered
in the northern part of Georgia .
 
As you and I both know, Thomas has been searching that area and other
areas in the state with a reserved, but notable interest for some time.

Until I received
his request for help, though, I had no possible idea just how deep his search
had gone.
 
I hope that I have not
failed him in his quest.
 
It seems
that someone else has learned of the artifact and has been watching me ever
since it came into my possession.
 
My first thought was that if I put off the translation and pretended
that it was of no import, the man following me would consider the possibility
that it was just another random piece from a dig somewhere else in the
world.
 
That strategy, however, did
not work.
 
He continued to follow
me and watch my every move.
 
The
fact that this stranger and his cohorts did not attempt to steal the stone disc
meant that they needed me to translate it just as much as Thomas did.
 
There are only two others in the world
who I believe could have performed this translation due to the rarity and the
blending of the languages on it.
 

Unable to
postpone the work any longer I set about translating the mixture of languages
on the back of the stone.
 
I was
shocked to discover that there were three different forms of writing inscribed
into the ancient disc.
 
The
languages are rare to begin with, but having them combined together into a
singular form of writing was most puzzling.
 
It took many long hours to put together the combination of
words and phrases.
 
Almost more confusing
than the languages were the pictures on the front of the artifact.

Eventually, I was
able to decipher the message on the back, which proved to be interesting, but
less than helpful.
 
Then, I
realized that the inscription on the stone was only part of the message.
 
What was written on the back worked in
conjunction with the picture clues on the front. Even for someone as learned in
ancient languages as I, it was very difficult, at first, to try and understand
the meaning of the engraved scene.

On what I call
the front of the disc, is a picture of two birds.
 
They are standing on some kind of perch, facing each
other.
 
In between the birds is a
dividing line that looks like some kind of pole.
 
I was not sure what the picture could possibly mean.
 
Even now, I am not certain what the
true purpose is behind it.
 
I
regret that I can be of no further assistance.
 
But in relation to the message on the back, perhaps you and
Thomas can unravel the puzzle that I could not.
 
I wrote down the translation on the back of a separate piece
of paper in this envelope.
 
Good
luck to you and your friend in this endeavor.
 
I only hope that what has surely befallen me does not happen
to anyone else.

Sincerely,

Frank Borringer

Sean
finished reading the note, still puzzled.
 
He set the letter down respectfully on the desk and removed
the second piece of paper from the envelope.
 
Its message was odd:

Ancient
stones will mark your path and of the chariots of heaven. The raven and the
dove will guide you on your journey home.
 
The key with sacred bones does lie.
 
Make every step true and unlock the chambers for they shall
light the way to the resting place of mankind.

“The
chambers are real,” Sean’s voice was reverent, barely above a whisper.

“What
does it mean?”
 
Allyson was befuddled.
 

“I
don’t know.”
 
Sean’s gaze went to
the drawings of a circular object on the page.
 
He examined what was labeled as the front and then the back,
looking closely at the tiny inscription’s remarkable detail.
 
The picture of two birds facing each other
was just as peculiar as the riddle.
 
Indeed, they did appear to be sitting on some kind of railing with what
appeared to be a rod in between them.
 
“I have no idea what ‘the resting place of mankind’ could possibly
mean.
 
The letter from Dr.
Borringer said that the message on the back and the picture on the front were
both clues pointing to the same thing.”

“So
the stone points the way to the chambers.
 
What do the chambers contain?”

“I
suppose that whoever this stone was meant for would know the answer to
that.
 
But it seems like the
chambers are not the final destination.”
 
Sean seemed to realize this last truth while he spoke.

“So,
Tommy has been looking for this for several years?”
 
She asked, looking at the translation.
 
Her mind could not wrap around a
possible meaning.

“I
would say that one of the birds is a raven and the other the dove, but they
look similar.”
 
He looked closer at
the medallion shaped sketch.
 
Then,
realizing he hadn‘t answered her question, “Yes.
 
Tommy has been looking for the golden chambers of Akhanan
for some time now.
 
I’d say these
letters right here prove that it exists.
 
At least, there was enough evidence for Dr. Borringer to believe it
existed.
 
The fact that he was
murdered for this information makes me think he was on the right track.”
 
His fingers retraced the mysterious
words on the paper.

She
was leaning over his shoulder, her fragrant hair fell lightly onto his neck as
her breath tickled his skin.
 
Sean
couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted.
 
It had been a long time since he had any kind of romantic
contact.
 
His job kept him out of
the country a great deal and when he was home, it wasn’t for very long.
 
Both facts made it difficult to meet
people that way, much less maintain a relationship.
 
For a moment, his thoughts drifted to a few years back to…he
couldn’t let himself think about that.
 
Not now, anyway.
 

“It
would sure be nice if we knew what we were looking for,” she commented,
seemingly unaware of his thoughts.

“We
know exactly what we are looking for,” he corrected.
 
“I just have no idea where to find it.
 
I do have a friend, though that might
be able to shed some light on this little puzzle.”

“Yeah?”
 
She perked up.
 
“Who?”

“A
buddy of mine works at the Etowah Indian Mounds State Park.
 
He lives near the site just outside of
Cartersville.
 
It shouldn’t take us
more than forty minutes to get there.
 
The guy knows more about Native American history than anyone I’ve ever
heard of.
 
Plus, I’m sure he’s
heard some stories that never made it into the history books and that is
exactly the kind of stuff we need to find out about.”
 

His
mind was racing right now.
 
Could
this be the first real clue to finding the lost golden chambers?
 

“This
friend of yours isn’t one of those crackpot conspiracy theorists is he?”
 
She gave him a playful, suspicious
glance.

“No…well,
not completely.
 
He’s ok.
 
We won’t be looking for UFOs if that’s
what you’re thinking.”
 
Sean gave a
reassuring smile.

Downstairs,
the doorbell rang and their smiles turned instantly to concern.
 
Quickly, he grabbed the letters and
stuffed them into his inner jacket pocket and stepped over to the door.
 
Allyson leaned close behind him as he
peeked around the door.
 

Around
the edge, they could see Mrs. Borringer open the front door.
 
Sean listened intently to a man’s voice
on the other side of the door.
 
It
sounded like the guy said something about being with the police.
 
He wondered to himself if it were the
mysterious Jurgenson, but these thoughts were answered as a black man in a tan jacket
walked through the door, putting his wallet and identification into a coat
pocket as he crossed the threshold.
 

Mrs.
Borringer politely asked him if he would like something to drink.
 
The lady must treat all visitors like
friends.
 
Sean pulled himself away
from the door.
 
He whispered, “We
have to get out of here.
 
That’s
gotta be Detective Morris, the guy that called me earlier from the Atlanta PD.
 
If he is looking for clues, he will
want to see this room.”

“How
are we going to leave without him seeing us?”

“Mrs.
B is still talking to him.”
 
Sean
paused for a moment to make sure he was right.
 
Then he whispered, “Let’s move across the hall to the
bedroom.
 
He won’t have any reason
to go in there.”

Allyson
nodded in agreement.
 
Sean peered
around the corner of the doorway again.
 
Down below, the detective was saying something about Dr. Borringer’s
research.
 
Silently, the two made
their way across the hallway into the master bedroom.
 
Upon entering it, they realized that it was much more
tastefully decorated than the hodgepodge of the rest of the house.
 

The
walls were painted a warm tan color with dark wooden nightstands and
dressers.
 
A large oak armoire
rested in the corner, with intricate carvings of floral and forest themes on
the front.

Sean
motioned to the master bathroom and the two of them quickly darted to the open
door.
 
Back in the hallway, the
voices of Detective Morris and Mrs. Borringer grew louder as they climbed the
stairs.
 

Tucking
in around the corner of the bathroom, Sean inched his head forward to see
across the hall.

“This
is where your husband kept all of his research?”
 
The detective asked.

“Yes
sir.”
 
She continued on, answering
the man’s question the same way she had answered Sean’s earlier.

“What
are they doing?”
 
The tension was
too much for Allyson.