The Secret of the Stones (24 page)

Chapter
38

Blue
Ridge Mountains

Allyson
stood quietly nearby with hands in her jacket pockets, watching the two
men.
 
Sean and Joe had been working
on changing the flat tire out for the spare that was attached to the
undercarriage of the truck.
 
The
work was slow, though, due to the flimsy jack that they were using to lift the heavy
vehicle off the ground.
 
Unfortunately, it was all they had.
 

Swapping
out the old tire for the skinny doughnut had taken longer than it should
have.
 
Now, Mac was lowering the
back end of the truck down, nearly finished with the chore.
 

His
assistance unneeded at this point, Sean had walked back over to the parking
area where the shootout had occurred earlier.
 

“Where
are you going?”
 
Allyson asked
pointedly.

“The
only way that we are going to get another chance at saving Tommy is to press on
and figure this whole thing out.”
 
The disappointment in his demeanor had changed to resolve.
 
“Maybe we can figure out the symbols on
these rocks and catch up to him.”

“Do
you think Tommy solved it?”
 
Her
eyes were sincere with concern.

“He
must have,” Sean forced a grin.
 
“That rascal shows up here this morning and unravels a mystery that has
been unsolvable for hundreds of years.”
 
He shook his head, “No, they wouldn’t have been leaving if Tommy hadn’t
put it all together.
 
How he did
it, though, is a whole other matter.”

She
had joined him and the two of them were walking in the direction of the caged
boulders when his eyes caught sight of something lying near the curb next to
the concrete parking barrier.
 
The
spot was where the hummer had been parked during the altercation.
 
Curious, he stepped over to look at
what had caught his attention.

“What
is it?” she asked, following him closely.

“Looks
like a camera bag,” he reached down and picked up the small black case,
confirming his suspicions.
 
“Yep.
 
It had likely been dropped
during all the chaos.”
 
Flipping
the case over, Sean examined it more closely, then opened the zipper and
removed the digital device.
 
“Tommy
must have taken pictures of the stones.”

“Why
would he do that?”

Joe
had finished up with the tire and was loading up the meager tools in the large
metal box in the front of the truck bed.
 
“You guys find something?”
 
He yelled across the lot.

“Yeah,”
Sean answered his buddy’s question first.
 

He
returned to her question, “I’m not sure why they would need pictures.”
 
His mind was racing, wondering what his
friend was up to.
 

Cautiously,
he pressed the power button on the camera and turned the selector so they could
view the pictures.
 
Sean’s eyes
scanned the images.
 
All of them
were of the four rocks from different views and positions.
 
None of it made any sense.
 
Every one of the scenes appeared to be
nothing more than random shapes and lines.
 

Joe
had caught up to them and was curiously looking over their shoulders at the
pictures on the little LCD screen.

“Doesn’t
make much sense to me,” he commented.
 
“I’ve been to this place several times and can’t make heads or tails of
it.”

Sean
nodded, looking at the last photo.
 
“Whatever it all means, Tommy figured it out, and he must have done it
quickly.”

Several
minutes passed while the three stood there, bewildered.
 
The morning sun peaked over the
treetops of the mountains to the east sending beams of soothing warmth onto the
group.
 
A crow cawed loudly from a
nearby branch while other birds carried on their conversations under the cover
of the colorful leaves.
 

The
three flipped back through the pictures again, trying to understand what it
could have been that Schultz had noticed that would have given him something, anything
that pointed the way.
 

Allyson
snapped out of her trance by saying, “I wonder if he used a computer.”

“You
mean, like a laptop?”
 
Sean tried
to follow her train of thought.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe
the problem all along has been that everyone who has tried to figure out what
the paintings mean have just been looking at them as they are.
 
If he had a laptop, Tommy could have
transferred the pictures onto it and shuffled them around all on one screen.”
 
He pondered the idea.
 
“Mac, where could we find a computer?”

“There’s
a town about twenty minutes from here.
 
I’m sure the library has a computer we could use.”

“Let’s
do it,” Sean said, turning to head back to the truck.

Upon
arriving back at the hobbled vehicle, he opened the front door for her.
 
“Good thinking, Agent Webster,” he said
with a smile.

“Thanks.”
 
Her eyes were playful.

“I
think you’re beginning to get the hang of this,” he quipped, and closed the
door for her after she had gotten in.
 

As
Sean climbed into the backseat, Joe turned the ignition, “I just hope we can
put this together as quickly as Tommy did.”

Chapter
39

Blue
Ridge Mountains

Ulrich
had stopped at a gas station near a small mountain town that seemed to have
been forgotten by time.
 
Having to
fill up was something too frequent with the giant SUVs his employer had
provided.
 
They could go anywhere
in the world as long as “anywhere” was within close range of a fuel pump.
 

The
guards took turns relieving themselves in the outdoor restroom while the other
watched the prisoner.
 
He was careful
to make sure the convenience store manager didn’t take much notice of the
peculiar situation.
 

The
man behind the counter inside was an older fellow with a six day old scruff of
gray on his face.
 
Even if the
geezer tried anything, it wouldn’t do much good.
 
Still, better to be careful than stupid.
 
They’d been caught completely off guard
by Sean Wyatt earlier.
 
And apparently
he’d brought help.
 
That could not
be allowed to happen again.

He
glanced around again, still paranoid after the gunfight on the mountain.
 
There was no way that Sean Wyatt knew
which direction they were headed at the moment.
 
But if Wyatt had been able to find them before, it was
possible the man could do it again.
 

Jens
Ulrich hadn’t checked in with the Prophet for a while now.
 
With normal clients, something like
that would not be a problem, but the old man was known to be intolerably
impatient.
 
A great deal of money
and resources had been invested in this operation and results were expected
more quickly than was rational.
 

Now
was as good a time as any, he thought, and pulled the phone out of his pants
pocket to make the call.
 
It only
rang twice before the voice of the older man on the other end answered with a
curt, “What is our status?”
 

Ulrich
imagined the mysterious man sitting in his giant leather chair at his oversized
desk staring at the phone, waiting for the call.
 

“We
are making progress sir.
 
Schultz
is far cleverer than we anticipated.”
 
His answer was as direct as the question.
 
“Our next destination is a place called Red Clay State Park
about twenty miles from the city of Chattanooga, Tennessee.”

“I
have heard of it.”

Ulrich
was a little surprised by this statement.
 
“You know about this place?”

The
older man replied as if he were talking to a child, “Of course.
 
It was the location of the Capital of
the Cherokee Nation for hundreds of years up until the relocation began in the
late 1830s.
 
Their people believed
it to be a sacred land, full of mysterious power.
 
They thought that the ancient dead inhabited the forests
surrounding the area and that those spirits would protect them.”

“Schultz
believes we will find something there that will point the way to the first
chamber,” Ulrich added.

“Was
he specific about what it was that might be found there?”

“No.
 
Only that the area was where we should
be able to find the next piece of the puzzle.”

“Is
he being cooperative?”

“Yes,
for the moment.
 
He has not given
us any trouble.
 
We should be to
the next location in a half hour or so.”
 
Ulrich waited a few seconds, trying to decide on whether or not he
should tell his employer about the shootout that had occurred earlier.
 

Before
he could begin again, the Prophet cut in.
 
“I have some concerns, Jens.”

This
was an unexpected statement.
 
“Such
as?”

“You’re
methods are getting sloppy,” remarked the voice coldly.

“What
do you mean, sir?”

“First,
the professor.
 
Then the two
police?
 
There are too many body
bags laying in your wake.
 
I must
encourage you to be more discreet.”

Ulrich
clenched his teeth in an effort to control his emotions.
 
“I do what I deem necessary to complete
the mission, sir.”

“Understood.
 
Just make sure you do complete
it.”
 
Then he added, “But it cannot
be done in a way that will draw attention to our purpose or to me.
 
Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”
 
There would be no telling the man on
the phone about what had happened earlier that morning.

“One
last thing, Ulrich,” the voice in the earpiece interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes,”
he replied, irritated.

“A
body was found in a church parking lot yesterday.
 
From the description in the police report, it sounded like
one of your operatives.
 
Should I
assume that was your doing?”

The
question was an insult.
 
He knew
the police would find the incompetent assistant he’d shot the day before and
didn’t care.
 
The man had no
identification that could be connected to anyone in the operation.
 

Ulrich
took pride in being very good at what he did.
 
Now this ignorant man had the gall to insinuate he was
incapable.
 
“I assure you, sir, the
situation is completely under control.
 
Will there be anything else?”
 
His tone was sarcastic.

“No.
 
But do not fail me, Jens.
 
If at any time I need to bring in
someone else, I will not hesitate.”

With
that, the call was disconnected.
 

Foolish
old man, he thought to himself.
 
The wealthy always felt that with money came power.
 
They push people around like pawns on a
chessboard.
 
“I am no pawn,” he
said quietly as he slid the phone back into his pocket.
 

Jens
peered down the road against the glare of the sun and adjusted his sunglass on
his face.
 
An 18-wheeler rumbled
by.
 
“You will see old man.
 
I am no one‘s pawn.”

Chapter
40

Blue
Ridge Mountains

Morris
teetered on the edge of the steep slope amidst the mangled remnant of the
guardrail.
 
A few bits of broken
glass and plastic were strewn about on the dirt shoulder next to the road.
 

Will
was busy talking to one of the accident site investigators, trying to figure
out what exactly happened.
 
It had
taken the rescue crews more than an hour to get down to the bottom of the
ravine where the wreckage of the Mercedes lay.
 
Upon arriving, they discovered the two occupants were, as
they suspected, dead.
 

The
driver’s body was crumpled against the upside down windshield, his neck broken
from the impact.
 
About twenty feet
away was the body of the passenger.
 
His twisted body was riddled with bullet holes.
 

Who
they were, though, was a total mystery.
 
Neither of the two dead men had any kind of identification.
 
And the fact that they both had gunshot
wounds was indeed bizarre.
 
The car
itself had at least a dozen bullet holes riveting the metal and windshield.

Trent
took a step back from the precipice and sauntered back to where his partner was
finishing up with the lead CSI.
 
The short gray-haired man in the traditional navy blue jacket with
yellow lettering walked away, being called over to another marked spot to
examine something.
 

“What
did you find out?”
 
Morris asked.

“This
is nuts.”
 
Will’s voice was half in
disbelief and half excited.
 
They
have found bullet casings all over the road for the last mile or so.
 
One of the bodies in the car down there
has a round in the arm.
 
The other
one has a couple of bullet wounds, one of them to the neck.”
 
He looked down the road contemplating
the scenario.
 
“There must have
been quite a shootout here.”

Morris
took a swig from a bottle of water he was holding.
 
“Any ideas who or what these guys were shooting at?”

“The
cops here don’t have a clue.
 
All
they do know is who lost.”
 
He finished
this last sentence by jerking a thumb towards the torn railing.
 
Then, his voice lowered, “But if you
ask me, I think it was Wyatt.”

So
it would seem.
 
These kinds of
things didn’t just happen out in this part of the country.
 
Even in the worst parts of Atlanta car
to car shootouts were an extreme rarity.
 
The whole scenario brought up more questions than answers.
 
Why would someone other than the police
be chasing Wyatt?

After
a few moments of careful thought, he said, “If Wyatt was here and he was
involved, that means somebody was chasing him.
 
But who?”

Will
only responded with an ignorant shrug.

Trent
scratched the back of his head, trying to understand what was going on.
 
Things had just gotten a lot more
complicated.
 
What if Wyatt was
innocent after all?
 
The dead guys
at the bottom of the canyon wouldn’t be much help.
 
He doubted the weapons that were found near the wreck would
give them any answers either.

Suddenly,
one of the radios on a nearby police officer came alive with a voice from dispatch.

“What’s
going on?”
 
Trent asked the officer
who was about to respond to the call.

The
man did not seem bothered, “Got a call from a ranger station up near Track
Rock.
 
Someone said they heard
gunshots a minute ago.”
 
He spoke
into the radio letting the dispatcher know a unit would be on their way
immediately.
 

Morris
gave Will a quick nod that told the younger detective it was time to
leave.
 

“Mind
if we tag along?”
 
He asked
following the cop toward a set of parked police units.

“Sure.
 
Never a bad thing to have some
backup.”
 
The man opened the door
to his squad car and added, “Shouldn’t take us too long to get there, fifteen,
twenty minutes tops.”

“Lead
the way,” Trent replied.