The Secret of the Stones (6 page)

Chapter
10  

Atlanta,
Georgia

Sean
had driven around the outskirts of the city for a few hours, uncertain of what
to do.
 
He’d chanced a stop in a drive-thru
burger joint to get a little food for Allyson and himself.
 
Being out of sorts wasn’t something he
was accustomed to.  

Interrupting
his thoughts, the cell phone ring tone sang from his left front
pocket.
 
Two attacks within
forty-five minutes had caused both he and his passenger more than just mere
concern.
 
When the phone rang, it
was just one more in a growing line of surprises.

Fishing
the device out of his pocket, he looked at the number.
 
It was an Atlanta area code, but the
number was unfamiliar.
 
Normally,
he tried to avoid answering calls from unknown numbers, but after what had just
transpired, he decided to give it a try.

“Wyatt
here.”
 
His answer was simple and
direct.

“Sean
Wyatt?”
  
The voice on the
other end sought confirmation.

“Yeah.
 
Who his this?”

“Mr.
Wyatt, this is Detective Trent Morris from Atlanta PD. We’d like you to come in
to answer a few questions.”

This
wasn’t good.
 
“Questions about
what?”

“Mr.
Wyatt,” the cop on the line began again, “we have reason to believe that you
were involved in a double homicide this afternoon in Buckhead.”
 
The man paused.
 
“Of course, if you don’t come
voluntarily, we can always bring you in.”

“Sorry
detective.
 
No can do.
 
The two guys from the coffee shop shot
at us first.”

“Seems
like you handled the situation more than adequately.”
 
Morris changed gears.
 
“Look, we just need to find out more about what happened.
 
Odds are, a man like yourself with your
resources won’t even be held for more than thirty minutes.
 
Do you have any idea who those men were
that you killed?”

“No.”

There
was a pause on the line, then, “What do you know about Tommy Schultz’s
disappearance?”

A
look of immediate concern crossed Sean’s face.
 
“What are you talking about?”

“About
twenty-four hours ago, your friend Schultz went missing.
 
We were hoping you could enlighten
us.
 
Normally,” he added, “someone
who is missing for such a short time would not have raised any alarm.
 
However, Schultz was due to give a
press conference yesterday concerning one of his new finds.
 
He never showed.”

Tommy
had told Sean about the discovery and that he was going to announce it at the
Georgia Historical Center during a special press conference.
 

Now
this cop was telling him that his friend was missing?
 

“I
assume you went to Tommy’s house,” Sean posed.

“Of
course, we have people still there as we speak.
 
There was no evidence of forced entry.
 
And there was no sign of a
confrontation.
 
So, whoever took
Schultz either knew him, or was invited in.
 
Both of those signs point to you, Mr. Wyatt.”

Sean
realized that the good policeman was trying to keep him on the line so that
they could trace his location.
 
He
figured they had about thirty more seconds before pinpointing him.
 
“I was unaware of Tommy
disappearing.
 
But I can assure
you, I will find him.”
 
Then he
went back to the incidents from earlier.
 

“The
two dead guys from the parking lot came out of nowhere.
 
I have no idea why they attacked us or
what they wanted.
 
They just
started shooting.
 
About twenty
minutes later, I knocked out another one at my house, though, I doubt he is
still there.”

“At
your house?”

“Yeah,
don’t think I killed him, though.”
 
Sean hurried, “Look Trent, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to go.”

“Sean,
wait!”
 
Morris was desperate.
 
“What do you know about the Borringer
murder?”

Wyatt
pressed the end button.
 
Borringer
murder?
 
Had he heard
correctly?
 
Sean had been out of
town for a few weeks and hadn’t heard anything about it.
 
He’d worked with Frank Borringer a few
times on a couple of projects.
 
The
man was a foremost expert on ancient dead languages.
 
The professor was one of only a few people in the world who
could interpret Sumerian and ancient Hebrew text and was an asset to the
university in Kennesaw.

Now
he was dead?

The
rush of new information was unsettling.
 
His best friend is kidnapped.
 
Frank was apparently dead.
 
And now there were two separate attempts on his own life.
 

He
had no idea what was going on, but he intended to find out.
 
Turning the car down a side street, he
changed directions.

Sean’s
look of concern transmitted to Allyson.
 

“What
is it?”
 
She asked curiously, still
unsettled from the most recent incident.

“That
was someone from the Atlanta Police Department.
 
They want us…me to come in to answer some questions about
the two guys I shot today.”

“Good.
 
Maybe they can help us.”

“I
don’t think so.
 
Pretty sure I’m a
suspect, not a victim.”

“But
it was self-defense.
 
I was
there.
 
I can be a witness for
you.”
 
She had a pleading look on
her face.
 

Sean
felt bad that she was all of the sudden pulled into this, whatever it was.
 
Odds were, she’d been implicated as
well.

“The
cop said that Tommy Schultz has disappeared and a professor that we have worked
with a few times has turned up murdered.
 
They think that I had something to do with it.
 
At least, that’s what they are saying.”

“Your
friend from IAA?  What can we do?”
 
Her green eyes looked innocent.

“We
have to find Tommy,” he replied plainly.

“How
are we going to do that?”

“Whatever
it was that Tommy was working on, he must have been using Dr. Borringer for
some part of it.
 
That’s the only
connection I can make.”

“Do
you know what he was doing?”

“Only
that it was part of his ongoing search for an ancient Native American treasure
called the Golden Chambers.
 
He
told me about it a few times, but I never really took much interest.
 
Seemed like another El Dorado story to
me.”

“So,
where are we going?”
 
The shock of
the day’s events seemed to melt away into a firm resolve.
 

This
girl was tougher than she looked.

“Dr.
Borringer’s house.
 
If Tommy had
been working with Frank on something, maybe his wife will know about it.”

The
gray sedan veered onto another street and crossed the interstate toward west
Atlanta.

Chapter
11

Georgia
Mountains

Tommy
struggled to free himself from the wooden chair, bound by tightly wound
twine.
 
He was in a study, which
overlooked what seemed to be a fairly substantial estate.
 
A large yard area surrounding the
building ended abruptly into a thick, rolling forest.
 
The room where he was constrained must have been at least
four stories up.
 
If it was a home,
it was certainly large by any standard.
 

Twisting
his head around, he took a better inventory of the room around him.
 
The dark walnut floor led to an open,
arched doorway.
 
It was difficult
to see beyond the corner, but he assumed it led into a hall.
 
On either side of him were shelves of
books that went all the way up to where the ceiling angled into a kind of
conical shaped glass sunroof.
 
To
access the highly shelved books, a library ladder was in place.
 
A large square window sat before him,
framed by cream colored drapes.
 
The window loomed enormously, allowing for an amazing view of the
property and beyond.
 

Scooting
the chair of bondage around, he found himself behind a large desk that matched
the dark, rich cocoa of the floor.
 
Whoever he was, this villain certainly had good taste.
 
On top of desk a computer LCD
widescreen displayed a screensaver of pictures from some random European
towns.
 
Directly next to him, a
much more comfortable looking high-backed, leather desk chair mocked his less
than desirable seating arrangement.
 
Two smaller guest chairs sat opposite on the other side of the desk,
giving the appearance that the study was more of an office in some ways.
 

Wrenching
his body around again to get a better perspective of where he was, Tommy inched
closer toward the window.

“I
trust you like the view, Thomas.”
 
The foreign accent came unexpectedly from the direction of the
open doorway.

“I
would like it a lot more if I wasn’t tied down to this uncomfortable chair.”
Even in a dire situation, Tommy hadn’t lost his sense of humor.
 
“I would have much preferred you tie me
up to that bad boy right there,” he continued, motioning with his head to the much
more comfortable leather option.

“My
apologies,” the blonde bowed slightly.
 
“It is a regrettable scenario, having to hold you captive like
this.
 
Unfortunately, it is
necessary.”

“And
why is that?”

“You
have spent the better part of the last decade looking for something.
 
Though, several times you have found
clues, nothing has pointed so directly to the answers you seek as what you
discovered a few weeks ago.”

“I
have no idea what you are talking about,” Tommy figured the guy knew about the
stone disc.
 
He was glad it was not
in his possession.

Blondie
had been standing politely, hands folded behind his back, wearing a very Euro
trendy suit. His vibrant tie looked like it was about three decades behind the
current fashion, which, oddly enough, must have made it the current fashion.
 

“There
is no need to play coy with me,” he began.
 
“We are aware of the stone disc.
 
I also know that you were in contact with Dr. Borringer at
the University in Kennesaw.
 
You
sent him something you could not decipher.”
 

So
far, this guy seemed to be right on the money.
 
“Frank and I are colleagues.
 
I use him as a point of reference all the time with my
work.
 
But I’m not sure what stone
disc you are talking about.”
 
He
lied.

“Still
in denial.”
 
The stranger shook his
head, making a clicking sound with his mouth, and took a few steps toward the
desk.
 
Leaning over and placing
both hands palms down on the top, he stared directly into Tommy’s eyes.
 
“Thomas, it would be better for you if
you would just tell us where the stone is.
 
As soon as we have it, I will let you go.
 
We will also need the translations
Dr. Borringer gave you.”

Tommy
sincerely had no clue if Frank had even started working on those documents,
much less finished translating them.
 
He started to relay that information, then decided to keep that to
himself, “It would be better for you if you wouldn’t wear such brightly colored
ties.”
 

The blonde
captor was thrown off slightly by the comment, glancing down at the
fabric.
 
Then, standing he resumed
his icy façade.
 
“You think you are
funny?”

“I’m
better in a bar.”

“Well,
Thomas, I wonder if you think this is funny.”
 
Reaching over to the corner of the desk, he grabbed a remote
control and switched on a 20 inch flat panel LCD TV that was mounted to the
wall at a corner of the cone-shaped ceiling.

The
screen flicked onto a feed from a closed circuit security camera.
 
Tommy’s heart nearly stopped.
 
They were looking at an image of Sean’s
parents’ home.
 
“You son of a …”

“Now,
now,” the blonde said before he could finish, “The Wyatts will be fine.
 
All you need to do is help me find what
I want.”

Tommy
struggled against the ropes.
 
Unfortunately, whoever did the tying must have been one heck of a boy
scout.
 
He could barely move.
 
“You better not touch them.”

“Oh,
we won’t touch them, Thomas.
 
They
will simply be victims of an unfortunate accident.
 
Many innocent people have died over the centuries during
times of conflict.
 
Millions have
given up their lives during religious wars.
 
Our mission is a new crusade.
 
It has been blessed by God.”
 
He cocked his head as if talking to an elementary school
child.
 
“If sacrifices are
necessary, who are we to deny them?”
 

The
tone in which he was speaking told of a great religious conviction inside the
shell of a madman.
 
That was a very
dangerous thing, and the smile on his face was even more disturbing.
 

“I’ve
heard this speech before,” Tommy spat out.
 
“The world has seen dozens of lunatics like you.
 
Usually, they end up taking the easy
way out when justice catches up with them.”

The
young blonde man paused in mid stride.
 
A sinister smile crept across his face.
 
“You would compare me to the Hitlers and Napoleons of
history?”
 
Leaning close, his voice
lowered to a near whisper.
 
“If
those men possessed what it is we seek, the world may well have been a
different place.”
 
He stood
straight again before continuing.
 
“All the more proof that they were not meant to have it.”

“The
Wyatts are good people and have nothing to do with this,” Tommy said, thinking
a change of subject might help the situation.

“Nothing
to do with what, Thomas?”

Catching
himself, Tommy realized he may have just hooked himself without knowing.
 
Or maybe, he just bought himself and
the Wyatts some time.
 

“Fine,”
he said with hesitation.
 
“I’ll do
whatever you want.
 
Just leave them
out of this.”
 
Desperation was in
his voice.

“What
happens to them is determined by our success.”
 
He stepped closer, around the desk, and leaned in so that
Tommy could smell the pungent and probably overpriced cologne the man was
wearing.
 
A cruel grin crossed his
face.
 
“Now, tell me everything.”

“What
do I call you?”

Standing
erect, as if considering what harm could come from his prisoner knowing his
name, he then responded, “I have had many names, but you may call me Jens
Ulrich.”