Crown of Serpents (23 page)

“Sure.”

He looked at her. “No, seriously Rae I am financially secure. It’s not my motivation. My passion is to reveal history. Ashland said it was a far-fetched idea and ordered me to
leave it alone
. Said he didn’t want to ruffle Nero’s feathers. Now I know why. He wants the treasure for himself. That’s his MO.”

“Yeah, but you went ahead anyway against your own boss’s orders and conducted the research, not knowing at that time that he had motivations for it. Why?”

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity when a historian comes across something like this. It’s a hunt for treasure. Plus, I don’t like being told no. I wanted to one up both Ashland and Nero at the same time. I felt that whole assessment was shit the way it was pulled out from underneath us. That’s why.”

“Your ego got bruised, didn’t it?” asked Rae, noticing the Exit 4 sign pass them by. “Boys in a sandbox and you got sand in your eye.”

“No. A Glock 9 mil is more like it.”

Rae glanced at him. “I knew this would get interesting. By who?”

“Your pal and mine — Nero.”

“Why’d he pull a piece on you?”

“Because he found out I had digital camera records of all of the journal pages. I was the only one besides him that had seen the entries. He had his thugs track me down right inside Fort Niagara. Blocked my vehicle in, threatened to ruin MHI, threatened to dump me in the river with a concrete block around my neck, and then at gunpoint he erased all of the images from my camera under the pretense of copyright infringement!”

“So Nero is after the treasure too then, is what you’re saying?”

“You could say that—”

Rae shifted in her seat. “Dansville exit’s coming up. Let’s shift gears and focus on apprehending your boss first.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Late evening. Hogan’s Inn, Dansville, N.Y.

“When I take him into custody, we’re going to need digital pictures of him and the rifle,” explained Rae as she made a left off the exit ramp and headed north on Route 36. “Then once he’s held, I can e-mail the pics to the Luzerne County Sheriff and they can contact the librarian for a positive ID confirmation on Ashland and the evidence.”

“You act fast,” remarked Jake. “Do you need to contact the local cops about this before you move in?”

Rae shook her head. “No, I’m not going to. It’s a courtesy if we do but not required. We have jurisdiction over the entire state. This is pretty much open and shut anyway. I don’t want to bother them.”

The motel was up on her left adjacent to a Citgo service station. She slowly drove her unmarked car past the entrance to size the place up. It was a simple two-story commercial motel structure with rooms on both sides of the building. Exterior concrete stairs led up to outside balconies running the length of the second story. Dimly lit parking lots lined both sides. Several SUVs and sedans sat in the rear lot with a corner exit allowing access to the main road.

Rae proceeded to the front lot where Ashland’s Mini-Cooper sat. There were only two other cars present — a Honda Civic and a Nissan Maxima parked outside the office. She pulled in the main entrance and parked next to the Civic, leaving her car idling.

“Stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll get his room number from the night manager.”

Jake nodded and watched her walk inside. She flashed her badge to the middle-aged man at the counter. He nodded and turned to his computer monitor, wrote on a piece of paper, handed it to Rae, then motioned upward. She nodded her thanks and walked back to the car.

Getting back in she said, “Looks like he’s on the second floor. Room 21. Faces this parking lot. Been in there for a few hours best the manager can tell. I’m going to swing past his vehicle, verify the plates, then park over there in the dark.” She pointed to a spot near the Citgo station’s back wall.

Jake nodded.

Sure enough, the ABB2004 bumper sticker was confirmed on Ashland’s car. She parked in a non lit area and told Jake to stay put in her vehicle, then exited and popped her trunk. She took off her coat, placed it in the trunk and reached in for her bulletproof vest. Taking just seconds to strap it on, she also scoped out room 21, finding it two doors down from the top of the stairs. She noticed the lights were on and there were shadows moving behind the drawn drapes. She grabbed her coat and threw it on over her vest to conceal it.

Jake appeared at her side just as she finished securing the body armor. Still dressed in uniform, he had pulled on his dress coat and placed his black beret on his head.

“I told you to stay in the vehicle,” Rae whispered.

“I insist on being there. I want to see his face when I show up,” said Jake.

“No.”

“Why the vest?” he asked.

“He’s got a rifle doesn’t he? It’s a precaution.”

“Well then, you’ll need back up. You be the good cop. I’ll put him in his place if he gets out of hand. Come on Rae.” He winked at her.

“Alright. But I do all the talking. This isn’t a game. Let’s go.” Momentarily distracted, she shut the trunk harder than she anticipated. Staring up at the room as she led Jake across the lot, she noticed a shadow appear behind the drapes. She whispered to Jake that she had movement in the window. She unsnapped her holster but didn’t draw the weapon. She then led the way up the stairs gingerly taking one step at a time, completely calm. Jake shadowed her, following her cue.

Upon reaching the top step, the door to Ashland’s room flew open. A hulk of a man jumped out. He had a wide Indian face and demented rolling eyes. He faced them both and waved a tuft of hair dripping with some kind of liquid.

Rae and Jake froze.

The wide-faced man then smiled, revealing two gold front teeth. Rae drew her weapon, a black Glock .45 caliber pistol. The Indian was quicker. He raised his other hand and aimed a long barreled pistol at Rae’s chest.

He fired point-blank.

A flash and dull crack came from the man’s silenced weapon. Rae took the round in her chest. With a yelp she fell back into Jake, almost knocking him down the stairs. Another blast of air and another round impacted into her, causing her to drop her weapon on the top step.

Jake caught her, grabbed onto the railing, regained his balance, and broke her fall as she slumped unconscious into his arms. With one arm cradling her he looked up at the shooter who had already turned to run down the balcony. A long braided black ponytail with a feather attached to the end swayed from side to side as he sprinted away. On his knees Jake reached for Rae’s Glock, leveled it and was just about to pull the trigger when the shooter rounded the corner and disappeared.

“Shit!” He moved to give chase then hesitated and looked down at Rae. Her head was tossed back, mouth wide open. Jake bent down close.

Her breathing had stopped. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

A check of her pulse. It was good.

He bent over, pinched her nose, and covered her mouth with his. Blowing five quick breaths into her lungs he initiated rescue breathing. “Rae! Rae! Come on. Wake up.” He slapped her cheek gently. No response. He wouldn’t lose her. He inspected her head. No visible entry holes in the head or neck region. He looked down to her vest. Embedded near the top were two flattened bullet fragments. Good sign. He heard a vehicle start up in the rear parking lot behind the building. It screeched away.

Another pulse check on Rae, still good. But her lungs weren’t working. Jake repeated the breathing again, watching her chest rise, filling with air.

Rae flinched. Her lips parted. Her eyes opened and met Jake’s. She caught her breath, inhaling. A deep, pain-filled groan followed.

Jake smiled warmly and whispered, “That’s it. That’s it. You’re okay.”

With Jake’s help, Rae sat up against the railing. She moaned and reached for her chest. “Where is he?”

“Escaped. Just drove away.”

She tried rising while fumbling in her vest for something. “Dammit! Portable radio. Forgot it.” She then reached for her sidearm but saw it was in Jake’s hand. “I’m going in the room,” she groaned. “Give me my piece.”

“You need help first. You’ve been shot!”

She winced and rose to her feet. “My piece, now!”

Jake gave up her weapon. She took it and staggered to the open door, arms outstretched with her gun firmly in her grip. The light was still on. She entered the room and gasped, then cursed something a sailor would be proud of. Jake moved in behind her and stood at her side.

The body of a man lay face down near a desk, the head surrounded by a dark stain of blood that had absorbed into the tan carpet.

The entire crown of his head was a bloody mess, his hair missing. A bright red cut line encircled his skull from the top of the forehead to the back of his neck. He had been scalped clean.

Jake blinked. Time seemed frozen. He pictured himself back in Afghanistan in the basement of the prison. He had issued a war whoop when he had finished his deed. He blinked again and snapped himself back to the motel room.

Rae swept the rest of the room, hitting the bathroom, closet, and even under the bed. She announced an
all clear
, holstered her weapon, and bent down to check the man’s pulse on his neck.

No beat.

Jake squatted at her side and pointed to the neat hole in the back of the man’s skull.

Rae nodded then pulled the shoulder of the body up revealing the victim’s face.

“It’s Ashland,” whispered Jake, blinking several times.

Rae rested the head face down again and inspecting the length of the man’s body, finding an item grasped in his hand. “Car keys,” she stated, closing her eyes. She then stood up and leaned against the wall in pain. She grunted and rubbed her chest.

Jake was instantly at her side. He took her hand. “You’re one tough cop but we need to radio for help.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she grimaced. “Thank you Jake, but not just yet.”

“But you might have internal wounds.”

“No, I’m okay,” she said, pulling her hand back from his. “Feels like someone hit me with a sledgehammer, but I can make it.” She gave a weak smile, then frowned. “Did you see the shooter? Definitely male. Indian. Big guy. Dark hair. Gold front teeth. Silenced pistol. Wasn’t carrying any old rifle as far as I could tell. There’s no rifle anywhere in here.”

“I didn’t see one either,” agreed Jake. “That guy was definitely Indian. When he took off I noticed a braided ponytail with a feather. Bet you it was one of Nero’s men.”

“Probably,” said Rae, pulling out a pair of latex evidence-handling gloves from her back pocket. She slipped them on and pried back Ashland’s fingers, grabbing the car keys out of his hand. “I’m going back down to get my radio to call this in. And I’m going to search his car for that rifle. You stay up here.” She pulled out an extra set of gloves. “Put these on but don’t touch a damn thing. I mean it.”

“Let me come with you. You need help down those stairs.”

“No, stay here. I need you to secure the scene for me. I’ll be right back.” She went to the door. “Don’t touch this door knob either.” She walked out, leaving the door open just a crack.

Jake stared at Ashland in disgust. “Glad I wasn’t a passenger on your bus ride to excellence you deceptive son-of-a-bitch.” He then turned away.

A New York State Atlas & Gazetteer on the desk caught his eye. Several pieces of paper attached to a paper clip stuck out from one of the inside pages. A blue pen sat on top of the large booklet. A roll of clear tape and some loose paper clips lay off to one side.

Jake looked back at the crack in the door, quickly walked over, peered outside and saw Rae leaning inside her vehicle with her car radio transmitter up to her mouth. He turned around and put on the pair of latex gloves she had given him, then hustled back over to the atlas. He opened to the page with the paper-clipped sheets of paper and saw a laser print out of a Ferguson rifle from the Smithsonian Institution — Ashland’s apparent research into McTavish’s weapon.

He then flipped to the second sheet underneath.

He was not at all surprised to see Boyd’s September 12th journal image printed out as a letter sized laser print — obviously from the same e-mail image he had sent Ashland. His lips pressed together. Then he raised his eyebrows. The bottom right ripped corner — where half of the Freemason’s cipher code was written — he noticed a small torn piece of aged parchment paper taped in its place. It contained the second half of the lettering in a perfect fit. The buried loot directions were complete! Ashland had found the fragment of the missing paper somewhere in the rifle. This is it. The bastard did it.

Jake flipped to a third sheet of paper and found an MHI letterhead containing the Freemason’s cipher code key legend written in black ink. And written under the key in blue ink was the entire deciphered message of where the buried treasure was hidden. The difference in ink color and his institution’s letterhead suggested Ashland conducted his research back at the office. The finished message in blue ink, he assumed, was probably done here in his room with the blue pen.

Jake read the deciphered directions and shook his head in astonishment. Sensing he had better hurry up his inspection before Rae came back, he flipped to a fourth and final sheet.

It was another laser duplication, this one of a hand-drawn map showing the area from the south end of Conesus Lake on the right side, to the Genesee River on the left. The title at the top read,
Map Showing the Route of Sullivan’s Army and Groveland Ambuscade. September 13th, 1779 With Places of Encampment and Position of Indian Towns in the Vicinity From – Actual Survey By Genl., John S. Clark. Auburn N.Y.
1879.

Ashland had found an old map re-creation of the day Boyd was ambushed. Circled in blue ink at the south end of Conesus Lake was the Indian village labeled Kanaghsaw. Jake knew this was in reference to the buried loot directions.

There were no more documents. The atlas page that had been bookmarked, page 57, stared back at him. It depicted Livingston County and the area around Conesus Lake. Route 390 stretched from Rochester at the top of the page to Dansville at the bottom. To the east of 390 was Conesus Lake. Ashland had also circled the south end in blue ink. He had found all the clues and was moving in to retrieve the treasure keg.