house after making a bet: If I beat her she had to talk to me about codes and blood. I did win, she got a little ticked off and started playing the song crazy, but she did play it.”
“So?”
“So why did she come back to the river?” she asked again.
Horatio warned, “It’s a little dangerous to try and figure out what Viggie was thinking, Michelle.”
“Why do I think she was trying to tell me something? Why do I think she was trying to get me to come down to the dock?” Michelle stood there looking across the water at Camp Peary. “Something else was really odd. Viggie told me this story out of the blue.”
“What story?”
“That she knew that Alan Turing had killed himself by eating a poisoned apple. She told me how it reminded her of the Snow White story. You know the wicked old queen turns into a hag, takes a boat down the river and tricks Snow White into eating the poisoned apple and Snow White almost died. Like Viggie almost died on the river. She said something like whoever holds the apple is definitely powerful. Why would she tell me that?”
“I don’t know, but how does that help us?” Sean said.
Michelle suddenly exclaimed, “Omigod! Boat? Apple?” She raced to the Formula boat’s stern, leaned over and stared down at the name stenciled on the transom: “The Big Apple,” she read.
“The Big Apple as in New York,” Sean said.
“No, the apple as in Snow White,” Michelle corrected. “Come on, we have to tear this boat apart.”
“Why?” Horatio asked.
“Just help me! Help me.”
An hour later, the three of them sat in the stern seats staring at it. The rolled-up paper had been hidden in the enclosed head of the boat, behind spare rolls of toilet paper in a storage compartment.
Michelle said, “She must’ve come down here that day to hide the document. She probably planned to leave me another clue or maybe just bring the document to me like she did the others if I said the magic words. Only she never got the chance.”
Horatio added, “And the fact that she thought she needed a hiding place suggests she was afraid.”
“Well, her fears turned out to be well founded, didn’t they?” Michelle said bitterly.
“It’s old,” Sean said, as he held the document. “Second World War old. This must be what Henry Fox aka Heinrich Fuchs gave to Monk Turing when he visited him in Germany.”
“It’s a map,” Horatio said, studying it.
“Of Camp Peary or what it used to be when the Navy ran it. I recognize the topography from the map in South Freeman’s office,” Michelle added.
Sean pointed at a line that ran from near the river’s shore into the heart of the facility. “The only thing is there’s no inlet there. The map must be wrong.”
“It’s not wrong if the line isn’t delineating an inlet of water,” Michelle countered.
“A road then.”
She turned the document over. There was written the initials “H.F.”
“Heinrich Fuchs,” Horatio said.
“And there’s writing down here, but it’s in German.”
“Look over there,” Sean said, pointing to fresh writing done in another hand.
Michelle added, “It’s in English. Maybe Monk Turing’s. Look, there are compass points, directions, everything.”
“Right, but to what?”
Michelle flipped the map back over. “To that line, it has to be. Wait a minute. Sean, if you’re right, Fuchs escaped from Camp Peary.”
“Okay.”
“So how did he do it?”
“I don’t know. I guess the best way was to get to the river. If he went by road or even through the fields and forest the scent dogs could follow him. Water nearly always makes a clean escape, but you have to get to it first. And I’m sure they had a lot of guards back then.”
“I’m sure they did, above ground,” she said.
“Above ground?”
“Sean, that line may represent a tunnel, right into Camp Peary. Or in Heinrich Fuchs’ case, a tunnel right out of Camp Peary, and freedom. A tunnel is a pretty popular way of breaking out of prison.”
“But why would Monk go to all that trouble to get a map of a tunnel leading into Camp Peary? He was killed.”
“They didn’t kill him in the tunnel. They must have caught him after he got out of the tunnel. They might not know anything about it.”
“That doesn’t answer why he would risk going in the tunnel in the first place.”
Horatio spoke up. “Maybe Fuchs told him about something there. Something located at Camp Peary. Something, I don’t know, something valuable.”
“This all sounds crazy, Michelle, but the discovery of this map provides us with one very critical thing: a way to get into Camp Peary.”
“So you really do think Viggie’s there?”
“Even if she isn’t, we might be able to find out something important. Important enough to use it as leverage with those people so they’ll release Viggie.”
“But what if I’m wrong and they do know about the tunnel?”
Sean looked at the other two solemnly as he carefully folded up the map. “Then I’m afraid we’re dead.”
CHAPTER
77
THEY DECIDED TO TAKE THE BOAT downriver to pick up the equipment that Sean had ordered for their assault on Camp Peary. After that Sean led them on a detour to see South Freeman. Arch, Virginia, wasn’t on the river, so they had to dock the boat at an old pier and hike about a half-mile inland. Sean used Michelle’s cell phone to call ahead and although it was late they found South seated at his desk smoking a cigarette as usual, his hands flying over the keyboard. “Girl disappears from Babbage Town. It’s all over the place. Hot stuff. And even better it’s Monk Turing’s little girl. Gonna bring out a special edition. Make my whole life and please tell me it’s got something to do with the spooks across that river.”
“It has something to do with a little girl who might be dead,” Michelle said severely. “Do you journalists ever stop and think about that?”
He stopped typing, wheeled around in his chair and scowled at her. “Hey, I got nothing against that child. I pray they find her safe and sound and arrest whoever took her. But news is news.”
Michelle looked away in disgust.
Sean said, “South, was there any talk of something valuable over at Camp Peary? I mean back when the Navy operated it during the Second World War?”
“Valuable? Not that I can recall. Except for the old neighborhoods and the CIA’s facilities, it’s just woods, mostly, and a few ponds. Why?”
Sean looked disappointed. “I was hoping you’d say there was buried treasure there, you know from a ship sinking or something.”
Freeman cracked a smile. “Well, now there is a legend about that, but trust me, it’s a load of bull.”
Horatio said, “Tell us about it, South.”
“Why? You sure as hell can’t get to it if it’s at Camp Peary.”
“Humor us,” Sean said.
Freeman leaned back in his chair and settled down to tell his tale. “Well, this takes us back, way back, into colonial times, in fact.”
“Can you just get to the point?” Michelle snapped impatiently.
He jerked up straight. “Hey, lady, I don’t have to tell you a damn thing!”
Sean held up a calming hand. “Just take your time, South.” He sat down in a chair across from Freeman and glared at Michelle, who reluctantly perched on the edge of the desk and gazed stonily at the journalist.
Freeman looked appeased, sat back and began again. “You remember me telling you about that Lord Dunmore character?”
“The last royal governor of Virginia, yes,” Sean said.
“Well, local legend has it the British sent over tons of gold to help finance the war. They were going to use it to pay for spies, for the German mercenaries fighting for the Brits and also to get the population on their side. And Dunmore was supposed to get the Indians ri
led up against the Americans so they’d have to fight them at the same time they had their hands full with the redcoats. A lot of people don’t realize it but back then most citizens kept flip-flopping on which side they wanted to win. Mostly, it was based on who’d won the last big battle and which army was in their backyard. So the gold Dunmore supposedly had could’ve caused a lot of damage.”
“But Dunmore was in Williamsburg,” Sean pointed out.
“But he got run out by the colonials,” Freeman countered. “And he had to hightail it to his hunting lodge, Porto Bello, the same lodge that’s on the National Register. It’s located pretty much smack in the middle of Camp Peary.” He stood and pointed to a map. “Right about there.” He resumed his seat.
“If the gold ended up in Porto Bello what could’ve happened to it?” Sean asked as he started pacing.
“Who knows? But it didn’t end up there, because it never existed.”
“You’re certain of that?” Sean said from across the room.
“Let’s be realistic here. If that treasure was at Camp Peary somebody would’ve found it, and they would’ve told somebody. You can’t keep something like that quiet.”
“What if no one has found it yet?” Sean replied.
“I doubt Dunmore was smart enough to hide a mountain of gold so well that nobody could find it.”
Michelle said, “Camp Peary is thousands of acres. There are probably some parts of it that to this day neither the Navy nor the CIA has even explored.”
Freeman looked extremely doubtful about that. “Yeah, well even if it is there ain’t nobody gonna be able to get to it now. So unless the spooks find it, it’s not gonna get found. Right?” He looked over at Sean, who was staring at something on the wall. “Am I right?” Freeman said again in a louder voice.
Sean’s gaze was fixed on a piece of paper tacked to the wall.
Michelle looked concerned. “Sean, what is it?”
Sean spun around. “South, this list of places in Virginia that no longer exist, the one you showed us before, is it accurate? You’re sure?”
Freeman rose and walked over to him. “Sure I’m sure. That list came right from the folks in Richmond. It’s the official list.”
“Damn, that’s it!” Sean exclaimed.
“What’s it?” Horatio cried out.
In answer Sean stabbed his finger at one name on the list. “There was a county in Virginia named Dunmore.”
“Yep,” Freeman said gleefully. “Only after they run the rascal out, they put an end to that. Now it’s called Shenandoah County. Real pretty area.”
Sean rushed out, the others following him. It wasn’t the damn musical notes, or the lyrics. It was the name of the song. Shenandoah. That was the key.
Freeman ran to the door and called after them. “What’s so important about Shenandoah County?” He fell silent and then yelled, “Don’t you forget our deal. I want a damn Pulitzer! You hear me!”
CHAPTER
78
THE NEXT NIGHT THE BOAT crept along the river at under five knots, just enough to maintain steerage. Its running lights were on and a solitary figure stood at the wheel. Horatio Barnes zipped up his windbreaker as a wind from an approaching low pressure front chilled the air. A light chop, pushed by the wind, jostled the slow-moving Formula. Horatio had boated around the Chesapeake Bay for decades, so the York, even at night, wasn’t much of a challenge for the man.
As he sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup Horatio knew he had the easy job tonight, just moseying down the river. But human and electronic eyes were, without doubt, watching him and his vessel. But these were public waters and so long as he didn’t stray too close to the opposite shore the CIA was powerless to stop him.
Then Horatio recalled that someone had taken a shot at Sean when the man was on private land. He immediately plopped down in his captain’s chair and hunched forward. No reason to give the bastards too big a target. Then his thoughts turned to the fates of two people he’d grown to care about very much. “Be safe,” he said in the face of the cold, raw wind. Then he looked to the sky. “And if we get caught, God, can You make it a minimum security prison?”
On the shore opposite Camp Peary, Sean and Michelle were in their wet suits and checking their gear.
Sean took a deep breath. “No mistakes, Michelle. One wrong move over there, we’re dead.”
She didn’t answer him.
He glanced at her. “Michelle, you ready?”
Every time in her life that Michelle had heard that question the answer had been an immediate “Yes!” Now, she hesitated. The images suddenly flowing through her head were powerful ones. And they all pointed to potential disaster, to her freezing at some crucial time or suffering an overwhelming suicidal impulse that would result in her death. But far more terrifying was the mental picture of Sean King lying dead because of something she had done or failed to do.
“Michelle?” He touched her on the arm and she jumped. “Hey, are you okay?”
She couldn’t meet his eye as she began to shake.
“Michelle, what is it?”
“Sean,” she gasped. “I… I can’t do it.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “I am so sorry, but I just can’t go with you. I know you must think I’m the biggest coward in the world. But it’s not that. It’s not. It’s just…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Stop that,” he said firmly. “Stop that. You’re the bravest person I know. And it’s my fault. Because I never had the right to allow you to do this in the first place. Never!”
She grabbed his shoulder. “Sean, you can’t go, not by yourself. You can’t. They’ll… they’ll kill you.”
Sean sat back on his haunches and fiddled with his mask, not meeting her gaze.
“I have to go, Michelle. For a lot of reasons.”
“But it’s too dangerous.”
“So are most things in life worth dying for.” He glanced across the river. “Something bad is going on over there. And I need to find out what it is. And I need to stop it.”
“Sean, please,” she said, holding tight to him.
He slipped on his mask and readied his other gear. “If I’m not back by morning, get ahold of Hayes and tell him what happened.” He gently removed her hands. “It’ll be okay, Michelle. I’ll see you in a while.”
He slid into the river and was gone. Michelle sat there on the red-clay shore staring at the ripples of water until the surface grew calm. She had never felt more alone. And she had never felt more ashamed. Michelle slowly lay back on the wet earth, stared at the overcast sky and felt the tears trickle down her face.
In the clouds Michelle saw things, terrifying things from years ago. They took the shape of creatures dredged up from nightmares she’d had for years and could never understand or hope to explain. In those shapes she saw a little girl, scared beyond belief, reaching out to someone for help, but getting nothing in return. She had been a loner all her life, mostly because she could not bring herself to trust anyone, not completely. And yet there had been one person who had earned her respect, her absolute trust above all others. Who had proved to Michelle that he would never let her down, who had literally sacrificed everything he had to help her. And she had just allowed that man to slip into the waters of the York alone. To go off on what amounted to a suicide mission. Alone.
She could not let that happen. Screw whatever was going on inside her head. Sean was not going to face this without her. If they went down, they’d go down together.
The images in the clouds suddenly dissipated, returning to a grayish white of harmless puff. Michelle grabbed her gear and slipped into the water.
CHAPTER