“May be?” Nigel said. “It is the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m in. What, exactly, do you need from me?”
“To start with,” Sam said, “the translation of what Lazlo sent.”
“If you have some paper, I have the original email on my mobile. There were a few words I couldn’t get, but several of them I knew right off.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started scrolling through his messages while Remi looked through her purse for paper. He glanced up suddenly. “One question. I’m not the only expert in Old English. Definitely not the foremost. And given my history with Madge, what made you pick me?”
Remi handed him pen and paper. “Luck of the draw, mostly. You happened to be in the area.”
It didn’t take him long. The passage that Lazlo had sent was short. “Something to keep in mind,” Nigel said, “is that there’s plenty of room for error. We seem to be working with a mix of Old English and Middle English. Spelling varied over the centuries, as did the meanings of words and the order in which they were written. What I’m trying to say is, hand this to someone else, they may come up with something different.” He slid the paper across the table toward Sam. “These are the words. The first three are pretty simple. Anyone with an Internet connection could’ve looked them up and translated them.”
Sam read the list. The first three words translated to hole or well, castle, rock or hill. “No idea about these?” Sam asked, not able to make anything out of them himself. Wul hol and wul eshea od . . .
“That’s the part I had difficulty with. Sorry. No idea.”
Remi studied the list for a moment. “So we have a few of the words. Now what?”
“Context,” Nigel said, “is everything. It might help to know where they originated, and when they were written, especially regarding any word that might have a dual meaning. Like that last one which could be rock or hill.”
Remi returned the list to Sam, who said, “They were found on an old map that we believe dates from 1696. But the original wording was probably transcribed from something written around the time of King John’s death.”
Nigel’s brows went up. “You’re saying this list is a key to the missing treasure? That it’s here in King’s Lynn?”
“That, I don’t know. It’s taken from a coded message that’s not completely deciphered.”
Nigel held out his hand. “May I have another look?”
Sam handed the list to him.
He studied it as the waitress brought their drinks. When she left, he said, “When it comes right down to it, any one of these words could be describing a hiding place. The problem arises in narrowing down a location—assuming they’ve been properly translated.”
“Anything around here fit?” Remi asked.
“Yes. But there’s nothing around here that hasn’t been searched a million times by others looking for the same thing.”
“Maybe so,” Sam said. “But they’re not us. So what’s your take on locations?”
“Hole or well could be a description of King John’s Hole. That’s about halfway between here and Long Sutton. And, if true, buried beneath about thirty feet of silt. Except—”
“Except what?” Sam asked when Nigel didn’t continue.
“Except why have these other indicators with it? Castle and hill, for instance? Maybe a well in a castle? Or a castle hill? There are plenty of those about.”
“Anything dating from that era in the general vicinity?”
“Castle Rising.”
“Looks like we have a bit of exploring to do in the morning.”
Remi raised her glass in a toast. “Here’s to good hunting.”
Forty-one
The following morning, Sam and Remi decided against Castle Acre, which didn’t seem to have any connection to King John or the treasure, and settled on Castle Rising. It was the closest out of the three sites Nigel had suggested and had a connection to Queen Isabella. She’d lived there—or was banished there—after her son, Edward III, deposed Isabella and her lover, Roger Mortimer, who had taken control of the throne after Edward’s father abdicated. There was even a rumor of a hidden tunnel that Isabella used during her banishment to get in and out of the castle unseen. That, Sam and Remi decided, was definitely worth looking into.
When they called Lazlo and Selma to discuss the possible options, Lazlo felt it was premature to visit anywhere since he hadn’t finished with the deciphering of the passage from the map. “I’m working at a disadvantage—what, with the poor photo quality and the worn symbols on the cipher wheel.”
“We can’t wait forever,” Sam said.
“And,” Remi added, “we need to stay ahead of Charles Avery.”
“Forget them,” Lazlo said. “Do you know how many castle ruins there are in Great Britain? You’ll be old and gray by the time you finish searching each one.”
“Remi’s right,” Sam said. “Avery and Fisk stole Nigel’s notebook with the Old English translations, which means they’re looking at the same things we are.”
“This area,” Remi said, “was where the treasure was last seen. And it does mention something about a castle, so why not there? Maybe we’ll find that key piece of information that points us in the right direction.”
“I suppose it can’t hurt to look,” Lazlo replied. “I’ll keep working and let you know if anything changes.”
He put Selma back on the line, and Sam turned off the speaker, then gave the phone to Remi, who wanted to ask about Bree. When she finished the call, she seemed happy.
“Good news?” Sam asked.
“I think so. No further issues, and Bree seems to be doing well. Selma thinks Bree should stay with them until this is over.”
“Probably a good idea. I wouldn’t put it past Avery to try to use her and her cousin again.”
A knock at their hotel door alerted them to Nigel’s arrival. Although they’d been reluctant to include him after last night’s robbery, he’d insisted on helping and declared he was well aware of the danger.
Sam drove while Nigel gave directions. Remi was content to ride in the back, taking in the countryside, as they left King’s Lynn and drove through the woods. The fog from last night, though thinner, still hung in the air, and Sam turned on the wipers, clearing the windshield.
Nearly a dozen other cars were in the car park when Sam pulled in. He stopped as a few children darted out from between the cars, too eager to wait for their parents before exploring Castle Rising. He pulled into the first space and grabbed his backpack from the trunk.
“Impressive,” Remi said as they walked across the lot toward the castle grounds. The mist-filled sky shimmered with silver light as the sun broke through, highlighting the harsh edges of the castle ruins that towered over them. She took out her cell phone and took a photo. “Makes me wish I’d brought a real camera.”
The three stood there for a moment, admiring the stone structure, before walking in to start their self-guided tour. Castle Rising was built in the twelfth century, according to the literature. Set on over twelve acres, the stone keep looked like a medieval fortress but had originally been built as an extravagant hunting lodge.
Unfortunately, after spending the next hour walking around, searching every corner, Sam realized that Lazlo was right—at least about this castle. They were wasting their time. “Anywhere else we should be looking?” he asked Nigel as they walked down the stone stairs to the castle grounds.
“The only other place, off the top of my head, is King John’s Hole. And that’s not an easy place to search.”
“Why not?” Sam asked. “We’ve got time to kill.”
“Besides the centuries of silt covering it? No one knows quite where it is. Only a general idea. And, trust me, many have looked.”
Nigel, however, wasn’t willing to give up on Castle Rising, and when he spotted a fellow tour guide that he knew, he
decided to ask about the secret tunnel that Queen Isabella might have used. “He was in our Historical Society . . . Maybe he knows something we don’t. Be right back.”
Sam and Remi waited for him near the walkway to the car park, not expecting that Nigel would gain any information they didn’t already know. As far as Sam could tell, there was nothing here that indicated the ruins were hiding anything more than an old keep.
“That was a bust,” Sam said.
He glanced out to the car park, surprised at the number of cars and school buses that now filled it. A blue BMW cruised through the lot, searching for a parking space, catching Sam’s attention when a black, boxy head of a massive dog popped up in the backseat. As the vehicle turned into the next row, then pulled into a space, Sam recognized the driver—the white butterfly bandage on his forehead further proof. Right where Ivan was bleeding from the night at the museum. “That’s Ivan driving.”
“You’re sure?” Remi asked.
He pulled Remi back, hoping they hadn’t been noticed. “Positive. Jak’s riding shotgun. And that dog that we thought was about to attack us last night? I’ll lay odds it’s in the backseat.”
“So much for the legend of Black Shuck,” Remi said as Jak hooked a leash to the collar of a dog that if any dog looked like it belonged to the Devil, this one fit the bill.
“I don’t see Fisk.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than another vehicle, a black Mercedes coming from the opposite direction, stopped behind Ivan’s car. Fisk was at the wheel. The passenger door opened, and a blond woman wearing a white parka got out, walking over to Ivan’s car as Fisk pulled away. Interesting that Fisk and his crew ended up at this location. Especially considering that he and Remi were dismissing the castle as a possible lead. “What’s here that we don’t know about?” Sam asked.
“Maybe that rumored tunnel Queen Isabella used is real.”
“We better find Nigel.”
Remi started to follow him, then stopped, taking a photo of Ivan, Jak, and the woman. “Maybe Selma can find out who she is.” As they hurried back toward the tour guide’s post, Remi tried to send the photo. “No signal.”
“Where is he?” Sam asked, looking around.
Remi looked up from her phone. “He was talking to his friend right there.”
But both Nigel and his friend were gone.
Sam took the binoculars from his backpack, searching the grounds. “I don’t see him,” he said, sweeping his binoculars up the stairs of the castle wall. “This many people and cars, they could be anywhere.”
“Maybe we should go up. Get a better view.”
“Worth a try,” Sam said. They weaved their way through a group of schoolkids coming down the stairs as they went up. On the next level, Sam looked down and saw Ivan talking to someone who looked like a guide, but no sign of Nigel or his friend. “Wish I could read lips. It’d be nice to know what they’re talking about.”
Remi moved beside Sam. “They’ve got to be here for a reason. What are we missing?”
“Considering this place made our short list of possible locations, it certainly could’ve made theirs.”
Sam watched a minute longer. Whatever the conversation was, Ivan was in a hurry to leave. He turned and walked quickly in the other direction. “He found out something.”
“There’s Nigel!” Remi said, pointing down below.
He peered through the binoculars, his relief at finding Nigel short-lived when he realized that Jak and the blond woman were heading straight toward him.
Forty-two
Alexandra Avery looked up to see the tour guide they’d robbed the night before standing just a few yards in front of them. He, at least, didn’t appear to see them. “How on earth did he get here?”
Jak handed the dog’s leash to Alexandra, then drew his gun. “I’ll take care of him.”
She reached up and pushed his arm down. “Put that away,” she said. “At the very least, keep it out of sight. This place is crawling with tourists, never mind we’re in Great Britain. They don’t do guns here.”
“You realize who that is?” Jak asked.
“Of course I do. What you should be asking yourself is why he’s here.” She glanced over at Ivan, glad to see that he’d not overreacted. Instead, his hand was in his pocket, undoubtedly gripping his handgun. “What’d you find out?”
“No tunnels here,” Ivan said.
She turned her attention back to the tour guide. Nigel something or other. Ridgewell. That was it. She smiled at him as she approached. “Mr. Ridgewell. What a surprise.”
He stopped in front of her, looking anything but pleased. “You were on my tour last night.”
“And found it fascinating. I take it you work here as well?”
“Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“My notebook.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You, or maybe one of these two,” he said, nodding at Jak and Ivan, “stole it.”
“I assure you, I had nothing to do with it.”
“You were asking questions about Old English on my tour. And now here. Why?”
“Sightseeing.” She didn’t like the way he was grilling her. People were starting to stare. A large group of tourists were heading straight toward them. The place was becoming entirely too crowded. “You, of all people, should know that.”
“Were you following me?”
Ivan stepped forward, shoved his pocketed gun in Nigel’s side. “I’ve had enough of your questions.”
Great. So much for believing he was the cooler head, Alexandra thought.
She began to wonder if Fisk didn’t have his own designs on the treasure. And wouldn’t that be ironic? Of course, if that was the case, she was going to have to watch her step.
At this point, it didn’t matter. What did was making sure someone didn’t call the police. With these two, and their happy trigger fingers, that would be disastrous. She placed her hand on Ivan’s arm. “Let’s keep it low-key. Maybe take it somewhere else where we don’t have the entire countryside acting as witnesses.”
He nodded, then leaned in close to Nigel. “My suggestion? If you walk very slowly to the car park, I promise not to pull the trigger.”
Ten seconds later, they were jostled by a dozen tourists, trying to squeeze past them. One woman, bundled up like an eskimo, ran straight into Nigel, mumbling an apology as she hurried past. If they weren’t careful, they’d lose him in the next group that was headed their way, and so Alexandra handed Jak the dog’s leash, then moved to Nigel’s other side, linking her arm through his. “Best to cooperate. These two are loose cannons, and I can’t guarantee your safety.”
The man swallowed, his face turning pale, as he suddenly realized the danger he’d stumbled into. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go.”
“Actually,” she said, “we were coming to see you next. But since you’ve saved us the trouble, this works out fine.” She smiled at him, hoping to get him to relax, at least until they were at the car. “I promise you won’t be hurt if you come along quietly. We need a few more translations that have come up.”
Forty-three
The moment Remi and Sam had seen the blond woman confront Nigel, and then Jak draw a gun on him, they had very little time to put a plan into action.
Remi, armed with a Sig P938, tucked her hair beneath the hood of her jacket, put on her oversized sunglasses, then took Sam’s cell phone and hurried down the stairs after them, passed them, and then doubled back until she reached the walkway to the car park. Ivan, Jak, the woman, and Nigel were just a few yards in front of her when she caught up with them.
The four were walking toward her, keeping tight, Ivan on one side of Nigel, the blond woman on the other side. Jak and the dog brought up the rear. Suddenly, the dog pulled to one side and started growling at
her. Remi gripped the handgun, ready to draw it from her pocket, when she heard the woman order, “Get that dog under control. That thing’s a nuisance. We don’t have time for this.”
Remi heard the snap of the chain on the dog’s collar as Jak yanked the leash, forcing the dog to heel. As they continued on toward the car park, she hung back, waiting until there was enough distance before she followed. She stood behind a tour bus, peering around it to where the blue BMW was parked. They were looking around to see if anyone was watching before forcing Nigel into the trunk of their car. Ivan closed the trunk lid, and they piled into the car with the dog, then took off down the same road they’d driven in on.
Remi hurried toward the street, looking for Sam. A moment later, he pulled up. “Which way?” he asked.
She pointed as she got in. “They just turned left. Nigel’s in the trunk.”
“And?”
“Worked like a charm.”
Sam took off in the same direction. “See if we have a cell signal yet.”
She picked up her phone. “Faint,” she said, scrolling through the apps until she found the Find My iPhone icon. She opened it. At first, it showed Sam’s phone as off-line, and she worried that somehow they’d discovered the phone in Nigel’s pocket, then turned it off. But about a mile from the castle, it popped up on her screen. “Got it.”
“I have to admit, Remi, your pickpocket skills are a little scary. You sure you weren’t some mastermind criminal in a previous life?”
She laughed. “Dropping a phone in someone’s pocket is a lot easier than stealing one.”
“What about that woman’s badge in the museum?”
“It was hanging from a clip on her jacket. Hardly master skills.” She eyed the screen on her phone. “They’re heading northeast.”
“Guess we settle in for the ride and see where they’re taking him. Keep an eye out for Fisk in case he shows up again.”