Another potential client? she thought, then quickly changed her mind. Not the way her week was going. People looking to spend just shy of a million dollars didn’t just drop in off the street. It’s probably just some tourist who got lost and needed directions.
She took a step toward the vehicle and then stopped as she saw the doors open and three men stepped out. She couldn’t see them clearly, as the headlights created a glare, but that was solved a moment later as they moved toward where she was standing at the base of the wide veranda.
“Ms. Daley?” the lead man asked.
His accent was French, much like that of Mr. Boucher. As he came closer she could see that he was dressed similarly, too, in a sharply cut European suit. He was shorter than Mr. Boucher, and cut a less imposing figure, but there was the same assured confidence and expectation that others would do as they were asked.
He had money, that much was clear, and Catherine began to think her day might be looking up, after all.
She took a few steps closer to the newcomers, the professional salesperson’s smile already plastered across her face.
“Yes, I’m Catherine Daley. How can I help you? Have you come to see the plantation?”
Blaine Michaels smiled. “Indeed, I have, Ms. Daley. I’m particularly interested in the wine cellar.”
Catherine frowned as the first inklings that all might not be well began to filter into her consciousness. The man’s smile seemed off somehow, as if there was another expression lurking beneath it, one with decidedly less invitation. In fact, Catherine was starting to feel like a crippled deer in front of a hungry wolf and she wasn’t sure what to do.
She caught a motion out of the corner of her eye and turned to find one of the other men standing close on her left. She started, taking a step away from him, only to bump into his companion, who had come out of the shadows on her right, effectively hemming her in between them.
Alarms began to sound in the depths of her mind and she spun, intent on locking herself in one of the back bedrooms and calling the sheriff on her cell phone, but her efforts were too little and far too late.
Almost languidly, the big man on her left reached out, sank his fingers into her carefully coiffed hair and yanked backward, pulling her off her feet.
He let go as her feet flew out from under her and the back of her head hit the wooden surface of the veranda with a loud thunk. Dazed, she could only struggle feebly as the man who’d grabbed her by the hair took some kind of restraint out of his pocket and quickly secured her hands and feet.
That was it. Just like that she was in their control and Catherine Daley trembled in fear as she considered what these three men would do to her.
For the second time that evening, she simply didn’t understand the dynamics of the situation in which she found herself. The three men who’d come to see her had far more on their minds than that which she feared.
As she stared up at them in horror, the leader of the group leaned in so that his face was only inches from hers.
“My name is Blaine Michaels, Ms. Daley, and if you want to get out of this alive, I suggest you answer all of my questions as truthfully as possible. Do you understand?”
Unable to find her voice due to the fear coursing through her body like a flood, she could only nod.
Michaels smiled again and this time there was no mistaking the malevolence beneath that expression. “Good. Now tell me everything you know about the key without a lock.”
Unable to answer his question due to the fact that she didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about, Catherine Daley finally understood the true depths of the trouble she was in.
22
Excited by their early success but exhausted from the long day’s travel, Garin and Annja decided to make the short drive back into the town of Washington to find a place to get some dinner and a hotel to stay for the night.
Soon thereafter they were seated in a booth at Jenny’s Barbecue Palace with racks of ribs in front of them, discussing what to do next.
“So what’s the next stanza of the riddle?” Garin asked.
Annja recited it from memory. “‘There you’ll find the Lady, left alone and in distress. You must secure her when you’re able, and take Ewell’s Rifle from her crest.’”
“Which means what?”
Annja wasn’t sure. She shared her thoughts aloud as she worked through it. “Captain Parker was fairly circumspect with the first clue, sort of talking around what he wanted to say, so I’d guess he did the same thing here. Which means the lady in question isn’t really a lady, but something you might refer to in the feminine form.”
“Like a boat,” Garin said. “Since we’re talking about the meeting place of two rivers, a boat’s the obvious answer, I’d think.”
Annja agreed. “And since the word ladywas capitalized, I’d guess that’s the name of the boat, or at least part of it. Lady something or other, maybe.”
“Right,” Garin replied, taking another bite of barbecued ribs in the process. He carefully chewed, swallowed and then said, “Left alone and in distress might indicate that it was abandoned, damaged in some way.”
It seemed like they were on the right track to Annja. “So we’re looking for a boat named Ladyor with the word ladyin the name that either ran aground or was damaged near the junction of the two rivers back in 1864.”
“Right,” Garin said, with more than a hint of sarcasm. “You make it sound so easy, Annja.”
“Nothing wrong with being confident.”
“Okay, so what about the rest? Who’s this Ewell character and why is his rifle so special?”
That one Annja could answer easily enough. “Confederate Major General Richard Ewell. Took over command of Second Corps after the death of Stonewall Jackson. Perhaps most famously known for failing to take the heights at Gettysburg, which contributed significantly to the Confederate defeat there.”
As for the rifle, Annja didn’t know. “Perhaps the clue has been carved into the stock or hidden in the rifle barrel. We won’t really know until we find it, now will we?”
They finished their meals and then made their way down the street to a family-owned hotel the owner of the restaurant had suggested. It turned out to be a decent, serviceable place and they got two rooms for the night, agreeing to meet for breakfast in the morning to continue their search.
That night, Annja used the hotel’s internet connection to try and find any information on a Confederate-era boat or naval vessel that might have gone aground during the Civil War. She was able to log into the Atlanta public library and search through old issues of the Columbus Enquirer, The Augusta Chronicleand even The Atlanta Constitution,though that didn’t begin publication until Georgia rejoined the Union in 1868. Unfortunately, none of them contained anything that was helpful to her search.
General searches through various publications and websites produced quite a few Confederate vessels that had run aground or been forced to do so in order to keep from sinking, including the CSS Atlantaand the CSS Chattahoochee,but none that were anywhere near the site of the two rivers.
Knowing she had to get some sleep if she was going to be at all useful in the morning, Annja decided to leave a question on her favorite newsgroups, hoping some Civil War buff out there in cyberspace might have the information she needed. She logged onto alt.archaeology and alt.archaeology.esoterica and left the same message on each.
I’m searching for information on a Confederate-era vessel that might have run aground near the junction of the Broad and Savannah rivers between 1863 and 1865. The ship’s name might include the word Ladyin some fashion. Any information would be helpful.