Seizure(104)

“Seriously.” Ben sounded uneasy. “Hitting paydirt a third straight time? You’re starting to freak me out.”

“This building was here in Anne Bonny’s time.” I ran my hands over the rough-hewn stone. “Built by an Irish monk. Bonny was Irish herself, and obviously very religious. And limestone was very popular with church architects.”

“I’m officially excited,” Hi announced. “If Saint Limestone here has nothing to do with Bonny’s treasure, it has to be the most painful coincidence of all time.”

“I don’t believe in coincidence,” I said automatically.

“We know.” Jinx.

“I take it we’re going inside?” Shelton said.

“Absolutely.” I stepped to the door. To my surprise, it swung inward easily.

We entered a small antechamber with ornate stone fountains jutting from the walls. Ahead, an archway opened into the nave.

Two rows of pews flanked a central aisle that led to a simple stone altar. The one-room chapel was obviously still maintained. The floor was cleanly swept, and unlit candles filled brass sconces lining the side walls. In the far right-hand corner, another door exited the rear of the building.

“They must leave this place unlocked for private worship,” I guessed. “Good thing the locals are so trusting.”


“Sweet Jesus.” Ben was staring straight ahead, eyes wide. “Holy crap.”

“Don’t blaspheme in church!” Shelton whispered. “JC lives in this piece. Bad mojo.”

“What is it?” I followed Ben’s sightline to the rear of the chapel. Scanned. It practically leaped out at me.

My heart threw an extra beat. Then three more for good measure.

“Mother of God,” Hi breathed.

At first glance, the stones of the rear wall seemed uniform in pattern. Careful scrutiny showed that was not the case. White rocks imbedded in the gray limestone formed a pattern.

Five feet tall and three feet across.

A Gaelic cross.

Hi slapped his side. “Tell me that’s a coincidence.”

“Tory, you have psychic powers.” Shelton looked thunderstruck. “I will never doubt you about anything. Anywhere. Anytime.”

Ben just stared.

“Check the cross!” Shelton was already moving. “There might be something hidden behind it!”

We attacked the wall. Tapping. Prodding. Banging fists. Digging with fingernails. At one point Hi yelled “Open Sesame!”

No good. The stones were impervious to our assault.

I dropped my head in frustration.

That’s when I saw it.

Like the walls, the chapel floor was paved with limestone blocks. An irregularity was carved into one of the flagstones at the foot of the cross.

Kneeling, I leaned in close.

The stone was scored with two small lines, one short and horizontal, the other long and vertical. Together the lines formed a crude cross.

With the top arm curving ever so slightly right.

“Here here here!” I squealed. “Bonny’s personal cross! The treasure is under this flagstone!”

“How do we lift it?” Hi was bouncing like a pogo stick. “Who brought the explosives?”

“Wait here!” Ben bolted out the front door.

Minutes passed. Hours? I picked at the stone’s corner, knowing it was useless but unable to stop. Shelton paced, hands locked behind his back. Hi drummed his chest, while staring at the floor and humming “I Gotta Feeling.”

“Open up!”

Ben was outside the chapel’s rear door.

Hi raced over and slid back the bolt. Ben entered gripping a crowbar.

“On the way here we passed a utility shed. I’ll return it when we’re done.” Crooked smile. “Unless I’m carrying too many bags of jewels.”

“Get to it!” Shelton squeaked.

Ben wedged the crowbar between the flagstones and pried. Once. Twice. Three times. With a groan, the block inched upward, then fell back into place.

“Get it done, Hercules!” Hi pumped both fists. “You da man!”

Ben planted his feet, jammed the crowbar deeper into the newly created gap, and heaved. The stone rose another few inches, dropped.

Jam. Heave. Drop. Jam. Heave. Drop.

Slowly the block yielded. With one final thrust, Ben lifted the stone’s underside above floor level. We grabbed the lower edge and helped flip it. The block tumbled to the floor with a thunk.

“It’s a hidey-hole!” I yelped.

We’d exposed a hidden compartment roughly a yard in diameter.

A dusty object rested in its center.

Yowza.





I LIFTED OUR find from its hiding place.

A wooden box. Hand carved. And showing lots of years.

A true scientist would’ve used caution before handling a newly discovered relic, but I was too excited for proper protocol. Aunt Tempe would have to forgive me.

The box was smaller than the chest—the size of a tiny microwave—though equally sturdy. Its lid was sealed with wax and secured by a simple latch.

“This is it guys,” Hi gushed. “The end of the road! Payday!” Then a frown creased his face. “If not, I’m going postal. Big time. I can’t handle any more rejection.”