Seizure(52)

“I know who this is!” I said.

“Not a chance,” Ben scoffed.

“See how this foot angles medially at the ankle? There’s inversion at the subtalar joint, adduction at the talonavicular joint, and ankle joint equinus.”

Blank stares.

“Maybe try English?” Hi suggested.

“Clubfoot! A common, correctable birth defect. But this person never had treatment or surgery.” I tossed the boot to Hi. “Notice the sole. It was custom made to reduce pressure on the ankle.”

“Okay, clubfoot,” Shelton said. “But how does that tell you who this guy is?”

“Because I know of a missing clubfooted man who obsessed over Anne Bonny. This must be Jonathan Brincefield.”

“Who?” Three voices.

“Remember the old man from our ghost tour?” I told them about my chat with Rodney Brincefield at the yacht club. “He said his brother Jonathan disappeared while searching for Bonny’s treasure. That was sometime in the forties.”

“So this stiff is Brincefield’s brother?” Hi asked. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

“Not to mention that geezer being on our tour in the first place,” Shelton said.

“Maybe he followed me.” I didn’t really think so.

“Unreal.” Hi leaned against the wall. “You attract weirdos like—”

Click.

Ben yanked Hi sideways as spikes snapped from the walls, slamming into the sides of Jonathan Brincefield’s rib cage.

Hi panted like a greyhound. Once again, only Ben’s reflexes had saved him.

“Please stop doing that!” Ben barked.

“Please keep doing that!” Hi warbled.

Smashed segments of the cadaver’s upper body littered the tunnel. The legs and pelvis remained intact, now fastened in place by two pairs of pincers.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said. “We’re running out of time.”

“You guys hear that?” Shelton’s voice was hushed.

Everyone went rigid. I closed my eyes and listened, hypersonic ears on max. Heard nothing.

Shelton broke the silence. “Thought I heard shifting, or crunching. Like movement.”

“The trap probably dislodged some dirt,” Ben said. “It must be centuries old.”

“Could be.” Shelton glanced back the way we’d come.

“Keep moving,” I repeated, picking up the lantern. “We’ve got to be close.”

“Stay alert,” Ben said. “I don’t want some douche finding our bodies sixty years from now.”

I seconded that.

More careful than ever, we picked our way forward.





SOMETHING ECHOED IN the distance.

A gurgle. Soft swishing. My ears identified percolating liquid.

“Water,” I whispered. “Not far ahead.”

Just then, the ceiling rose sharply, disappeared into inky black.

Holding the lantern before me, I led the group into a small cave. Tiny waterfalls trickled the walls. Moonlight oozed down from above. A mound of boulders and stones spilled across the floor, evidence of a long-ago rockfall.

The passage we’d been following exited through an opening at the chamber’s far end. I could see the tunnel veer sharply before continuing out of sight.

“See that?” Hi pointed skyward.

Even my enhanced vision couldn’t penetrate the murk.

“There’s a fissure!” Hi was excited. “Maybe forty feet up. That’s how the light is coming through!”

“We could climb up!” Shelton crowed. “It’s a way out!”

True. The rockfall was steep, but nothing we couldn’t handle.

“The tunnel keeps going,” I pointed out. “This isn’t the end.”

Hi rubbed his face.

Ben and Shelton just stared.

“We’ve nearly been killed,” Shelton said. “Twice.”

“But we escaped.”

“You think the way will be easier ahead?” Hi said. “As we get closer to the prize?”

Ben strode forward to examine the stones. “Move aside in case anything tumbles.”

Vaulting onto the pile, Ben clambered from boulder to boulder, moving higher with every step. In seconds he was swallowed by shadows.

Silence. Hi and Shelton avoided my eye. If Ben found a way out, I doubted they’d continue.

“There’s a metal screen covering the opening,” Ben called down.

A lot of banging and clanging followed.

“It’s bolted in place. I think this fissure opens into a sewer.”

“Ha!” Shelton elbowed Hi. “There are sewers under East Bay.”

Hi ignored him. “How big is the gap? Could we fit?”

“Probably, but it’s locked. We’d need the bolt cutters, but I left them back in the dungeon.”

“Shoot!” Shelton began pacing. “Can you see anything else?”

“The chamber overlying this one is still below ground level,” Ben answered, “but I can see something through what looks like a sewer grate.”

“What?” Hi asked.

“Yellow monkey bars.”

“Monkey bars?” Shelton stopped in his tracks. “You sure?”