Chapter 18 #2
The porch is small, barely large enough for both of us to stand comfortably. The cold air bites at my exposed skin after the warmth of the cabin.
“Mia just called,” I say without preamble, keeping my voice low. “They found something in the east field—something big. They think it might be the main cache, but they need the cipher key we just found.”
Caleb’s expression turns serious. “We need to get back.”
“But what about Richard?” I glance toward the cabin door. “Do we tell him? Bring him with us? I don’t know if we can trust him yet.”
Caleb considers this for a moment, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. “His story checks out so far. The documents look authentic. And if NTM is involved, we could use all the help we can get.”
“But he slashed our tires,” I remind him. “That’s not exactly trustworthy behavior.”
“True.” He rubs his jaw, thinking. “But if he’s right about NTM having people in these woods, he might have done us a favor by forcing us off the trail.”
I bite my lip, weighing our options. “I think we should tell him. If he’s genuine, his knowledge could help us. If he’s not...” I trail off.
“If he’s not, better to keep him close where we can watch him,” Caleb finishes.
I nod. “Exactly.”
“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll tell him. But we stay vigilant, and Scout stays between him and us at all times.”
We return to the cabin, where Richard is carefully returning documents to the portfolio. He looks up expectantly as we enter.
“We just got a call,” I tell him. “Our friends found something at Jake’s place—possibly the main cache you mentioned.”
Richard’s eyes widen. “The heart of darkness? Already?”
“We don’t know yet,” Caleb says. “But they need the cipher key we found today to make sense of the markings.”
Richard immediately begins gathering his things. “I’ll drive you back,” he offers. “My truck is about half a mile from here.”
“You’re coming with us?” I ask, not attempting to hide my lingering suspicion.
He meets my gaze steadily. “If they’ve found what I think they have, you’ll need my help to understand its significance. Besides,” he adds with a grim smile, “I’ve been searching for this my entire adult life. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away now.”
We set out minutes later, Richard leading the way down a different path than the one we had taken to reach the cabin. Scout stays close to my side, occasionally looking back at Richard’s cabin, but no longer growling—a promising sign.
“How did you know where to find us today?” Caleb asks as we walk.
“I’ve been watching the property since Danny’s arrest,” Richard admits. “When I saw you heading to the stone sentinel this morning, I knew you must have found something in Wolf’s journal.”
“So you followed us,” I say, unable to keep the accusation from my voice.
“Yes,” he acknowledges without apology. “But I wasn’t the only one.”
This stops me in my tracks. “Who else?”
“NTM security,” Richard says grimly. “They’ve had people watching Jake’s property for weeks. That’s why I slashed your tires—to get you off the trail and somewhere secure. They were closing in.”
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the winter air. “How do you know they were NTM?”
“Same two men I’ve seen at their regional office,” Richard explains. “Ex-military types. They don’t bother hiding their association with the company around town.”
We reach Richard’s truck—an aging Ford pickup parked on a narrow service road. As promised, it’s only about half a mile from the cabin, hidden by a cluster of young pines.
The drive back to Jake’s is tense, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I keep checking the side mirror, half-expecting to see another vehicle following us, but the road remains empty. Scout sits on the floor at my feet, occasionally resting his head on my leg as if sensing my unease.
As we pull up to Jake’s house, I spot the others gathered near the barn—Jake, Kane, Kori, Mia, Connor, and Ella, all huddled around something on the ground. Nora stands nearby, bouncing with excitement.
“They’ve uncovered something,” Richard murmurs, his voice tight with anticipation.
We park and hurry over. Kane looks up as we approach, his expression a mixture of excitement and concern.
“About time,” he says. “Who’s this?”
“Richard Green,” Caleb answers. “Margret’s foreman. He has information about what we’re dealing with.”
Kane’s eyes narrow slightly, but he nods. “Well, Richard, you’ve arrived just in time for the big reveal. We found this about an hour ago.”
He steps aside, revealing a rectangular metal plate embedded in the ground. It’s been partially uncovered, exposing what appears to be a door—a trapdoor leading underground.
“A root cellar?” I ask, bending down for a closer look.
“Not according to the property plans,” Jake says, crouching beside me. “There’s no record of any structure here.”
The exposed portion of the metal is etched with the same symbols we’ve seen in Wolf’s journal. I reach for my bag and withdraw the cipher key we found earlier.
“This should help us translate,” I say, opening the small book.
Richard leans over my shoulder, his breath visible in the cold air. “May I?”
I hesitate, then hand him the book. He studies it with reverent care, then begins tracing the symbols on the trapdoor with his finger.
“‘Beneath lies truth,’” he translates slowly. “‘Enter at peril of knowledge. What is seen cannot be unseen.’”
A hush falls over our group as we absorb these ominous words.
“Dramatic fellow, wasn’t he?” Connor remarks, breaking the tension.
“There’s more,” Richard continues. “‘Three turns right to family, two left to honor, five right to truth.’”
“A combination,” Kane says immediately. “For a lock inside, maybe?”
Jake runs his hands along the edge of the metal plate. “There’s a handle here, under the dirt. Help me clear it.”
Together, we brush away the frozen soil until a large iron ring is revealed. Jake grips it and pulls, muscles straining. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a groan of protesting metal, the trapdoor lifts.
Stale, cold air wafts up from the darkness below. A narrow set of stairs descends into the earth, disappearing into shadows.
“Who wants to go first?” Jake asks, looking around at our group.
A shiver runs through me as I look at the dark opening. The stairs disappear into shadows, promising answers but also unknown dangers. Scout whines softly beside me, pressing against my leg as if sensing my unease.
“I’ll go,” Caleb says, stepping forward. His voice is calm, but I notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand hovers near his waistband where his gun sits.
“Not alone,” I add quickly. Our eyes meet, and something passes between us—trust, maybe, or something deeper I’m not ready to name. “I’m coming too.”
Richard moves forward as well. “I should be there. I’ve been memorising everything about this my whole life.”
Jake looks hesitant, glancing between the three of us and the dark opening. “We should all go. Safety in numbers.”
“Someone should stay with Nora,” Ella points out, placing a protective hand on the girl’s shoulder despite her immediate protests.
“I can go too! I found it first!” Nora insists, but Jake shakes his head firmly.
“Not this time, kiddo,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“I’ll stay with her,” Ella volunteers, though I can see the disappointment in her eyes.
Kane produces several flashlights from his pack and distributes them among us. “Everyone, stay close,” he instructs. “We don’t know what’s down there or how stable it is after all these years.”
Caleb takes the lead, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness as he carefully descends the first few steps. I follow directly behind him, with Scout pressing close to my side. Richard comes next, then Jake, Kane, Kori, Mia, and Connor, bringing up the rear.
The stairs creak ominously beneath our weight, but they hold surprisingly well.
The air grows colder as we descend, carrying a musty smell of earth.
After about fifteen steps, we reach the bottom, our flashlight beams revealing a small chamber carved from the earth, its walls reinforced with timber beams that have somehow withstood the test of time.
“Look at this,” Caleb murmurs, his light playing over the far wall.
A large metal door dominates the space, its surface covered in the same symbols as the trapdoor above. In the center sits an elaborate combination lock, clearly custom-made for this purpose.
“‘Three turns right to family, two left to honor, five right to truth,’” Richard repeats, stepping closer to examine the lock. “We need dates from Wolf’s life that correspond to these.”
I pull out the cipher book again and flip through its pages. “Here—family might refer to his wife’s birthday. March 18, 1872.”
“So three right to 318,” Kane says, watching as Richard carefully turns the dial.
“Now two left to honor,” I continue, scanning my notes. “Honor could be... the day he received recognition from the miners’ guild? December 10, 1869.”
“Two left to 1210,” Richard murmurs, adjusting the dial.
“And five right to truth,” I say, frowning. “That’s less clear.”
“May 17, 1878,” Richard supplies immediately. When we all turn to look at him, he explains, “The day the mine collapsed. The day the company’s crimes became clear to him. The day of truth.”
He completes the combination—five turns right to 517—and we all hold our breath. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, with a heavy click, the lock disengages.
“It worked,” Kori whispers in awe.
Jake and Kane step forward to help Richard pull the heavy door open. It moves slowly, its hinges protesting after decades of disuse. As it swings wide, our flashlights illuminate what lies beyond, and I gasp involuntarily.
The chamber beyond is larger than I expected, perhaps fifteen feet square.
Metal shelving lines the walls, laden with wooden crates, leather portfolios, and what appear to be photographic plates in protective cases.
In the center stands a large table, its surface covered by a faded map weighted down with small gold nuggets at each corner.
“My God,” Jake breathes, stepping inside. “It’s all still here.”
Richard moves directly to the table, his hands trembling as he examines the map. “This is it,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “The complete survey of the mineral deposits, and—” he carefully lifts one edge of the map, revealing documents beneath, “—the evidence.”
I approach one of the shelves, shining my light on a leather portfolio like the one Richard showed us in his cabin.
Opening it carefully, I find newspaper clippings, handwritten affidavits, and photographs documenting what appear to be mining accidents—or rather, incidents made to look like accidents.
“These are death certificates,” I say, examining another folder. “Dozens of them, all miners who died between 1875 and 1880.”
“And these,” Caleb says from another shelf, “appear to be financial records showing bribes to judges, even the provincial mining inspector.”
“Thomas Wolf was building a case,” Richard murmurs, carefully examining each document on the table. “He was gathering evidence to expose the company, to bring them to justice for the deaths they caused.”
“But he never got the chance,” I realize aloud.
Richard nods grimly. “He died in 1881—officially of pneumonia, but family legend says he was poisoned after he threatened to go public.”
Kane has been examining the structural integrity of the chamber, shining his light along the ceiling and support beams. “This place is remarkably well-preserved,” he comments. “Wolf knew what he was doing when he built it.”
“We need to document everything,” Connor says, already taking photographs with his phone. “And then get it all out of here safely.”
“And then what?” Jake asks, looking around at all of us. “This is evidence of crimes committed over a century ago. Does it even matter anymore?”
“It matters,” Richard insists, his voice suddenly fierce. “NTM is built on the bones of those miners. The same family still controls the company, the Hawthornes. They’ve just hidden behind name changes.”
The name strikes a chord in my memory. “Hawthornes? As in Mayor William Hawthorne of Pinecrest?”
Richard nods. “His great-grandfather founded the original company. The family has used their wealth and power to bury their past for generations.”
“A sitting mayor,” Kane muses, his expression grim. “That complicates things.”
“It makes it more important,” I argue. “If what Richard says is true, then NTM is still operating with the same disregard for human life and the law. They killed Margret’s brother.”
“We need to be careful about how we proceed,” Caleb cautions, moving to stand beside me. “Companies with this much power don’t play fair when threatened.”
A sudden noise from above makes us all freeze—the sound of footsteps on the trapdoor stairs. Scout’s ears perk up, but he doesn’t growl, which means it’s likely someone he knows.
“Hello?” Ella’s voice calls down. “Everything okay down there?”
“We’re fine,” Jake calls back, relief evident in his voice. “Just making an incredible discovery. Is Nora okay?”
“She’s with me,” Ella replies, her voice growing closer as she descends the stairs. “But we have company up top. Margret just arrived, and she’s asking for Richard.”
Richard’s face pales visibly in the flashlight beam. “She followed me.”
“Richard?” Margret’s voice now, from the top of the stairs. “Are you down there? We need to talk.”
He looks panicked, glancing around as if seeking an escape route that doesn’t exist. “She doesn’t know about any of this,” he whispers urgently. “About my connection to Wolf, about what I’ve been doing.”
“Maybe it’s time she did,” I suggest gently. “She deserves to know the truth about her brother’s death, at least.”
Before Richard can respond, Margret appears at the doorway to the room, Ella right behind her, with Nora peering curiously around her legs. Margret’s eyes widen as she takes in the chamber and its contents.
“What is all this?” she asks, her gaze fixing on Richard. “And why have you been lying to me, all these years, Richard?”