Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Goldie
The basement stretched beneath the entire clubhouse, dimly lit by fluorescent lights that hummed overhead. Support columns marched through the middle of the room every twelve feet, and concrete walls enclosed everything on four sides.
Wheels leaned against the old workbench with a mug of coffee balanced in one hand, and he watched me instead of trying to help.
I liked that.
I spread the largest blueprint across the workbench, and Wheels stepped over and set his coffee well away from the paper.
“Need anything?”
I shook my head. “Just your handsome face standing over there.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “I can do that.”
“I know.”
He walked back to his spot without another word.
I smiled to myself and appreciated that the man understood that silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was useful.
Today I was going to figure out this damn blueprint and why it all was right, but it really wasn’t.
I measured the longest wall. Forty-eight feet. Compared it to the drawing. Forty-eight feet. Correct.
The next wall. Thirty-two feet. Correct again.
I frowned.
“Still nothing?” Wheels asked.
“Everything’s... right.”
“That’s bad?”
“It shouldn’t be.”
He laughed softly. “I’ve never heard somebody complain because measurements make sense.”
“They shouldn’t.” I tapped the paper with my pencil. “If there really is a hidden access point...” I looked around the room. “...the measurements should be lying.”
“They’re not.”
“Exactly.”
I walked slowly around the perimeter, and every few feet I stopped. Studied. Measured. Compared.
Nothing.
The support columns caught my attention next. There were eight of them. Square and painted years ago. The white paint had yellowed with age until it almost matched the concrete.
I walked to the first one and tapped it lightly with my knuckle.
Solid.
The second. Same sound.
Third. Fourth. Fifth. Every one echoed exactly the same.
I stopped beside the sixth and tapped. Thunk.
I blinked. That was different. I hit it again. Thunk.
Not hollow, just different.
“Wheels.”
He straightened immediately. “What?”
“Come here.”
He crossed the room in a few long strides. “What’d you find?”
“I don’t know yet.” I tapped another column.
Clack.
Then the sixth.
Thunk.
He looked at me. “I don’t hear it.”
I smiled. “You will.”
I walked him back and forth twice. “Listen.”
Tap. Clack.
Tap. Thunk.
He frowned. “...That one does sound different.”
“Right?”
I crouched beside the base of the column.
Years of dust covered the floor, except around this one.
The concrete looked different. Not newer, just smoother.
Like someone had patched around it decades ago.
I brushed away more dust with my palm, and a faint line appeared, almost impossible to see. I leaned closer. “No...”
“What?”
I pulled the tape measure free and measured from the wall. Measured again and then grabbed the blueprint. My heart started beating faster. “Wheels...”
He knelt beside me. “What?”
“This column...” I pointed. “...isn’t where it should be.”
He stared. “What do you mean?”
“The others are evenly spaced.”
I pointed across the basement. “Twelve feet.” Another. “Twelve.” Another. “Twelve.” I pointed at the odd column. “This one’s eleven feet, seven inches.”
He looked back at the row. “Damn.”
“I don’t think this was part of the original basement.”
He slowly stood. “You think somebody moved a support column?”
I looked back at the patched concrete. “No. I think...” I ran my fingers over the floor. “...they built one.”
Wheels looked around. “You saying this thing’s fake?”
“I’m saying it wasn’t on the original plans.”
He rubbed his beard.
“So why put one here?”
I slowly turned toward the nearest wall, because if this wasn’t structural, then it was hiding something. I walked ten slow steps and studied the concrete. Nothing.
Another five and I stopped. The wall here looked exactly the same. Except... it didn’t.
I crouched again and ran my fingertips across the surface. One section felt smoother. Like newer concrete had been feathered into old.
“So subtle...” I whispered.
“What?”
I stood and knocked once with my knuckles. Solid. Moved two feet and knocked again. Solid.
One more step. Knock and the sound changed. Barely, but enough.
I hit it again. A low, dull echo answered me.
I smiled. “Wheels.”
His eyes met mine.
“I found it.”
For half a second neither of us moved.
Then Wheels turned toward the stairwell. “Hodge!” His voice echoed through the basement.
“What?”
“Get Twister.”
“What’d she find?”
“I think she found the damn tunnel.”
Everything upstairs suddenly came alive. Boots pounded across the floor and voices echoed above.
Less than a minute later Twister came down first, followed by Swift, Hodge, Nugget, Podge, Magnum, Method, Rev, Plug, Cord, Chewy, Sully, and Gramps bringing up the rear with Tempi and Britta on his heels.
Every one of them looked at me.
Twister didn’t waste time. “What’ve you got?”
I pointed at the wall. “This section.”
He walked over. “Looks like concrete.”
“It does,” I agreed.
“It isn’t?”
“It is.” I smiled. “But it’s hiding something.”
He looked toward Wheels. “You believe her?”
Wheels didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
Twister nodded once. “Alright.” He looked around the basement. “Move every damn box.”
The room exploded into motion and boxes scraped across the floor. Shelves shifted. Dust filled the air. Old furniture disappeared to the far side of the basement and, piece by piece, the entire wall emerged.
Then the outline became visible. A rectangle almost seven feet tall and five feet wide. The seams were nearly invisible beneath decades of patched concrete.
Method finally whispered, “Holy...”
Twister stepped forward and brushed his palm over the outline.
“Door.”
I nodded.
“Not just a door.” I pointed toward the floor. “It swings upward.”
Everyone looked.
There, set into the concrete, almost completely hidden beneath old repairs, was the rusted edge of a massive steel hatch. It hadn’t been visible until every last box had been moved away.
Twister crouched and wrapped both hands around the exposed edge. “Help me.”
Wheels stepped beside him, and Magnum joined.
The three men pulled, and then nothing. Not even the slightest movement.
Twister let go first, breathing hard, he looked back at me.
“It’s sealed.”
I nodded slowly. “Not for years.” My fingers traced the rust creeping around the steel. “For decades.”
Nobody said another word. Because after weeks of searching, we hadn’t just proven the tunnel existed, we’d found its front door.
The only problem was whoever had hidden it had made damn sure nobody was getting inside.