The Secret of the Stones by Ernest Dempsey (reading fiction .TXT) 📕

“He must have.” Sean forced a grin. “That rascal shows up here this morning and unravels a mystery that has been unsolvable for hundreds of years.” He shook his head, “No, they wouldn’t have been leaving if Tommy hadn’t put it all together. How he did it, though, is a whole other matter.”

She had joined him, and the two of them were walking in the direction of the caged boulders when his eyes caught sight of something lying near the curb next to the concrete parking barrier. The spot was where the Hummer had been parked during the shootout. Curious, he stepped over to take a look.

“What is it?” she asked, following him closely.

“Looks like a camera bag.” He reached down and picked up the small black case, confirming his suspicions. “Yep. It had likely been dropped during all the chaos.” Flipping the case over, Sean examined it more closely then opened the zipper and removed the digital device. “Tommy must have taken pictures of the stones.”

“Why would he do that?”

Joe had finished up with the tire and was loading up the meager tools in the large metal box in the front of the truck bed. “You guys find something?” he yelled across the lot.

“Yeah,” Sean answered his buddy’s question first.

He returned to her question, “I’m not sure why they would need pictures.” His mind was racing, wondering what his friend was up to.

Cautiously, he pressed the power button on the camera and turned the selector so they could view the pictures. Sean’s eyes scanned the images. All of them were of the four rocks from different views and positions. None of it made any sense. Every one of the scenes appeared to be nothing more than random shapes and lines.

Joe had caught up to them and was curiously looking over their shoulders at the pictures on the little LCD screen.

“Doesn’t make much sense to me,” he commented. “I’ve been to this place several times and can’t make heads or tails of it.”

Sean nodded, looking at the last photo. “Whatever it all means, Tommy figured it out, and he must have done it quickly.”

Several minutes passed while the three stood there, bewildered. The morning sun peeked over the mountain treetops to the east, bathing their little group in beams of soothing warmth. A crow cawed loudly from a nearby branch while other birds carried on their conversations under the cover of the colorful leaves.

The three flipped back through the pictures again, trying to understand what it could have been that Schultz had noticed that would have given him something, anything, that pointed the way.

Allyson snapped out of her trance by saying, “I wonder if he used a computer.”

“You mean, like, a laptop?” Sean tried to follow her train of thought.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe the problem all along has been that everyone who has tried to figure out what the glyphs mean has just been looking at them as they are. If he had a laptop, Tommy could have transferred the pictures onto it and shuffled them around all on one screen.” He pondered the idea. “Mac, where could we find a computer?”

“There’s a town about twenty minutes from here. I’m sure the library has a computer we could use.”

“Let’s do it,” Sean said, turning to head back to the truck.

Upon arriving back at the hobbled vehicle, he opened the front door for her. “Good thinking, Agent Webster,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks.” Her eyes were playful.

“I think you’re beginning to get the hang of this,” he quipped and closed the door after her.

As Sean climbed into the backseat, Joe turned the ignition. “I just hope we can put this together as quickly as Tommy did.”

39

Blue Ridge Mountains

Ulrich had stopped at a gas station near a small mountain town that seemed to have been forgotten by time. Having to fill up was something too frequent with the giant SUVs his employer had provided. They could go anywhere in the world as long as anywhere was within close range of a fuel pump.

The guards took turns relieving themselves in the outdoor restroom while the other watched the prisoner. Ulrich was careful to make sure the convenience store manager didn’t take much notice of the peculiar situation.

The man behind the counter inside was an older fellow with a six-day-old scruff of gray on his face. Even if the geezer tried anything, it wouldn’t do much good. Still, better to be careful than stupid. They’d been caught completely off guard by Sean Wyatt earlier. And apparently, he’d brought help. That could not be allowed to happen again.

He glanced around again, still paranoid after the gunfight on the mountain. There was no way that Sean Wyatt knew which direction they were headed at the moment. But if Wyatt had been able to find them before, it was possible the man could do it again.

Jens Ulrich hadn’t checked in with the old man for a while now. With normal clients, something like that would not be a problem, but the old man was known to be intolerably impatient. A great deal of money and resources had been invested in this operation, and results were expected more quickly than was reasonable.

Now was as good a time as any, he thought, and pulled the phone out of his pants pocket to make the call. It only rang twice before the voice of the older man on the other end answered with a curt, “What is our status?”

Ulrich imagined the mysterious man sitting in his giant leather chair at his oversized desk, staring at the phone, waiting for the call.

“We are making progress, sir. Schultz is far cleverer than we anticipated.” His answer was as direct as the question. “Our