David Baldacci - Simple Genius

“But Dunmore was in Williamsburg,” Sean pointed out.

“But he got run out by the colonials,” Freeman countered. “And he had to hightail it to his hunting lodge, Porto Bello, the same lodge that’s on the National Register. It’s located pretty much smack in the middle of Camp Peary.” He stood and pointed to a map. “Right about there.” He resumed his seat.

“If the gold ended up in Porto Bello what could’ve happened to it?” Sean asked as he started pacing.

“Who knows? But it didn’t end up there, because it never existed.”

“You’re certain of that?” Sean said from across the room.

“Let’s be realistic here. If that treasure was at Camp Peary somebody would’ve found it, and they would’ve told somebody. You can’t keep something like that quiet.”

“What if no one has found it yet?” Sean replied.

“I doubt Dunmore was smart enough to hide a mountain of gold so well that nobody could find it.”

Michelle said, “Camp Peary is thousands of acres. There are probably some parts of it that to this day neither the Navy nor the CIA has even explored.”

Freeman looked extremely doubtful about that. “Yeah, well even if it is there ain’t nobody gonna be able to get to it now. So unless the spooks find it, it’s not gonna get found. Right?” He looked over at Sean, who was staring at something on the wall. “Am I right?” Freeman said again in a louder voice.

Sean’s gaze was fixed on a piece of paper tacked to the wall.

Michelle looked concerned. “Sean, what is it?”

Sean spun around. “South, this list of places in Virginia that no longer exist, the one you showed us before, is it accurate? You’re sure?”

Freeman rose and walked over to him. “Sure I’m sure. That list came right from the folks in Richmond. It’s the official list.”

“Damn, that’s it!” Sean exclaimed.

“What’s it?” Horatio cried out.

In answer Sean stabbed his finger at one name on the list. “There was a county in Virginia named Dunmore. ”

“Yep,” Freeman said gleefully. “Only after they run the rascal out, they put an end to that. Now it’s called Shenandoah County. Real pretty area.”

Sean rushed out, the others following him. It wasn’t the damn musical notes, or the lyrics. It was the name of the song. Shenandoah . That was the key.

Freeman ran to the door and called after them. “What’s so important about Shenandoah County?” He fell silent and then yelled, “Don’t you forget our deal. I want a damn Pulitzer! You hear me!”

THE NEXT NIGHT THE BOAT crept along the river at under five knots, just enough to maintain steerage. Its running lights were on and a solitary figure stood at the wheel. Horatio Barnes zipped up his windbreaker as a wind from an approaching low pressure front chilled the air. A light chop, pushed by the wind, jostled the slow-moving Formula. Horatio had boated around the Chesapeake Bay for decades, so the York, even at night, wasn’t much of a challenge for the man.

As he sipped coffee from a Styrofoam cup Horatio knew he had the easy job tonight, just moseying down the river. But Human and electronic eyes were, without doubt, watching him and his vessel. But these were public waters and so long as he didn’t stray too close to the opposite shore the CIA was powerless to stop him.

Then Horatio recalled that someone had taken a shot at Sean when the man was on private land. He immediately plopped down in his captain’s chair and hunched forward. No reason to give the bastards too big a target. Then his thoughts turned to the fates of two people he’d grown to care about very much. “Be safe,” he said in the face of the cold, raw wind. Then he looked to the sky. “And if we get caught, God, can you make it a minimum security prison?”

On the shore opposite Camp Peary, Sean and Michelle were in their wet suits and checking their gear.

Sean took a deep breath. “No mistakes, Michelle. One wrong move over there, we’re dead.”

She didn’t answer him.

He glanced at her. “Michelle, you ready?”

Every time in her life that Michelle had heard that question the answer had been an immediate “Yes!” Now, she hesitated. The images suddenly flowing through her head were powerful ones. And they all pointed to potential disaster, to her freezing at some crucial time or suffering an overwhelming suicidal impulse that would result in her death. But far more terrifying was the mental picture of Sean King lying dead because of something she had done or failed to do.

“Michelle?” he touched her on the arm and she jumped. “Hey, are you okay?”

She couldn’t meet his eye as she began to shake.

“Michelle, what is it?”

“Sean,” she gasped. “I… I can’t do it.” He tightened his grip on her arm. “I am so sorry, but I just can’t go with you. I know you must think I’m the biggest coward in the world. But it’s not that. It’s not. It’s just…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Stop that,” he said, firmly. “Stop that. You’re the bravest person I know. And it’s my fault. Because I never had the right to allow you to do this in the first place. Never!”

She grabbed his shoulder. “Sean, you can’t go, not by yourself. You can’t. They’ll… they’ll kill you.”

Sean sat back on his haunches and fiddled with his mask, not meeting her gaze.

“I have to go, Michelle. For a lot of reasons.”

“But it’s too dangerous.”

“So are most things in life worth dying for.” He glanced across the river. “Something bad is going on over there. And I need to find out what it is. And I need to stop it.”

“Sean, please,” she said, holding tight to him.

He slipped on his mask and readied his other gear. “If I’m not back by morning, get ahold of Hayes and tell him what happened.” He gently removed her hands. “It’ll be okay, Michelle. I’ll see you in a while.”

He slid into the river and was gone. Michelle sat there on the red-clay shore staring at the ripples of water until the surface grew calm. She had never felt more alone. And she had never felt more ashamed. Michelle slowly lay back on the wet earth, stared at the overcast sky and felt the tears trickle down her face.

In the clouds Michelle saw things, terrifying things from years ago. They took the shape of creatures dredged up from nightmares she’d had for years and could never understand or hope to explain. In those shapes she saw a little girl, scared beyond belief, reaching out to someone for help, but getting nothing in return. She had been a loner all her life, mostly because she could not bring herself to trust anyone, not completely. And yet there had been one person who had earned her respect, her absolute trust above all others. Who had proved to Michelle that he would never let her down, who had literally sacrificed everything he had to help her. And she had just allowed that man to slip into the waters of the York alone. To go off on what amounted to a suicide mission. Alone.

She could not let that happen. Screw whatever was going on inside her head. Sean was not going to face this without her. If they went down, they’d go down together.

The images in the clouds suddenly dissipated, returning to a grayish white of harmless puff. Michelle grabbed her gear and slipped into the water.

A FEW FEET BELOW THE SURFACE of the York, Sean moved through the water easily with the aid of a diver’s propulsion unit while his flippers made efficient strokes. His oxygen came from a miniature air tank wrapped around the lower part of his face. He also carried a waterproof bag tied to his ankle. The assault tonight on Camp Peary had come together in a whirlwind of seat-of-their-pants improvisation. There were a million ways it could all go wrong, and very few ways for it to turn out all right.