The Devil Colony (Sigma Force 7)

Waldorf’s easy demeanor hardened slightly. “Why would that be of interest to national security?”

“We’re not sure,” Gray said, which was basically true. “But we might as well start there.”

“Okay, you’re in charge of this hunting expedition. We’ll have to go down to the basement, where much of the gold hasn’t been moved since it was first hauled to Kentucky by railroad car.”

Waldorf headed to a set of stairs and led them down to the section of the vault that lay belowground. Gray again wondered if it was true that this place had been engineered to flood if there was a security breach. He pictured the vault filling with water and imagined drowning amid all of this wealth.

“This way,” their guide said, and strode purposefully along the corridor.

The vaults down here weren’t as neatly stacked as above, mostly because of the lack of uniformity in the size of the bars.

Waldorf waved ahead. “This whole section originally came from Philadelphia. We’ve got gold stored here that came from the very first stampings out of that mint. That’s kept in the compartment at the end. Follow me.”

When they reached their destination, Lyndell used a key to unlock the barred gate to the ten-foot-square space. It looked haphazardly packed—but it was also unfortunately full. One section of the room contained irregular rectangular blocks that looked like small anvils, another had stacks of square rods, a third had flat plates about the size of small lunch trays.

Gray stared with dismay, picturing waves of subatomic particles washing out of the space. If this was the right vault, how were they to find the needle in this golden haystack?

Never one to shirk from hard labor, Monk squeezed into the room and began to search around. His friend was more a man of action than deep introspection—and sometimes that temperament paid off.

“Hey, come look at this.” Monk pointed to one of the wide plates on a shorter stack. “It’s stamped with the Great Seal.”

Gray joined Monk, shoulder to shoulder. Crudely stamped into the center of the flat gold block was an outstretched bald eagle, clutching an olive branch and arrows.

“Remember what Fortescue wrote about the Seal,” Monk said.

Gray knew it well: None would suspect the treasure hidden at the heart of the Seal.

“Maybe he meant the Great Seal,” Monk added.

Gray studied the topmost plate. It was roughly fourteen inches by ten and about an inch thick. While there was no precise description of the old Indian map’s dimensions, it had been found lining a mastodon’s cranium. That meant it had to be fairly big—like these flat blocks.

He studied the room. There have to be over a hundred of these plates. Which one could it be? Did one of these plates—buried and hidden among the others—depict a crude map on its surface? There was only one way to find out. He would follow Monk’s example. It was time to simply use brute force.

Gray waved at the stacks. “Let’s start taking them out.”

9:10 P.M.

Seichan stood to the side as Gray and Monk labored, carrying each gold block out of the small compartment and stacking them outside. Her bad leg precluded her from helping. But even healthy, she’d have struggled to lift one. Each weighed over seventy pounds.

She didn’t know how Monk managed the effort with only one hand.

By now, the two men had stripped out of their jackets and rolled up their sleeves. Their forearms bulged as they hauled the blocks out, one by one. Gray examined both surfaces, plainly looking for some evidence of a map. He’d also asked the two mint supervisors to let them do this alone. Cooperating, Waldorf and Lyndell had backed away a couple of compartments, talking in low whispers, but keeping a close eye on Gray and Monk’s efforts.

The captain of the guard looked darkly dubious.

And rightfully so.

They were halfway through the stacks with no success.

Gray came out with another plate. Seichan noted that his lips had gone bloodless and thin as he settled the plate to the pile. It wasn’t from the strain, but from frustration. He dropped to one knee to examine both sides, teetering the plate up on its edge. Sweat streaked his brow.

She limped next to him. “I’ll search this side, you take the other.”

“Thanks.” He eyed her over the top of the upended block. “Are we on a wild-goose chase here?”

“Your assessment sounded solid to me.” Seichan ran her fingertips over the gold surface, feeling for any evidence of a faint map. “All we can do is keep looking.”

“Anything on your side?”

“No.”

He manhandled the plate and settled it atop the others. He lowered his voice. “Something’s been nagging me. If Jefferson embedded the old map onto one of these plates, why didn’t someone see it? Comment on it?”

“Maybe the map wasn’t minted onto the plate, but into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to that French guy, the map was made of that nano-gold, a much denser gold that wouldn’t melt at normal temperatures. So to preserve and hide the map, why not pour regular gold over it, cover it completely? There’s no risk. If the map was needed later, you could always melt the ordinary gold off of it, since the nano-gold would require a much higher temperature before it softened.”

Gray raised a palm to his damp forehead. “You’re right. I should have thought of that.”

“You can’t think of everything.”

And you can’t take care of everyone.

She had noted him checking his phone regularly during the trip. The sun had set in D.C., and she knew he was worried about his father’s mental state.

“It was right there in Fortescue’s journal,” Gray said, kicking himself. “ ‘The treasure’s hidden at the heart of the Seal.’ ”

Monk called from the vault. “Better look at this.”

Gray and Seichan joined him inside the compartment, but it was cramped.

Supported by his one palm, Monk leaned over the next plate on the stack. He shifted back. “Look at this one’s seal.”

Seichan stared over Gray’s shoulder, feeling the dampness of his back through his thin shirt. She didn’t understand what had Monk all worked up, but noticed that the muscles across Gray’s shoulders tightened to hard rocks.

“That’s got to be the one,” Gray said.

“But there’s no map on it,” Monk argued. “I checked both sides.”

“You didn’t check inside it . . .” Gray said, glancing back to Seichan, his lips almost touching her cheek.