“The two dead guys from the parking lot came out of nowhere. I have no idea why they attacked us or what they wanted. They just started shooting. About twenty minutes later, I knocked out another one at my house, though I doubt he’s still there.”
“At your house?”
“Yeah, don’t think I killed him though.” Sean hurried, “Look, Trent, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to go.”
“Sean, wait!” Morris was desperate. “What do you know about the Borringer murder?”
Wyatt pressed the end button. Borringer murder? Had he heard correctly? Sean had been out of town for a few weeks and hadn’t heard anything about it. He’d worked with Frank Borringer a few times on a couple of projects. The man was a foremost expert on ancient dead languages. The professor was one of only a few people in the world who could interpret Sumerian and ancient Hebrew text and was an asset to the university in Kennesaw.
Now he was dead?
The rush of new information was unsettling. His best friend had been kidnapped. Frank was apparently dead. And now there were two separate attempts on his own life.
He had no idea what was going on, but he intended to find out. Turning the car down a side street, he changed directions.
Sean’s look of concern transmitted to Allyson.
“What is it?” she asked. Her head and fingers trembled like a drug addict on day two of going clean.
“That was someone from the Atlanta Police Department. They want us—me—to come in to answer some questions about the two guys I shot today.”
“Good. Maybe they can help us.”
“I don’t think so. Pretty sure I’m a suspect, not a victim.”
“But it was self-defense. I was there. I can be a witness for you.” She had a pleading look on her face.
Sean felt bad that she was all of a sudden pulled into this, whatever it was. Odds were, she’d been implicated as well.
“The cop said that Tommy Schultz has disappeared, and a professor that we have worked with a few times has turned up murdered. They think that I had something to do with it. At least, that’s what they’re saying.”
“Your friend from IAA? What can we do?” Her green eyes looked so innocent.
“We have to find Tommy.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“Whatever it was that Tommy was working on, he must have been using Dr. Borringer for some part of it. That’s the only connection I can make.”
“Do you know what he was doing?”
“Only that it was part of his ongoing search for an ancient Native American treasure called the Golden Chambers. He told me about it a few times, but I never really took much interest. Seemed like another El Dorado story to me.”
“So, where are we going?” The shock of the day’s events seemed to melt away into a firm resolve.
This girl was tougher than she looked.
“Dr. Borringer’s house. If Tommy had been working with Frank on something, maybe his wife will know about it.”
The gray sedan veered onto another street and crossed the interstate toward West Atlanta.
11
Blue Ridge Mountains
Tommy struggled to free himself from the wooden chair, bound by tightly wound twine. He was in a study, which overlooked what seemed to be a fairly substantial estate. A large yard surrounding the building ended abruptly at a thick, rolling forest. The room where he was constrained must have been at least four stories up. If it was a home, it was certainly large by any standard.
Twisting his head around, he took a better inventory of the room around him. The dark walnut floor led to an open, arched doorway. It was difficult to see beyond the corner, but he assumed it led into a hall. On either side of him were shelves of books that went all the way up to where the ceiling angled into a kind of conical-shaped glass sunroof. To access the highly shelved books, a library ladder was in place. A large square window sat before him, framed by cream-colored drapes. The window loomed enormously, allowing for an amazing view of the property and beyond.
Scooting the chair of bondage around, he found himself behind a large desk that matched the dark, rich cocoa of the floor. Whoever he was, this villain certainly had good taste. On top of desk, an LCD widescreen displayed a screensaver of pictures from some random European towns. Directly next to him, a much more comfortable looking high-backed leather desk chair mocked his less-than-desirable seating arrangement. Two smaller guest chairs sat opposite on the other side of the desk, giving the appearance that the study was more of an office in some ways.
Wrenching his body around again to get a better perspective of where he was, Tommy inched closer toward the window.
“I trust you like the view, Thomas.” The foreign accent came unexpectedly from the direction of the open doorway.
“I would like it a lot more if I wasn’t tied down to this uncomfortable chair.” Even in a dire situation, Tommy hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “I would have much preferred you tie me up to that bad boy right there,” he continued, motioning with his head to the much more comfortable leather option.
“My apologies,” the blond bowed slightly. “It is a regrettable scenario, having to hold you captive like this. Unfortunately, it is necessary.”
“And why is that?”
“You have spent the better part of the last decade looking for something. Though several times you have found
