“Morning,” Diesel said. “You look like you got run over by a truck.”
“I slept on the floor last night.”
“There are these things in the house called beds,” Diesel said.
“We were afraid Rutherford and his men would return. They kidnapped Gramps, tried to kill Josh, and burned down the Pirate Museum.”
“I go away for a couple hours and the world falls apart,” Diesel said.
Carl woke up at Diesel’s voice. He stretched, scratched his ass, and ambled off to the rest room. Everyone else took a coffee.
“Did you have trouble finding the coin?” I asked Diesel.
“No. It was in Devereaux’s pocket. I helicoptered to the island, but the pilot decided it was too dangerous to land at the top of the bowl, so he set me down by the tiki hut. I hiked to the bowl, found the tunnel entrance, and rappelled down the shaft. The ropes were still there from Rutherford’s excursion. I found the coin and heard a chopper in the distance. Obviously its pilot had more guts than mine because it landed on the rim and dropped a bunch of Ammon’s zombies into the bowl. I didn’t feel like taking on the zombie army, so I hid in an alcove and waited for them to leave.”
“They went back for the coin,” I said.
“The coin and the rest of the treasure,” Diesel said. “They packed it all out. Took them hours. They were like worker ants. They even took Devereaux. Maybe they thought he hid the coin on him…or in him. They took their ropes, too, so I had to use the stairs. They weren’t bad going up, but I’m glad I didn’t have to use them going down.”
“We need to get Gramps,” Clara said. “He needs his blood pressure medicine.”
“Do you have any idea where they’re holding him?” Diesel asked.
“No,” I said. “They sent me a photo but there’s nothing recognizable in it.”
I showed Diesel the photo of Gramps waving. There were no background objects. Just a white wall and two faceless thugs.
“I have a list of all properties owned by Ammon Enterprises,” Diesel said. “There are four in Salem, seven in Boston, one in southern New Hampshire, and Ammon’s personal house in Marblehead. I got the list because I thought Ammon would be at least temporarily storing the treasure in one of his buildings, and the stone might be with it.”
Clara put a bag of muffins on the bar, and we all took one.
“The best candidate for treasure storage is Ammon’s property on Green Street,” Diesel said. “He owns a four-story office building that used to be a bank, complete with a vault. The building is currently empty, slated for renovation.”
“I know where that is,” Clara said. “One of the tunnels runs under it, and then the tunnel continues on to the harbor. It meets up with another tunnel that goes to the lighthouse.”
“How long would it take us to get from here to the bank building using the tunnel system?” Diesel asked Clara.
“Maybe forty-five minutes. The tunnels don’t go in a straight line.”
Diesel pulled a map of Salem out of his backpack. “I’ve marked Ammon’s properties in orange,” he said to Clara. “Are any of these other addresses accessible by tunnel?”
Clara looked at the map. “I’m not familiar with the whole tunnel system. I only know the area around the bakery, the waterfront, and the area around Gramps’s house. A tunnel would run under the house on Marjorie Street, and the warehouse on First Avenue definitely has access.”
Diesel took the Blue Diamond out of his pack and handed it to me. “It found the stone on the island. Maybe it can find the stone in Salem. And if we’re lucky, Gramps will be with the stone.”
We all left the speakeasy and followed Clara through the tunnels.
“We’re like the seven dwarfs going off to work in the mine,” Glo said. “Except there are only six of us.”
I didn’t feel up to dwarf level. The dwarfs knew where they were going every day. I was blindly walking behind Diesel. If I were a dwarf my name would be Clueless.
I checked the diamond from time to time, but nothing was registering. No blue glow. Not even a flicker. We walked for over a half hour, and Clara finally stopped and looked around. We were at yet another fork in the tunnel system.
“The left fork goes to the Wessel House,” Clara said. “The house has been in the Wessel family for generations. Jerome Wessel was a ship’s captain when the house was built. Bitsy Wessel ran a boardinghouse there during Prohibition and never lacked for boarders since there was a steady flow of rum punch coming out of the root cellar in the backyard. I dated Kenny Wessel when I was in high school, and we used to make out in the tunnel. The Wessel House is a block from Ammon’s bank building. I’m pretty sure the tunnel runs under the bank building, but I don’t think there’s access. The men who built the tunnels didn’t care about robbing a bank. That part of the tunnel dead-ends two blocks beyond the bank at the corner of Marjorie and Clinton. The right fork goes to the warehouse on First. The rumrunners brought their small boats into the shallow water or to the lighthouse. From those two points the hooch was transferred to the warehouse and beyond.”
We went left, walking under the Wessel House and under the bank building. We continued on to the end of the tunnel. We didn’t see any access points beyond the Wessel House, and the diamond never glowed or flickered or felt warm. We retraced our steps and took the right fork. We walked past the warehouse entrance and went all the way to the lighthouse. Again, no sign from the diamond.
“Okay, we go to plan B,” Diesel said. “We’re not picking up any vibes in the tunnels, so Lizzy and I will go aboveground. Everyone else will go back to the speakeasy.”