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.”
“Check for text messages once in a while,” I said to Clara. “I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Diesel and I exited through the root cellar in the Wessels’ backyard. It was locked from the outside, but that wasn’t a problem for Diesel. No one was out and about when we emerged. We walked toward the bank building and watched it from half a block away. It looked abandoned. Windows and doors were boarded over. No one stood guard at the door. We continued on to the warehouse on First. It had no doubt been impressive when it was built. Today it looked quaintly historic. A single loading dock in the back. Two stories. Lettering on the door said AMMON ENTERPRISES. No guys standing guard. No tingles. No glow from the rock.
“I don’t think he’s here,” I said. “I don’t think anyone is here.”
“Ammon has a house in southern New Hampshire that’s a fortress. It’s a huge stone monstrosity set in the middle of a hundred acres. I have someone checking it out. In the meantime, I think we should negotiate for Gramps.”
“Are you willing to give them the coin for Gramps?”
“Yeah. They have the stone. I don’t see where the coin is going to make a difference. The stone, the coin, and all the tea in China isn’t going to awaken Mammon. Rutherford, Ammon, and their followers are already delusional and greedy. A couple more degrees of greed won’t make a big difference. Ultimately I need to get the stone and the coin back anyway.”
“I have Rutherford’s number programmed into my phone.”
“Make a deal.”
I called Rutherford and told him I had the coin.
“I want to swap the coin for Gramps,” I said.
“I knew we could count on you. Mr. Ammon will be pleased. He’ll insist that we prove the authenticity of the coin, of course.”
“The coin is divided into eight pieces, and it has the chop marks needed to read the map. Beyond that, I don’t know how to prove its authenticity to you, since I’m the only one able to sense the power of the stone.”
“As luck would have it we picked up a gentleman named Hatchet. He’s a little odd, but we’ve been assured he’s your equal. We found him wandering around naked on Brimstone Island, and he’s now in service to Mammon.”
“I think he’s already in service to someone else.”
“Finders keepers,” Rutherford said. Very jovial.
Good luck with that one, I thought. I wouldn’t want to tangle with Wulf.
“Where do you want to make the swap?” I asked Rutherford.
“We would like the transaction to take place at Mr. Ammon’s country residence in southern New Hampshire. You can come at your convenience. And you must come alone.”