The Quest for the Templar Treasure
By: Raven in Red
Struggling college junior Antonia Davenport is coerced by Ian's sweet-talking ways into aiding in the search for the treasure of the Knights Templar, but her conscience quickly leads her to the good guys' side. RileyOC.
Chapter One: An Opportunity in the Stacks
If it hadn't been for a charming, accented, well-spoken, blonde-haired man approaching me in the Library of Congress on that one fateful day, I wouldn't be telling you this story now.
I was a lowly college junior, attempting to earn an online history degree from a practically no-name college hundreds of miles away while simultaneously working full-time at a diner … NOT exactly a glamorous lifestyle. I lived each day out of a crappy little apartment outside of D.C., always wondering how much longer I would last (at least in terms of finances). I had always ached for adventure and travel, but I hardly expected the best opportunity of my life to just be dropped right in front of me out of nowhere.
I first saw the mystery man when I was browsing the stacks in the Library of Congress, looking for a particular book on the history of early American colonialism for an exam that was coming up in my online class. I was browsing with intent while he merely looked bored. His eyes glazed over the spines too quickly for him to catch even a single title. He also had a mysterious air about him, as if he had a greater purpose in mind.
Deciding to ignore the man and focus on my work, I found myself a table and settled down with a notebook in hand and the book opened in front of me. After several minutes, however, I just so happened to glance up and see the mystery man staring right at me.
"Excuse me…" I awkwardly addressed him. "Is there something I can help you with?" Sure, I was used to being hit on by guys from time to time, but this man was sort of fascinating, just based on how he carried himself. I timidly gathered my long auburn curls behind my head as he approached me.
"Actually, yes, as a matter of fact," the man said. To my surprise, he took a seat right across from me at the table. "My name's Ian Howe." He had a beautiful English accent, and he was certainly presenting himself quite well. I was impressed.
"Antonia Davenport," I said, politely shaking his hand.
"Antonia…" Ian said, taking a moment to ponder my name. "How would you like to go on the adventure of a lifetime?"
A laugh escaped my lips before I even realized it, earning me a barrage of stern looks from the other visitors around me. When it finally died down, I leaned in and whispered, "What are you trying to pull on me?"
"Have you ever heard of the treasure of the Knights Templar?" Ian asked, pairing his question with a smirk.
"Yeah, of course," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Who doesn't love a good story about buried treasure, right?"
"Exactly," said Ian. "Well, through recent events, some colleagues and I have come together on the basis that it may not be just a story." I cautiously nodded, signaling for him to continue. "We've got a clue under our belts that might lead us closer to it, but it's taking us ages to figure out."
"Wait, wait, wait," I said, holding my hands up to silence him, "where do I come in with all of this? It sounds like you're just telling me some Indiana Jones type story."
"Well, we could use a bit of help," Ian said, putting on a serious face. "We need to bring an extra person in on this to help streamline the process, so to speak."
"Okay…" I said slowly. "What would you need me to do?" Obviously, I was still maintaining an air of caution around this complete stranger, but that didn't prevent me from being dreadfully curious. After all, he might have really been on to something.
"Well, what are your areas of expertise, per se?" asked Ian. "What are you good at?"
Slightly flustered from such an obscure question, my answer was flushed and choppy. "I can, um, I know my history pretty well… um, I can shoot. I practice at a gun club every week. Um… and I'm really good with riddles and puzzles. I can figure out pretty much anything once I put my mind to it."
"Perfect," said Ian, smirking again. "All of that could be incredibly useful to us."
"Who's 'us'?" I questioned, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms across my chest.
"Myself and a few colleagues," said Ian. "We've been working on this for over a year, and we've hit a dead end."
"Where has it taken you so far?" I asked, beginning to warm up to his proposition.
"Oh, everywhere," said Ian. "Every book and Internet page we could find. We haven't found anything that could be of value."
"Wow," I said, thoroughly intrigued. "What's the clue you've been trying to work with?"
"The secret lies with Charlotte," said Ian. "It was scrawled on a piece of parchment that's been kept by the family of one of my colleagues for generations."
"What's this colleague's name?" I asked. All of this was getting me more and more curious by the moment.
"Benjamin Gates," said Ian. The second the name popped out of his mouth, everything made sense.
"That's it," I said, slamming my fists down onto my book. "I'm in."
"Really?" Ian's face lit up. "Why? Do you know him?"
"I know of him," I said, "and his family. Everyone says they're conspiracy theorists because the treasure is tied to the Freemasons but all they ever do just makes me curious. If Ben Gates is working on this, then it'll definitely get somewhere."
"So, maybe you can help us out," said Ian, smirking yet again. I had a feeling that I would be seeing a lot of that smirk. "You definitely sound enthusiastic." Sure, I was excited, but I had to admit: Ian was quite charming, and his charm was definitely drawing me in.
"I would love to," I said, smirking in return and holding out my hand for him to shake. Good Lord, what the hell was I getting myself into?
Once we both sat back, I put on my thinking face. Basically, whenever I was deep in thought about pretty much anything, I would lean back, place a fist under my chin, and stare into space. Until I figured out what I was trying to figure out or I simply gave up, I pretty much wouldn't speak at all.
"You alright?" Ian asked after a little while of that. Only when he waved his hand in front of my face did I snap out of it.
"Oh!" I gasped, my face flushing slightly. "That's just my thinking face."
"Were you … thinking of anything in particular?" Ian inquired, raising an eyebrow at me.
"Yeah, I was," I said, turning to a clean page in my notebook and wrote CHARLOTTE in bold letters across the top. "You said you've gotten nowhere so far with this Charlotte clue, right?"
"Exactly," said Ian, coming around the other side of the table so he could sit next to me instead.
"What exactly have you ousted so far?" I asked.
"Oh, boy," Ian sighed. "We poured through old census records and history books looking for every person with the name Charlotte that we could possibly find, everything from middle-aged farmers' housewives to established poets and members of royalty, going no further than the mid-1800s when the clue was passed on to Ben's family." As he spoke, I jotted down Charlotte – name of a person. "Then," Ian continued, "we looked up every Charlotte Street, Avenue, Lane, etc. and came up dry; same thing happened with cities or towns named Charlotte." I added Cities/towns/streets to my list. Everything was slowly coming together.
"Can I see the actual physical clue?" I asked. Right on cue, Ian pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to me. On the paper was a digital scan of a small piece of parchment, with The Secret lies with Charlotte written in impeccable penmanship. "Obviously, the person who wrote this down was someone well-educated," I observed, "otherwise the handwriting would not be this formal." Ian leaned in a little closer. "And look: the words 'secret' and 'Charlotte' are both capitalized."
"What does that tell us?" asked Ian, his eyes flaring with curiosity.
"Up until the late 1800s or so, it was commonplace for people to capitalize nouns like 'secret,' 'happiness,' or 'patience,'" I began, adding Secret, Charlotte both capitalized to my list. "But, look," I said, pointing to the word 'Charlotte.' "Names were always capitalized, and 'Charlotte' means nothing when it's in all lowercase, so it must be a name." I jotted down Charlotte = name.
"That makes sense," said Ian, "but that's where we've hit a dead end."
"Look," I said, pointing to the few points on my list. "You've exhausted the possibility of Charlotte being the name of a person or a place, right?" Ian nodded. "But what about things?"
"Things?" Ian repeated, looking confused.
"Yes, things," I said, an excited smiled spreading across my face, "things named Charlotte that are neither people nor places."
"Antonia, that's brilliant," Ian said in amazement. "So, where do we start?"
"I need a computer," I said, "and I didn't bring my laptop with me. Let's go back to my place so we can work this lead a little more." As quickly as I could, I gathered my things into my backpack and the two of us began making our way out.
"I hope you realize how big of a breakthrough you've made for us," Ian praised me as we made our way to the nearest subway. Like a gentleman, he offered me his arm, which I graciously took.
"Oh, I do," I said, my face holding a bright grin. "And I'm glad I could help."
Over Chinese leftovers and several mugs of coffee, Ian and I spent hours pondering over our latest Charlotte lead. Each relevant web page we found was leading us to about three or four more, which then made the process even more of a headache. Eventually, Ian had tired himself out to the point where I ordered him to give himself a break and take a nap on my couch while I kept at it.
After another couple of hours, it was well past midnight when I finally stumbled across something that finally appeared to be more than promising. "Ian!" I hissed, reaching over to shake him a little. "Ian, wake up! I think I've got something!"
Ian was at my side in an instant, reading over my shoulder from the webpage I had pulled up. "The Charlotte was originally a First Fleet British ship built to bring convicts to a penal colony in Australia," I began. "She was lost off of Newfoundland in 1818 en route to Jamaica from London, and get this: several of the crew on board as well as the captain were Freemasons."
"That has to be it," Ian declared. "Oh, my God, that has to be it!"
"Is this the next clue?" I asked excitedly.
"It has to be," Ian said with a smile.
"So, how do we find it?" I asked, jumping from my seat. I couldn't help but notice that my small stature only barely brought me up to Ian's shoulders.
"That's just it," said Ian, his smile only growing wider. "That's our next step!"
"Our next step towards finding the treasure!" I squealed with excitement. Out of nowhere, I found Ian lifting me right up from the floor and spinning me all around the room. I could do nothing but sit back and laugh like a little schoolgirl. Once our euphoric laughter had finally died down and I was back on my feet, I went to my notepad and ripped off a sheet of paper onto which I scribbled my cell phone number. "Here," I said to Ian, handing him the paper. "Call me tomorrow so we can get the ball rolling on this. Until then, you should go get yourself some sleep."
"Will do," said Ian, patting me on the shoulder. "Until tomorrow, little Miss Treasure Hunter."
Author's Note: This is a complete rewrite of my original story that had the same name, since I kind of hated how the first one was going, so no worries! Just read, review, and enjoy!