The Lesbian Agenda & Hidden Treasures

by Clayton Overstreet

Many people claim there is a lesbian conspiracy. It turns out, it's true! Read the inner secrets of a cabal of lesbian spies. Then read a short story of the hunt for a secret treasure the likes of which you never imagined! Is any of it true? You decide.

The Lesbian Agenda

By, C.D. Overstreet

I received this letter in the mail.

I have made arrangements that if something should happen to me this file will be emailed and mailed to various people I think can be trusted to publish it. I instruct you to do so immediately for if you do not they will try to stop you. I doubt more than one of the copies I have made of these files to make it to print. I still have to try and if you are reading these words not only am I dead, but publishing this document will be the only way to keep yourself alive. If you happen to make any money in the process consider yourself lucky. For I have fallen victim to an insidious conspiracy that will stop at nothing to keep these things from coming to light, murder being the least of it.

For years people around the world have claimed that homosexuals are actively trying to corrupt the rest of the world. To "turn them gay". Well I am here to tell you that these crazy sounding and outright bigoted theories… are absolutely correct.

How do I know this? Because a short time ago I purchased a used computer and for a lark I began to peruse the Internet History. Oh there were a lot of porn sites and a few about gay rights and a lot more besides. The person who owned it before me never erased anything in this area, not even passwords. So as I checked out the sites I came across a pay area of one on which with password still activated and worked. Inside were pictures of women, profiles, and a lot of other files. It really looked more like some kind of police database, except I also saw a lot of celebrity women. Faces I recognized from Television and movies going back years… decades even to old black and white movies and even further into paintings and tapestries.

To tell the truth I only personally recognized a few. I had spent hours checking out my new computer by then and none of it looked very interesting. No funny jokes. No porn. No cartoons. Just dull facts about these women and a little about their lovers. All lesbians. Some kind of gossip site? Maybe they were all just famous people I had never heard of before, so I decided to download a bit as a text file. Not much. Just something to look over later. After all I could easily find the site again.

I clicked on and highlighted and downloaded pages for about five minutes when I noticed a small clock in the bottom corner. It had been there the whole time, counting down right above the computer clock. I had barely acknowledged its existence. As it wound down to the last few seconds though, I watched curious… and was surprised by the screen suddenly changing and flashing the words "Unauthorized Access" across it.

After that nothing I did would affect the computer until I turned it off and called it a day. I had been a little afraid that I had contracted a virus or something, but the computer turned on normally the next time I used it and my anti-virus software detected no problems. I did a bit of work until I got tired and started to turn it off, which was when I saw the file I had saved and decided to read through it.

It was hilarious. The secret files of a secret underground conspiracy of lesbians. An off shoot of an older and even more pervasive group of gay people. Secret agents. Infiltrators in important businesses as well as government agencies. Dark enemies who likewise hide in plain sight. Mind control techniques developed hundreds of years ago by famous artists. I could not stop laughing. I had to read more. I wished I had downloaded the profiles instead of the general site information, but I could fix that easily enough.

I opened the Internet connection again. I went straight to the website intent on downloading more files and spending the rest of the evening going over every one. It was better than any spy novel I had ever read. But the website was gone. Completely erased. Confused and a little disappointed I went to a search engine and tried to look it up. I got… well I will not say "nothing" but of the site there was no sign. To tell the truth I might have been mistaken on the name and I spent a lot of time looking for it. Going over my own history and everything else I could think of. I even began to put in some of the information I had downloaded, hoping to catch something somewhere. A mirror site or an older version.

I was surprised to find that some of the names I had downloaded and even a few of the facts popped up on other websites. Relationships and affairs, all of them involving various women in history. Actresses of course. Artists. Society women. Politicians and their wives. So many affairs of the heart between women. The only thing connecting them the files I had downloaded. Clearly whoever had made that website had just strung them all together in their own funny way… heck that movie about the spy cats and dogs was more believable if not half as entertaining.

I was just about to give up when once again the control of my computer was seized. Not by a flashing screen this time. The cursor just stopped following my orders. I kept pressing my finger to the tab, but it ignored me, moving up and closing the Internet window. I was confused until it moved to the "My Computer" icon and clicked it. Then it right clicked the C: drive and landed firmly on "Format". When the computer asked if I wished to format the whole hard drive, if I was sure, it began to move towards YES. That was when I pulled the plug and batteries, almost without thinking. The screen went black just as the formatting started.

At the time I thought little of it. At worst I suspected some hacker of having broken through my firewall just to screw with me. The computer was new after all. To me anyway. Most everything had been erased off it before I got it. I had little to lose besides that one file. I turned it back on and checked and everything was working fine again. Whatever game was being played was over.

That night however, someone broke into my house. I woke up when I heard people moving around down the hall. I immediately reached for my cell phone only to find that it was not working. So I went to the table where I keep the phone. An old rotary type that I had gotten from my mother when she died. The cordless touchtone was in the living room. The computer was by my bed where I had left it.

The other phone must have been off the hook. I got no dial tone. So I gathered up my courage and headed into the hall. I live in a small trailer. Only a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a small dining room besides my bedroom. All of them but the bedroom and bathroom being parts of the one big room really.

In the dark I was easily able to see the light from my desktop computer. Two figures in ski masks and tight black outfits were hunched over it. Judging by their whispered voices and the breasts I saw under their clothes they were both women. "Are you sure it isn't here?"

"Nowhere. Not a trace. Are the tech girls sure it's the right address?"

"This is the one they gave us, but it was a wi-fi access. Look, just keep looking and if we don't find anything we'll check the ret of the place for a laptop. If it is not here we'll just leave."

I considered what to do when I saw the guns on their hips. The cord for the phone as well as the plug went into the hall so I unplugged both and slipped quietly back to my room to call the police. There was a car in the area and it was only a few minutes before blue flashing lights filled my windows. I heard a brief scuffle from the living room and the back door open.

When the police knocked I came out and we found that my computer hard drive had been completely erased. I did not know what to tell them or think of the file at the time. Nobody had ever broken into my home before. The police said they had chased the perpetrators down the road a ways where a car had picked them up and then sped away. I filed a report and they said they would have patrols in the are incase anyone came back.

Why me though? Who robs trailers, especially at night? And why would they go for my computer, rather than look for my wallet or similar? I did not have much worth anything and if they were thieves, wouldn't it have made more sense to take the computer rather than erase it?

When my thoughts returned to the file I felt silly. I was being paranoid I thought. It was just a funny story. Like a hundred parodies of history where people made up conspiracies. Like one book I read where Abraham Lincoln was actually shot for being a werewolf or that comic where Amelia Earhart was kidnapped by aliens. Heck the files had said she was one of Eleanor Roosevelt's lovers. Part of a series of women sent out specifically to seduce her with connections to Teddy Roosevelt's sister and that her disappearance was because her co-pilot was part of a rival group out to stop her.

Who would believe that?

But… what else made any sense? Nothing. Soon I put the idea out of my head.

Lately though, people… no… women have been following me. I thought I saw one who… well I was probably mistaken, but she looked exactly like a very famous actress. She stopped and asked me directions while I was walking. Then asked me what else I was up to. I told her and asked if she was who she looked like… especially since she was in a limo. She laughed and said no, that particular lady was in the south of France on vacation. I looked it up. She was right. Which made me wonder how she knew that off the top of her head.

I could have ignored that. Except there were new tellers at my bank. Tellers who, when I looked up my account, spent a little too long looking at the screen themselves. The same for my local grocery store where I work. A lot of new women showing up all at the same time.

Then the file disappeared. At least, from the laptop. I tried to bring it up and the computer was erased, just like my other one had been. The history too this time. Fortunately I had put the file onto a jump drive, or it would have been gone. It was then that I accepted that somebody was after it. At least possibly, so I'm setting this up like they say in the movies. If nothing happens I can retrieve it later. If something does, hopefully someone will be brought to justice. Though if these people are as organized as they appear, I hold out little hope of that.

After reading that and the information that follows, how could I refuse? I have found no evidence to support most of this and certainly none relating to any group known as "The Closet" or even of the person who supposedly sent this to me. Nobody else has come forward with this information. There is nothing to say I did not make it all up. So until there is I'll assume this is legal, but will publish it under fiction. If you find proof that any of this exists, let me know.

Contents

Welcome To The Closet

Purpose

History Of The Closet

Positions

Section 1: Education

Section 2: Examples

Section 3: Long Term Seduction

Section 4: Field Work and Drastic Measures

Section 5: Historians & Artists

Section 6: Finances, Blackmail, and Arranged Marriage

Section 7: Science Division

Section 8: Infiltration

Allies

The Renaissance

The Cult of Ardhanarisvara

Sappho's Sisters (Defunct)

Enemies

Dark Venus

The Praetor's Dagger

Hidden Treasures (Short Story)

Welcome To The ClosetOur Purpose

If you are reading this then you are a graduate of one of our educational programs. Congratulations and welcome to the sisterhood of "The Closet". As you have no doubt learned in your studies our purpose is to create a world in which the homosexual woman can walk down the street with her head held high. A splinter cell of the group known as the Renaissance, it quickly became clear that while all homosexuals have been repressed by social taboos and the intentional efforts of certain groups, gay women have had it far worse in nearly every culture and that certain aspects of The Renaissance were not as dedicated to female freedoms as they were those of the male. While we still work with our mother agency, The Closet is more focused.

Through long term operations we do our best to promote and encourage acceptance and ultimately apathy towards female homosexuality. For acceptance is merely the flip side of bigotry. While it helps us along the ultimate goal is for people to not care when they see two or more women together on the street any more than they do interracial couples or the average straight couple anyway.

Why do we need to work towards this? Could we not trust in humanity to move toward this goal on its own? Is there no trust in basic human decency and the belief that the average person will accept the rights of others?

Perhaps, if all was equal. But we of The Closet know that society has never been and likely will never be left alone to make those decisions. We know that there are groups who have always fought against the rights of individuals to be different. For centuries people of different skin have fought and killed over nothing more than superficial than a few genetic differences caused by the environment in which they lived. White people felt they were God's chosen, despite the fact that 5 out of 6 habitable continents were inhabited by dark skinned people while their ancestors ruled the frozen north. To this day the standard images of Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the rest look nothing like a 2000 year old middle eastern Jews. We also know that this and other lies about such things are intentional and that there are many aspects of one of the world's most popular religions that are nothing but lies.

Imagine then how the world at large feels about homosexuals. For much of history women were treated as little better than property, as much slaves if not more so than captured prisoners from across the seas. After all, women were free and required less effort to acquire. Men who wanted to be treated like women were scary, threatening to tip the balance. Women who wanted to be like men could be beaten down and "taught their place" more often than not. But ultimately both were slightly terrifying to certain people for two reasons.

They were usually exposed to the very idea at random. Unless you were gay the very idea was rarely discussed or even occurred to the average person in most cultures. When it did come up, often in history or because such a group was uncovered in the current times, it was shocking. A scandal! And ultimately led to the contemplation of point number two.

They could be anyone. Anywhere. While people of different races or cultures might be able to "pass" most of them were easily identifiable. They had their own languages, coloring, clothes, food, and more. To infiltrate anyone else's they would have to change most or all of that and it takes a lot of effort. For the homosexuals that is not a problem. They could be your wife, your child, your neighbor, or a stranger on the street. They have years of growing up to figure out what and if they need to hide and it is usually not until puberty that they know themselves, giving them more than a decade of buffer years. Maybe more if they do not know themselves. Could even you be one of them?

Them. Such a small word. But it separates the world into "us" and "them". For a family it's "us" in our house and "them" who come from outside. Come in uninvited and "we" can kill "you" and nobody will bat an eye. After that friends and neighbors against people in other suburbs or streets, like gangs or feuds. Then it's cities, "them" who are on other sports teams and "us" for the home team. States versus states and countries versus countries in cold or bloody wars. Possibly somewhere out there, worlds versus worlds. And mixed in are all those different religions, belief systems, personal politics, and a million other things that makes each person decide if they can live on the same piece of dirt as the person next to them. Far too often they chose not to and used the most potent and universal of languages to solve their problems: violence.

Those left standing are the ones who reach an equilibrium. That doing things to harm others needs to be curbed or stopped. Theft, murder, rape, and corruption. If police can accept bribes or if they should arrest those who try. That forcing your way of thinking on them is, at this point, not worth the effort as long as you have those invisible lines drawn on the map to let people know to either not cross them or that if they do they are not to impose their rules there.

The problem is then, what do you do with people whose very nature violates those rules? Who are born there and have no say in the matter? In some places the body parts of an albino are considered good luck charms. A child born physically damaged or mentally retarded may be drowned at birth. An elderly person who, through no fault of their own, cannot hunt or be of use to the people is led out to the middle of nowhere and left to die. In many places these barbaric practices were abandoned long ago and are generally frowned upon in most places. All much better than how the average lesbian has been treated in most societies, even those that accept gay males.

In the past groups have risen to fight such injustices. Where other minorities can breed and eventually become majorities, a major part of being gay is being in a situation where you will always be a minority. Born almost entirely at random usually to parents who barely understand that part of them and up until recently into societies that would happily oppress, torture, or even kill them without consequence. Those who fight usually either must do so in secret or in doomed military campaigns like the Amazons of Greece.

We of The Closet strike from the shadows, doing our best to alleviate those pressures that prevent gay women from living happily and as openly as they choose. While a select few of us do step into the spotlight most of our work is secret and may not be known about until long after our deaths. This is because while we also face the standard uphill climb, there are forces and powers who realize that equality always undermines exclusivity. You cannot be rich without people who are poor. You cannot be powerful without the weak. And you cannot be accepted without those who are unacceptable.

As the world marches towards a time when hatred of skin color, religion, and race are considered bigoted and idiotic that leaves sex. An act that the human body drives us towards. While on the one hand it can be good and necessary, it also has the potential to damage. Mankind had perpetrated every kind of horror via sex that it is possible to do and imagined a few more on top. It requires vulnerability, compromise, and trust on a level nothing else we do and there are so many ways for it to go wrong. But ultimately it requires at least two people who feel they can explore what they need in a safe environment.

Our purpose is to provide that environment. Not force it as some of our unwise sister groups have tried over the years. To make the world he kind of place that does not punish people for aspects of who they are. Nobody can make the world perfect for everyone, but given time and the right actions at the right time, we have spent more than two centuries making the world just a little better.

You are now a part of that. You may be called upon to sacrifice much for this cause and for the lesbians of the future. You have been chosen to join our group because we feel that you are both willing and capable to do this. To make the hard choices and do the things that other women are prevented from doing for themselves. You have embarked on a hard and dangerous road my girl, but know that there are great rewards if you make it to the end.

History Of The Closet

The Closet was formed in 1821 when we split off from out parent organization The Renaissance. The Renaissance was based on older groups who were active in Europe during the Renaissance period. Officially it was reborn in America December sixteenth, seventeen seventy three. The British colonies of North America were just beginning to rebel when their leaders discovered something they hoped would allow them easy escape from the rule of their parent country without the need for war.

A man named Silas Dawnier had let it slip that the British kept a treasure trove of artifacts they had hidden from the public and especially the church. Secret records say that much of the treasure consisted of images and statues of 'two or more woman engaged in carnal congress without the aid of men' as well as 'men engaging in sexual perversions with one another'. Even 'sodomy with Negroes and chinamen'. When the Sons of Liberty heard about this treasure, they formed a plan. You see Silas Dawnier had heard stories of a secret treasure. One of his ancestors was a cleaning lady in charge of keeping the secret room from getting too dirty. But she told her family what she had seen. The whole royal family knew about the artifacts, looted by the empire from around the world and kept in the care of one of the lesser members of the nobility.

Some of them depicted scenes and actions that were considered perverted or unholy at the time. Witchcraft, sexual acts, rituals to pagan gods, and a lot of other things that the Christian Church considered to be evil and reviled. Things that were supposed to have been burned or melted down. For a long time the church was almost as powerful as the Empire but the Empire disliked that power and rebelled in their own ways. So they secretly kept things like that hidden away for centuries.

The Sons of Liberty were not sure they could win a war. Thirteen colonies which were barely colonized by a few thousand people, most of whom the Empire did not even care about in the first place except as a source of income. They were out manned, out gunned, and split on whether they were doing the right thing. They were still underground then too, for fear of being treated as traitors. So the leaders needed an edge. Fortunately they had connections to other societies like the Freemasons and various others who agreed that America deserved its freedom. They made a deal with some people over seas including Royal Governor Thomas Hutchinson. They bribed him and others, even going so far as to threaten family they had in the colonies. Then they stole the treasure from its hiding place and shipped it over here in crates of tea. Little things at first, but then in one huge shipment that arrived in Boston Harbor. They seized it on December sixteenth, seventeen seventy three. The Boston Tea Party.

They had the treasure but before they could do anything with it the war was already starting. The fighting over the unfair treatment by the government had already started. Officially it started in seventeen seventy five, but that's like saying the Civil War was all about slavery or that World War One was about one man being shot. When they sent the Declaration of Independence to England the Sons of Liberty included a small blackmail note, threatening to expose the British Empire's dirty little collection to the public and the Church unless they freed America from British rule.

King George did not give in immediately. It took time for the ships to arrive in England with the note and even then he tried to get the treasure back or destroy it rather than capitulate. By then the Sons of Liberty were part of the army and were away from home fighting the British. So the treasure was entrusted to the wives of the revolution's leaders, most especially George Washington's wife Martha and Ben Franklin's common law wife Deborah Read.

Meanwhile Benedict Arnold was passed over for promotion. Some said it was because many of the others were Freemasons but he was not. Despite being one of the original Sons of Liberty, unlike men like Jefferson, Franklin, and Washington, they became famous leaders while he was a minor official in the army. Plus the original plan was that once the king gave in they would melt the treasure down and divide it amongst them, but then the others decided against Arnold's wishes that they had to keep it in tact for both its historical value and as leverage in the future.

Benedict Arnold would get nothing out of risking his life for what he considered to be a disgusting collection of useless pornographic material. Which was why he sent John Andre, his wife's former lover, out with the papers on West Point. He was a distraction for them to escape. Arnold had already sent his own threat to the British and an offer to lead them to the treasure if they took him in. He was made a Brigadier General, given a pay of three hundred and sixty pounds and additional six thousand pounds. The man sent by the British to retrieve Benedict Arnold, Sir Henry Clinton, despised Arnold, but he was a loyal member of both the Empire and a group known as The Praetor's Dagger and it was his duty to reacquire the treasure at all costs.

He might have succeeded, but the wives and other women of the Son's of Liberty had been left in charge of the treasure saw the artifacts for their true historical value and actually refused to turn it back over to their husbands, fearing that their greed and even necessity might make them weaken. They had secretly blackmailed Thomas Jefferson into using his slaves to help them build a hiding place for it. According to Arnold who heard the story one night at a bar from Jefferson himself. He was so drunk that he did not even remember telling Arnold later. They threatened to expose his liaisons with a certain slave he owned. So they went out to some abandoned island and built a hiding place that none of the men of the colony could ever find and made sure they understood that even trying to find the place would again expose the secret and endanger the colonies. They could never trust enough men as it would take to locate and move it again. The British could not use this information because Arnold refused to tell them exactly where the treasure was. He realized they would probably kill him once they had it and they could not publicly chastise him without revealing why. The exact location is not known to this day and eventually the king agreed to America's demand for freedom lest the truth come out.

Meanwhile the images of the treasure had an effect on those who saw it. Particularly a small collection of paintings, statues, and music originating in Italy at the time of Leonardo da Vinci and his associates. These works of art were designed with specific subliminal messages worked into their designs. Not mind control, but with effects similar to alcohol to lower the inhibitions. Combined with the graphic imagery while they could not actually turn those who observed them gay, they did allow them to accept those feelings if they had them. Possibly originally so that the artists who created them would have an easier time finding people who shared their own proclivities.

There is some evidence that this code or programming is still used by artists today, passed down either intentionally or subliminally to those who study the artwork in Europe. We have knowledge that parts of the Renaissance are alive and well there and many became very famous. For example Beethoven and Mozart were both fans of the composer Handel who was known to have had gay affairs. All of their music contains some of the melodies recorded and written down from the treasure. Many of the nobility who were charged with guarding the treasure were in fact among the Renaissance's ranks and had many converts. Had the American's blackmail scheme not happened they would probably still have control of it. They kept it hidden away mostly though both for the safety of the artifacts and because sometimes there were unfortunate side effects. Got example the Borgia family, may have spent a great deal of the time exposed to too much of the art.

The European Renaissance connected with their American counterparts during the Revolutionary war, prompting France and others to assist us in our fight. Some of our operatives can even replicate the effect for our benefit, though with caution as a lack of inhibitions can lead to as much if not more bad press than positive. In addition it can be used against us as in the example of The Praetor's Dagger and the famous painting of George Washington, one of our greatest failures.

Those men and women who were affected by paintings began to experiment during the war. Rumors have abounded over the years of trysts among the founding fathers as well as their women, left alone a great deal during the war. They would meet in secret and even replicate some of the artwork, driven to do so by they knew not what. They formed their own branch of the Renaissance, who had sent their people to Ben Franklin while he was there to teach him their ways and pass them on when he returned.

Whether this group would have faded into obscurity over time or not is up for debate. They may have become little more than a secret sex club for horny men and bored housewives to express themselves, like you can find today in nearly any town. That possibility was eclipsed however when a young soldier named Robert Shirtlift discovered that The Renaissance had opposition. Robert's real name was Deborah Sampson and she would become one of the great heroes of the war. As Robert she made friends with many of the revolutionaries including Paul Revere, who would later support her when after the war her secret was revealed and her money for being a soldier was revoked.

He had been assigned as part of a group to explorers sent to what would one day be Ohio. While there she came across a group of natives who had kidnapped a white woman. The details are sketchy, but The Renaissance has an uncorrupted copy of her diary.

The woman was an agent for a group of people known as The Praetor's Dagger, who have ties to many governments. They originated back in ancient times in order to suppress information the government felt would weaken their power. While the empires they served would rise and fall, the new ones learned from the old and The Praetor's Dagger continued on, becoming a power unto themselves. They worked especially in opposition to the Renaissance, the two becoming long rivals.

The woman had been part of a group sent by these people to infiltrate the Native American tribes and make sure that they did not give people the wrong sort of ideas. Most notably the idea of herdache, the two-spirit woman in which a man might take another man as a wife and have him act as a woman or a woman who would become a man and take other women as her brides. Many native cultures had this tradition and it is said that even Sitting Bull may have had two male wives in among the women. They were often highly respected, something that the British would not appreciate getting out, especially after the loss of the treasure.

The natives gently rebuffed the idea of giving up this longstanding tradition by slaughtering most of the envoy they sent. The woman assumed she was to either die or be made the wife of one of the natives, a fate considered by white people at the time to be almost as bad if not worse. Without hope she confessed to Robert immediately saw the danger in British soldiers and nobility actively working against homosexuals. Robert was quite the lady's man with a string of lovers in her time in the army. A prime target for such people.

She offered the woman a way out. The natives respected two-spirit women and warriors, which applied to her both ways. To give you some idea to hide her secret she once sewed up a near fatal sword wound herself, refusing to let any doctors see inside her pants. A brief negotiation with the girl's captors and Robert had a new wife who he brought with him back to the colonies and made tell everything about The Praetor's Dagger to the rest of the Renaissance. She knew quite a bit and when they checked her information they found many more of them hidden among the colonists, just as they were. Likewise the daggers found out about them.

There were fights, but the leaders of both groups valued secrecy. The Renaissance because they were a minority and as slave owners knew how horrible that position was in their world. The Praetor's Dagger because their enemies were often well respected people with influence and money and they never had much proof. Accusing someone like say George Washington and Alexander Hamilton, heroes and leaders to a whole country, of things they could never prove would have been a good way to get lynched. Besides the daggers preferred the academic approach to physical violence. A gay man could die and become a martyr. It is easier to change a history book an simply keep others from knowing he was gay in the first place.

The Renaissance responded by letting that information out, though often not until after they and their close relatives and friends were all dead. It became protocol to write diaries, love notes, and gossip letters about one another and mail those letters. Then they could be safely put away and preserved to come out later. If a famous man has a scandal it can end a career and ensure a horrible place in history. If it comes out long after he is dead and a hero, it can change opinion. Especially if you find out that for years you have been lied to about your heroes by historians and teachers. Which of course makes the Praetor's Daggers look bad when it happens, striking another blow. For every person who is admired and loved who is then revealed to be gay, it chips away at another chunk of bigotry.

Sometimes there were physical confrontations. Assassinations, both character and in the standard sense. Pretty much anything you know about spies from George Washington's personal network to the CIA or the NSA is also done by the Renaissance. We are just better at keeping secrets in The Closet.

In time corruption creeps in to any organization over time. The mafia started as a police force, meant to take care of the people who lived in areas of little interest to the police force. Likewise as time moved on the women of the Renaissance, who had never been quite as powerful or prominent as the men, began to notice themselves taking second place to the males. Men who were rich and powerful and truthfully had little use for women, unless they wanted to borrow a dress or some makeup. And even gay women were not raised to be part of the action. Their place was usually as a wife to a gay man, who in turn would meet up with one or more of the other wives while their husbands went "camping" or the like. A Lavender Marriage as it was known.

Some of the women, particularly the types who dressed and even lived as men, saw the writing on the wall and that they and their sisters were being phased out. Being the butch mother fuckers they were they were not going to let that happen and split off into "The Closet". Not all the women went with them and there are still ties to The Renaissance, but mostly they have different focuses. The Renaissance handles male homosexuality, The Closet female, and they collaborate on issues that apply to both. Though there was always some overlap and you might be delightfully surprised by some of the women who were really men and the men who were really women in history. It is only recent years when one might be able to prove it one way or another and most people will not dig up any grave, let alone a famous one, on hearsay and rumor. Unlike the Renaissance however, only gay women are allowed in The Closet, though we may use male operatives and even marry men if it is requires. Even when dating a female member or using a male member of the Renaissance as her beard, the two organizations rarely overlap in anything but sharing intelligence and jewelry.

For further information on the more specific details of our history you can read some of the field reports in your own time, though we do appreciate you keeping all information in The Closet. As a general rule we prefer to push others into the limelight while we work behind the scenes unless we find a member who would make a good and obvious example for young lesbians and even then we try to keep the public from finding out their sexual orientation until they are well established or even after their deaths where they cannot be torn apart by scandals and accusations. Admittedly this has not always worked out, particularly in the case of Dark Venus, but we do our best. Our results are usually explained to new recruits depending on the position you find yourself assigned to.

Positions

You will have been tested and given your assignments in one of the following sections. We remind you again that the choice of your position in our organization does not reflect poorly on you regardless of what it may be. You are a beautiful and special person with her own skills and talents. You were chosen to join us and we do not let in fools and losers. It is just that some people are better suited for certain jobs than others and even when that job mostly involves sex or research it is important to everything we are fighting for. We are agents for a cause and we are required to do whatever is needed to complete our objectives. The Closet is ultimately meant to help other people at the expense of yourself and we prefer not to lose agents at all if we can avoid it. Not everyone is cut out for field work or seduction, but every woman is important to The Closet and the women who we work to help.

Each section has its own teachers and tests that you have passed. Some people are surprised at where they end up assigned and many are unsure or opposed to the position, certain that they are meant for something else. We welcome your attempts to move to any place where you feel you may fit, but you must do so by submitting to and passing the challenges we assign to determine if you fit. Until that time you will go to your assignment until your either finish or fail. If you fail and survive the experience with your cover in tact, you will still need to be retrained focusing on why you failed. Provided a review determines that you are still useful or need to be either retired or terminated if it turns out that your failure was due to either incompetence or intent rather than a run of bad luck and unforeseen difficulties.

You as an agent must do your job and trust other agents to do their job the way they were trained without doing anything to show that you are connected unless given new orders. They may fail but if you both go down that just increases the failure and the chances if exposure. If you feel you are in danger of failing you are encouraged to ask for help if the situation allows. Our protocols have kept The Closet secret for a very long time and it would be a pity if you were the one to personally ruin that.

Section 1: Education

Our primary focus has always been on education and indoctrination. The Renaissance has always put forth its people to teach lessons in contrast to the standard. Rarely in large groups mind you. A child can summon an angry mob as easily as an adult and many teachers have been fired and even attacked just for being gay, let alone teaching children that it is alright to be so. Most schools for a long time were run entirely by the church, who controlled most of the books and information. Priests and nuns were the teachers and when one of them went off the rails and actually molested children, particularly same-sex situations, it could set our work back years. It also did not help that the age in which someone became an adult could fluctuate. In some places a child might be married off as early as five or betrothed from birth while in others you had to be twelve, fourteen, or eighteen… though the last was rare because of life expectancy before modern medicine.

While we in The Closet value free will and a woman's right to choose whether or not to act on her feelings, we are also aware that we are a small group in a war against not only flesh and blood foes, but intolerance and ignorance. So it is not uncommon for our agents who work in education to give girls and even boys a little push in the direction we want them to go. A painting on the wall might have "The Renaissance Touch" as we refer to those paintings that use da Vinci's technique. A teacher might wear provocative clothing and tell certain stories from history and legend, mixing them in with the usual teachings, so that if an angry parent complained you could explain that it was a classic and that you had no idea that it was objectionable. Little subversive things to plant ideas that they might be more likely to act on.

More likely though, an agent would identify blooming girls (boys being referred to the Renaissance for their own similar teaching). Those who stared a little too long. Who passed notes in class. Went to sleepovers or even who were sneaking off to kiss away from prying eyes. These would be watched, encouraged, or if they were the type, discouraged. It is surprising how many girls will run into another woman's arms if they are told it is wrong or if their parents are let in on it to try to tear them apart.

All girl schools are not any easier at this than others. Many girls are straight and no amount of nudging will put them into the arms of another female. An agent rarely tries to seduce a schoolgirl herself unless she is genuinely attracted to her. We do screen for pedophiles, but while society has its age limits and so do we, we also understand that the heart wants what it wants and if you can find love without risking our cover of being in The Closet if not being a lesbian, then we encourage it. Provided the girl is willing and at least close to legal age. If you get caught on your own head be it.

However we do encourage those with crushes on other girls to act. As teachers, counselors, or even nuns. You see a girl pining or one who does not know how to react when approached. Or in contrast, let someone know when they are pushing too much. It does us no good when someone gives us all a bad name by forcing things. A teacher is meant to teach and guide, but also to allow her students to find things out for themselves.

In addition The Closet cannot afford to risk our own anonymity merely to teach a few children that being a bigoted idiot is wrong, especially in defiance of the status quo. While we do of course encourage promotion of our lifestyle or at least keeping people from being openly hostile to them, we also pride ourselves on our subtlety and remember that we are in danger at all times. We could easily teach little Susan that it's okay for mommy or aunt Jenny to kiss a girl if she wants, if she tells them that when she gets home mommy or daddy might get mad at the teacher who told her that and either get her fired or down a bottle of whiskey show up with a shotgun and a few of his friends.

There are those who would happily expose you if you gave them reason to. Small towns alone have the potential to rake people over that rival's the inquisition and all it takes is one accusation from someone you refused to date or a kid you pissed off and even a regular teacher can end up the victim of a witch hunt. It can be so much worse when you have something to hide and knowing that there are groups out there actively trying to find you and subvert your teachings. Stand out too much and they may find you and if they cannot expose you with facts they will frame you. Sometimes just on suspicion.

Be warned, when you see the idiotic things you are expected to teach children and even adults keeping your mouth shut is not always easy. After receiving an education from The Closet a girl just has to open a history book or a collection of mythology to see the work of The Praetor's Dagger as well as those working with the limited knowledge they allow most people to have. It is much like when you are a child and told that Thanksgiving is when the Native Americans sat down together and made peace forever and then finding out how white people really treated them. It may be better in some countries, but the American educational system was never the best to begin with and the average person has trouble naming any current world leader who has not has a scandal in the last three months.

In these more enlightened times it is possible that you can be allowed to openly teach classes on gay and lesbian studies, but this is a kind of trap and often set up by those in charge to weed you out. It pigeon holes people into classes meant only for adults in college. It exposes you and makes sure they can monitor who and what you teach. And while we do have agents teaching such classes, the point of The Closet is not to keep things the way they are or teach meaningless historical facts to people who have already grown up and decided who they are.

Whether it is morally right to teach children about any kind of sex, particularly in defiance of what their parents might wish, is a debate for the future. The Closet is a part of a war, not just for ourselves but also for future generations. We try not to do harm, but we also know that the only way to keep a child from all harm is to kill them as soon as they are conceived and then lock them away in a box where nobody else could ever find them. We learned that lesson from the countless women who were forced to live like that, huddled away in dark and lonely homes, because the world stood ready to crush them if they made the slightest mistake.

The hope is that with help and guidance, others girls will not need to learn that lesson. At least not the hard way.

There is a secondary purpose in sending our agents to schools and that it prevention. There are predators out there. Both those who will try to force the young and inexperienced away from the right path and those who, like Dark Venus, will try too hard to push them the other way. Teaching a student to accept their own sexuality, often in defiance of things they have been taught by people they love and respect, is much like working with iron. The impurities have to be melted out with fire and then strained out. Then there's some cooling, beating, reheating, and shaping until it becomes something useful and long lasting.

If you rush it, stretch it into a shape it is not meant to fit, or hit it too hard you end up either breaking it or with a substandard product that could even more dangerous. Worse it can appear to be fine, but contains flaws because before it eventually self destructs it appears perfect while the maker cranks more out before they realize anything is wrong. A system that worked for many things for centuries. We in The Closet, are quality control. You must watch for those who want to use the young for their own ends and enjoyment without thinking what is best for them and the person they end up with. We do not expect you to work miracles, but there are reviews of your action and consequences for those who do more harm than good.

In addition we expect you to monitor yourself. Get help if you have to. Make a request and we can arrange for another teacher, a counselor, or a teacher's aid to be stationed at least long enough to make a determination if you are acting in your student's best interest if you are not sure. Remember The Closet is here to help you as much as any of the other girls and the sign of a great teacher is always learning new things.

Finally you will be responsible for identifying exceptional girls who can be of use to us. Physical skills, intellect, or special skills. You will have been taught what to look for. When they are identified they will be tested by our people, both in scholastic ability and to test them to see if they would fit in with us and our goals. Should they meet our exacting requirements they will be offered a scholarship for one of our schools or, if their parents refuse, other arrangements will be made to train them in secret.

If they do not meet our standards they can always be useful in other ways. It is said that behind every great man is a great woman. The same can be said of many great women. Martha Thomas would have never started some of the first all-girl schools if her lover, one of our operatives, had not gently nudged her in that direction. But while you can assist in such things and keep an eye out for openings, that particular sort of job is for one of the other sections and The Closet does not appreciate loose canons who deviate from their assignments without orders or pressing need.

Section 2: Examples

No matter how secret the society, in order to effect social change one must have a public face. Up until the nineteen hundreds this was difficult as it was not unusual for any gay women to be declared a witch and while we have little proof we suspect that many of history's more famous lesbians before that time were put in place by the Praetor's Dagger. Such as Lucrecia Borgia. While we did occasionally get lucky like the time a Queen declared male homosexuality illegal but not female on the grounds that she did not believe women would do such a thing, historically the public face of female homosexuality has been sketchy at best even among the upper class. Some paintings, statues, and even a few manuscripts managed to survive being burned by righteous citizenry but for the most part if they existed they were destroyed. Sappho herself wrote thousands of scrolls on the subject of lesbians but only a handful survive to today.

The advent of magazines and movies, particularly those of a pornographic nature, changed all of that bringing what was considered the secrets of a burlesque show to the common person. True appearing in such things can be degrading, but it was a step forward. At first because budding young women could get a peek at a scantily dressed or even nude woman she was not related to for perhaps the first time in her life, allowing her to contemplate things she would never have been told were possible. Following that stag films and other adult mediums allowed people, usually men admittedly, to actually see two women have sex in an environment where they could cheer them on instead of publicly decrying them. If these too happened to fall into the hands of his wife, mother, sister, or whomever while he was drunk or he started making the suggestion of a three way, you have another step and so on.

While we have and do work in the more risqué areas of entertainment, the majority of our work there has been in revelation. What we did for most of the twentieth century was to move most of our more beautiful operatives into place as actors, models, and other positions in the limelight. Then we would specifically not tell anyone they were gay. In fact many would date men and even marry "beards". In private they may have one lover or dozens, but officially the topic was never broached except in rumor if they got sloppy.

Then after they were famous or even after their death evidence comes to light. Letters suspiciously kept in pristine condition between two women. Audio tapes from their psychologist's private records. Confessions from a surviving partner or catty tell-all books from bitter ex-lovers. And then came the paparazzi. Suddenly millions of people learn that their idols and crushes play for the home team. Some dig more trying to disprove it, which is hard since if they work for us it's true. There have been some successes in this area, but it gets harder as time goes on and even previously covered-up lesbians can be outed later or replaced with another celebrity.

After the eighties and into the nineties and up to today we were finally able to start having celebrities and female sports stars being openly gay and not being killed or their careers ruined for it. Admittedly there were some in the old days who managed it, at least on the party scene, but they were few and far between. Now it's not only possible but nearly every celebrity has betting pools about it. Even fictional characters like those in cartoons can appear on television or in movies as openly gay, whereas before they were mostly relegated to fan fiction and art on the Internet and at conventions.

At the same time we do keep up the old ways. It is always good to have a great cover girl waiting in the wings, promoting family values and even violently opposed to homosexuality up until they get "caught" doing it. After all there have been times when black people managed to infiltrate the KKK, so pretending to be straight is hardly a challenge by comparison.

Another way is to get the woman in the news. Sometimes for another cause like women's rights, child abuse, homeless children, or similar. This gives you someone who is legitimately doing good whether they are famous for something else or not. In addition to doing real good in the world it becomes much harder for them to be discredited if they are basically a saint when their sexual orientation is revealed. Once you've saved kids from a burning orphanage, fed the hungry, clothed and housed the homeless, and cured cancer the fact that you have been living with a female lover for twenty years seems a bit petty as a "flaw" for even the most cynical televangelist.

Finally there are the agents and managers. Not everyone is meant for the public eye, but being able to control those who are can be even better. A manager or agent can convince a popular client of the benefits of playing a gay character in a movie. In appearing in public with a girl to heighten their fame. Maybe even set up a situation where the girl decides to legitimately switch teams. More than one lady has crossed the line while at a big Hollywood party especially if she is approached by another famous person they admire. Whether she stays there may be iffy, but it hardly matters if the story gets out either now or later.

A lot of people are sheep and will try something just because a famous person does it, but that is not the primary goal of our programs. What we want is merely to keep the idea in the open. So that the idea that a girl can love another girl is available. That acceptance of such things means that while it may never be totally accepted such a woman will also not be murdered and publicly ostracized for it.

Section 3: Long Term Seduction

Arranged marriage was the norm for many cultures for a very long time. It is also not unheard of for countries, clans, and businesses to use such arrangements to gain a foothold in a powerful rival, long term enemy, or with someone who merely has what you want. The Closet is not above using thee tactics ourselves. Many gay women have had their emotions toyed with, trampled, and otherwise crushed into the dirt to the point where love is an iffy prospect at best. Our agents who feel that way as well as some of our young and hopeful up and comers who think that they can find love with someone over time often volunteer for chosen individuals who we feel can be of use to our side with the proper guidance.

This could be a celebrity who we want to be gay and not just a fling. A rich and powerful woman whose money and/or connections we can use like the wife, daughter, or sister of a sitting president. A lover can convince someone to run for office, get involved in protests, and if you really work at it et into position to affect the family's children or heirs. The details vary and are tailored to each individual. Our targets are carefully chosen by Section 6 for such potential and screened for their susceptibility to our agents' charms. There is some crossover with the other sections as this is also a popular "retirement plan" for our agents who are no longer suited for other positions.

Aside from training to agents to succeed at this sort of thing, we have a variety of tools provided by Section 7 to facilitate the seduction and keep the target from ever finding out that they were targeted. Depending on the situation this can involve pheromones to get a woman in the mood, electronic stalking on a level that the CIA would envy, and in a few cases constant monitoring and implanted killing devices to give our own agents apparent strokes and aneurisms before they can reveal classified intelligence similar to the poisoned pills used during the Cold War or if we feel the agent's death will push their lover in the direction we want.

While this may seem callous it is both effective and in truth over time many of our agents have found a degree of love with their chosen targets like with any arranged marriage. For others it is a business proposition not just for the agent, but the target who may also have given up on love but might have other needs either physical or social. Sometimes they marry our agents, other times they work as long time employees, mistresses, hookers, or whatever else. They key for us is control and usefulness and whatever position they end up in the agents chosen to do this are expected to succeed. If they happen to live a long and happy life with their target, all the better. Though we do discourage revealing the details of any operations even to other lesbians and long term partners.

There is some danger in this work. Domestic disturbances are dangerous and can quickly escalate to violence. While agent Lorena Hickok clearly succeeded beyond anyone's wildest dreams, Agent Marilyn Monroe was killed under suspicious circumstances. She had been pushed by her handlers who saw her as too useful not to use and even we are not certain who was ultimately behind her death, though she was connected to the founder of Dark Venus and had an adversarial relationship after she refused to join them.

We do on occasion even marry our ladies off to straight men if the situation calls for it. Behind every great man is a great woman and if she happens to have a secret girlfriend or have to finish the man's job herself, that's just the way it is. We hate to burst your bubble but not every marriage is based on love so much as convenience.

Section 4: Field Work and Drastic Measures

For field work one must imagine the more classic image of a spy. They are sent in to obtain information on people we suspect are acting against us or to eliminate them either through character assassination or the other kind. Sometimes if needed even planting it. Anti-gay groups, religious leaders, politicians, and individuals who are influential and outspoken against gays in general and lesbians in particular. While these actions may be illegal and even immoral, we have justifications in the same way any other agency or group has over the years. And we have made mistakes or failed in our objectives. Which is why we only do these things in the most dire of circumstances.

Take Adolph Hitler. History has shown that many lesbians hung around him both before and during the war, though of course back then most if not all of them were completely hiding that fact. Pola Negri for example (later retired and married off to Margaret West) spent much time with the man and his associates. We will not be releasing the details for some time. Too many high ranking members of his followers either were gay, associated with gay people, performed hideous sexual acts, or likewise killed, tortured, or otherwise acted against gay people and even we are still sorting through the details. It is all too intimately involved with general hate crimes for either side to gain by revealing the details. If Hitler or his people were gay for example, while it would discredit them as hypocrites, it would also put him in the same category as us and nobody wants to be associated with Nazis. The fact that Hitler was a vegetarian has haunted vegans for years.

A standard tactic for our agents is the one night stand. Identifying a potential threat is easy enough since anti-gay figures are usually very public in their actions. Getting to them is harder. The idea of course is to get them or a close associate or family member they truly care about into bed with the agent and collect indisputable proof either for blackmail or public consumption. Drugs, booze, and even doppelgangers have been used, though in our experience a lot of the most outspoken people against gays are secretly gay themselves and getting them into bed is not the problem. The problem arrives when they retaliate in their attempts to eliminate the evidence.

Anyone worth Section 4's attention is usually very powerful, well connected, and usually the agent has to go pubic themselves. Reporters these days are usually interested in proof and names and very few reputable news agencies will report on anonymous people and their rumored actions. Without proof and witnesses they can spin their way out of it like J. Edgar Hoover getting caught in a red dress. This means that the agent is burned, cannot do it again, and publicly exposed.

Many of these people do not appreciate this even when we make it look like someone else blew the whistle and a popular way to end the scandal is for them to make our agent disappear. For example if we were to seduce the wife or daughter of the president of a country that was openly hostile to homosexuality, particularly in women, they would kill the agent and make sure the loved one kept quiet. Or kill them too. Sadly such countries are rarely run by women so while our male counterparts have had a few high profile successes in that area, it can seriously backfire by giving them the chance to show their commitment to destroying gays.

Gaining access to the targets is sometimes a huge inconvenience. Not all of them are gay or in a place where if they are they can let themselves go. A few even have bodyguards specifically to keep them from embarrassing themselves. Gaining access and alone time can be very dangerous and more than one of our agents has been gunned down, tortured, and otherwise detained as potential spies and assassins. Or because they were caught actually doing what they were doing. Some of our enemies do know about us and have strong connections in such countries.

Actual assassination is usually reserved for when an adversary does truly evil things and either needs to be caught such as a well protected congressman who secretly kills young girls of a lesbian persuasion as a hobby or if someone needs to die without being caught such as a case in the late nineties where an advocate for gay rights was raping and killing young girls. She never would have spent a day in prison with her connections and public knowledge of the events would have harmed the cause had the details gotten out. We never act hastily and we try not to kill, but sometimes something needs to be done. The only other time is when someone finds out about us and becomes a security risk.

In most of these cases they ruled to have committed suicide as attested by the notes explaining that they were secretly gay the whole time, where those who might care to look can find proof, and how sorry they are. Unless being associated with us in some way could cause problems, in which case we frame one of our enemies for their murder or suicide. Like say if one of them is the head of a Neo-nazi group and the other a religious organization advocating the stoning of gays we can usually make it look like one killed herself because of a longstanding relationship with the other and while the police may not buy it after the investigation (though we are good at making sure they do) their followers usually do not wait that long before acting. Whole groups have been torn apart by such arguments.

It is all very complicated and history will have to judge if what we do is the right way to go about it. Should they ever find out. Had the Founding Fathers lost the war they would have been executed as traitors.

Section 5: Historians & Artists

Knowledge is power and manipulating knowledge is tough but not impossible. For many years people believed the world was flat any anyone who disagreed were killed. In the years since there have been many lesbians in history who were silently edited out of history. Even if they remained the fact that they were gay was erased. Not just history either, but artwork, stories, books, and any other records. Certain passages in the Diary of Anne Frank for example.

Section 5 undoes this. We have historians and art experts to dig through files and ancient relics. To reconstruct paintings, statues, and engravings. Dig into the creator's past and see if they were gay. If nothing else to point other researchers in the right direction. We also have our own archives of relics kept secret by our members, to be kept in trust until after they and their friends are long dead and can no longer be damaged by the information.

Additionally as most art, writings, and the like not only become relics in time but are based on those that came before, Section 5 also hosts and even patronizes many new artists and authors who either are gay or work in a form that shows gay people in a positive light. We prefer lesbians, but art is subjective and many gay women find straight sexual images or images of gay men just as if not more stimulating and some artists do not do anything sexual at all. So they are given free range to do as they want and save what we know about them until and if their work becomes popular.

We do not actively lie about any historical fact, though if the actual nature of them is ambiguous our people may write papers and give speeches that interpret them in a way that may be slightly biased in our favor. To be fair as we said, a lot of historians have done it the other way for a long time. A prime example is the way a report on the breeding habits of penguins was suppressed for nearly a century because it proved that a significant percentage of the birds engage in same-sex coupling.

Section 6: Finances, Blackmail, and Arranged Marriage

Our leaders run Section 6, using whatever means are at their disposal to not only keep The Closet solvent, but to put that money and our people to good use. In some cases they may arrange for someone from Section 3 to seduce a rich widow whose money will be put into sponsoring someone from Section 2 or Section 5. More is spent on Section 7, paying agents, bribes, and financing our activities. A lot of it also goes to gay friendly charities, organizations, and programs.

Some of these ways are less than legal and in the world of homosexuals blackmail is a necessary tool at times. Until the day lesbians are universally accepted it is likely to remain so. Whether they are actually gay and want to keep that a secret, are not gay but pretending to be for their own reasons, or violently anti-gay and afraid of being accused. Millions of dollars come in annually from such people as well as other favors.

Most of our money though comes from voluntary donations from well off agents, their rich lovers, or through various other businesses we are involved in. Many sign over their life insurance to other agents who will then deliver it to Section 6. Admittedly marrying for wealth is not completely moral, but it is not illegal and it has been done for worse causes.

Section 7: Science Division

The Closet has found many uses for science and in times past we were often the only place that would and could finance the intelligent lesbian interested in applying her brain to the betterment of all. We have geneticists looking to find ways of identifying or even causing the genetic anomalies that make people gay as well as cloning technology. Rumor has it they are even experimenting in mind control and other ways of literally turning people gay. Admittedly some of this slips into mad scientist "destroy all men" territory, but worry not. We are years away from being able to do that.

Currently we are more focused on allowing gay men and women to breed, often without a partner, and to be certain that their children will be the same way. Which was historically a problem for many gay societies like the Amazons. Similarly we are working on cures for diseases, other genetic abnormalities, and any other beneficial results of our experiments that come to light.

Another big part of Section 7 and a large money maker for the closet is in sex toys. Few people realize how important such things have been in women's rights over the years. To have a viable substitute for the male genitalia for gay, bisexual, bi-curious, and even straight women has helped us almost more than anything else. We discover new things all the time and put them on the market as soon as possible.

Most notably though are the inventions used solely for our own purposes. Real James Bond type things. Special scents that make even straight women find you sexually attractive. Concealed sex toys and lube. Tools for breaking and entering, gaining access to secure facilities, and faking identification. Hidden cameras, weapons, and ways of hiding or accessing secrets. Escape devices for when you get caught and anything else the mad geniuses can make up or steal.

Section 8: Infiltration

Some agents are actively chosen to infiltrate. They join anti-gay groups, campaigns, cults, or even regular jobs. The key is to lay low and gather information and access. This means they may never be able to sleep with another woman again for fear of breaking their cover. They marry objectionable men and play house wife. Some work their way up the corporate ladder and others stay in low level or even demeaning positions.

Unlike other agents they do not push our agenda. Nothing they do until their assignment ends or the day they die, whichever comes first, will indicate that they are gay. They deny that part of themselves and go about their lives as if they were straight or even against everything we stand for. Why?

All for access. They have codes, secret handshakes, special jewelry, and other ways of identifying themselves to agents from any of the other sections and they do it all for others. Sacrificing their own happiness in the hope that one day they will not be needed any more because all women are treated equal whether they are gay or not. They might be your wife, sister, aunt, mother, grandmother, or neighbor. The clerk at the grocery store. The librarian or a teacher. A homeless vagrant or the most vocal of hate group members.

If another agent needs an in they will be there to open the door. Otherwise they gather information on those they are sent to watch and make sure it gets to us in time to do some good. These dedicated women are heroes who give up everything in order to help others. If possible they are stood down at some point, retired to a nice wife and a happier life, but most die in obscurity or branded traitors to lesbians everywhere.

Only they could tell you if it is worth it.

Allies

The Closet has many close associates, though most of them are unaware of our true nature and think that our people just work for many of the gay rights groups of the world. Only a few know our true nature and they have secrets of their own.

The Renaissance

Our adoptive parent organization The Renaissance began unsurprisingly during the period of history known as The Renaissance. At the time the church had quite a bit of power and whatever may have gone on behind closed doors, publicly homosexuality was still decried. Though those of privilege and wealth of course had ways of convincing the authorities to ignore anything they or their associates might be up to.

As such most of their actions were underground and done by people who could not write, the origins of the group are lost to history, but they began to gain power under the leadership of Leonardo Da Vinci and other artists of his acquaintance. It is only in recent years that the public has become aware of how many of these men preferred the company of other men and that Leonardo himself was possibly the model for the Mona Lisa. At the time even the most popular of artists might find themselves and their paintings on the list of things to be burned should the church not approve of the content of their art. So anything of a queer nature was hidden away or donated to the kind of rich people who could keep it safe.

As a group they worked together to try to make the world a bit safer for themselves, but had little success. However they did have students, apprentices, admirers, and patrons who were more than happy to learn at the feet of the masters. Like many such groups held together by common cause they stood firm together and it grew. In over time in Europe some places even grew to accept if not entirely embrace homosexuality. There have even been a few higher ups in the church including Popes who were members or lovers of The Renaissance.

The treasure trove of artworks that survived the centuries were eventually collected by some of the crown heads of Europe and a great many of hem ended up in the possession of the British Empire. Where the rest ended up none can say, but those collected by the English nobles was eventually discovered by people with ties to the colonies in the New World and were subsequently stolen and smuggled out in crates of tea bound for Boston where they destroyed the crates and took possession of it. The colonists then sent a Declaration of Independence and a blackmail note to the king demanding freedom lest the contents of that treasure and the names of those who had owned it be made public.

The Empire did not comply immediately and in fact many attempts were made to retrieve the treasure, some of which might have been successful had the wives left at home during the war not acted and hidden the treasure away while their men were off fighting. They feared that a captured soldier might betray the treasure and that even should they win, their husbands might think of the monetary value of the art more than the historical. In the case of Benedict Arnold, who had been denied a share of the treasure in addition to many other sleights, they were right and only their actions saved the colonies from disaster. Some might have punished them just the same, except that some of the women threatened to reveal the whole thing so the matter was mostly forgotten.

However there were those involved who found the ideas sparked by the treasure intriguing and also stimulating. Leonardo had discovered a way of stimulating hidden desires subliminally in his artwork and taught those techniques to others. It is not exactly mind control, but can affect the inhibitions of people with suppressed desires. Somehow it also subliminally passes on these techniques tot hose who view the art giving people who see it the urge to create their own artwork with similar results. It does not affect everyone, but history has proven that large numbers of people exposed to the treasure have gone gay themselves and become great composers, artists, writers, and others whose work contains the da Vinci encoding. One of the greatest examples from later centuries of this is Handel's "Messiah".

Many among them (including those who appear on most American money) found lust and love among each other as much as their wives at home did, said wives having also been impressed with some of the images. There is some suggestion that even Thomas Jefferson who was undoubtedly straight, may have been pushed towards his slave/mistress by his own exposure and that some of our greatest allies in the war were show examples of the art to help convince them to assist in the fight for freedom. And thus began the American chapter of The Renaissance, which later came into contact with its European counterparts. Almost but not quite merging as while they had similar aims and goals, they were still separated by an ocean as well as other loyalties. Still from then on the two have worked closely together.

Unfortunately being a part of a minority does not mean that you are all inclusive and while women were allowed in The Renaissance they were treated as second class members. Unsurprising as women have for centuries in many cultures been barely above slaves and with gay men had even less value than normal, unless they wanted to borrow dresses, makeup, or needed a bride who would not mind their extracurricular activities with the other guys. Purple marriages abounded and the wives usually came out the worse for it.

So it was not long before a large portion of the female members broke off, forming their own group: The Closet.

While ties between us and them remain strong, the gender barrier does lead to differences of opinion at times and there have been disagreements, mostly on the subject of women's rights. In recent decades such lines have blurred, but still we operate mostly separately. A lot of our methods are the same and a few times our operations have overlapped and even come into conflict, but The Renaissance remains one of our closest associates.

The Cult of Ardhanarisvara

Ardhanarisvara is a Hindu god that has aspects of both men and women. The history of his/her following is long and complicated, but like many gods from the same region and pantheon such as Shiva, Vishnu, Kali and others. Although less well known world wide than others, there were some of Ardhanarisvara's followers who adopted the god as a symbol of the third sex, a belief that there are not only two genders but a third that is a mix of the two and includes homosexual men, lesbian women, Transgenders, and hermaphrodites.

Like The Renaissance this group had to spend a lot of time underground, especially when countries with ties to The Praetor's Dagger began to make their way into the area and actively hunting them down. Fortunately while European interests soon held sway and India became one of its colonies, certain aspects of Asian culture were much more accepting of homosexuals. They also were more accepting and while Ardhanarisvara's following began the cult, over the centuries they allowed in people from numerous other religions including Shinto, Buddhism, and even ties to The Renaissance and The Closet. They like us have connections to many gay rights organizations around the world, few if any of which have any knowledge of their actions. TCOA is mostly active in Asia, the Middle East, and Northern Africa leaving those other two groups America, Europe, and their associates.

While all work together and they allow us our leeway and can sometimes even share information on areas of mutual interest, TCOA is less in favor of The Closet than The Renaissance because they do come from cultures where even today women are not as respected as other places and their higher ranking members have little if any interest in changing that and more than once we have come into direct conflict with them over this and should they find us in their areas they have not hesitated to capture, torture, and even stone to death some of our members. Likewise we have had to eliminate a few of theirs over the years and we have infiltrated some of their chapters. Not an easy feat considering their feelings on women, but The Closet has irons in many fires and there is some hope of eventually changing their opinion on the stronger (re: female) sex.

Sappho's Sisters (Defunct)

This group is, as far as we know, wiped out by the Praetor's Dagger. Originally founded in Greece by the poet Sappho she had managed to establish a large group of homosexual women. Their activities are recorded in history, though not under this name, and we recommend to all our members to study them and the things they accomplished. Sadly they and all their works were destroyed by their opposition along with many other similar groups who have risen and fallen through history.

So far The Closet has continued on where they have left off just like America has survived where other countries have fallen. Will we last forever? Will we fall to our enemies? Who can say? But history shows that we have always existed in one form or another and even if we are ground into the dust we will rise again.

Enemies

While there are many groups out there that oppose what we are working for, few if any of them know about us specifically. However there are two groups who do and are active threats to The Closet.

Dark Venus

Founded by a rouge agent Lucille LeSuer (Joan Crawford) in 1938 after she went rogue in 1932. Dark Venus is a much more extreme offshoot of The Closet. In fact many of its original members were lured away from our organization by Lucille's promises of a more active and direct way of doing things. Where The Closet tries to bring the world around to equality and an end to oppression, Dark Venus feels that lesbians are superior and should rule the world. Their way of thinking is largely based on those of the legendary Amazon warriors, eventually using modern technology to eliminate the flaws in the system that the warrior women ran into. Most notably the inclusion of straight women and using men to reproduce.

In the mean time they do not subscribe to the idea of letting women choose their sexuality, but forcing it on them. They will use seduction, drugs, mind control, and even blackmail and threats to get women into their beds. To make them seduce and even rape others in return, using these actions to tighten their hold on their victims. And they are not interested in what they consider "weak minded" thinking of equality and free choice. They even raise young women in their way of thinking, sometimes inducting them as members and using others as literal slaves, brainwashed to never seek freedom. They would sooner kill agents of The Closet and our agents than work with us, seeing us as useless and in their way.

We try to rescue and deprogram those we can, but overall most of the inducted members see no need for help. They are the chosen people and when they finally succeed in destroying all straight people and maybe even gay men. They feel that the world will be less populated, that they can build a better society, and that anyone who stands in their way should be immediately destroyed. Fortunately while intense and powerful with ties to various terrorist groups, they are still a much smaller group than us and mostly act through guerilla tactics. Unfortunately despite our best efforts sometimes they manage to infiltrate and even convert some of our own people.

We did attempts once to convince them of their folly. We sent Agent Monroe to talk to them since she had once had a relationship with Lucille and the rogue agent had expressed interest in renewing it despite Monroe's objections. She agreed to try anyway and was both propositioned to join their group and most notably Lucille herself and violently rebuffed when she offered to bring them back into The Closet. We have no actual proof that they were involved, but this incident happened shortly before Monroe's untimely death.

The Praetor's Dagger

The Praetor's Dagger was formed thousands of years ago specifically to ferret out and eliminate gay people, whom their leaders saw as a subversive threat to their leadership. They were comprised of some of the most influential and intelligent men of the time and were wildly successful in eliminating Sappho and her followers. Even after the fall of Rome the group found places among the rich, powerful, and bigoted until they almost became a religious sect themselves. They have connections in a lot of major governments, particularly those that actively oppose gay rights.

The Praetor's Dagger will kill when they feel they can get away with it and if they cannot will do their best to remember and track identified homosexuals so that they can be eliminated at a more opportune time. Like when a gay rights leader will not become a martyr by taking a bullet. However they prefer to have other people, particularly powerful governments, do their work for them. Why risk a murder charge when you can have your victims publicly executed with government approval?

Their main efforts however are more mental than physical. Their contacts in religion do their best to have homosexuality declared a sin against god. They suppress any evidence of gays doing good in the world. If a person cannot simply be erased often their personal lives can. They have scientists working on ways to eliminate gay genetics, blame homosexuals for anything from perversions to STDs, and they experiment in ways to brainwash the gay away. We would compare them to nazis, but we suspect that they were in fact related to some of the anti-gay feelings among the Germans in WW2 and are t an impasse due to our own involvement at the time. So that particular era is largely considered neutral territory between our side and theirs.

They have even found a counter to Leonardo da Vinci's subliminal encoding, reversing it in some cases. Most notably in the famous torn painting of George Washington (presumably a joke at the expense of the Founding Fathers) in the White House. That painting has at times caused many men and women who have seen it to suppress their own desires for same sex relationships and even act violently towards gay people. Too much so for even them. Psychology was a new science and is still not completely understood today. Leonardo was a genius to manage what he did safely and it works because it releases the feelings instead of bottling them up. As an early experiment the painting actually went too far and drove people mad and into berserk furies as it overstressed their minds with repressed desires and needs. The more damaging part of the painting was subsequently torn out and destroyed. The painting is too well known to ever be destroyed completely and there are too many copies, but we do our best and certain items we have placed in the Lincoln bedroom help.

We fight back as best we can opposing and countering them. In recent years our side has stopped them from actively lying about gays in history, though they can still suppress a lot of evidence. If either side gets caught actively lying it would set us back decades do facts and silence are our weapons there.

The Praetor's Dagger and we also have truces in certain areas. While art is a fertile battleground, the da Vinci encoding and its counter are both dangerous up to a certain point and we have agreed to keep it out of broadcast media like radio and television and monitor one another to ensure this. If a piece of art ends up on television due to civilians taping, photographing, recording something we or they have encoded so be it, but we do not actively try to use those mediums to brainwash people. So far. While we have our own agendas, forcing World War 3 or massive mental breakdowns is not among them. Though Dark Venus has tried it and both The Closet and The Praetor's Dagger have actively worked together to stamp on any of them who have dared.

As a general rule while both sides do genetic experiments and people from us, TCOA, Dark Venus, and The Praetor's Dagger have all stepped out of the line, there is a sort of gentleman's agreement that for the time being at least children are left alone to develop on their own. You can try to genetically engineer them and test for whatever it is that makes someone gay or straight, but the technology to do that is too new and uncertain to be definitive, so for the moment at least until they reach puberty and we find out which way they go, children are off limits for The Closet and The Praetor's Dagger. Marginally. Every groups has people who push the lines, but overall we know that if nothing else hurting kids just endangers either side if it comes out. At least in the countries where they care about such things.

Ultimately The Praetor's Dagger wants to find a way to eliminate all gays entirely, not just among humans. They have even gone so far as to suppress the fact that there are even gay animals, though that was a losing battle. They are all about tradition, order, and conformity for the status quo and feel that such an obvious deviation as "abnormal sexuality" leads to anarchy and chaos. We shudder to imagine what they would make of the world should they win. Once our particular deviation from the norm is eliminated who would they turn on next? Race? Religion? Bigots always find someone to hate and conformists a flaw to stamp out.

Fortunately bigots are slowly but surely becoming the minorities, at least if we can help it and so far while they are still here after all this time, they have yet to break us all. The Praetor's Dagger is a threat and a dangerous one, using human ignorance, hatred, and fear as a knife to the back. But we are just as dedicated to our cause and will never stop fighting back.

That ends the document I received. Is there more to be found? Is it all just a joke? Who knows. I suspect for the time those answers will remain in The Closet.

In the meantime inspired by this I have written a story fictional story of my own. I hope you enjoy reading it.

Emma Lazarus, entitled 'The New Colossus':

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

The Hidden Treasure

By, C.D. Overstreet

Sometimes there are good stories in just about anyone's family history. Twelve-year-old Gwendolyn Bates was dragged into her grandmother's house by her arm. Her mother Kimberly was furious. Though for Gwen it was hard to figure out exactly what she was upset about. She was complaining about pretty much everything. From what Gwen had been caught doing to being dragged away from work to come deal with it and pretty much everything else Gwen had ever said or done.

"Kim, what are you doing to the child?" Madeline Johansen asked from the top of the stairs. She always referred to Gwen as "the child" unless she was talking directly to her. Gwen actually liked it since it meant she knew when her grandmother was talking to her and not somebody else.

"I need you to sit down and have a talk with her. I'm at my wits' end mother. She's been expelled from school."

"And why is that?" Madeline was from the richer side of the family and had been brought up to deal with things calmly.

Kim sighed and let go of Gwen's arm. The girl pulled away quickly, rubbing the bruises parts. "Your granddaughter was found today making out behind the gym at her school with another student."

Madeline smiled slightly. "Dear I seem to remember you had more than a few dates at that age yourself. Especially after your coming out party." Gwen's ears perked up and Kim blushed, refusing to look at her daughter.

"Yes well, all that aside," she said quickly. "I did not attend an all girl school!" She looked at her mother obviously expecting support.

Instead Madeline just raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"What do you mean 'so'?" Kim asked. "Your daughter was found with an older girl's tongue in her mouth and her hands up the girl's shirt!"

"Skirt," Gwen corrected in a mumble, earning her a hard squeeze that shut her up. She could still smell Jaclyn on her fingers and presumably so could her mother.

"Kimberly I stayed out of your love life when you were growing up, didn't I? Now I know we did not do that sort of thing in my day, but nobody can accuse me of being old fashioned. Don't tell me you're homophobic dear."

"No! I usually don't care one way or another. It's just…"

"It's just that this time it's your daughter, right?" They both looked at Gwen who had moved to lean against the banister sullenly. She had been taught long ago that you did not interrupt when adults were talking. Even when it was about you. Eventually you were given a chance to speak and they had to listen too, before passing judgment.

Kim's anger was fading. She had always been a bit more emotional than her mother, but the family training under private tutors who taught you how to behave were something the whole family had in common. Actually looking at the three of them was like seeing three versions of the same woman at different ages. They all had the same short black hair, although Madeline's was streaked with gray and she had more wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. They were pretty, thin, and had deep green eyes.

Kim wore a pinstripe business dress. Gwen was wearing her school uniform of a white shirt, plaid skirt, and tie. Her grandmother was in a pair of white shirts, a pink shirt, and a straw hat. She had obviously been planning to work in her garden today.

Kim looked away. "I don't understand it. And the school has rules." She frowned and looked at Gwen. "The parents send their children to an all girl school so they don't get distracted by boys. Not so they can make out with other girls! The look the nuns gave me…" Gwen stuck her tongue out at her mother.

Madeline rolled her eyes. "Kim you can't honestly think that would work. You're only thirty. You can't have forgotten what it was like to be a young girl already. In fact I would say that it is your fault for limiting Gwendolyn's choices." Gwen grinned and tried to hide it.

"I was hoping you could talk some sense into her," Kim said. "She listens to you more than me."

"I'll talk to her, but as for sense… well she is your daughter."

All three of them were smiling a little now. Kim sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She looked at Gwen and then at Madeline. "Whatever, I have to get back to work. Gwen I'll see you later and… and we can talk. When I am calmer." She waved to her mother and turned for the door.

When she was gone Madeline turned to look at Gwen and said, "Well?"

Losing her smile Gwen said, "Well what? Mom told you everything important already."

"No, she told me what she thinks is important. Now I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me about this girl you were kissing." She came down the stairs

Gwen sighed and walked down the stairs. Gwen followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table while Madeline began fixing tea. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths while collecting her thoughts. "She wasn't anyone special. Just an older girl that… well we were eating lunch and I noticed her and she noticed me notice her. Then later between classes we ran into each other and just… well we started walking to the gym and went behind it and started kissing. We did not even say anything to each other."

Madeline raised an eyebrow and handed her a tea cup. "Really? Is this the first time?"

Gwen took the tea and used the cup to hide her face as she sipped it. "No." She was blushing now. "I mean I started kissing girls when I was ten at a sleep over. You know little pecks and things."

"Are you still a virgin?" Gwen shook her head, not looking at her grandmother. "But not with boys?"

"Yuck!" Gwen said. "I mean I know I'm supposed to like boys or something, but I just… I really don't feel that way."

"Don't worry about what you're 'supposed' to do sweetie. Just tell me what's going on."

"I don't know. I mean girls are soft and they smell good and when I kiss a girl I like it feels so good and I can almost hear my heart racing in my chest…" Her lips twisted up at the corner. "And I have to admit, it feels good when I get a girl to like me too, especially if she never even thought about it before."

"Well dear I understand that at least." Her grandmother smiled and sipped her own tea. "Do you know how our family came to be rich in the first place?" Gwen shook her head. Madeline set her cup on its saucer and stood up. "Wait here." She left the room.

While she was gone Gwen drank her tea and thought about what had led up to her being here today. Normally she liked to see her grandmother.

That girl she had been kissing had been in just as much trouble. Gwen had wisely kept her mouth shut when Jackie's parents had shown up. Her dad had glared at Gwen like she was the scum at the bottom of a fish tank and Gwen was sure that if the teachers and security guards had not been present he would have beaten both her and his daughter until they were bloody. As it was Gwen would be surprised to see her at school again and shocked if she ever wanted to even talk to Gwen again. All the same if she saw a bruise anywhere on Jackie she was going to tell the police.

Madeline came back with a leather wrapped oblong package in her hands. Setting it on the table she took her seat and said, "Your mother never mentioned the family history to you?" Gwen shook her head. "Well dear I'm afraid I understand why. You see we're descended from whores."

Gwen stared at her. Then looked around the huge antique mansion they were sitting in. "You're kidding."

"Not at all." She smiled and sat back. "The family story is that our great-great-whatever grandmother was a prostitute back in the revolutionary war, up near the Canadian border."

Gwen smiled. "Neat. How did we get rich then? I don't think hookers were really well paid even back then."

"It depends on your definition of pay. You see the story is that on his way to betray the revolutionaries to the British at West Point Benedict Arnold went over the border for a brief stop over at a small bordello." She smirked. "When he woke up he was in a ditch about three miles away and our esteemed ancestor found herself the proud owner of nearly all of his deeds and money, a horse, and whatever he had not packed for the trip."

"So she rolled him," Gwen said.

"Yes. And after he turned out to be a traitor nobody was willing to contest her right to the property or even admit he ever owned it."

Gwen looked at the package Madeline had brought in. "So what is in there?"

"That is something our family has kept for a long time." She reached out and began unwrapping the leather around the package. Inside was an old book with a leather cover and crinkly yellow pages. "It is a treasure map."

"It looks like a book."

"It's Arnold's diary. Inside is the story of one of the greatest treasures in history." She shrugged. "At least that's what it says."

Gwen looked down at the book. "Really?" Then she frowned. "Wait that doesn't make any sense. Why would a hooker that has no trouble rolling a guy and taking his property just leave a big old treasure lying around?"

Her grandmother sighed. "Because she could not read. As for her descendants, he did not write down the exact location. We've all tried, but so far nobody in our family has been able to figure it out." She opened the book and began showing Gwen the contents. "See he actually describes the treasure in several places and a lot of landmarks. He never mentions where to start looking and so far our family has been unable to locate it."

Gwen pulled the book towards her and began reading. It was not easy. Even though they spoke English back then it was olde world English. Arnold's handwriting was fancy like calligraphy or something, but he wrote like many people did back then, making up the spelling on half the words based on what it should sound like. The occasional extra E and P in words like "shop" and the like. Fortunately Gwen was able to read it better than most because she had been given a classical education in private schools. She flipped pages, looking for references to treasure.

Madeline let her read, neither of them saying anything for a while even as Gwen's tea began getting cold. Then Gwen looked up and stared at her grandmother. "This treasure… did you read the description of it?"

"Many times."

Gwen looked back at the book. "It says here that lots of the treasure consisted of images and statues of 'two or more woman engaged in carnal congress without the aid of men' as well as 'men engaging in sexual perversions with one another'. Even 'sodomy with Negroes and chinamen'."

"I know dear," Madeline said. "You see the story in this book is that the Sons of Liberty, some of the first American revolutionaries had a plan. You see one of their members named Silas Dawnier had heard stories of a secret treasure kept by the British Royal family. One of his ancestors was a cleaning lady in charge of keeping the secret room from getting too dirty. But she told her family anyway."

"You're saying the king of England had statues of gay men and lesbians in the castle?"

"I don't know, it doesn't say. The whole royal family knew about it. I suspect it was kept in the care of one of the lesser members. The British Empire spanned most of the globe and took a lot of treasure from a lot of people. Some of them depicted scenes and actions that were considered perverted or unholy at the time. Witchcraft, sexual acts, pagan gods, and a lot of other things that the Christian Church considered to be evil and reviled.

"At the same time we're talking about artifacts, gold statues, jewelry, ivory, artwork… things that are valuable and historical. Things that the church tended to destroy in addition to killing anyone who owned them. For a long time the church was almost as powerful as the British Empire. So the British kept things like that hidden away."

"Okay, so how did it end up here?"

"The Sons of Liberty were not sure they could win the war. Thirteen colonies which were barely colonized by a few thousand people, most of whom the empire did not even care about in the first place. They were out manned, out gunned, and split on whether they were doing the right thing. They were still underground then. So the leaders needed an edge. According to the diary they made a deal with some people over seas including Royal Governor Thomas Hutchinson. They bribed them, threatened family they had in the colonies.. .whatever it took. Then they stole the treasure from its hiding place and shipped it over here in crates of tea. Little things at first, but then in one huge shipment that arrived in Boston Harbor. They seized it on December sixteenth, seventeen seventy three."

"The Boston Tea Party?" Her grandmother slowly nodded. "I can see that. No wonder they did not just sink the ship. I always thought that would be simpler and safer than sneaking on for the cargo. I saw something similar in a cop show once. They bad guys snuck drugs into shipments of coffee and then to make it look like vandalism they smashed everything. Then nobody would come looking for the drugs or stolen stuff."

"Right. By then the war was starting. People were ignoring British law and the fighting started. Officially it started in seventeen seventy five, but that's like saying the Civil War was all about slavery or that World War One was about one man being shot. When they sent the Declaration of Independence to England the Sons of Liberty included a small blackmail note, threatening to expose the British Empire's dirty little secret to the public and the Church unless they freed America from British rule."

"Really? Neat! How come I never heard about that in school?"

"Well dear, blackmail does rather require that you keep the secret, otherwise you have nothing to bargain with. Naturally King George did not give in immediately. It took some time just for the ships to arrive in England with the note and even then he tried to simply get the treasure back or destroy it. By then the Sons of Liberty were part of the army and were away from home fighting the British. So the treasure was entrusted to the wives of the revolution's leaders, most especially George Washington's wife Martha and Ben Franklin's common law wife Deborah Read."

"So if he thought he was going to blackmail the king, why did Benedict Arnold betray everyone?"

"That's public knowledge. Arnold was passed over for promotion. Some said it was because many of the others were Freemasons but he was not. Despite being one of the original Sons of Liberty, unlike men like Jefferson, Franklin, and Washington, they became famous leaders while he was a minor official in the army. Plus the original plan was that once the king gave in they would melt the treasure down and divide it amongst them, but then the others decided against Arnold's wishes that they had to keep it in tact to keep the king from turning around and killing them all anyway."

Gwen had to admit this made sense. The British had spent about a century fighting the Spanish. In addition they owned Canada and had a huge army versus thirteen small colonies. Suddenly it made a lot more sense as to why they let America go in the first place. Historically they had other things to worry about, especially with France, one of England's oldest enemies, having a revolution of their own. They could always send spies and soldiers later to find out where the treasure was. Why keep fighting for a small hunk of land clear across the ocean? They had no idea how large America even was back then. Waiting and getting the colonies and treasure back later seemed like a safe bet.

"So eventually he gave in and let us have our freedom," Gwen said. "While we pretended it was because we won the war."

"I would say so," Madeline answered. "At least until his spies could find an edge. Still Benedict Arnold did get something out of it. The whole West Point thing was merely a cover. It's why he sent John Andre, his wife's former lover, out with the papers on West Point, a place the British already knew well. He was a distraction for them to escape. Arnold had already sent his own threat to the British and an offer to lead them to the treasure if they took him in."

Gwen knew enough history to know how it turned out for Arnold after that. He was made a Brigadier General, given a pay of three hundred and sixty pounds and additional six thousand pounds. In history class it said that the man sent by the British to retrieve Benedict Arnold, Sir Henry Clinton, despised Arnold. Now it made sense as to why, especially if he was officially a hero for staying loyal to the Brits.

"So the British got the treasure?" Gwen asked.

Her grandmother shook her head. "Not at all. You see the women in charge of the treasure saw the artifacts for their true historical value and actually refused to turn it back over to their husbands. They blackmailed Thomas Jefferson into using his slaves to help them build a hiding place for it. According to Arnold who heard the story one night at a bar from Jefferson himself, so drunk that he did not remember telling Arnold later. They threatened to expose his liaisons with a certain slave he owned. So they went out to some abandoned island and built a hiding place that none of the men of the colony could ever find or if they did explain why they wanted such a barren empty place.

"Even trying to find the place would again expose the secret and endanger the colonies. They could never even trust enough men as it would take to locate and move it. The British could not use this information because Arnold refused to tell them exactly where the treasure was. He realized they would probably kill him once they had it and they could not publicly chastise him without revealing why. The exact location is not even in the diary, like I told you.

"Maybe they could have gotten it out of him in the end with torture, but how would they retrieve it with the Americans on high alert and still holding the threat of exposure over their heads? So in the end everyone just had to keep their mouths shut."

"So in the end we're probably the only ones who have any clue to where the treasure is?" Gwen asked. Her fingers traces over the dry pages. They were not actually paper she realized. They might be cloth or sheepskin or something else. A little ink flaked away and she quickly pulled her hand back.

Madeline closed the book and slid it to her. "Here, you keep it."

"Really? I can keep it."

"Perhaps one day you can find the treasure." She winked letting Gwen know she was joking. Madeline really did not think Gwen could do it. Nobody had in over two centuries after all. "Now how about we bake some cookies and watch movies until your mother comes to pick you up?"

Gwen nodded and carefully wrapped the book back up.

After learning of the treasure Gwen's mind danced with the possibilities. Not for money, though that would be nice. Her family was already rich, having stolen some of Benedict Arnold's property and made themselves respectable. She could see it in her mind, some ex-whore who turned herself into a lady and probably beat respectability into her own children. Down through the centuries it would continue until it was true.

The idea that there could be an entire treasure trove of artifacts like that was what kept Gwen's interest. When she got home and accepted her mother's apology for over reacting. Gwen had been too busy thinking about it to even bother listening to her mother's promises of support and to let Gwendolyn make her own romantic decisions.

Over the years to follow Gwen read through the diary a hundred times. The descriptions of the parts of the treasure Arnold had seen were detailed, plus he had gotten tales of other pieces from the other men and their wives. It was hard because nobody really wanted to discuss it all because most of the treasure was either un-Christian or just plain embarrassing. Owning such things might have even gotten them burned at the stake as witches by the average group of townspeople and killed by British soldiers if they ever found out who had them, so speaking of such things was a bad idea.

In her head Gwen could almost see the treasure and with that image a plan formed.

Gwendolyn Bates was not the only girl in school who had gotten expelled for similar things. Oh the lesbian thing was discouraged, but it happened occasionally and little was done about it. The school tended to just keep it quiet and get the girls caught at it out as soon as possible, preferably before they could talk to any of the other students. The parents did not try to sue because doing so would bring the whole thing into the public and the type who sent their kids to the school wanted it kept as quiet as much as the school did. Gwen had been listening when her mother was talking to the principal and apparently when she was enrolled Kim had signed a "morals contract" with the school.

The year before a friend of Gwen's and three other girls had been expelled for witchcraft. They had apparently formed a coven. They had not actually done anything on campus, but had been found wearing pentagrams and talking about it to other kids, so out they went.

What sucked in Gwen's opinion was the way they made you feel like you were doing something wrong. Gwen remembered the look on Jackie's father's face and her own mother's angry tirade. The way she was punished and demeaned, not for kissing someone when they were underage, but for kissing a girl. How her friends had been kicked out of school and punished for a religious choice, as if she had turned someone into a frog or blighted someone's crops.

Gwen had even felt guilty, even though she knew she had done nothing wrong, whatever those stuffy old nuns said.

In her mind though the idea had formed that if she could find the treasure maybe she could prove that it was not wrong. Historically such things were known. In medieval Japan and ancient Greece being a gay man at least was acceptable. If she could prove that America only existed because of a bunch of artifacts that flew in the face of such stupid bigotry then nobody could really say it was "wrong" again, could they.

Still it was not that easy. The diary was as good as a map to the treasure, except that there was no starting point. It could be anywhere on the East Coast. On top of that the word of Benedict Arnold was not exactly considered trustworthy and the treasure could have been found by someone else since then. Gwen considered all of that.

In addition Gwen had her own life to live. She continued dating girls, but found that she had trouble with the emotional parts of relationships. She liked the conquest and the sex, often having three or more girlfriends at the same time. The ones who were okay with that tended to have multiple girlfriends or their own. The ones that were not fine with it dumped her when they found out, sometimes heartbroken or just plain angry.

Kim tried keeping her promise to support Gwen's decisions, but every now and then she would hear about Gwen's latest ex and say something like, "Do you think that maybe you are not connecting with them because you aren't meant to dear? Maybe you should try dating boys." Gwen felt that she was just young and wanted to enjoy herself. Love was something to do when she was older and ready to settle down.

When she entered college Gwen made a big splash by joining several gay and lesbian groups on campus and quickly found herself organizing rallies, parties, and parades. Her experience being expelled in her youth had lit a fire inside her and she tended to make as big a production out of similar events as possible, going so far as to dig through paperwork in schools and find out when they were doing similar things to other children and working with the ACLU to organize legal action to stop it.

By the time she was twenty such public displays were getting her a lot of attention and she was bringing too much publicity to the school she was at. They tended to not make moral judgment on people, but bad public relations was another thing. Complaints from church groups, parents, and of course the schools themselves began piling up. Legally they could not do anything to her, but unofficially they wanted to "work with her to try to keep the school's reputation in tact". In other words they wanted to send her to a school counselor to try to convince her to focus less on "bringing in bad press".

Which was why she was standing outside room 107 and watching the other students file out of their foreign language class. When the last one left she knocked on the open door and said, "Hello?"

The man inside looked up. He was about thirty five, balding, and wore reading glasses. He looked up from the pile of papers he had just been handed. "Ah, you would be Miss Bates, right?"

"Call me Gwendolyn," she told him. A lot of older people had a problem dealing with Gwen on a personal level because she always acted like she was their superior. Considering her wealth and family background, technically she was. In addition she had high grades and IQ tests that labeled her a near genius, at least above the average person. Private tutors your whole life will do that to you. "You are Mr. Hooke, aren't you?" She heard a noise and looked over her shoulder. A young girl about her age with blond hair was cleaning up the room.

"That's Deirdre Canning, my TA. She's working with me to earn extra college credits." He motioned for her to sit down, but she just went and stood in front of his desk. Sitting back in his own chair he leaned back and looked up at her. On his desk the name plate said that he was James Hooke. "I was told you've been causing quite a stir on campus."

"Fighting for people's rights is not encouraged here?"

James leaned forward. "Don't give me that. I'm in charge of counseling the gay students on campus because I'm gay too. So don't try any of that 'gay rights' garbage on me. I got enough of it when I was kicked out of the army."

"You were?"

"Yes. I was an on site translator. I worked with insurgent teams and carried guns and then translated when we ran into non-hostile locals."

"So why did they kick you out?"

"You now that 'don't-ask-don't-tell policy they used to have?" She nodded. "I told. It wasn't repealed yet so out I went."

"Then you should understand what I'm trying to do," Gwen said. "Bring public attention to a major…" He held up a hand silencing her.

"Gwen, I agree it's important. Do you think you're the only person fighting for gay rights? There are thousands of people. Maybe millions. The thing is that rallies and public displays don't accomplish much except to bring attention. People for gay rights are already on your side. As for the others they won't change regardless of what you do. You're just pissing them off."

"So what do you suggest?" Gwen asked.

"That you just do your best to improve yourself." He took off his glasses and pulled a cloth out of his pocket to clean it. "Do you think that people are accepted any more for being black or Chinese or Jewish? Have you ever dated an Asian girl?"

"Sure," Gwen said.

"And did you 'accept' her for being that way?"

Gwen frowned. "Actually I never thought about it except in an 'Asian chicks are hot' kind of way."

"Exactly. Human beings don't accept anything. The best you can do is stop them from actually killing anyone who is different from them and then just wait until they don't care any more. Apathy works far better for such things than acceptance." He put his glasses back on and looked up at her. "Tell me Miss Bates, why do you feel that getting everyone to accept gays and lesbians is your job?"

"Someone has to do it," Gwen muttered looking down. "Besides I…"

"You what?"

"I think I can do it."

James raised a bushy eyebrow. "Why you?"

Finally she took a seat. "Well if you really want to know I can tell you. You see I have this book…" She laid it out for him; the whole story of the secret behind America's freedom.

When she was done James stared at her over the top of his glasses, mesmerized. Deirdre, overhearing the conversation, had joined them and sat at one of the desks nearby. "You do realize how much that diary is worth don't you? If you had it authenticated you could change history forever."

"Plus the book itself would be worth a fortune," Deirdre pointed out.

Gwen nodded. "I know, but I'm already rich. I don't care about the money. What I care about is bringing the treasure to the world. I want it to be me who figures it out, not some government think tank. Who knows what they might do with the treasure? Maybe some unscrupulous or overly religious government agent would destroy it or sell it on the black market. No, if anybody is going to find it, it's going to be me."

"From what you say, nobody has been able to find it yet," Deirdre said. "What makes you think you can? I mean do you have any real poof that the treasure even exists?"

Gwen said, "Well I might, if I can find it. You see in the diary I found a passage that tells that while Arnold did not have the time to find it himself before fleeing the country, his spies had heard rumors that Martha Washington had been put in charge of a silver key of some kind to a great secret by Deborah Read Franklin and that it was hidden away in the place she had waited out the war."

James nodded. "The records of wars back then were sketchy, but family members of major figures were usually sequestered someplace to keep them safe from enemies."

Gwen said, "From what I've read Franklin's wife was both highly intelligent and neglected by her husband. Arnold suspected that she was performing indecent acts with other women. You know, a bunch of women whose husbands are away at war given control of a treasure that would have put all kinds of new thoughts into their minds. Possibly even with some of their husband's slaves too. Apparently some of the artifacts leaned in that direction."

"You think they were perverts?" Deirdre asked. They both looked at her. "I meant by the old standards."

"Maybe," Gwen said. "Sort of hard to prove it either way. The thing is I can't find where Martha Washington went during the war. I looked it up online and in history books, but nobody ever mentioned it. It wasn't important enough. Once I complete my major in American History I was planning on seeing if I could get somebody to help me look it up in old archives or something."

Deirdre shrugged. "She probably stayed in their cabin in Virginia." Both James and Gwen looked at her. "Haven't you guys ever been there? My dad has a house near the beach in Virginia we use on vacations. When I was eleven he took the whole family on this drive through famous American landmarks. He thought it would be fun, but I was bored stiff. One of the stops is an old cabin that was supposedly owned by George Washington. There was no documentation, but it is an old log cabin and I think there were some artifacts inside. I wasn't really paying attention."

"Was there a silver key?" Gwen asked.

"I don't know," Deirdre said.

James rubbed his chin. "George Washington was a silver smith. I'm sure Martha or her friends probably had access to his work tools and might even have had some skill in that area. Or they could have had him make it for them. If you found the key described in the book where it says it is then you would have proof that what's written in the diary is true."

"Plus the key to the treasure," Gwen said.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," James warned, but he had a gleam in his eyes too it was easy to see that he was excited. "Uh, do you think you could use any help?"

"No!" She said.

"Aw, too bad," he said. "And here I was willing to get you some academic leave so you would have time to go look for it… if you had a suitable member of the teaching staff to go with you."

"And you have to take me," Deirdre said. "I'm the only one who knows where it is."

"I can find it online I'll bet," Gwen said uncertainly. They could see her wavering.

"Come on," James said. "We just want to see if it's true. We'll give you full credit if you want. It's just a key after all."

"My dad is the dean here," Deirdre added. "I could easily get his permission."

"Especially if they think you'll tone down the public appearances." James looked at her. "Of course if you do find the treasure, well then that might be a different story. You'd need somebody to help you get it."

Gwen held up her hand. "Fine, you can come with me to see if we can find the key. But even if it exists, like you said, it might not be there. This could all be a wild goose chase."

They left on Friday after school. James had arranged for up to a week for them to be off, but after that they had to be back. Gwen's mother was on a cruise and unreachable and her grandmother had died three years before. Gwen's credit card had a thousand dollars on it monthly and she was down to three hundred dollars, so she had decided to drive to Virginia, hoping that the others might decide they did not want to spend days riding in a car to Virginia, even if it was a vintage convertible.

No such luck. Deirdre was only too happy to sit in the roomy back seat and James had packed a basket of food for the trip. When she smelled the delicious food inside Gwen's desire to continue without company faded. "What's in the basket?"

James grinned. "Some goodies I learned to make while watching Martha Stewart."

Deirdre smirked. "Just how gay are you?" They both glared at her and she held up her hands. "Kidding! I was just kidding."

"It wasn't funny," Gwen said.

James touched her arm. "Let it go."

Gwen sighed "Fine. Let's just head out."

It took two days. On the way she let James and Deirdre look through the diary. Deirdre quickly became bored and spent most of her time with her MP3 player and a portable DVD player she brought with her while James read through it. When they got to Virginia Deirdre led them to a small town that looked to be half made up of old buildings mixed with new. They stopped for lunch at a fast food place while Deirdre headed to city hall to ask for directions. Then they took the hour long drive into the woods to where the cabin was.

"It's kind of disappointing," Gwen said when they arrived. The cabin was small, barely eight feet tall. The logs were rotten, the window closed by a wooden shutter, and the walls were held together with old mud. "Did George Washington have any children when Martha came here?" From the side a small chimney jutted out of a wall. Attached to it was a plaque declaring the building a national monument.

"I don't know," James said. "I never looked it up." He went up to the cabin and frowned. The window and door were both equipped with modern metal latches screwed into the wood and affixed with big shiny locks.

Deirdre said, "They told me in the office that the place was locked up whenever they were not actually running tours up here. Tourist season doesn't start around here for a few months."

"So how do we-?" James began but was interrupted by a loud clang. They both turned and saw that Gwen had picked up a large rock and was using it to hit the lock on the door. The lock did not break, but the screws tore out of the wood of the wall in a shower of splinters.

"I think that's a felony," Deirdre pointed out.

"Sue me," Gwen said and pulled open the door. She ducked her head and went in, followed by the other two.

Inside it was pretty clean. Obviously the people who ran the tours did their best to keep the cabin in good condition. Unfortunately there were only a hand full of antiques scattered around the place. A small bed frame made out of tied together pieces of wood with no mattress. A half-burned bunch of logs in the fireplace. On the mantle were two old silver candlesticks which had been polished but were so badly tarnished by years of neglect that it hardly mattered. A small wooden table sat in one corner next to a chair that looked like it had been recently glued back together.

"I don't see a key," Deirdre pointed out.

Gwen sighed and walked over to the fireplace. Absently she touched the stones it was made up of, stuck tight in dried mud. They wiggled a bit, but none moved to reveal some hidden compartment. To show he was willing James checked the walls, but in the small room they quickly came up empty.

Deirdre picked up the candlesticks and looked them over. "Ew, what's in these things?" James and Gwen came over to look. It was a tight fit, but they were all pretty thin and managed it. Inside the candlesticks was something slimy and green.

"Candles were usually made from pure animal fat back then," James said. "After two hundred years that's probably gone but whatever that is growing in there isn't healthy. Whoever polished these probably didn't want to mess with it. Or maybe they left it in for historical significance."

Gwen took them and flipped them horizontally. The bottom of each had been cleaned and you could just make out the initials GW on each one. "These must be why they claim Washington owned the place. And maybe they're right, but clearly there's no key here."

"Well we still have a few days," James said. "We could find someplace on the beach and enjoy a few days to relax."

Gwen let out a defeated sigh and said, "I suppose. I guess I did not want to admit I was getting my hopes up." She turned and put the candlesticks on the mantle again, maybe a little harder then needed.

In the left one something clinked and all three of them froze. Gwen picked it back up and shook it from side to side. The sound was small, probably because there was so much other stuff inside the candlestick. But there was a small and definitely metallic tap if she shook it hard enough. Tipping it upside down did nothing, because the green-black crud inside blocked the hole.

Getting over her disgust Gwen tried to stick her finger inside, but it would not fit. Her pinky finger did though. She made a face and pushed through the years of congealed gunk. "I feel something… but I can't reach it." The candlesticks were over a foot long and whatever was inside was near the bottom.

James hurried out the door and came back a moment later with a stick. They stuck that inside, but it snapped off. He looked up at Gwen and said, "You know, stealing something from a national monument, especially a historical artifacts, is really illegal."

"Only if they catch us in here while we're doing it," Deirdre said. "Let's just grab the thing and get out of here before someone comes up to check on this place." She picked up the other stick and wiped their fingerprints off it. "If anybody asks we can say that the place was like that when we got here, probably by teenagers. They won't be able to prove anything."

"We can send the candlestick back later," James said. "Good as new."

Gwen nodded and they all hurried back to the car.

Sixty miles away and in the privacy of a motel room the three of them began poking into the hole with a small hooked piece of stiff wire that used to be a hanger from the hotel closet until James had used a pair of pliers on it. It took a while to clean the gunk out of the top as well as the bits of broken stick, but now Gwen was fishing around inside.

After about ten minutes the wire hooked something. It took a few tries to pull it out. Whatever it was, was about the same size as the hollow inside of the candlestick. But on the end it turned out there was a small ring attached to it. It took a hard pull and they almost lost it once, but eventually what was inside popped out with a showed of dried and slimy stuff that landed around the candlestick and dirtied the clean nightstand they were using as a table.

"What is it?" Deirdre asked.

"It looks like a dildo," Gwen said.

"No, it's too small for that," James said.

About eight inches long it was about as thick as a tube of mascara with a smooth round tip. The length of it was shaped like ball bearings with bulges and dents all along it. Despite what had happened to the part with the ring after being sealed away so long, the rest of it was pretty clean and well preserved, if a little black.

"It's obviously silver," James said. "And with all those weird shapes it could be some kind of key. Locks can be a little weird."

"So this is like, proof, right?" Deirdre asked. "It means the stuff in that book of yours is true."

"Right," Gwen said brightly, picking up the key. "Maybe there's something written on it. We should get some silver polish."

"No, we'd see that," James said. "But I have been thinking. We know where the treasure is."

"We do not…" Gwen began.

"Yes we do," James said. "There is a lot of detail in that diary. Probably because Arnold could not discuss it with anyone, not even his wife. Trust me on this, when you have a huge secret that's such a big part of your life, you get the urge to tell someone even if it means you'll get in trouble. There's a lot in that diary too besides the location of the treasure."

"I know," Gwen said, "I've memorized it. I've been reading that thing since I was a kid."

"Well he lost the diary so he had to have some other outlet. Maybe there's a diary he started later. Or maybe the English tried to find it again and they uncovered something. Either way, the next part of this would be in England."

"So what, we fly to England and just look for something Benedict Arnold might have had?" Gwen asked.

"Not us personally. But I was thinking that there's probably some kind of archive there for old documents. Especially for something as important as why the kings after George should not invade America. With blackmail on a whole royal family you have to keep at least some records."

Deirdre said, "So you think they'll just let us see it if they did?"

"They might," Gwen said. "I mean it's been two hundred years, right? It's not like this stuff is really a threat any more. Hell, there are at least three openly gay members of the royal family I can name off the top of my head. The British Empire collapsed a long time ago."

"So who do we ask?"

"I'll make some calls," James said.

Deirdre nodded. "Okay. And I'll ask my dad to extend our trip."

"There's one problem," Gwen said. "I'm almost out of money. I can't afford a trip to England. Not without getting my family involved…"

"Don't worry, I'll get us tickets and pay for the hotel," Deirdre said. "I've got more than enough. And since we have at least some proof now, it seems worth it." She looked at Gwen. "I want some credit if we find the treasure."

Gwen looked at her and James. "Fine, I guess. I don't really see much choice. I still get the main credit. I did find the key after all."

"No problem," James said. "To tell the truth I'm just having fun. My day usually consists of grading bad French papers." He picked up his cell phone and started dialing. Deirdre did the same, leaving the room so he could talk and she could call her father.

Gwen ran the key through her fingers, letting them travel over the smooth cool metal and trying to memorize the dips and bumps by touch. She noticed small scratches on the sides and a lot more on the otherwise smooth tip.

It took several days and a lot of calls but James finally arranged a meeting with the head of the British archives. They had mailed the candlestick back with a note apologizing for the theft, claiming to be a family passing through on a trip, and blaming it on "our boy Michael" who stole it on a dare from his brother. They had mailed the package without a return address and paid cash. Hopefully that would be the end of it.

After that they took a plane to English, a nice sixteen hour tour. Deirdre assured them she could easily afford it. Still Gwen and James both promised to pay her back as soon as they got the money.

It turned out that the archives along with many other important government offices were located in Buckingham Palace. "From what I was told we need to explain to a high ranking official in person why we need access to the archives and then they will decide if we can. Otherwise we'll have to figure something else out."

"Jeez, no wonder my family never found the treasure before," Gwen said. Deirdre just hung back and followed the others, paying for the taxi ride to their hotel.

The next day they arrived at the palace and told the guards at the gate that they had an appointment. While they were waiting for them to confirm that and check their identities they watched as tourists attempted to make the guards show some kind of emotion.

"Should we join in?" Deirdre asked.

Gwen shook her head. "No, this is serious. It probably looks bad in a meeting if you were making silly faces at people just before."

Finally they were given the okay and one of the guards was assigned to lead them inside. Despite their attempts to remain cool the three of them spent much of the trip craning their necks to stare at the grounds. James said, "This place is beautiful."

"Well it is the home of a queen," the guard said. "This way please."

Inside they were led through several security checkpoints, metal detectors, and a maze of rooms and people. Hardly anybody paid them attention except more guards who quickly looked away once they realized they were being escorted. Most of the people wore ID badges, except the occasional tour group who were also watched closely. Finally the guard stopped outside a small door and motioned for them to go inside. "This is where I leave you. Take care."

They entered and found themselves in a lavish room with chandeliers and expensive furnishings. As James closed the door behind them a voice called out, "I'm on the balcony. Please do come out and join me."

Out a large glass door they found a small table set up with tea and biscuits. Sitting there with a prime view of the grounds was an old woman in a fine dress and hat. She smiled as they came out. "Welcome."

Gwen gasped. "Queen Elizabeth!"

"Your majesty," James said, bowing low. The other two performed awkward curtsies. "I was not expecting to meet you."

"When I heard about what you wanted I decided to speak to you myself," she said. "I might have sent my son, but he's been sulking ever since some wag of a tourist thought it was funny to shout 'Who died and made you king?'"

James snorted and Gwen quickly hid a smile behind her hand. "Sorry."

The old woman smiled. "Never mind. Please, do sit down and explain what this is all about." They took seats and biscuits as offered. Gwen, being the defacto leader and the one who knew the story best, explained it to the Queen.

"And you say you found the key in an old cabin?"

"Yes Ma'am, "Gwen said, producing the thing from a chain around her neck. "An I also have the diary if you wish to see it."

"Oh not me," she said. "I can't make heads or tales of such things. But if I understand you correctly I believe you wish to see if we have some documents that may cause a bit of a scene for my family."

Gwen shifted nervously. "It might ma'am, but not much I think. It's not the eighteenth century after all. I mean it's not like your family hasn't already…" She stopped talking.

The queen sighed. "I fear you are right. I guess one more scandal, particularly one like this, won't tarnish the crown overly much. However I fear this is not going to be an easy task. You see we have many documents going back centuries and it's only recently that anyone had tried to make any headway in the older ones. Even then you are looking for rather small and specific information."

"We understand," James said. "Still if you'll allow us we're willing to do it. My assistant Deirdre's father is my boss and she has already arranged a leave of absence for us. After finding the key… well we can't just give up."

Gwen said, "My family has had this book for centuries. It's time that the information be put to good use, don't you think?" The Queen nodded. "By the way, don't you have a copy of the declaration lying around? We could start our search there."

"I'm afraid we auctioned off a copy we found back in two thousand. The Dunlap print they called it. You see the revolutionaries distributed hundreds of copies back then. Also there is a good chance that this blackmail note you claim was sent was destroyed rather than archived. I certainly have never heard of any of this before." She leaned down to pick up a briefcase off the floor and clicked it open. "Here is my authorization for you to have unrestricted access to all of our historical archives. Nothing modern or military based of course. I can't help you there. Anything else is yours to look at for as long as you need to. I will also make arrangements for someone in archives to be assigned to assist you in this.

"In exchange I want that same person to be allowed in on any discoveries made, with all credit going to the British government." She smiled at Gwen's reaction. "Don't make face's girl. You and your family will still be credited. We only wish to offer assistance and for that to be known."

"You have to admit Gwen," James said. "Even with all your money your family hasn't gotten very far alone. With our help you've already made it here."

"The terms are not negotiable," Queen Elizabeth II added.

Gwen nodded her acceptance. "Alright, I suppose I have no choice."

"Splendid. Simply sign these papers and we can get you started in a few days…"

Back from her cruise the first thing Kimberly Bates did was call her daughter and demand to know, "Where the hell are you? I got some BS message on my voice mail that you are on some trip."

"I am. With a teacher and his assistant from school."

"Are you having an affair with your teacher?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "No mother. And you know, most parents would not sound so happy about that idea."

"Whatever. Just tell me what the hell is going on." So Gwen laid it out for her.

Kimberly said, "You mean that old story your grandmother used to tell about that diary is true?"

"I've got the key stashed away safely," Gwen said. "And we're supposed to begin looking tomorrow."

"I can't believe you ran half way across the country just on a hunch…" Kim began. Before Gwen could argue she continued, "But since you seem to be onto something I guess I can give you some leeway. I'll even authorize a bit of money for the trip. But don't take too long. I won't have you spending the whole school year off on a wild goose chase."

"I won't mom. The Queen has offered us all the help we need…" That led to a long question and answer period on what it was like to meet the Queen of England and inside the palace.

Gwen answered them all and then reported her luck to her friends. "So we don't have to keep digging into Deirdre's funds any more."

"It was no trouble," the girl said. "Uh… unfortunately while you were gone there was an accident. My phone died when I was trying to call my dad and James lent me his. Unfortunately I kind of dropped it in the toilet."

"I told you, never mind all that," James said. "I'll get another one when I get back. In the mean time I'm just glad things are going so smoothly. I can't wait to get started on the search. Though I have to warn you, it's going to probably take some time."

Deirdre said, "Actually about that. I don't think I would do much good in this part. I was thinking I could just enjoy London while you two go through the records."

"That's fine," Gwen said. "You've already helped out a lot by getting us here. And you did help me find the key in the first place. If you want you can even go home."

"Maybe later," Deirdre said. "But for now I don't have any problem just having fun in a foreign country."

"Very well, today we rest and tomorrow we work!" James said excitedly.

When they were led, wearing their new ID badges, to a small office near the back of the palace, Gwen was surprised. Inside they found a small desk covered in reference books and a large computer. Behind that wall there was the sound of typing. "Hello?"

"Be right with you," a voice said in a thick accent. It was female and deep, but still very feminine.

"I'm Gwendolyn Bates and this is James Hooke. We have an appointment."

"I know." The typing stopped and a figure rose into view and extended a hand. "Josephine Black, assistant royal archivist. It's a pleasure to meet you. You can call me Jo."

Gwen stared at Jo for a while, while James moved forward to shake her hand. After they exchanged greetings Jo turned to look at Gwen and asked, "Is something wrong?"

Gwen said, "Sorry, you're just… really beautiful."

Jo wore a tight business dress with the top stretched across her breasts. She had on a pair of horn rimmed glasses. Her skin was a deep smooth brown and her eyes were black as night. Jo's hair was in dozens of tight braids tied up in a severe bun on the back of her head. Her lips were full and her teeth shone white between them. She was like some kind of sexy-librarian fantasy come to life. Gwen guessed that she was between twenty-four and twenty-six years old.

Jo smiled and said, "It's kind of you to say so Gwendolyn." Gwen shivered when she heard that accent say her name, but tried not to show it and just returned the smile. "Her Majesty tells me you have something of a treasure map."

Josephine as it turned out was only too happy to help them search the archives. But when James asked where they were to go looking she just laughed. "Oh we won't be looking through the actual documents!" She shook her heads. "Even the head archivist rarely deals with them."

"Then what will we do?" He asked.

"Oh don't worry. We've had people working on the archives for a number of years. You see to keep them alright we can't be pawing at the papers and skins all the time, so about ten years ago we started scanning them all into computers." She grinned at them. "My word, did you two really think we would be spending hours in some massive library pawing through old documents? It is the twenty first century after all."

Gwen blushed. "Sorry. It's just well… I've been reading Benedict's diary since I was a child."

"So you consider yourself on a first name basis?" Jo asked. "To tell the truth that news appalls me more than anything else. That book should be in a vault somewhere it can be studied by experts."

"It will be," Gwen promised. "As soon as I find the treasure." She said this firmly, clearly not willing to budge on the subject.

"Very well," Josephine said. "Far be it for me to stand in your way. I have to warn you. We have some fantastic search engines that will be of immense use, but it will still require us to check everything personally. This will be no easy task."

"We understand," James assured her. "We aren't taking you away from anything important, are we?"

"Not at all. This is my job and her majesty has made it clear that she wishes to hear how this all turns out as well. Let me assure you, this is the sort of thing I went to school to learn. I adore research and it takes a special kind of patience and thoroughness to go through these old records, even via computer let me assure you."

It took them two weeks just to find all of the references and files in the right time frame. No sign of any blackmail note was found anywhere, even in King George's personal papers. It took even more to go through them all to see if they missed anything. In the end the only one that looked even remotely interesting was a small field report from the Vulture by General Clinton.

"We have found the American traitor and taken him on board. While I despise the man he has adequately proven that the artifacts do reside in Amsterdam as he claimed. We arrived on the island and found the secret tunnel inside a small uninhabited island just off the coast. However we were unable to confirm as the door was immovable and Arnold did not have the key nor its location. With time short we were forced to abandon the task."

That was enough to give them hope, even though the computer had not come up with anything else. Jo explained that much of the war records from that time were in select codes and not all of them were programmed into the computers yet. "Up until now it was not a huge priority." Still they had books and taking turns they began checking more documents for clues to what they needed.

"Amsterdam?" James asked. "Did they move it?"

"They may have just used a secret name for the place, to keep others from finding it," Jo said. "I'll add that word to our search engine."

In the end Gwendolyn lucked out by accident. When setting the search parameters she accidentally hit a nine instead of a seven and expanded the search into the early nineteen hundreds. What they needed was in 1875. Page two of letter to the English government from Ulysses Grant. After a bunch of useless greetings and political jargon the letter mentioned a startling discovery.

"I was in the midst of digging out a new home near my old stomping grounds. I had chosen a previously uninhabited island which was useless to most but to the eye of a trained soldier offered an excellent military view of the harbor where the two rivers meet. Much to my surprise I discovered an underground building on this island. A bit of gun cotton and I opened the main entrance only to find such things as I have not seen even in my long career as a man of the military. A silver plaque explained the story of this treasure trove, which was fortunately undamaged in my explorations. Historic value as well as intrinsic to the crown of England.

"In an offer of good faith I promise to reseal this rather embarrassing treasure trove, of which I have provided a photograph, and not mention the tale of how it was used to humiliate England in both their ownership of it and what they gave up to safeguard their secret. In exchange I will of course expect continued good will between our nations. If you are amenable to this agreement I will immediately make sure that the main entrance is sealed up again and impossible to open through normal means. I have a woman on my staff whose proclivities run in such a way that she has suggested, in exchange for my overlooking certain aspects of her personal life, a way to safeguard such a treasure from any who do not have its best interests at heart.

"I have taken on her suggestion as I myself and many of my confidants are nearly of a mind to destroy these artifacts myself, save that they are of such immense value to the country and history. I must say I cannot imagine who would be able to unlock this secret unless they were intimately involved in these acts. The original rear entrance is still sealed tightly and will be unlikely to be found or opened without the use of high explosives."

They looked over this, staring at the signature at the bottom, and James looked at Gwen. "It seems that someone else did find the treasure."

"It should still be where it was then," Gwen said. "Since we did not go to war with England over it and nobody has heard about it." She frowned. "Does this mean the key is useless?"

"Possibly." James said, "I don't suppose the picture was included."

"No," Jo said. "I already checked."

Gwen said, "Not that it does us any good."

Jo said, "I find that things can make more sense if you take time out from work and examine them. Since we have no other clues we will take a break." She stood up. "You two will join me for dinner tonight. Feel free to invite that other girl you mentioned if she wants to come. I am taking you out for a serious break."

After weeks of reading computer screens they were only too happy to agree. Gwen called Deirdre and was politely told that she had other things to do. "You three go on. I have things to do."

"You seem to be really enjoying England so far. Well we've found some clues anyway." She absently mentioned the letters they had found. "Not much to go on I'm afraid."

"At least you found something," she said. "I was beginning to worry we were going to have to set up shop here. Call me if you figure anything out."

"The book is still okay, right?" Gwen had shown it to Jo for reference in the search, but refused to let her scan and archive it until they found the treasure. Since then it had been put safely away in the room.

"You always ask that. It's fine! Right where you hid it in the dresser."

"Sorry," Gwen said. "I'll talk to you later." She clicked off.

The restaurant was Italian and Jo insisted on paying. "I'm not exactly rich, but I do make a decent salary." She ordered a bottle of wine while they looked over the menu.

The three of them had gotten to know one another pretty well over the last few weeks. Despite her quiet demeanor and boring job Jo was actually fairly outgoing. She had gone to boarding school for most of her life. Her parents were busy low lever government types with little time for their daughter. Jo had grown up and even gotten married when she was nineteen.

"It didn't last of course. We were both still in school and really had nothing much in common. We got it annulled a year later. The last I heard he had gone off to run for mayor of some small town in the countryside." She sighed. "Since then I'm afraid it's been a bit busy. Focusing on work and all that."

"Sounds lonely," James said. "Though I had a similar patch when I was in school and starting my job. Life in the military doesn't exactly leave much time for a long term relationship. Especially when you're spending most of your time in hostile desert countries."

Gwen smiled. "I have lots of liaisons, as my grandmother used to put it. I've tried the long-term thing, but it never works out."

"Why not?" Jo asked.

"Usually because I was seducing other women," she admitted.

Jo smirked and said, "I could never do something like that."

"Oh sleeping with women isn't so hard," Gwen said.

"Not that. I mean I've never done that either, but I always guess I thought it was the man's job to seduce someone."

Gwen shook her head. "I like it when a girl makes a few moves too, but it's really fun doing it myself. It's great when you can make a girl realize that she wants you and then take her all the way to what she's been imagining. Of course the real trick is living up to their expectations."

"I admit, I've been disappointed a time or two," Jo said. "Some men are either too aggressive, not letting you decide whether you even like something before they do it, or they're too careful as if they're afraid to break you."

James said, "I usually just go to a club catering to men of my persuasion and look around. Maybe someone buys me a drink or I buy someone else one and we see where the night leads."

Jo sipped her wine while she used her fork to wrap up a few noodles and rub them in the sauce pooled on her plate. Setting the glass down she took a bite. "I wouldn't even know how to begin."

"I could show you," Gwen offered.

James smiled and stood up. "In that case I think I'll go back to the hotel. You girls have fun." He walked away from the table. They had come in Jo's car, so he hailed a cab.

"Why did he leave so suddenly?" Jo asked.

Gwen grinned and reached out, putting her hand on Jo's thigh. "You're right, you aren't good at this." The leg jerked under her hand.

Jo stared at Gwen and looked down at the hand on her. Then back up to the girl's face. "You mean when you said you'd show me you meant…"

Gwen smiled and began lightly moving her fingertips. She liked the feel of Jo's skin under them, smooth as silk. Leaning closer she looked Jo in the eyes and then let her gaze move over the woman's body. Under Jo's top she saw the girl's nipples harden against the cloth. Gwen licked her lips and gently slid her hand up Jo's leg, until her fingers brushed against cotton panties, making Jo breathe in sharply, her lower lip trembling.

Reaching over with her other hand Gwen took Jo's drinking hand and lifted it up to her lips. Moving her thumb in a circle over Jo's palm Gwen kissed her wrist, the tip of her tongue flicking over it. She smiled as goosebumps rose along Jo's skin. Looking back into Jo's eyes and used her teeth to nibble just a bit of soft brown skin.

Jo bit her lower lip and then said, "My place is a little bit away from here."

"No need to be so formal. There's a hotel across the street," Gwen said.

Jo said, "I don't know Gwendolyn, I've never…" She gasped as Gwen's fingers pressed directly into her panties and her other thumb began making circles too. Gwen grinned as she felt warm wetness on her finger tips.

"Pay for dinner. I'll pay for the room." She moved back a bit and put her hands on either side of Jo's face. Leaning down she kissed the older woman on the lips, slipping her tongue past surprised lips.

That night Jo woke up and reached across to the other side of the bed. Her fingers touched cool sheets and suddenly she thought her heart might break. She was alone. Her body ached, but in a really good way. She could still taste Gwen's chap stick as well as other things.

Then she heard papers rustle. Opening her eyes she saw Gwen sitting at a small table across the room with a tiny desk lamp on it turned to the lowest setting. She was reading the copies they had made of the two letters from the archives. She had left them in the car during dinner.

Jo slid out of bed, flinching and then grinning as she felt tiny stabs of pain everywhere. Pulled muscles, bites, scratches, and bruises covered her from head to toe along with various drying fluids. Gwen had used her body in new ways, some painful but in the end all more than worth a tiny amount of pain and nothing the girl had not wanted done to herself.

Coming up behind her Jo pressed her nude body against Gwen and slid her hands around to cup Gwen's breasts possessively.

"Oh baby, come to momma…" Gwen purred putting her hands over Jo's and leaning her head back between the swell of the other woman's breasts.

"What are you doing?"

Smiling but not looking up Gwen said, "I know the answer is here. I just feel like I'm missing it. Something about Amsterdam is tickling in my brain."

"I don't know what that could be," Jo said. "Unless it has to do with the original name of New York."

"What?"

"New York. It used to be called New Amsterdam because of a lot of Dutch settlers in the area. But they changed it in 1677."

"That's it," Gwen said suddenly. "It's the perfect secret name for New York! Didn't Grant used to attend West Point?"

"Uh, I don't know that much about American Presidents," Jo admitted. "I studied the monarchy in school."

"Well I'm sure of it!" She stood up and turned, pulling Jo into an excited kiss. "I love you! You're a genius Josephine!" She moved away and went to her cell phone, dialing quickly. "Deirdre… yes I know what time it is. Look, I think I know where the treasure is! Yes really! I have to check some land marks, but I think it's in New York Harbor, the same place where the British came to pick up Arnold when he escaped. I need to check some landmarks. Could you bring the diary and an Atlas to the hotel I'm staying at…" She paused. "Well alright, it can wait until morning. I'll meet you at our hotel then. Okay, thanks. Good night." She clicked off.

Jo chewed on her pinkie finger. "So are you and this Deirdre girl close?"

Gwen laughed and shook her head. "Not a chance. To tell the truth I don't even like her very much." She turned to look at Jo. "God I'm so wired, we found the treasure! I'm sure of it! I think we just need to get back to New York and find the right island!" She jumped a little.

"Well if you are too tired to sleep," Jo said suggestively. She did not have to finish. Gwen pulled her into an embrace and kissed her.

"What do you want to do?" She asked, her fingers sliding down the crack of Jo's ass.

"Everything Gwendolyn," Jo whispered, almost begging. "I want to do everything."

Gwen was only too happy to oblige.

The girls wore themselves out and over slept, but since they were not on a time schedule they took their time cleaning up and getting dressed. They even had breakfast before returning to Gwen's original hotel. When they arrived they met two police officers who were searching the room.

"What are you doing here?" Gwen and one of the cops… bobbies… asked at the same time.

"Are you Miss Gwendolyn Bates?" The other officer said.

"Yes, I am. What are you doing in my room?"

"We have some questions to ask you regarding illegal substances found in your bags. To be more specific several baggies of LSD secreted among the belongings of you and a man named James Hooke. We'd like you to come down town with us and answer some questions."

"I don't have any drugs!"

Jo put a hand on Gwen's arm. "No problem officer. I'm sure we can get this whole thing cleared up quickly."

It actually took five hours to figure out that they had been completely screwed over. Gwen and Jo were taken to a police station. It may have been Scotland Yard, but Gwen was too embarrassed to ask. They met up with James who also had no idea what was going on.

"Don't worry," Jo assured them. "They aren't handcuffing you or anything yet. As long as we remain calm we should be able to handle this easily."

First they had their mouths swabbed by a young man in a lab coat. None of them objected. After an hour another officer came and talked to them. Jo acting as spokes person they were merely asked a few questions like who they were and what they were doing in England.

"You say there was a third person with you?"

"Yes, Deirdre," Gwen said. "Have you contacted her yet?"

"We're looking into it. It seems that she left the hotel with her bags roughly around the time our men got an anonymous call about illegal substances which we found in your hotel room. Strangely not only are all of you clean, but your fingerprints were not on the bags of drugs and no gloves were found in your room.

"At the same time a local drug dealer whose product was inside, agreed to talk to us and described a young woman who paid him for an unlikely amount of LSD a few days ago. Far more than even a full addict would take in a month."

Gwen groaned and banged her head back against the wall. "Oh crap!" She looked at the officer. "I don't suppose you found an old diary or a little silver bumpy cylinder thing in our room, did you?"

"I didn't see anything in the report. We were also confused because you seem to be Americans, but when we checked your room and asked you for identification we did not find any passports or plane tickets…" James and Gwen cussed again. "I take it you did have them."

James said. "And she's probably on a plane back to America right now! But why?"

"I told her where the map was talking about last night," Gwen said. "Jo helped me figure it out."

"Map?"

They explained to the policeman what had been going on. He left with Jo to check their story with officials. Before she left Jo promised that she would do what she could to get them passports and tickets as soon as possible.

"I didn't go into detail, but with the map I hardly need to."

"The New York Harbor you say?" James asked. "What islands are there? Manhattan? Ellis?"

"No, there's a smaller one. Liberty Island."

James blinked. "The Statue of Liberty?!"

Gwen nodded. "I looked it up. The Statue was already made in 1874 and the project to put it on the island was authorized March 3, 1877. The corner stone was laid in 1884 and the whole thing took until 1886 to complete… quite a while to put up a statue, don't you think?"

"Not until just now," he said. "So Grant put up a massive statue on top of the treasure." He paused. "You know, maybe we should call it a day. Deirdre is probably going to find out that the key doesn't open anything. She'll probably just sell the thing and your diary. Since she's over seas we probably won't even be able to do anything about it. Unless you have some proof…"

"Not a blasted thing," Gwen said. "I just… I can't believe she's going to get to the treasure first."

"Let's call the authorities," James said. "You still have Grant's letter, right? We should be able to get them to look into it?"

"Right, they're going to tear up the Statue of Liberty up because we have a vague letter that hints at a treasure. Without that diary they'll never believe half of this. Plus even if they did it'll take weeks before anyone goes to look which will be more than enough time for Deirdre to convince her father to blast his way in and take the valuable stuff."

"Blast their way in? To the Statue of Liberty?"

"Whatever." She put a hand over her eyes. "This is all my fault. If I'd gone back to bed last night instead of getting laid…"

"Hold it right there. You had no idea this was going to happen. And from what you said Jo helped you figure out where the map was leading."

"But—!"

"But nothing. Look, you don't just find a major drug dealer in the street and walk right up to him. The cop said that she bought those pills days ago. I did sleep in our hotel. We were used to leaving her on her own. Hell if we hadn't she'd have probably slipped them into our food. This is not your fault."

Gwen smiled. "No wonder they made you a counselor. You're very good at it."

"Thanks, I try." He shook his head. "Really though you and I need to get back to work and school."

"I suppose so."

Finally Jo came back. "Good news. Her majesty vouched for us. The police can't do anything about your wayward associate, but she has promised that by tomorrow you will have two new passports. I will personally pay for three tickets back to the States."

"Three?" James asked.

Jo smiled. "You located the treasure. According to your agreement I'm supposed to accompany you to unearth it and take credit for the crown."

Gwen frowned. "Actually Jo we're not sure we can make a go of it. We've got no proof and by the time we get there…"

"Oh don't be absurd. Look I realize this little bitch of yours has a head start, but it is not exactly easy to get your hands on explosives or smuggle them onto a major landmark and then use them. The police say that she went back to your home town, not straight to New York. Probably to enlist that father of hers. They'll contact the local authorities about your stolen property and with any luck she'll be in prison and you'll have them back by the time the Concord lands in New York."

Gwen and James shared a look. She said. "When you put it like that…"

"Ah, what the hell I'll start packing," James said with a grin.

Jo smiled broadly. "That's the spirit."

The next evening they were met at the airport by three mousy looking men in tweed jackets. Jo introduced them as historians from some of New York's finest colleges. "These are Doctor Stephen Killjoy, Professor Marcus Hamilton, and Professor Keith Schwartz."

"A pleasure," all three men said, extending their hands to Gwen. They looked surprised at one another, but kept their hands out until she shook them all.

It had been Jo's idea to call in some actual authorities, though she had intentionally left out some of the details. As far as these men were concerned they were looking for a secret bunker that might have a few relics from the revolutionary war. Relics that the British crown wanted to claim, but was willing to share the discovery of with any interested parties, provided they were given permission to search. Apparently that meant they sent a parcel of interested academics rather than an excavation team or a full security force.

"Where did you get your information?"

"What sort of bunker do you suspect it was? Military goods or civilian?"

"Can you explain why it wasn't found before now if it's in such a public place?"

They battered Gwen with nonstop until James managed to hail a cab. Jo, Gwen, and James took it while the other three followed in another one.

"Whoa, those guys are intense!" Gwen said, enjoying the silence.

Jo patted her leg. "Academics are like that, especially if they think they can get their hands on any new relics. Tell them whatever you want to, they won't be put off if you rebuff them a bit."

After they met up to gather for the ferry out o Liberty island Gwen was relieved to see that the men did calm down on the trip. They had just gotten excited and backed up with questions waiting for the plane to land. Now they asked the questions a bit more slowly and waited for Gwen to give the answers in her own time. Actually the conversation made the trip on the boat a bit more fun. It was exciting, especially seeing the island approach and knowing what might be waiting.

That and the way Jo held her arm as she talked. Normally the way Jo was clinging to her would have been a turn off. Gwen hated it when a one-night-stand got all clingy. They barely knew anything about her, but just because they had sex they acted like they had some kind of hold over her. With Jo it was different, possibly because of all the time they had spent together doing research.

Of course it was all probably going to fall apart anyway, but what the heck. Fun while it lasted.

"You know," Professor Schwartz said. "I remember once while I was reading up on the Statue of Liberty in school, I was always confused about that poem."

"Which poem?" James asked. 'The New Colossus', by Emma Lazarus. The one that is inscribed on the pedestal."

"I thought that was something about give me your tired, your poor, your hungry…" Gwen said.

"Yes, that's the part everyone remembers, but it was actually quite a bit longer than that. The last line goes 'I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'" They all looked up at the approaching statue.

"Wait, let's not just ascribe meaning to the poem. I'm still a bit skeptical there's anything there. Even if there were some sort of depot its entirely possible that it was just too small to mention and was plowed under when they put in the statue. I can't imagine they wouldn't notice it while trying to secure the grounds."

The other men nodded in agreement. Gwen and the other two shared a look. She said, "Actually we have pretty good reason to believe that there will definitely be something hidden on the island. We may not be able to reach it, but…"

The academics stopped and stared at them. Killjoy said, "And what exactly makes you think so?"

"Call it a hunch," Gwen said. She and her friends pretended not to notice the men staring at them with open suspicion.

When they got to the island they were herded by tour guides along with the other passengers. Up close you could see the wear and tear on the giant statue, accumulated salt deposits and the rough green over what had once been shiny copper. Gwen and the others let themselves be herded up inside the statue, following the others to the top for a look around, and then made their way back down while another boat arrived and the tourists began either leaving or buying souvenirs at the gift shop.

Jo finally put what they were thinking into words. "I'm not seeing anything that even looks like a door." She had been using her toes to prod some of the stones set into the ground around the statue. James had been checking the statue's base. Gwen had even been pushing the letters on the plaque. Especially the part about 'wretched refuse' figuring that probably referred to anyone gay back in the eighteen hundreds. Nothing so much as wiggled.

The professors watched them and finally Dr. Killjoy said, "It's obvious you're looking for something. What is it?"

Jo looked to Gwen who shrugged. "I guess we might as well tell them."

James said, "Are you sure?"

"What have we got to lose?" She looked at Jo.

"I have no objections." So they motioned to a nearby bench far away from most of the people. The six of them sat down and Gwen told them the whole story.

"Really?" Schwartz asked. They confirmed it. He looked at the other academics. "We could borrow the underground sonar equipment from the archaeology department at my school. It's not being used right now. They mostly use it for dinosaur bones…"

"But think about the forms we'd have to fill out. They don't just lend it out," Killjoy said.

Hamilton added, "And if we find something, they'll never let us open it. I mean it's been a decade since they found that tomb under the sphinx and it's still sealed." They looked over at the other three and seemed to ponder. Finally Hamilton asked, "Perhaps some old school archaeology?"

"Should we?"

"Why not?"

Gwen asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Well…" Killjoy said. "These days archaeology is a careful business. In the old days though…"

Jo frowned. "You're talking about tomb robbing."

"Basically… yes. We'd find the place, bust in to prove its there. Then we contact the major players, get a real team in here, and do it the right way. If we had that diary miss Bates mentioned we could probably get them down here without doing it this way, but without it they're not going to just let us break into part of this island."

'Something could get damaged," Jo protested.

Gwen said, "It's not that bad Jo. According to the letters President Grant already blasted his way inside. Anything we do probably won't damage it nearly as much as that."

The English woman sighed. "I suppose you're right. I shudder to think what nineteenth century Americans did to the relics in there already."

"You have a problem with Americans?" James asked.

Raising her nose Jo said, "Of course I do, you colonial heathens." She winked so they knew she was joking. "Though in all seriousness if they had left well enough alone it would all still be back in the British empire where it belonged."

"Up until some struggling noble decided to melt it down," Killjoy said.

James said, "America was built by taking this treasure. I like history the way it is, thank you."

Gwen looked at the guys. "So, what's the plan?"

They came back at night. It turned out Schwartz owned a boat with enough room for all of them and the equipment. They turned off the engine and began sailing the boat quietly towards the back of the island.

"So what kind of security are we talking about?" Gwen whispered.

Killjoy said, "I looked it up. A couple of guards who patrol the outside. The statue has a bunch of security systems, but I doubt we need to go in there." The grounds… not so much. It's an island with a giant statue. The worst anyone could do is usually sneak on to graffiti it. We'll use the sonar first. It should only take a couple of minutes. We'll get a look at the inside of the island and know if there's anything there. If you're wrong and its solid, we leave, nobody the wiser."

"And if something is there?" Jo asked.

"I whipped something up in the chemistry lab," Hamilton said holding up a silver thermos. "I've got thermite in here. We set it off at the best spot to burn into whatever this treasure room is and then we let it burn its way in."

"We'll get arrested," James pointed out.

"True. But it'll open up the treasure room. We may have to pay some kind of fine for desecrating a national monument or something."

"If you want I'll get my mom to loan you the money to pay the fine," Gwen said. "I don't know about you, but I'm not in this for the money."

Jo sighed. "I suppose." She smiled. "It should make for a great story for the news, don't you think?"

Gwen looked at the rest of them. "If you want you all can leave and I'll set it off and take the blame."

"No way," Professor Keith said. "In academic circles blame equals credit." The others nodded in agreement.

Gwen said, "Okay, then commando team Alpha, let's rock this."

They laughed but did not rush onto the island. It was fairly bright because of the lit up torch. After an hour though Jo asked, "Where is the guard?"

"I don't know," Killjoy said. "Maybe they have the night off."

Keith said, "They probably just don't actually bother to check as often as they are supposed to. Jenkins in statistics told me that a lot of people these days do the least they can at their jobs. It is sad really."

"So… should we go?" James asked.

They waited a bit more before they finally pulled up at the dock. Gwen said, "I thought we were trying to avoid getting caught." She pointed to the security cameras aimed right at them.

"You can't just pick anyplace on an island to dock a boat," Schwartz said. "Look, if we don't find anything we'll just leave. If we get caught at worst they'll charge us with trespassing or something. If we have to use the thermos… being on video isn't going to make a difference."

"Man's got a point," James said.

Killjoy said, "Lets just hurry up and get this over with. The sonar's battery isn't going to last long and I have no idea where we could plug it in for a recharge."

Hefting the equipment they shuffled onto the island. Hurrying over to the shadows they placed it on the ground while Killjoy began hastily adjusting knobs and turning on the little glowing screen. "It shouldn't take too long…" It beeped. "I'm getting something… I think it's a room."

Keith and Hamilton were looking around nervously for guards. The three of them were very focused. So were Jo and James, watching the screen over Killjoy's shoulder, taking up all the room. So it's no surprise that Gwen was the one that noticed something off about their surroundings.

"Uh, guys."

"Sh! Keep it down," Hamilton hissed.

"Guys!" She said, raising her voice. They all looked up at her, surprised and angry. She pointed at the base of the statue. Should that be like that?" They all turned to look.

The plaque hat usually sat affixed to the base of the Statue of Liberty was lying flat on the ground. Behind it was a tunnel leading down into the ground. The wall around it was cracked and burnt.

They abandoned the sonar equipment and moved towards the hole. Peering inside they saw that it slanted down some thin stairs deep into the ground.

James groaned. "Does this mean that Deirdre has already been here?"

"That would explain what happened to the guards," Gwen said. "She was willing to buy LSD and frame us to keep us from hopping a plane. Who knows how far she and even her dad would go to get at the treasure?"

"Pretty far," a voice said behind them. "Don't move or I'll show you." They all froze.

Finally James looked over his shoulder. "Dean Canning, how nice to see you." He paused. "Good news, he didn't kill the guard. Unfortunately the guard is the one currently pointing a gun at us."

"What can I say," a man said. "They never did pay me enough."

The others slowly turned to look. Dean Canning was a familiar face to Gwen. Usually seen yelling at her from behind his desk. He was middle aged, not bad looking, with salt and pepper hair. He had three other large men with him and Deirdre, standing there looking smug.

"Bitch," Gwen snapped.

"Dyke," Deirdre said.

"Now sweetie, please," her father said. "There's no need for such language."

"Sorry daddy."

Dean Canning smiled. "It's so good of you all to show up. We were just about to go looking for you. The detective I hired to follow you around town called me just after we got into that hole. He said you were taking a boat out in this direction."

"I'm surprised you're still here," Gwen said.

"We ran into problem. One I believe you can help solve. Please, drop everything you're holding." Hamilton set down his thermos. Schwartz dropped his boat keys. One of the men came forward to pat them down for weapons and found nothing but their wallets, which he let them keep. "Now everybody, down stairs." He motioned towards the passageway.

It was a small fit, but opened up and spiraled down about a story before they hit the floor. The room down there was about as big as an average garage. Affixed to the wall with putty was a battery powered light, letting them see it. There was only one thing there, a marble statue of a woman seated on a throne. There were some small gold pieces affixed to the white stone. Gold nipples and earrings.

Obviously worth something, but hardly a treasure trove.

"Now, where is that treasure?" Dean Canning said. Everyone looked at him blankly.

Deirdre held out the silver key they had found in Virginia. "I looked all over, but there's no place to use this."

"There wouldn't be," Gwen said.

"What?"

"If you'd stuck around rather than ditching us," she explained. "I could have told you that they found this place back in the eighteen hundreds. President Grant was building a house near his old school of West Point and found the treasure room."

"You're lying," Deirdre said.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "You're right. A guy who was still paying off the civil war built a statue over a treasure trove and didn't notice. See all the pretty gold stacked al over the place? Maybe if you scrape the walls you'll find that they're gold coins."

"Shut up!"

"Deirdre," Dean Canning snapped. "Calm yourself." He looked at the others. "Is she telling the truth?"

Jo said, "This looks like a treasure room. Aside from that statue attached to the wall… what else could be here?" She waved an arm. "My guess is that if any of the treasure wasn't melted down for profit, it's probably in some government vault. Maybe in Fort Knox or something."

The Dean sighed. "I was afraid you might say something like that."

"So that's it?" Deirdre asked.

"Oh not by a long shot. That diary you brought me is worth quite a lot. Especially if some day they come here and find this room, proving that the treasure it mentioned at least did exist. At auction I may be able to get a million dollars or more for it. Well worth all this effort."

"Some day?" Hamilton asked.

Dean Canning nodded. "I'm afraid so. You see you six are rather in the way. Miss Bates here, who has always been a pain in my ass, has legal claim to the book. I can say she gave it to me, but that falls apart if she contradicts my story. And the rest of you are witnesses."

"You're going to kill us?" James gasped.

"I'm afraid so. Or anyway you'll die here. You have a choice. Either stay put while we reattach the plaque, sealing you in. Or you can try fighting back in which case you'll be shot. It's up to you. I would pick being shot though, it's quicker than suffocating. With six of you in here I doubt the air will last an hour. Then again you'll probably just fall unconscious first."

Killjoy moved forward angrily, looking like he was going to say something. One of Canning's men and the guard both shot him in the chest. The echoes still had not died away when his body hit the ground. Everyone else backed up against the statue, as far from the men and their weapons as they could get.

"Anyone else?" Nobody so much as twitched. Deirdre looked ill, staring at the bleeding body, but did not say anything either. "Very well. Rest assured that eventually someone else will figure out the clues in that book and find your bodies. In ten years or so I may even let it slip. You'll be returned to your families… eventually." They backed out, guns still trained on them.

Deirdre tossed the silver key onto the ground. "Here, keep it. I wouldn't want you have gone through all this for nothing. Its not like we can prove where we got it anyway."

Everyone remained silent until they heard the plaque being slid into place and being screwed into place with what sounded like heavy machinery.

"Won't people wonder what happened to the statue?" Jo asked, staring down at Killjoy's body. She was speaking in a dull measured tone. Gwen suspected she was in shock.

"Why? They'll have the guard to tell whatever story they want. Probably say we tried to steal the plaque as some kind of prank and then sink Schwartz's boat somewhere. It won't be hard and we'll go down as attempted terrorists or vandals or something." Jammed slapped a hand on the wall.

"I am so sorry," Gwen said.

James wanted to reassure her that it was all okay, but looking around the room they were about to die in, he could not make the effort.

Eventually they all took seats along the walls, as far from the body and one another as possible. Gwen picked up the key from where it had been dropped and rolled it around in her fingers. Finally she asked, "So, what's up with the statue?"

"What?"

"We've got maybe an hour or two before we run out of air or the light loses power from the batteries. Even if we could make ourselves heard down here, its midnight and nobody will be on the island until after the sun is up. So since there's no way out, I'd personally like to kill some time learning about the only piece of treasure we found."

Hamilton, Jo, and Keith shared a look and shrugged. "Eh, sure, why not?" Together they moved to the statue."

"It's a Greek design," Jo said. "That much is obvious. Late bronze age."

"But look at this carving. It's recent… I'd say roughly the same age as the Statue of Liberty," Keith said.

Hamilton nodded. "Agreed." The three of them had switched into full academic mode now. "I think I recognize the design. It's Cybele. Which I guess goes towards supporting Miss Bates's theory about the treasure."

"Cybele?" James asked.

"The patron goddess of the island f Lesbos," Hamilton said. "The mother goddess."

"Mytilini," Gwen corrected. They looked at her. "The islanders got tired of all the jokes about lesbians so there is officially another name."

They went back to the statue, poking and prodding at it.

"I suppose maybe Grant had it put in. Did he know the significance or just pick another goddess to put a statue of as part of the décor?" Hamilton asked.

"Well his name was Ulysses," Keith said. "I think he knew Greek. I wouldn't be surprised if he studied the myths of the area."

Jo looked at the earrings. She said, "I don't this is really gold. Maybe brass or some other alloy. Probably whatever they made the plaque out of. I'd look it up, but I don't have my cell phone."

"I'll bet the signals down here aren't that great anyway," James said.

Jo let out a sigh and leaned forward, hands on the statues knees. "This is not how I imagine dyiiiiiieeee!" She slipped and fell forward, smacking her forehead against the statue's stone chest. "Ow!" Rolling over she grabbed her head and groaned. "Oh that hurt!"

"You should be more careful," Hamilton said.

Jo, moving from depressed and scared to angry, snarled, "I was! The damned thing moved when I touched it." Her words echoed back in the sudden silence. Suddenly all five of them rushed forward to examine the statue.

It took them a moment but they found out that parts of it moved. The legs shifted slightly, but not much. The chin jiggled. The ears wiggled the most. The breasts moved up and down a tiny bit. It only looked solid unless you examined it up close. Everything else was solid immovable stone.

"Do you think it's a booby trap?" James asked, his hand still messing with one of the breasts.

"Who cares?" Hamilton asked. "We're already trapped."

They poked and prodded, unsure what to do. Jo, still rubbing her head where a bruise was forming, asked, What was it Grant's letter said?"

Gwen frowned. "He said some woman with certain… proclivities had suggested a way to hide the treasure in exchange for everyone ignoring her social life. It was pretty clear he meant she was gay. He said only someone with the treasure's best interests at heart would be able t open it. Or something like that."

"So this is the door, not the treasure room," Hamilton said.

"Fat lot of good that does us," Keith said. "We might find the treasure, but we're still trapped down here."

Jo shook her head. "Maybe not. I think when they dig down, don't they always dig air shafts or something, incase of emergencies."

"I think so," Hamilton said. "But assuming they did it would be at the other side, away from the main entrance. So we'd still have to get inside."

"If you were a gay woman designing a hidden way to a treasure, what would you do?" Keith asked. They poked at the statue a few more times. Then they glanced at James. "Got any ideas?"

"I'm gay, but I'm a guy," he said. "Women are a complete mystery to me."

"I'm new to the whole thing," Jo said.

Gwen snorted. "Great then this should be a piece of cake. From what I know men in the nineteen hundreds knew less about a woman's body than…" She trailed off.

"What?" Everyone asked her at the same time.

Gwen examined the statue. "No way… they wouldn't." She grinned and licked her lips. "Then again, it would keep anyone who did not know what they were doing out." She tapped a nail on her teeth, eying the statue. "That poem we were talking about, the one about the statue, it mentioned a golden door, right?"

"Yeah?" Hamilton said uncertainly.

Gwen nodded. "Okay. I don't want to get anybody's hopes up, but I have an idea. I need you to back away for a second while I check this out though."

Uncertain, but without any better ideas, they all stepped away while Gwen made her way to the statue. She paused for a moment, and then swung her legs over until she was sitting on the goddess's lap.

While the others watched she reached up, feeling around the statue's ears, caressing them. Then she took the earrings in her fingers and gently tugged on them. They slid down a bit and suddenly the statue's mouth popped open. Inside something glittered… a golden tongue. Grinning she let go of the earrings and it closed again.

"Okay…" She pulled the earrings and it opened. She released one, but held on tightly to the other. Both stayed down and the mouth stayed open. Using her other hand she slid two fingers through the while lips and pressed down on the metallic tongue. There was a small button, like a piercing, that clicked when she touched it. When she did she saw the statue's nipples stick out a little further, popping out like a turkey thermometers.

This time when she drew her fingers from the mouth she let the earrings go, the mouth shut. But the nipples stayed sticking out.

Reaching down Gwen cupped the breasts and lifted up, running her thumbs over the cold gold metal. The breasts lifted and the nipples clicked in. Suddenly between her legs the statue's legs spread a bit.

She glanced over her shoulder at the others. James was grinning now too. Hamilton and Keith were blushing. Jo… was rubbing her neck and glancing away nervously. Gwen laughed and slid down. "One last thing I think…" She put a hand on each of the statue's knees. A little effort and she pushed them apart with a grinding sound of stone on stone and a ratcheting sound. They spread apart farther than before until at last was revealed one more golden body part. A gold vagina with a button that clicked out at the top when the knees were spread wide. She tried to reach it with her hand, but as soon as she stopped holding the legs open they tried to spring shut.

"Well, only one thing to do then," she mumbled and pushed her face forward, tongue out. A moment later they all heard a loud click, the legs opened a little more, and Gwen backed up. The legs stayed open this time and there was a rumbling. Slowly the statue's white toes curled back from the floor and the throne began to slide back into the wall, revealing a rail underneath and an opening the exact shape of the throne.

Licking her lips Gwen stood up, winked at Jo, and then said, "We're in."

James laughed. "You can say that again."

The room behind was dark. They stood trying to see before James ducked back out to rip the light from the wall in the other room. When he came back they all gasped in awe at what they saw.

The place was huge and at least five feet deeper into the ground than the door. The goddess's throne seemed to levitate in the middle of it all. Gold, silver, gems, and a dozen other very expensive looking substances reflected the light. The group stared in shock around them at the huge treasure. It took a moment for the content to make its way into their minds past the sheer wave of greed.

Just as Gwen had always hoped large portions of the treasure showed images of gay men and women. Statues, tablets, fountains, paintings, scrolls, tapestries, and carvings on everything from furniture to weapons. All from a hundred different cultures from every continent. There were sexual acts displayed in every corner of the room ranging from single people masturbating to orgies of a dozen or more. Not all were exactly works of art, being vague lumpish figures while others were so life-like it was almost as if they were alive.

The two professors and Jo walked forward in a daze. Gwen realized that they were looking past the obvious sex stuff and getting into the history.

Hamilton stopped by a rack of papers, diaries, and scrolls. "My word… I think some of these are original poems of Sappho!" He flipped through more. "And attempts by others to match them…"

Keith gasped and picked up a small marble statue of two women embracing each other. "My god… it's the Venus de Milo!" Gwen looked and one of the figures did look like the famous statue. Only she had arms, which were wrapped around another woman. "This must be the original model."

Jo said, "I think that may be a fountain of Bacchus, late bronze age." She pointed to a group of six women cast in bronze. Muscular and from the looks of things they would be pouring water out of urns onto one another's nude bodies when the water flowed through them. "Maenads. That or maybe Amazons." She nodded further on. "And over there… I think that's an altar to the goddess Inanna."

Gwen had no idea what they were talking about. She had not spent a lifetime examining artifacts and studying archaeology. She glanced at James who was eyeing a painting of… "Is that the Mona Lisa?" She hurried over to look, quickly followed by other others.

There were a dozen paintings together, all with the famous face of Leonardo da Vinci's painting and all painted on wood. Only now she was posed, sometimes in the nude lying across a bed or couch, other times making love with men. James said, "You know they say Da Vinci was either gay or bi and that the Mona Lisa was actually a female version of his own face."

"Michelangelo as well," Jo said. "Though that is hardly a secret. Supposedly the two of them argued together a few times."

Though it was all titillating, the less objectionable parts of the collection probably already in museums, not everything was homosexually oriented. Some was straight men and women. Other pieces showed bestiality, men and women and gods having sex with animals. Jo identified a Norse statue of the wolf Fenrir mounting his sister, the goddess Hel who was half beautiful woman and half rotting corpse.

Gwen noticed one section of the cave was partitioned off by a curtain. She moved over and pulled it aside, looking at what was behind it. When she did her face paled and she felt her stomach buckle. "Oh ye gods! I think I'm going to be sick!" She turned away and let the curtain fall. The others hurried over.

"What is it?" James asked. She just shook her head and motioned to the curtain.

The others looked and while their reaction was not as extreme as hers, all of them looked a little ill. "I guess we found the real blackmail material."

The things hidden by the curtain were hideous acts of death and destruction that showed people pushing the human body far past their breaking point. Men, women, animals, children, and even babies in acts that could only be rape and torture, the pain carved out perfectly on their faces. Blood, pain, and even cuts down to their organs while their abusers stood over them smiling happily in acts that would make a serial killer turn away in disgust.

"Is that… the Borgias?" Jo asked, pointing at a painting of a young girl, three young men, and an older man dressed as a Pope having sex, all of them covered in bleeding cuts and other bodily builds. "Pope Alexander the Sixth and his children Cesare, Giovani, Gioffre, and Lucrezia. Known to be among the greatest perverts in history."

Hamilton asked, "They clearly owned at least part of this collection once. Lucrezia was born right around the time Da Vinci died." He stroked his chin. "Do you suppose that this collection inspired their acts or they collected them because of what they are?"

"It'll take people years to figure that out," Hamilton said. "Even though I think I saw some of their diaries over there…"

"And that has got to be Elizabeth Bathory," Keith said, pointing at a tapestry showing a woman stretched out naked, with the bodies of young women with their throats slit dripping blood all over her.

Gwen just moved away. "I know this sort of thing has gone on over the centuries, but there are limits. Yikes." She noticed something on the nearby wall. "Ah, here we go. It's that message we read about." The metallic square was tarnished silver, so bad it was black. But the letters were carved deep. She ran her fingers over them. "It's hard to make out because they did not talk the same way we do back then… but I'm used to reading this sort of thing. It looks to be a message from Deborah Read Franklin. She tells about the blackmail plot against the king, but she and some of the other women feared that the men of the time or in the future might use the treasure to finance their own plans, like how Benedict Arnold wanted to. So they copied their men and blackmailed Jefferson into helping them hide it from everyone until it could be kept safe."

"I'll bet she and some of those other ladies probably did some of this stuff too," James said. "Their men were off fighting for years leaving them at home with this stuff… ideas get around. Considering the times Jefferson's sleeping with his slaves was probably considered on par with anything in this place." He absently motioned to a few African and Egyptian fertility statues.

"It'll take years combing through these things to answer any of our questions," Jo said. "Of course that's assuming we get out of here."

Suddenly they all remembered they were still trapped. Trapped in a treasure room sure, but still trapped. As if to drive the point home the light they were using flickered a bit. Quickly they began moving around the edge, looking for some way out.

"Over here," James called out. They rushed over and found a door. It was made of oak and rusted iron. There was no door handle, but there was a hole. "I think… hey Gwen, still got the key?"

Gwen pulled the silver key from her pocket and stuck it into the hole. There was a dull groan and it swung open. Behind it was a stone staircase leading up. "Finally some good luck!" She took the light and led the way up. When they reached the top they found a square of stones that was on a hinge. It took some effort, but Gwen managed to push it open, allowing a blast of fresh air to hit them all along with sunlight.
"We're out!"

"Hey! Stop right there!"

Gwen looked back over her shoulder and saw a dozen police officers running at her.

It turned out you can=not do even a little damage to a national monument without getting a lot of attention. The security guard who had been with Canning was just in the middle of explaining that he had been knocked out along with the other guards. When he saw who was climbing out of the ground he paled and immediately pointed them out. "That's them! Those are the vandals!"

"That's a lie," Gwen said. "You and those other bastards tried to kill us!"

Before they could argue any more on of the cops said, "Hold on just a minute." He looked down at the trap door and then up at their group. "What were you doing down there?"

"It's complicated," Jo said. "We'll be happy to explain, but you should arrest that man and get some guards to keep people out of here until some officials down here to look in the hole. There are…" Gwen elbowed her in the ribs. "Uh, artifacts from the Revolutionary war down there. I am a representative of British government and we were searching for it when some people jumped us and trapped us inside."

The cop looked at the guard. "And he was in on it?"

"No!" the guard said.

"Yes!" The others yelled.

The police looked at one another. Then down at the trap door. Gwen said, "If we were behind this then how did the plaque end up back on the statue when we were trapped under ground?" She led the way around to where the police had been examining the cracks around the edge of the plaque. It had been screwed back onto the statue. "You can see we don't have any heavy equipment on us."

"Good point," one of the police said. "Okay we'll arrest the guard for now. We'll need statements from the rest of you. And we'll post guards on that hole."

"There's a body behind the plaque," Jo said. "It'd be best if you went in through the hole behind it to retrieve him. It's best if everyone stays out of the room behind it for now."

"We'll need to collect evidence…"

Gwen handed them the light. "There should be some fingerprints on this. Besides that there probably won't be much. They left pretty quick."

The cop sighed while his associates handcuffed the guard. "Let's start at the beginning."

By the time they had given their statements on what they had been up to, leaving out the parts about their own plans to break into the statue and where they had gotten the silver key that let them out, reporters had arrived and the CSI guys had gotten permission to re-break open the plaque. They had been professional about collecting Killjoy's body, but as Gwen and her friends feared it hadn't taken them long after to peer into the secret passage and find what was behind it. They knew when, after the body was brought out, the crime scene people had come out looking dazed.

So they reluctantly explained to both the reporters and the police about the treasure. From there the rest of the day got very busy. The police managed to catch up to Canning and his men. They had not even managed to check out of their hotel yet. Already they were trying to sell one another out. Gwen and the others would be called in as witnesses when they finally went to trial.

An hour after the story hit the news at noon a hundred more academics descended on Liberty Island via their own boats since the ferry had been closed down by the police. At first they had Hamilton, Keith, and Jo show them inside, but soon the original group was rushed out to make room for researchers who planned to catalogue and collect everything in the hidden treasure room.

James and Gwen made their way to the police boat, waiting for an officer to give them a ride back to shore. Jo waited on the dock to say goodbye.

"So what do we do now?" James asked.

Jo said, "I have to start on the paperwork. You made agreements with my government…"

Gwen sighed. "So we're done." She looked at James. "I guess we go home."

Jo reached out to her. "Can we…"

Gwen winked. "You look like you're going to be pretty busy. Just make sure James and I get credit and a standard finder's fee. You have my number right?" Jo nodded. "Then I'll.. see you later." She leaned up and kissed Jo on the cheek. "Later babe."

"Goodbye."

Gwen and James made their way back home easily enough. Over the next few months their lives changed. Gwen managed to graduate from college and James took over the school as Dean, the school board picking him as a hero to help wipe away the shame of Canning and his daughter being arrested for murder.

They were contacted by the government which was not pleased that they had made a deal to give first rights to the treasure to England. Ownership of the artifacts was being contested by a dozen other countries too. If they were going to get a finder's fee for the whole thing it would be huge, but would take years before they could claim it. If ever. Meanwhile the treasure was being filed away into a dozen different vaults for researchers around the world to study.

It was almost six months before Gwen saw Jo again. Jo had called her and arranged to meet her at a café near Gwen's house.

Gwen smiled as she arrived, seeing Jo dressed in a women's business dress that made Gwen think of a sexy library. Jo looked up and Gwen saw the woman's eyes move over her body. She was dressed in a white dress, hoop earrings, and matching shoes. "Gwen, there you are."

"Sorry, I was picking out what to wear and lost track of the time." She saw Jo hesitate as she approached, unsure how to greet her. Gwen bent down and gave her a deep kiss, smiling when Jo responded eagerly. "You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Jo said as Gwen took a seat across from her.

"So what have you been doing?"

"I've been very busy," Jo said. "The Queen heard about what happened and knighted me. Then I was put in charge of the treasure. We're still working on the ownership rights. A dozen other countries are trying to get in on it…"

"I've heard," Gwen said. "Sounds like a pain."

"Well it is exciting," Jo said. "They're working on a time line of owners for the treasure for the last three thousand years... maybe more. It must have passed through the hands of just about every major empire in the world, growing each time. It seems everyone used it as sort of a dumping ground for anything too embarrassing but that was too much of a work of art to actually destroy. Various nobles just kept them in back rooms like…"

"Like some sort of ultra expensive porn stash," Gwen said.

"That would be a good description, though we'll probably use a better one when we put them on display." Jo smiled. "So what have you been up to since the last time we spoke?"

Gwen heard an edge to her voice and smiled. "Afraid I've been doing my usual thing and seducing beautiful women?" Jo looked down. "Just kidding. Don't worry honey, I've been busy myself. Not with work really. My family is loaded and since I found the treasure and graduated college my mother gave me full access to the family funds. Plus I managed to sell Benedict Arnold's diary at auction for three million dollars."

"You sold it?"

Gwen shrugged. "I don't need it any more. Besides, I have a replacement." She leaned forward. "When you weren't looking I found something hidden in the frame of one of those Mona Lisa paintings."

Jo gasped. "You stole artifacts?"

Gwen smiled. "Let's just say I happened across some unclaimed items that may have been in the vicinity. I can guarantee there's no proof that they were ever in that room." Jo frowned. "Want to see what it is?"

Jo sighed. She had enough artifacts to deal with already. "Very well." Gwen opened her purse and drew out a scroll first. Unrolling it she showed it to be a map of Europe. There was writing all over the edges. "What is this?"

"I had it translated. It was written by Leonardo da Vinci himself. It's a map to a storehouse of artwork that he and several other Renaissance artists collected. Things that they knew would be burned by the church and would probably get them killed as blasphemers too. A version of the Last Supper turned orgy among the apostles for a start. Apparently the paintings he gave to the Borgias when they owned this treasure, were some of his least objectionable materials. He knew that in the possession of the Borgias, a rich and well off family, they and the map to his treasure trove would be safe.

"I doubt he had any idea about the treasure we found. I don't think the Borgias ever found the map. I looked them up and they seemed like they all found other things to do with their time. Each other, for a start. And since Leonardo's paintings aren't exactly the most eye catching part of the collection, nobody else noticed it either."

Jo stared at her. "Another one? You know about asnother treasure?" Gwen shrugged. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Do you have any vacation time?"

Jo ran this through her mind. "You want to go find it?"

"Of course. You want to come with me?" She reached out and put a hand on Jo's. The girl smiled and nodded. "Good. Oh, I almost forgot. Look what the scroll was wrapped around." She reached into her purse and pulled out a tube-shaped contraption. It was about a foot long and covered in strange bumps and markings. There was a small crank on the bottom. When she twisted it Jo could see that the bumps were in lines that rotated around and around with a small rumble.

"What is that?"

"Don't quote me on this, but I think… Leonardo da Vinci invented that world's first vibrator." Jo blushed and Gwen grinned, still cranking the device. "This is… the Da Vinci Cock!"

The End… or merely The Beginning?