Disclaimer: None of the characters from National Treasure belong to me. I'm just temporarily borrowing them and (unfortunately) I'm not getting paid for it. Please don't post or publish this story anywhere else without my permission.
Author's Note: Right after I started writing this story I was a little disappointed to find that someone had beaten me to my own idea and posted a story very similar to the one I was planning on writing. But I still liked the idea and went with it, so here is my version of how Riley came to join Ben and the gang in search for the treasure of the Knight's Templar. This story takes place eight months before National Treasure.
I'd really love to know what you think about my story and I thrive on criticism, good or bad, so if you like it, great! If you don't like it, let me know what you think I should do to make it better. Honesty is always the best policy :-) And as always, thanks for taking the time to read my story!
Origins
"Hello and thank you for calling the Smithsonian National Museum of American History. For the location and hours of the Museum press or say '1'now. For a list of current exhibits press or say '2' now. For a list of upcoming attractions press or say '3' now. To speak to someone at the Information Desk, press or say '4', or stay on the line."
"Finally," Benjamin Gates muttered to himself as he and Ian Howe paced around outside, at The Mall in Washington D.C.
"I'm sorry. Your response was not recognized. Please hang up and try your call again."
"No, no, no…wait! Four! Four! I want four!"Ben yelled into the phone. He listened in dismay to the sound of the dial tone. Ian couldn't help but laugh at the look on Ben's face. It was a look of complete and utter bewilderment.
"Having problems?" Ian asked casually, trying to suppress a chuckle. Several people had stopped and stared at Ben during his outburst. One man walked by, obviously stifling a grin.
"I swear to you, Ian," Ben said as he hit re-dial on his phone, "Machines are taking over the world. Soon society won't have a need for people anymore!"
"Oh, now that's being just a tiny bit melodramatic, isn't it?" Ian said to Ben.
"No," Ben stubbornly retorted as the recording began to replay its monotonous message again.
"Hello and thank you for calling the Smithsonian National Museum of Amer…"
"Four."
"Please hold while you are connected to the first available receptionist."
"Thank you," Ben mockingly said to the recording. The phone rang once, twice, three times before a young woman's voice came on the line.
"Smithsonian National Museum of American History: Information Desk. How can I help you?"
"Yes, hi. Um, I am trying to get in touch with one of the curators of the Early American History Exhibit," Ben explained to the woman.
"Do you know your party's extension, sir?"
"No, no I don't. I was hoping that maybe you could tell me what it was," Ben said with his fingers crossed.
"I'm sorry sir. I'm not allowed to give out personal extension numbers," the woman said, sounding not the least bit sorry.
"I'm sorry, too," Ben began. 'I'm sure that's the museums policy…"
"Yes, sir, it is," the information woman interrupted.
"It's just that, well, this is kind of an emergency," Ben lied, instantly feeling a pang of guilt for his deceit.
"I'm sorry sir," the woman apologized again, sounding slightly more sympathetic and making Ben fell slightly more guilty. "The best I can do is to connect you to the receptionist in the Early American History department."
"I would really appreciate that," Ben said.
"Hold please." Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Thank you for calling the Department of Early American History. If you know your party's extension, please enter it now."
Ben let out an exasperated sigh.
"To speak to the receptionist please press '' or stay on the line." Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-
"Early American History. This is Judy."
"Hello Judy," Ben said, relieved to be speaking to an actual person. "I have been trying to get back in touch with one of the curators of the Early American History exhibit, but when we last spoke he forgot to give me his extension number," Ben said in one long breath, afraid that if he didn't explain himself fast enough that the girl would hang up. "Is there any way that you could connect me to Mr. Riley Poole?"
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line and then Judy's confused voice spoke again.
"You want to talk to…Riley, sir?"
Ben was surprised by her lack of formality. "Uh, yes. Could I speak to…Mr. Poole, please?"
"He's right here, sir, I'll put him on, but I think you have him confused for…" Judy's last words were drowned out by a muffled crackling noise. Ben could hear what sounded like a scuffle and then...
"This is Riley Poole," a very dignified voice said.
Ben tried to hide is confusion. "Um, Mr. Poole, this is Benjamin Gates. We spoke on the phone the other day."
"Yes, of course, Mr. Gates. What can I do for you?"
"There is a very important matter that I think would be of some interest to you. I'd like to take a few minutes to talk to you about it, when you have the time. I was hoping that I could maybe meet you for lunch today, if that's at all possible."
"Of course. Is the Main Street Café alright? It's on the lower level of the museum."
"That sounds great. One of my colleagues and I are at The Mall right now. Could we meet you there in about fifteen minutes?" Ben suggested.
"Just a moment," the voice said. A moment later Ben hear a muffled, much less dignified version of the same voice say "Judy, tell Mr. Carter that I'm taking my lunch break."
"Fine," a cranky female voice said. "It's your funeral." And then…
"I will see you and your colleague in fifteen minutes, Mr. Gates," the same previously dignified voice said.
"We look forward to it," Ben said before hanging up. Ian could tell by the look on Ben's face that something about the conversation had not quite been right.
"Everything okay?" Ian asked, curiously.
"Fine," Ben replied, sounding less than convincing.
"Ben," Ian said in a disapproving tone, "You know that you're a terrible liar. What's wrong?
"I don't know," Ben honestly answered. "But I think we'll find out in about fifteen minutes."
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"Remind me again why we're looking for this guy?" Ian said as he and Ben stepped onto the escalator that would take them to the lower level of the Museum of American History.
"Because we could really use his help. The man has a double major in British/American History of the 18th Century and Computer Programming and has a double minor in Computer Science and Museum Care and Preservation, all from Harvard," Ben said. "Tell me that he wouldn't be the perfect addition to this expedition."
"Okay, but what makes you think that he would leave his job here to come with us?" Ian asked.
"First of all, he wouldn't have to quit his job…Just take a leave of absence," Ben said. "Second of all, why wouldn't a curator of the Early American History exhibit in the Smithsonian National Museum of American History want to come with us to look for the largest treasure in the history of out nation?"
"Because 99.9 of the respectable historical community thinks that the treasure is rubbish," Ian reminded Ben.
"You know, I had almost managed to forget about that, but thanks for making sure I remembered." Ben's sarcasm did not go unnoticed.
"No need to get defensive," Ian said calmly, "I just don't want you to get your hopes up about this guy and then be disappointed. You've worked too hard to let one man discourage you from this."
"He isn't going to discourage me," Ben insisted. "I just really, really, really want this to work out."
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Riley Poole nervously sat at a table, keeping his eye on the escalator. He didn't really know who he was looking for or how he would recognize them when he saw them, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. Mr. Gates, the legendary Benjamin Gates, thought he was a curator for the department of American History and would be meeting him in a few minutes. Riley's biggest concern at the moment was what Mr. Gates would do when he found out that that wasn't exactly the case.
Two men appeared, descending on the escalator and talking amongst themselves as they waited for the moving staircase to carry them to the lowest level of the museum. They didn't look like tourists to Riley and he was sure that these were the men he was supposed to meet, but he waited a moment to see what they would do when they got off the escalator before he greeted them.
Ben and Ian stepped off the escalator and headed toward the café, looking around at the various patrons occupying he tables. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, obviously too early for the lunch crowd to have assembled, and there weren't that many people sitting in the café. There were two women in business suits who sat, eating salads and trying to cram in as much gossip as they could in their thirty minutes of free time. Two different families of tourists were mulling over brochures as they ate, their tables surrounded by shopping bags and souvenirs. The only other person present was a young man sitting alone at a table, seemingly lost in thought. He looked up from the table, directly at Ben and then immediately looked away when he realized that Ben was eying him. Every few seconds he would check to see if Ben was still looking at him.
"I don't see anyone who looks like a curator, Ben," Ian said as he stood in front of Ben, looking at his watch. "We're a little early. Maybe he's not here yet."
"No, something tells me that he is." Ben appeared to be looking at someone over Ian's shoulder. Ian turned around and followed Ben's intent gaze until his eyes fell upon a young man. A very young man. Ian glanced back and forth between the young man and Ben, not understanding what Ben meant.
"No…Ben, you don't think…" Ian's voice trailed away as the young man rose from his seat, nervously smoothed out the wrinkles in his button-down shirt and smiled feebly at them.
Riley felt like he was on exhibit at the museum as the two men, whom he presumed to be Mr. Gates and his colleague stared at him and spoke in hushed tones as he approached.
"Mr. Gates?" Riley asked, meekly. Ben did not return his smile.
"Please tell me that you are Mr. Poole's assistant?" Ben asked hopefully, feeling a tight knot form in the pit of his stomach.
"Well, part of that is right," Riley said as cheerfully as possible. "I'm Riley Poole. I've been looking forward to meeting you. You said some very interesting things on the phone the other day."
"Yes, yes, and so did you," Ben said, trying to stay calm. "For example, that you were the curator of the Early American History exhibit." It was painfully obvious to Riley that Benjamin Gates and his anonymous companion were more than a little unhappy at the moment.
"Well, now, in all fairness, Benjamin…uh, Mr. Gates, I said that I ran the exhibit, not that I was the curator."
"Come on, Ben. Let's go. This is a waste of time," Ian said, moving toward the escalator. Riley ran around in front of them, motioning for them to stop.
"Wait, wait, wait, please," Riley begged, holding up his hands in front of him. "Please, just hear me out."
"I think we've heard enough already," Ben said, not trying to hide his agitation. "We heard that you were the curator of the Early American History exhibit, or ran it, or whatever, and clearly that isn't the case, so…"
"I do run it!" Riley insisted. "Indirectly…from behind the scenes…and behind a desk…but I do run it! Kind of…"
"Sounds fascinating. So what exactly do you do?" Ben asked.
"I catalogue and document all the smaller exhibitions that come through the Early American History exhibit and I designed and run the online database for the entire department."
"So what you're saying is that you are a bookkeeper who made a website?" Ian said, speaking to Riley for the first time. It was a hell of a first impression.
"No, that's not what I said at all!" Riley defended himself, looking hurt that someone would dare denounce his job to something so simplistic. Ian looked at Ben.
"That's all I heard," he muttered under his breath.
"Look, I know that I haven't given you a reason to listen to me …" Riley began, but Ben cut him off.
"You're right, you haven't. We need to get going," Ben said to Ian. "It was nice meeting you Riley. Good luck with the exhibit."
Riley could only watch as Ben and Ian headed toward the escalator. He racked his brain for something he could do to get them to stay and listen to him, but he was drawing a blank and if he didn't come up with something fast, they would be gone. After a few seconds, Riley did the only thing he could think of.
"The Knights Templar were a monastic military order of nine men originally, formed during the First Crusade with the intention of protecting Christian Pilgrims traveling to the Holy Land," Riley said, loudly enough for Ben and Ian to hear him from across the café. Ben froze at the sound of Riley's voice. "They were the first group of knights to take monastic vows. They fought beside Richard the Lion Hearted during the Crusades and while inspecting the ruins of King Solomon's Temple, which was destroyed by the Romans after the Jewish Revolt of 70 AD, they discovered a hidden chamber below the temple, full of treasures from all over the world." As Riley spoke, Ben and Ian turned around and walked back over to Riley, staring at him suspiciously. Riley gulped under Ben's scrutinizing gaze, but he met Ben's eye and didn't look away.
"Impressive," Ian said, sounding as though he were torn between wonder and doubt.
"And from the Knights came the Free Masons, the Founding Fathers, the legend of the hidden treasure, and so on and so forth," Riley continued. "But I won't bore you with information you already know."
"Well, you have my attention," Ben said, still feeling slightly suspicious, but now more curious about Riley. "What I'm wondering," Ben continued, "is how you know all of that. Last time I checked, they don't teach about the Knights Templar at Harvard."
"Not in class, anyway," Riley said with a mischievous smile. "How did you know I went to Harvard?" he asked.
"I have my sources," Ben said mirroring Riley's smile. "As you seem to have yours."
"Did you know that the Knights were also credited with inventing the first banking system?" Riley asked
"Yes, I did," Ben said. Riley's smile vanished and he looked slightly disappointed. Ian could see the gears turning in Ben's head and knew what it meant.
"Uh, Ben, could I talk to you for a moment," Ian asked as he took Ben's arm and pulled him away from Riley, not waiting for a response. Riley tried not to look too excited as he listened to the conversation taking place supposedly out of earshot.
"Ben, you can't possibly be considering this," Ian said.
"Why not?" Ben asked.
Ian looked at him incredulously. "Because that kid is twelve years old!" he said, not caring that his exaggeration was obviously a little off.
"Twenty-three, actually," Riley piped up. Ian glared at him and Riley suddenly found the floor fascinating.
"But he seems to know a lot about the treasure already," Ben reminded Ian. "And, more importantly, he believes."
"Ben, he's just a kid. All kids believe in treasure. Do you really want to drag him all over the world looking for the treasure?" Ian asked.
"We wouldn't be dragging him if he wanted to come. Besides, who says that we're going to have to look all over the world for the treasure?" Ben said with a twinkle in his eye. "The secret lies with Charlotte, remember?"
Ian couldn't help but smile. Ben looked like a kid in a candy store when he talked about the treasure of the Knights Templar.
"Fine, fine," Ian said. "But if he turns out to be worthless, don't say that I didn't warn you." Ian was trying to sound serious, but Ben could tell that he wasn't as annoyed as he wanted Ben to believe he was.
Both men turned back around to Riley, who was eagerly watching them. "Suppose, hypothetically speaking, that we asked you come with us to look for the treasure of the Knights Templar." Ben was trying as hard as he could to sound professional and composed as he spoke, but inside he was just as eager as Riley. "It would mean that you'd have to quit our job here and be ready to start working with us immediately."
"Done," Riley said, grinning from ear to ear.
"Well…good then," Ben said, extending his hand. Riley took it and shook it, perhaps a little more enthusiastically then he meant to.
"Whoa there. Easy, tiger" Ian said, attempting to stop Riley from shaking Ben's arm off.
"Sorry," Riley said. "Guess I'm a little excited."
"How about you run back up to your office and let them know that you won't be in for work tomorrow" Ian suggested. Riley's grin faded and he suddenly looked hesitant.
"Yeah…okay," he said reluctantly. "You guys could come with me…if you wanted to. You know, be my…back up."
"Hmmm…I wasn't aware that quitting a desk job at a museum was something that normally required backup," Ben said teasingly, already feeling a connection with the younger man.
"Then you've never met my boss," Riley said, smiling nervously.
Riley led Ben and Ian up to the third floor, through a maze of different exhibits and eventually to an office, tucked away in the very back corner of the museum. The office was dimly lit by a few overhead lights, but mainly by desk lamps. The entire office was brown and dreary…brown carpet, brown walls, brown desks…all brown.
"Look at this place!" Ben said to Ian in a hushed voice as they followed Riley. "There's no windows…or colors, for that matter!"
"This is so great!" Riley said, as the three of them walked past row after row of cubicles being occupied by several very uptight and stressed out looking museum employees. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to get out of this crappy…Uh-oh," Riley stopped abruptly, almost causing Ian and Ben to run into him as they came to the cubicle with Riley's name printed on the cheap plastic plaque. A very displeased older man in a stuffy business suit was sitting at the chair behind Riley's desk. The maroon name tag pinned to his suit jacket read:
Cornelius Carter
Curator of Early American History
He stood up when he saw Riley.
"How was lunch?" Carter asked sarcastically.
"I, uh, never actually got around to lunch," Riley said with a pained expression.
"How convenient."
Riley flinched at the older man's harsh tone. "I was actually about to come talk to you, Mr. Carter."
"Looks like I beat you to it. Your lunch break isn't for another hour, and yet you've already been gone for almost half an hour…and you didn't even eat lunch. What were you doing, Riley?" Riley opened his mouth to respond, but Carter didn't give him a chance. "You know what? I don't even care. This has happened too many times. Riley, you're fi-"
"I quit!" Riley shouted suddenly. "I quit! You can't fire me if I quit!"
Riley was obviously very pleased with himself for beating his boss to the punch, but for a moment Ben and Ian thought Carter's head might explode. His face turned from an angry scarlet to a furious red and then to a deep maroonish purple shade.
"As long as you no longer work for me, I don't care what you do," Carter hissed through clenched teeth before storming away from Riley's ex-cubicle.
"You know, for a minute there, I thought you might need backup," Ian said as Riley gathered his possessions from his desk.
"So that's it?" Ben asked Riley.
"That's it," Riley said, happily smiling at Ben over an armload of stacked books.
"Well, alright then," Ben smiled back. "Welcome to the team."
A/N: Thanks for reading! I really hope you liked the story! If you did, you should check out the sequel entitled "Baby Genius." :-)