Chapter Sixteen
Disclaimer-I don't own National Treasure. Oh, and as a footnote, I'm not trying to rip off Dan Brown with the whole "Alter of Sangre" and his "Sang real" holy grail thing. "Sangre" is the Spanish translation for blood, which I thought was befitting.
Elvenrarehunter-Yay, I'm glad you liked the chapter! (And I can never get that enough! Yes, I realize that's vain of me :))
OMG yes Ben DOES hog all the nobleness. I love the guy, but everyone else in the room is getting squished by his giant nobility complex! Ha, I totally took the Lander scene from Schindler's list. My sister was seeing it for her modern euro class and I had to quiz her. The hitting with the chair thing, however, came from The Mummy. (Hah, I love how I get influenced by this political work of art and then an action sci-fi movie. Yes.)
Believe me, I have wanted to give Ian a hug MANY times. (er, does that sound wrong? continuing..) Thank you for being understanding about my finals. Tell Ian that you're being very patient and to shut up and start being distressed about the freaky phone call he just received.
Don't worry, being a nutjob is fun! You get those cool white squishy coats….
Crazy Little Emily- Hah, I'm glad you liked the anti-cliffie. Unfortunately, this chapter is going to have THE cliffhanger of all cliffhangers (cringes) sorry.
Lizzie- Harrison- Thanks! like Ian too 'cause they actually gave him some depth in the movie that I could build off of. Of course, he can still be murderous and mean, but just to the bad guys. Don't worry, there will be no convents in this story. Maybe if I write a Sound of Music one there will be, but National Treasure and convents don't mix J
Whisperwings-Thanks! I just took my math final today and it wasn't as hard as I thought (despite me studying for precisely two minutes,) Happy Almost-Senior time! My sister's going to be a senior this year (officially, since she's had senoiritis since she was, like, twelve) Hopefully I'll get this chapter up by Thursday or Friday (I write the responses first, so at the moment it's Tuesday)
Classicreviewer- Don't worry, Ben and Abbie are still going to be in the story, just separated from Riley and Claire. Yay! I'm glad you like my mysterious crime lord persona! (collects snaps) He actually becomes a lot less mysterious in this chapter, but don't look to the end! It'll spoil the cliffhanger! (evil laugh) enjoy!
Kes-Hah, I was thinking the EXACT SAME THING as I was writing the chapter! There was actually a small section where Lander was wondering why " Poole" and Mrs. Gates were getting all snuggly while they were about to be shot. (not using the word snuggly, obviously) and why "Gates" was being all protective of Miss. Howe. Sadly, it got cut because apparently it wasn't relevant. But I did manage to squeeze in a mention of Patrick, just for you! Don't worry, he will return! (hopefully) Ahh, Riley was definitely a born leader. I'm assuming that by Took you mean from Lord of the Rings? I always did think that Riley would be an amazing hobbit……………
Mrs. Pace- Never fear, Riley and Claire will hook up, this story isn't RileyOC for nothing! You must be patient, however! And pardon my morbid fascination with people's pen names, but would Mrs. Pace refer to the amazing Charlie Pace of the late band Driveshaft? If so, I'm jealous. Thanks for reviewing!
Silveni- (puts on smart cap) Well, Deachat is definitely in the "Ian"-ish role in the way that he's the bad guy. They have absolutely nothing in common, though. (Like Deachat abuses his poor lackey while Ian was buddies with his.) Ian, however, is not Ben. While he is certainly not the villain, he's certainly no Ben either. There will be no dashing in to save the day for Ian. If by the "Ben" role you mean the protagonist, there's a lot of them. Ben and Abbie are certainly going to be there (once they wake up-hehe) but mostly it's Claire and Riley toughing it out against the crazy psycho. Now that I've given you a less-than-scholarly-analysis about my plot, I'm glad you like it! I am completely stymied as how to answer the "no killing" plea (Though I like your 'even Ben' remark. Hee.) All I can say is simultaneously no comment and I like happy Disney endings. My literary genius snort will reveal itself in time. I'm glad you liked the fish part! That was actually drawn from a very long story of how I killed my own fish at ten.
A/N- Er, short don't-kill-me plea here. Sorry I'm kinda bashing Mexican restaurants in this chapter-I had a bad experience with food poisoning at one when I was twelve and I'm still a bit bitter. So sorry! The Alter of Sangre is fictional, so don't go to Nassau hoping to resurrect someone. Another apology for the swearing present in my story since about chapter two. Hope no one's offended. Also, YAY! I broke my chapter record for reviews! A HUGE thank-you to my reviewers for helping me be ecstatically happy during finals week, something that hasn't been achieved...well….ever.
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Chapter Sixteen
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The Mexican Restaurant, "El Sombrero," was noisy, bright and diverting. As they entered, there was even a cheery cactus mascot handing out menus. Normally Claire would hate such a gaudy establishment, but right now it was perfect. She needed to be diverted.
A man appeared next to them, smoothly asking if they wanted a table.
"Somewhere in the back, please." Riley suggested quietly. The waiter gave him a knowing smile and Claire wanted to punch both of them.
Following Riley though the maze of tables, they slid into a booth in the back. She leaned back against the cool polyester cushion and closed her eyes, reveling in the quiet.
The waiter gave Riley another "You sly devil" look and left, leaving them facing each other over the red and yellow checkered tablecloth. Riley planted his elbows on the table and propped his hands on his fists.
"Do you want something to drink?" he asked Claire, noticing she still hadn't opened her eyes. She shook her head slightly and he tried again.
"Food?"
Claire cracked open one eye. "Do they have goldfish?" she asked ruefully.
Riley snickered as a reply and Claire closed her eyes again, desperately wishing for some baked cheesy relief.
She was jolted out of her yearnings by a soft bulky object hitting her in the head.
"What the-" she started, sitting up in surprise. Riley was grinning triumphantly and curious, she picked up the package now residing in her lap.
She looked up in shock at Riley and held up the offending object: a large package of goldfish.
"Where'd you get this?" she asked incredulously, already beginning to tear open the top.
"I brought it along. I thought it would probably be helpful if you started hyperventilating over some old parchment or something." Riley chuckled. "Little did I know…"
Claire scooped a handful out and began to munch, feeling her mind clear and sharpen at the first bite. She was floored at the fact that Riley, the one who had referred to her as a "leper" more than once had actually brought along goldfish to make her feel better.
"Thanks Riley." she said, bewildered yet strangely thrilled. "That……that was really nice of you."
He looked somewhat embarrassed, even though he couldn't wipe the triumphant smile off his face. "Don't be too blown away, I stole it from your suitcase."
Claire continued to eat, still glancing at him every few minutes and beaming.
Ruffling his hand through his hair, Riley searched for something to say. "Do you feel better?" he asked hopefully, and Claire nodded, grinning back at him.
It was a nice moment, Claire realized later, a happy moment in the midst of chaos. It had been then that she realized that she had a raging crush on the guy sitting across the hideous tablecloth from her.
Count on her to develop fuzzy feelings while being pursued by a murderous sociopath.
She, of course, had to end the happy moment by pulling out her notes.
"We need to get back into that house." she insisted, perusing the notations she had made the night before.
Riley shot her a look of weary disbelief.
"Okay, on a list of our priorities right now, getting the treasure is about number four. Let's work on staying alive."
"No, now it's most important." Claire insisted. "Deachat is obviously not going to stop hunting us until either we find it or he finds it. It's imperative that we find it first."
Grumbling about how craziness ran in the family, Riley leaned over to look at Claire's notes, trying not to notice the tempting proximity to the note-taker.
"What's that?" he demanded, pointing to an underlined phrase in Claire's notes. In red, she had written "Alter of Sangre?" in bold.
Claire flushed and shuffled the paper behind the next sheet of notes. "Nothing, it's not important." she said too quickly, and Riley snatched the paper out of her hand.
"It has "Blackbeard" and "Deachat" written next to it." he pressed. "It looks important to me."
"It's just a myth." she protested. " I shouldn't have written it there, I-"
"A myth like the Bermuda Triangle?" he reminded her smugly. "C'mon, let's hear it."
Claire hesitated. "All right. There is a story that with his treasure Blackbeard buried a sacred Aztec alter that he had named the "Alter of Sangre," or the Alter of Blood."
"Sounds pleasant." Riley commented.
"Hey, you wanted to hear about it. So Blackbeard stole this altar from the Aztecs because it was told that it could bring people back to life."
Riley raised his eyebrows. "Bring people back to life? Like from the dead?"
"Yes, Riley, from the dead. Where else would they bring them back from?"
He shrugged. "Hey, you never know. So-how did this dead thing work? Do you need some kind of creepy Aztec voodoo or something?"
"Well, from documents they've concluded that you would have to have the body you wanted to resurrect somewhere nearby-and you needed copious amounts of blood. Like, pints."
Riley shivered. "Ugh. So did it work?"
"No one knows." Claire stated. "But after he died, it was never found, leading people to believe that he had buried it with his treasure."
Riley shifted. "Well, that's…...fairly creepy. But what does it have to do with us?"
Claire leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Well, it would be any Blackbeard enthusiast's dream to get their hands on that alter. Imagine raising Blackbeard himself!"
Riley could tell from the gleam in her eye that this Alter of Sangre was something she dreamed about. It was the look Ben used to get in his eye when talking about the Gates treasure.
"Claire," he persuaded, leaning farther in, "You do realize that Blackbeard wasn't the nicest of guys, right? It probably wouldn't be the sharpest idea to raise him up from the dead."
"Oh, he would be completely out of his time! He wouldn't have any idea how to use a modern gun or something like that."
"Claire, using a gun hasn't really changed since the nineteenth century. You just pull the trigger."
"I know that, Riley. Lived with a crime lord here!" Claire protested.
"Yeah, no kidding. Been threatened by said crime lord!" Riley fired back, edging closer to her.
"Ugh, why does it always come down to the fact that-" Claire stopped mid-rant as she realized that she and Riley were nose to nose over the table. Literally.
Riley was wondering why Claire had mercifully stopped what was probably going to be a long rant when he noticed the same thing. And the even-prettier-from-close-up thoughts? Yeah, those were flooding back.
However, instead of pulling back to a proper distance and continuing their conversation like he should have, Riley felt himself staying there staring, even edging a bit closer.
He was going to kiss her. Claire was pretty sure of that. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run away, slap him or kiss him back.
On one side, she barely knew him. She'd known Riley for all of a week and a half. And they had only been civil to each other for the past three days.
On the other side, she felt that she knew a lot more about him than any of the other guy's she'd kissed (though the list was tiny. Miniscule, in fact.) She knew he came from a big family, she knew his mother had died of cancer. He loved his damn conspiracy theories and his gorgeous car. She knew that he had a jealousy complex when it came to Ben and a hero complex when it came to her.
Plus, there were those eyes.
Crap, she really did want to kiss him.
Closing her eyes and angling her head, she moved her head forward until their lips brushed ever so slightly.
And a previously unseen someone to the side of them cleared their throat pointedly and the two jumped back as if shocked.
"Would you two like to order?" Their waiter asked, amused.
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They had been working for what seemed like days.
Apparently Ian had limitless energy when it came to tracking down murderers. He had been on his feet for the past five hours, never taking a break or slowing down. While this stamina was common within FBI agents, Dawes had never seen a civilian work quite this hard.
"Howe," she coaxed. "We have perfectly good agents who can do the same thing you're doing right now. Why don't you take a break-"
"Dawes," Ian snapped irritatedly. "When a murderer calls you up at home and tells you he's going to borrow your sister for a while, then I will accept advice from you."
Dawes wisely kept silent and kept on running computer searches, grinding her teeth in frustration. With the amount of times Deachat had left obvious evidence around, you think that there would be some record of him before he came in contact with Robinson. But there was nothing. No address, no birth certificate, not even a driver's license. Their only link to him was the email address that had been created days before he first emailed Robinson with an offer to sponsor.
"It just doesn't make sense." she lamented. "If this was his real name, he would be considered an idiot to be dropping it everywhere. His email address, flight tickets. But if he was using a fake name, he still wouldn't want to shout it out to the FBI at any chance he could get. We've identified criminals using fake names before."
"Unless he wanted you to remember that name for some reason." Ian commented. "I've known guys who created fake names out of their real names to poke fun at the FBI."
Dawes nodded. "An anagram." she murmured. "I always did think that his name was awkward."
"If you're going to choose a fake name," Ian agreed. "You choose something simple or hard to trace. You don't choose a recognizable last name like Deachat."
Dawes pulled out a scrap of paper and a pan and wrote down "DREW DEACHAT" studying the letters, muttering possible first names that Ian quickly wrote down.
" Chad," she stated. "Um, Ace, Ted, Edward, Wade, Tad……Cadet, maybe he was in the military……"
"Wait." Ian interrupted. "What was that last one?"
"Tad?"
"No, two before that." he instructed.
Dawes glanced down at her list. "Edward?"
"What are the remaining letters?" Ian queried, his voice sounding a little shaky.
"A, E, T, C and H" Dawes answered, confused. Ian grabbed a pen and rearranged the letters. Dawes stared at the paper in amazement.
EDWARD TEACH
"Holy shit!"
"Holy shit is right."
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Ben awoke in a hospital bed with his chest throbbing painfully.
Where am I? He thought in confusion, squinting at the harsh lighting.
Twisting to the left, he could see his wife in a similar state, a purple bruise showing on her collarbone.
"Hello!" He called out the door. "Is anyone there?"
A kind-looking nurse appeared through the door. "Just relax, dear, you're fine." she comforted.
"What about my wife?" Ben asked in a panic.
"She's fine too- you were just knocked unconscious-the doctors guessed by tranquilizers. What happened, anyway?"
"Accident." he lied quickly. "We were mistaken for someone else. How did you find us?"
"Well, someone called to say that they had found your bodies in a bus stop on the side of the road" the nurse replied.
"What about the two others?" Ben pressed. "A young man and a woman?"
"There wasn't anyone else." the nurse informed him slowly. "Were there others with you?"
"Um, no. Just curious." Ben blurted out. The nurse nodded, looking unconvinced, and after taking his blood pressure left the room.
Ben swung out of bed as soon as she was out of sight and was over at Abbie's bed. Looking at the ugly mark left by the tranquilizer dart, he decided that if he ever met Lander again, the outcome would be quite different for the two of them.
But first things first. He would wait until Abbie woke up. Then they would find Riley and Claire.
If they were still alive.
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Riley and Claire exited the restaurant quickly and walked into the shadowed parking lot, avoiding looking at each other.
"So, " Claire began hesitantly. "We should be able to get back into the Headquarters. Deachat and Lander should be on the other side of the island by now looking for us. We have to move quickly though, because in about five hours someone is going to come and open the Headquarters and find all the bullets there."
"You know Howe," drawled a disembodied voice, "You really are the easiest person to track I have ever met."
Claire's head whipped up as Lander stepped out of the shadows, his eyes gleaming with violent amusement.
"Run." Riley instructed her quickly Lander started toward them. Both of them turned on their heels and started to sprint in the other direction, wondering how the hell Lander had managed to find them here.
He caught up to Claire in seconds, his longer stride erasing the space between them. She screamed as he grabbed her arm and yanked her in the other direction, towards a rapidly approaching black sedan. Claire's eyes widened in horror and she began to struggle futilely against his iron grip.
Lander swore as Gates appeared at his side and punched him quite viciously in the eye, causing him to lose his grip on Howe. For a runt, he was pretty strong.
Realizing that he couldn't hold both of them at one, he lunged at Howe, grabbing her by the neck and puling out a Swiss knife.
"Step away or I'll slit her throat." he snarled at Gates in a rather corsair-like fashion, if he did say so himself. Gates glared murderously at him, but conceded and stepped away, his hands in the air and his eyes on Howe with a little more concern than Lander would have thought for a married man.
As the two men stared each other down, a fourth voice rang out over the deserted parking lot as a man quickly exited the black sedan.
"Lander!" he roared. "What the hell do you think you're doing? That's my student!"
Lander surprisedly released his hold on Claire. "Sorry boss." he apologized with barely concealed animosity.
Then he noticed Howe. She hadn't moved after he released her, and was simply standing there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish, staring disbelievingly at Deachat.
Finally she forced a question out.
"Professor Robinson?"
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Heheh…please don't kill me. It's summer vacation now, and I can update quicker! (But only if I get reviews. Hah. I love being evil.)