Chapter 2

On that fateful day, he had been fielding a call from his supervisor. How the man ever got to be in such a position, Riley could never figure out. A blade of grass held more brain cells than this waste of skin that always used poor Riley as free labor to fix his personal computer.

Maybe he would have less of a problem with his laptop if he stopped using it to download porn in his downtime, Riley thought bitterly.

Today was no different. From what Riley could discern, the solution to the problem seemed to be straight forward. In fact, it was the same damned solution that it had been every time. However, trying to tell the imbecile how to fix his computer was like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree. He was firmly convinced that if he were to ever act out his revenge through bossicide, that no jury would have the heart to convict him.

He was explaining the solution for, literally, the twentieth time, when two strangers approached his tiny cubicle. He hadn't heard them approach and was poised to throw the phone receiver into the wall when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Caught off guard, he whirled around in his chair with a gasp and a jolt.

"Just like coming up to an animal in a cage," a blonde-haired man quipped sarcastically, his voice carrying a refined British accent. Riley didn't appreciate the stranger's sense of humor. His eyes narrowed into a glare as he finished his phone conversation.

"If you follow these instructions, you should be fine," he said. "Yes, I'm sure. Really." Riley felt his blood pressure shoot up at the sound of Big Rob's inane reply. He had to get off this phone before he went postal. "Yeah, chief, keep me posted if it doesn't work. You know where to find me," he said, trying desperately to keep the aggravation from his voice. "Bye." He hung up the receiver and ran his hands through his dark brown hair in agitation, a sound like a growl emanating from his throat.

"Rough morning?" the other stranger asked quietly, a small smile upturning the ends of his lips.

"Oh, nothing that a little chlorine in the gene pool wouldn't fix," Riley replied as he looked up at the two strangers with a curious, yet guarded expression. "What can I help you two with? Let me guess, you crashed your hard drive downloading porn and you need your computers reformatted before your boss catches on. Do you guys work in another department? I haven't seen you around."

The blonde-haired man laughed. "Oh, no, we don't work here," he said. "We're here to ask your assistance with your other computer expertise."

"Excuse me?" Riley asked.

"You are Riley Poole, aren't you?"

"Maybe," Riley answered warily.

The brown-haired man spoke up. "My name is Benjamin Gates. This is my associate Ian. Howe." Lowering his voice he said, "We are looking for an experienced computer hacker to access some records for a project. Ian has heard on the street that you are the man to turn to."

Riley looked around nervously. "Are you guys nuts for bringing this to my work?" he hissed, his blue eyes flashing. "You could get me in a lot of trouble. Besides, I got out of that racket a long time ago."

"Yes, I believe you were expelled from college for hacking into the dean's database," Ian said, stepping into the cubicle and causing Riley to wince at the memory. "However, I hardly think you would want to pass up this opportunity. The rewards for your participation would be great."

"We are looking for someone to track a two-hundred year old sailing vessel, plus retrace the last route she took," Ben replied. "This tracking requires experience with highly sophisticated GPS software."

"Those things aren't rocket science, Mr. Gates," Riley said with a laugh. "You hardly need me for something as trivial as that. Jeez, even my boss could do that and he has a brain the size of a peanut!"

Ben's facial expression darkened. "Mr. Gates is my father. Call me Ben and this matter isn't as easy as it sounds. Those trivial records are actually classified government information. Now, Ian and I can work our way around musty, old books and records and between us we might be able to Google our names." Riley smiled. "However, we need someone with expertise to hack through the complex security codes, trace the route and pinpoint the place where she sunk."

"It sounds like a lot of work for a lot of nothing. What's so special about this boat, anyway?"

"Treasure," Ian said, his eyes lighting up like Christmas tree bulbs.

"A treasure?" Riley asked skeptically as he raised an eyebrow. "Are you guys serious?"

"Very." Ben replied, his expression unchanging as he looked Riley square in the eyes.

"Did Jerry put you guys up to this?" Riley asked. His voice was clipped with anger as he slammed the palm of his hand on his desk. "Damn it, but I'm sick of his stupid practical jokes."

"The treasure of the Knight's Templar is hardly a practical joke," Ian replied, scowling. "It is the treasure of all treasures, compiled by various civilizations over thousands of years. This sunken ship could hold the treasure itself, if only we knew where she lay. That is where you come in."

"If I were to agree to this unbelievable mission, what would be in it for me?" Riley asked.

"An equal portion of the finder's fee," Ben replied.

"Right," Riley answered. The quieter man seemed sincere, but he was willing to bet that they would tell him anything at this point just to get him to go along with their idea. "What about my job here?" Riley asked. "I can't afford to quit, so I can go on some wild goose chase."

"How can you compare the two-?" Ian sputtered before Ben cut him off.

"No, no, he's within his rights to worry about his financial safety. If, after all, we cannot locate the Charlotte, then those of us without infinite financial means will need something to fall back on until the next lead turns up." Addressing Riley he said, "Ian is prepared to match your current pay until the treasure is found or until you are gainfully employed once again."

"Now, it really sounds too good to be true," Riley said.

"Your salary will seem like pocket change once we find the treasure," Ian said, his eyes gleaming.

The phone rang, the shrill sound causing the trio to jump. Riley groaned and rolled his eyes as he recognized the dreaded extension number. He picked up the receiver slowly, as if delaying the inevitable. ""Hey, Rob. What's up?"

"MY INTERNET'S STILL BROKEN!" came the obnoxiously loud reply. Riley had to hold the receiver from his ear to avoid rupturing his eardrum. Ian and Ben winced.

Riley slammed the receiver down on the cradle. "How soon can I start?" he asked.

"Right now is fine with us," Ben replied.

"Good, because we have about sixty seconds before all three-hundred pounds of Big Bad Rob storms over here to pick a fight. And it won't be pretty."

"I hope you know another way out of here, Riley. Having you alive for this project would be a plus."

"There's an emergency exit by the stairwell," he replied, leading his newfound friends to the back of the large room.

A massive bulk of a man suddenly appeared, lumbering amidst the maze of cubicles. "POOLE!" the man bellowed. "How dare you hang up on me, you ball-less, sack of shit!"

"What on Earth is that?" Ian asked, an incredulous look in his large blue eyes.

"The corporate version of Sherman laying waste to Atlanta," Ben answered dryly as he watched the large man barrel through the office.

Before leaving, Riley managed to catch Big Rob's attention and he flipped the man off. Then, he bolted before the heavyset man could come after him.

"You're being quiet for a change," Ben said over his shoulder, snapping Riley from his reverie. "I can almost hear myself think."

"Just tired," Riley said.

"Yeah, well, we're only a few miles from the village," Ben said. "Hang in there. We'll be home before we know it."

"Sounds good," Riley said. A troubling thought occurred to him. "There won't be anyone there waiting for us, if you know what I mean?"

"I doubt it," Ben said. "Likely, Ian and his gang think we blew up with the Charlotte. That's beneficial to us as we have a better chance of apprehending him by surprise."

"Have you figured out how we're going to do that?" Riley asked.

"I'm working on it," Ben said.

"What about the treasure?" Riley asked.

Ben stopped walking and turned to face him. "To be honest, the chances of us getting close to the Declaration of Independence are as good as my father and I being able to have a discussion that doesn't result in a fight."

"Maybe we can convince someone of our story," Riley said. "I mean, we actually have physical proof to back up our claim."

"Unfortunately, we don't possess it, Ian does. That bastard," Ben said grimly as he started walking again. "Our only hope is that someone gives us the benefit of the doubt. Never mind no one has given my family such a thing during the last one hundred and fifty years."

Riley wasn't optimistic either, but there had to be a way to protect the Declaration. They couldn't let Ian win, not after he had tried to murder them. Riley only hoped that they had truly seen the worst of what man was capable of.

And Riley hoped that once this whole ordeal was over that Ben wouldn't become

just another fair-weather friend on his already lengthy list.