Chapter Seven
Ian studied the computer screen in front of him. Several programs were running, one of which conducting a search for assorted terms in a certain order. The one result of relevance was a legend about the death of Hiram Abiff, which, some say, is still symbolically carried out in Masonic lodges all over the world as an initiation rite. He jotted this down on a piece of paper and continued his search.
When he realized that he'd found all he could, he reviewed his notes. First came the riddle, followed by notes about certain words, followed by notes on the legend of Hiram Abiff. "That can't be a coincidence," he whispered, fishing out his phone and dialling a number he still had to get used to dialling.
"Ian, what a surprise," Ben said dryly when he answered the phone.
"I didn't know I was such a bother at this hour."
"It's not like that. It's..."
"You weren't expecting to hear from me, now were you? I'm only calling because certainly what I'm finding on this riddle of yours can't be a coincidence."
"Well, I've done enough riddle-solving to know that sometimes, coincidence or not, whatever we've got is viable. So, what have you got?"
"Does the name Hiram Abiff sound familiar?"
"Vaguely. Why?" Ian recounted the legend of Hiram Abiff's murder briefly, and when he finished, Ben added, "Well, that beats the lantern theory."
"What lantern theory?"
"Remember the lantern at the bottom of the shaft under Trinity Church, the one my dad used in a fake clue to get you to Boston?"
"Yes, almost too well."
"Well, maybe it really does mean something. I'm working on the 'what' part right now, but that's the lantern theory."
"Perhaps that isn't a coincidence either, but at the present, my sister's focus is making sure we're not being set up by the President."
"Well, she's a perfect match for Riley the Conspiracy Theorist if she's that paranoid."
"Just because she's paranoid doesn't mean they're not after her. I'm sure some version of that saying floats around in a lot of American circles."
"It does, but-"
"But nothing, Ben. Our problem still remains, we have too many potential solutions and no way to put them in a coherent manner by which to correctly solve this riddle. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, I understand that."
"Good."
"Ian, what if this is completely unsolveable?"
"Then we'd know if we were being set up or not."
"Well, that works. Now, how're you gonna know if Riley's being set up by the President if the meetings are private?"
"Ben, I'll make all the arrangements. Don't worry."
"You said that about stealing the Declaration of Independence."
"And I would've, too, since you were so against it. However, officially, this is no longer your responsibility. I know you may treat it as your responsibility still because of your passion for history and drive to enrich mankind's knowledge base, but as of now, I feel, circumstances practically require you to leave everything in my perfectly capable hands."
"Okay, and what happens when something goes wrong?"
"My men and I fix it as seamlessly as possible before more things can go wrong."
"Sounds like you have all this worked out."
"I do. I just need an opportunity, and so far I haven't been given one yet."
"You and your men are on extended parole."
"Oh, don't remind me. Anyway, I've no reason to chit-chat, and I've said all I've needed to say, so I really must be going."
"Could you let me know how this works out?"
"Of course."
The line went dead and Ian snapped his phone shut. He set it on the desk, and it beeped, obliging him to pick it up. It was a text message from his sister: 'nothing in ri's book, checked everything possible'
His reply was equally brief: 'thx 4 trying, c u soon'
With luck, Tanya could benefit from the recent additions to the collective knowledge base surrounding this riddle and hopefully put it all together in a way he couldn't. He rubbed his eyes and returned his attention to the computer screen, running just a few more searches. When he was absolutely certain he'd exhausted all he could put into this, he shut the computer down and slumped back in his chair with a sigh.
His study was completely quiet, quiet enough for him to hear the sounds of arguing in the living room. His best guess was that Phil had said something to provoke Viktor and Powell was trying to keep the peace. Regardless, he couldn't hear anything beyond a verbal fight, so he saw no real need to go out there and solve this.
Tanya would be home within a reasonable hour. It wasn't like he didn't trust Riley with his sister, he did, and he had made certain on a number of occasions over the past six weeks to clarify to Riley that if he ever dared hurt Tanya in any way, his body might never be found.
His musings on his sister's relationship with Riley reminded him of his own, rather tense acquaintanceship with Ben, if it could be called that. To Ian, it seemed as if Ben tried too hard to be good, even when a situation's specific circumstances would never allow it. Sure, he could commend a man with almost impeccable moral standing, but some things required a little flexibility, and Ben never seemed to allow that. Ian himself, on the other hand, even as he looked back on it, seemed to have absolutely no moral structure whatsoever. That was how the media saw it, and they devoured every last word, regardless of whether it was a lie, truth, or half-truth, or some combination of the three. Everyone read about how Ian Howe was a cold-hearted, soulless, greedy man, and they loved it.
Everyone loved to hear and read about how good and saintly Ben Gates was. Everyone except Ian.
He pushed these thoughts from his mind and opened his eyes. As far as he could judge, he was the only one in the study still, even though he could feel gentle, watchful eyes on him. "It's alright, Shaw," he whispered, and Shaw's transparent form appeared in the right-hand corner immediately visible from Ian's position behind the desk. He leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.
Even with Shaw's ghost present, the study was silent, but at least Ian felt a little better. He could hear a door shut, likely the front door, and a single set of gentle footsteps made their way up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Shaw seemed to hear this, too, and, reluctantly, he disappeared from view.
The footsteps descended the stairs after a few minutes, and someone tapped on the door to Ian's study. "Come in," he said, and Tanya walked right in. "Enjoy your date?"
"For the most part, save the fact that I didn't find anything," she replied, taking a seat in one of the remaining chairs. "Enjoy the peace and quiet?"
"What peace and quiet?"
Tanya smirked, causing Ian to smirk in turn. "Find anything?" she asked.
To her surprise, he laid out everything that happened while she was out. Her eyes widened at some of the details, from Hiram Abiff's murder to Ben's so-called 'lantern theory'. "Does any of this sound familiar to you?" he asked as a conclusion.
"The legend of Hiram Abiff, but only because I heard it from Riley, who was computer surfing for some useful things yesterday."
"Now I'm almost certain this isn't a coincidence."
"So what is it, then?"
"A clue? A sign, perhaps?"
"A sign? A sign from who?"
Ian shrugged. "Maybe your boyfriend knows. He seems to know a lot about those sorts of things."
"He knows a lot about conspiracy theory. In all of the pages of his book, I have seen only-"
"Book, that's it."
"What are you-?"
"I know how to solve this."
"Ian, what are you talking about?" But Ian was already out the door when Tanya got to her feet. "Bloody son of a bitch," she muttered, turning away from the door, toward the desk.
NTNT
Ian spent fifteen minutes searching every room on the second floor before finally finding the Soldier's Guidebook in none other than his sister's room, on the dresser. "I should've known," he whispered as he walked over to pick the book up. He checked the back of the book but found no index, so he checked the front but found no table of contents. "What kind of a book is this if no one knows where to find anything?"
He sat down on the bed and started skimming through pages, partially allowing his mind to wander over everything they'd learned on this riddle, and then it hit him like a ton of bricks.