Chasing Anne

McCourtney's Secret

  Bartholomew knew he was close. He could feel it. As he, Ardor, Necia, and Waldmunt searched through the countless files in the observatory that Michael had sent them to, Bartholomew knew that they were on the verge of discovery. There was no sign of the weapon Dr. McCourtney had created, but Bartholomew knew that Anne's father had probably taken great precaution in that regard lest anyone come here looking for it. Somehow, the elderly man must have known Parr was after him. Bartholomew sighed deeply. If only McCourtney had known that Parr would come after his daughter after his death. Perhaps he would have done something differently to try to protect her. Not that it mattered anymore. What had been done was done and the situation that Anne, Mark, and Bartholomew's team of angels found themselves in couldn't be changed. They simply had to work with what they had. Ardor glanced sideways at him, concern marking his expression, but when he realized his commander had seen him, he quickly went back to work searching the files. Bartholomew's eyes narrowed. Ardor had been acting odd since they'd begun the search and there simply had to be a reason why. He strode over to the warrior, his face fixed in a stern but curious gaze.
"Is there something wrong, Ardor? You're acting peculiar."
"I feel like we're being watched, Bartholomew," Ardor admitted, turning to face his commander. "Have Andraste or Peter seen or heard anything?"
"Not that I know of. They would alert me if they did," Bartholomew replied.
Ardor nodded slowly. "We are in no shape for a battle," he muttered.
"I don't expect one, Ardor."
"But don't you think that the dark ones are also looking for this weapon? Don't you think that they want to find it before we do?"
"It makes sense, but I don't think we're in any danger at the moment. We haven't found anything here anyway, so what could we possibly have that's worth a fight?"
"Bartholomew!" Waldmunt called, waving a file over his head. "I think I may have found something!"
Bartholomew turned. "What is it?"
"It's a record of the progress of McCourtney's work," Waldmunt said, walking over to them as he paged through the file. "See here, there's a record of the machine's arrival!"
Bartholomew took the file, gazing over the faded type of records on the paper. He ran a finger over the line Waldmunt had indicated and nodded. "Yes, I see it. It was brought here five years ago on April twenty-third." He flipped through a few more pages, looking over the dates and descriptions of each event. Nothing indicated that the machine had ever left this location. There were lines recording different parts the machine required, the tests performed on the machine, and even date when McCourtney had pronounced his machine complete. That had only been two years before. After that line however, the lines ended and the record came to a stop. Bartholomew looked up at his warriors and shook his head. "This doesn't indicate anything other than the machine was completed two years ago. There's nothing in here that says it ever left here."
"Then perhaps it didn't," Necia said softly, joining the group of angels. "What if McCourtney simply hid it here?"
"Michael seemed to say he moved it," Bartholomew said softly. "But that is a good point. He could have just hidden it here."
"But where?" Waldmunt asked, annoyed. "We've searched every single one of these shelves!"
"Then let's search again," Bartholomew ordered. "But this time, look instead for a possible hiding spot. We don't need to look for any more files."
The three other angels let out a breath of relief, more than happy to be finished with the search through papers. Though Bartholomew did marvel at just how precise McCourtney had kept his records. It certainly made the job of searching through them much easier. He only hoped that finding the secret hiding place of the machine would be just as easy. But to his dismay, the job proved to be much more difficult than he'd thought it would be. Minutes began to tick past into hours and soon, he and the rest of his team were more than just discouraged. There was nothing in the room that gave any sort of indication of being a false wall, a secret lever or anything that might indicate any sort of anything! Bartholomew sighed and held up his hand, calling his warriors to his attention. They all turned to him, their frustration and discouragement clear on their faces.
"I think I may need to speak with Michael about this," he said softly. "But for now-." He stopped, a glint of light to his left catching his eye. He turned, looking for the source of the flash.
"What is it, Bartholomew?" Ardor asked, concern flooding his voice.
"I thought I saw something," Bartholomew said softly, the glint catching his eye again. His gaze followed the flash and instantly he located the source of the light. A beam of light had flashed into the laboratory, reflecting off of a mirror laid on the floor. Bartholomew went over to it, squinting at it. What was this mirror doing here? It made no sense for it to be laid here. He went closer, Ardor right behind him, and knelt down at the foot of the three-foot mirror. It was framed in what had been a gold frame, but the paint had been chipping away as time had passed and now looked like a broken mess of wood. The mirror was just as old and extremely stained in several places, but other than that, the piece was surprisingly intact and still served its purpose . . . that is, whatever purpose it was meant to have where it was on the floor. The light beam from the sun came again, flashing only momentarily as it peeped out from behind a cloud and then hid again. Bartholomew's quick eyes followed the beam to the mirror and then the reflected light to the ceiling. At first, he saw nothing, but then, a split second before the light disappeared again, he saw an extremely out of place latch hanging from the ceiling. His hope kindled anew and a smile crossed his face.
"Ardor, I think I've found the secret place," he muttered.
"You what?" Ardor asked, glancing from the mirror to Bartholomew.
"Wait for the sun to hit the mirror again," Bartholomew instructed. "And when it does, all of you look directly at where it reflects on the ceiling."
All four angels watched, and waited, eager to discover what on earth their commander could possibly have found. And then the sun's light finally came again. It wasn't a quick flash of light this time, however. Instead, it was a steady beam of golden light, bringing the latch that Bartholomew had barely been able to make out before into clear view. Only, it wasn't a latch. It was more of a lever fixed into the ceiling in clear view. Yet somehow, McCourtney had rigged it so that it couldn't be seen unless the light from the mirror hit it. How the man had done it, Bartholomew didn't know, and he didn't really care either. All he cared is that it was a clue. He walked over to it, examining the fairly new lever and then reached up to touch it. But as soon as he'd made contact with the lever, he felt something shoot through his wrist and watched as a loaded shotgun from his left let out a volley of bullets straight through him. They were physical bullets and harmless to him, but had Mark or Anne been the one searching here, they would not have been so lucky. Clearly, McCourtney had not wanted anyone to find this lever and that meant only one thing. There was something that McCourtney was trying to hide behind it. He sighed and again studied the lever, looking for the trigger to the gun. There was none, but Bartholomew knew that there had to be something, somewhere that had set off the gun. He motioned for Ardor to come to his side and the warrior obeyed quickly.
"What is it?" he asked.
"That gun," Bartholomew said, nodding in the direction of the shotgun. "Something triggered it."
"Yeah, there's a laser that somehow detected your touch," Necia explained. "We don't really have to worry about it other than the noise might bring us attention."
"Disarm it," Bartholomew instructed, nodding to Necia. "You seem to understand it so please, disarm it."
Necia nodded and then moved toward the gun. As he began to work, Bartholomew continued to study the lever, trying to distinguish where it went. Ardor did the same and just as Necia had finished disarming the shotgun, Ardor lifted his hand and pointed ahead of him at a wire that ran the length of the ceiling, only coming to a stop next to a large, black, stone wall. "There," he said softly. "It's behind there."
Bartholomew nodded and then turned to Ardor, his gaze fierce. "Watch my back," he said softly.
Ardor nodded, understanding filling his eyes. "Yes, Sir."
And then Bartholomew turned back to the wall and transformed into the human realm, reaching up towards the lever. His hand clasped around the cool metal arm and then with a powerful jerk, he pulled it down. A loud creaking sound filled the room and as Ardor had guessed would happen, the large, black, stone wall began to rise, dust going out from under it as it went. Bartholomew smiled and moved toward the rising wall, remaining in physical form. The wall rose slowly but steadily, groaning from its weight and size. As it did, Bartholomew morphed back into the spiritual realm and moved in under it, walking into the pitch black room they had uncovered. As soon as he had, he again felt a round of bullets shoot through him, but they did not wound him. He glanced to his left and it did not surprise him to see another rigged shotgun. He smirked. McCourtney must have set traps everywhere. He clearly did not want anyone finding his creation, no matter how revolutionary it was. Necia, Waldmunt, and Ardor followed him into the room, Necia immediately moving to disarm the other gun.
"Where are the lights?" Waldmunt asked,
"There may not be any," Bartholomew said softly. "You didn't happen to see any flashlights in the lab, did you?"
"I did," Necia said, moving away from the now completely harmless gun.
"Bring it here," Bartholomew commanded. "We're not going to find out what's actually in here otherwise."
Necia nodded and immediately went for the torch he'd seen in the laboratory. He wasn't gone long, and soon returned with the light in his right hand. He passed it to Bartholomew and with a single click of the button on the flashlight's head, a white beam of light shot into the darkness. Bartholomew shone it around for a moment, looking for some sort of superweapon or something that looked like one. He swung the beam to the left, saw nothing, and then swung it to the right, still seeing nothing. But then Necia touched his arm, gaining his attention and pointed in the direction of the gun he'd just disarmed. "I think it's behind that gun," he said softly. "Could you point the light ray that way?"
Bartholomew nodded and shone the light in the direction his warrior had indicated. And there, behind the gun was a large box covered by what looked like a leather tarp. Bartholomew smiled and moved toward it, keeping the light beam fixed on the crate behind the gun. When he reached it, he passed the flashlight to Ardor and grabbed the tarp, pulling it off of the chest that it covered. It pulled away easily, bringing a cloud of dust that had been sitting upon it with it. The crate beneath it was a large wooden crate nailed together securely with fairly new nails. Bartholomew motioned to Waldmunt and Necia to move to the back of the crate and he moved to the front. Together they shoved the crate from the corner to the center of the room. It creaked in defiance to the movement, but slowly and surely, it slid to the center of the secret room. There the angels let go of it and Necia, Waldmunt, and Ardor all looked to their commander for guidance. But Bartholomew didn't really have to say anything. They all knew what the command would be.
"Let's open it," Bartholomew said softly. "I think we all want to see what's inside it."
None of the angels had to be asked twice.