Track of the Beast: A Brock Stone Adventure

Constance smiled sweetly. “As a matter of fact, you can mind the office while Junina shows me around. Mrs. Carroll’s orders, you understand. Thank you so much.” She considered giving him a condescending pat on the cheek, but the thought of touching the sweaty man filled her with revulsion, so she settled for taking Junina by the hand and leading her out into the hallway.

As soon as they were out the door, Junina relaxed.

“Thank you for getting me away from him. He makes me uncomfortable.”

“He gives me the same feeling,” Constance said. “But he doesn’t scare me, and he shouldn’t frighten you, either.”

“It’s not him I’m afraid of. It’s Klaus, the caretaker. He does whatever Ward tells him to.”

Constance remembered seeing the quiet conversation between the seemingly ineffectual Ward and the intimidating Klaus. Was there more at play here than a simple relationship between supervisor and employee?

“What can you tell me about Klaus?” she asked.

“A few months ago, our old caretaker suddenly retired. Didn’t give a reason or say goodbye, even though he had been here for fifteen years. Klaus showed up the next day and Ward hired him on the spot.”

“Any idea where he came from?”

“New York. Russia before that. That’s all I know.”

They wandered the halls of the old building. For the life of her, Constance could not imagine what interest Trinity would have had in the history of this place. She had held out hope for the library, but it had been converted to an infirmary, the small collection of books either donated or put in storage.

“Was there anywhere in particular that Trinity seemed especially curious about? Did she spend a lot of time in any one place?”

Junina stopped in her tracks. “There was, but it’s downstairs. I don’t like to go down there.”

“Could you give me directions?” Constance asked.

“No, I will show you. You shouldn’t be alone in case Klaus is down there. He doesn’t get too forward as long as there are others around.”

As they descended the stairs to the lower level, Constance felt a rising tension. The air was cool and damp here, and the air smelled of mold. She tried to lighten the mood with casual conversation.

“Junina is a beautiful name. Is it from the Bible?” Constance couldn’t believe she was babbling about name origins. This place unnerved her. A chill ran down her spine and she was forcibly reminded of the ghost stories surrounding the so-called school for insane girls.

“Junina is the name I was given when I came here. My birth name is Colestah. She was a powerful warrior and medicine woman who could speak to the spirits.”

“I wouldn’t mind having her around if we encounter Klaus,” Constance said.

Junina managed a tiny laugh. “Your friend said something very much like that.”

“Trinity is a brave woman and she takes courage from stories of women like Colestah.”

“I am afraid she is too brave for her own good,” Junina said.

“What do you mean by that?”

“She was asking about dark, dangerous things.” Junina clenched her fists and began to shake.

Constance seized the girl by the shoulders. “Listen to me. You are exactly right. My friend has a tendency to get herself into trouble. I understand that you don’t want to talk about these dark, dangerous things, but it is very important that you tell me.”

“She wanted to see the cursed cellar,” Junina whispered.

“And what else?” Constance asked firmly.

The young girl squeezed her eyes shut. A single tear trickled down her cheek.

“She wanted to know where I saw the hairy men.”

12- The Cellar

Stone crept along the dark hallway. The musty air and dim lighting made this lower level feel like a basement. It took a few minutes of searching before he found a stout wooden door with the words In Vino Veritas carved in the polished surface. In wine there is truth. Stone smiled at the thought. He touched the shiny brass doorknob. It was clean and free of rust. Someone had kept the door polished. But what was the point?

Not surprisingly, the door was locked. Stone, however, was an accomplished picklock, and he had the door open in short order. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him before clicking on his flashlight.

A vaulted stone ceiling rose above him. To his left and right, wooden crates were stacked in neat piles. A beautiful mosaic depicting a bunch of grapes adorned the far wall. The space was dry and free of dust. Someone was regularly cleaning this old storage space. Stranger and stranger.

He examined the crates, walking up and down the rows, shining his light on each, but nothing leaped out at him. Perhaps it wasn’t the contents of the room, but the room itself that was special. He examined the floor and the ceiling, then moved to the mosaic on the far wall. And then he saw it. Inside one of the fat, purple grapes was an eye inside a triangle. The Eye of Providence, also known as the All-Seeing Eye. It appeared on the Great Seal of the United States, but it was also a symbol of the Illuminati.