Page 42 of The Atlas Maneuver

Koger crouched down in front of the thick railing. It was supported by heavy stone spindles shaped like pears, fatter at the bottom than the top. He grabbed hold of one, toward the center of the span, and twisted counterclockwise. The spindle turned, then released from beneath the railing. Koger carefully sat it upright on the floor.

“Best place to hide something is right in front of people,” he said.

She agreed. “I’ve never seen a hiding place like that before.”

“Citrone loves secrets. It’s his life.”

She saw that the spindle had been hollowed out in a perfect circle, a few centimeters in diameter. Inside the cavity rested a metal tube. Koger uprighted the heavy spindle and allowed the half-meter-long tube to slide out. She reached down and grabbed it as he laid the spindle back on the floor. She handed him the cylinder and he twisted off the cap.

“Hold your palm out,” he said.

She did and he shook the tube.

A rolled-up sheet of white paper slid free into her hand. She unrolled it to reveal a map drawn in washed-out sepia, the contrast clear between the many scribblings and symbols.

“It’s a photograph of the original,” he said. “Nobody knows where the original is now, or at least that’s what Citrone says.”

“This leads to all those hidden caches across the Philippines?” she asked.

“That’s the legend, provided you can figure out the codes and understand the symbols. Unfortunately, everyone who could have done that is now dead.”

“That gold is still there, after all these decades?”

He nodded. “The majority was never found.”

“How did you know about this hiding place?”

“Citrone and I have always gotten along. I used to help him out some. Recently, he let me in on a few of the secrets. He and I shared a dislike for authority.”

“Is he the one who pointed you to the wine vault?”

He nodded. “The one and only.”

She heard a noise from outside.

Distant. An engine roaring to life.

Koger heard it too and they rushed back into the bedroom, to a set of half-open French doors that led out to an upper terrace with a magnificent view of Lake Geneva. Citrone’s house sat about a hundred meters from the shoreline, a lawn of thick grass and trees in between. A dock jutted out into the blue water where a boat was tied and another was pulling away, revealing the source of the noise. Cassiopeia spotted a pair of binoculars lying amid the rubble of the tossed bedroom and quickly retrieved them, handing them to Koger. His eyes were better than hers on this one since she had no idea who or what she was looking at. Koger handed over the map and focused on the lake.

“Citrone is on the boat with two men. Damn.”

She caught the frustration.

“May I?” she asked, gesturing for the binoculars.

She traded him for the map and gazed out on the lake. The boatmoving away was maybe six meters long, with a single outboard engine containing two Japanese men and another heavyset man. She then adjusted the angle and found another boat tied to the dock. A sport cruiser. At least ten meters, V-hulled, with a teak deck, brass fittings, a flying bridge, and inboard engines. Probably at least two. More power. Definitely.

She lowered the binoculars and asked, “You want him back?”

“We need him back.”

“Are the Japanese the people you thought responsible for tossing this place?” she asked.

He nodded.

“I assume those men were after that map?”

“That’s a good assumption. Citrone told me the PSIA has been looking for it a long time.”

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