Murder at Quantico - Cover

Murder at Quantico

Copyright© 2012 by normist

Chapter 5: At Anton's

We picked up Sarah on our way to Anton's former residence. When we arrived, the front door was ajar. It was too inviting. My earlier feelings of foreboding and Sarah's dream were making me feel very nervous. The backup was distributed to surround the house. The five of us slowly approached the front door. John had found a rake in the garden, and handed it to me. I could discern a slight shimmer to the blackness of the hallway.

I reversed the rake and pushed the front door open wider. Turning to Sarah, she presented me with her purchases. From one bag, I took a washing line and uncoiled it. From the other I took a leg of pork. I firmly tied the line to the leg and told the others to stand clear. Putting a foot on the other end of the washing line, I threw the leg of pork into the hallway.

It was as though the house suddenly swallowed my offering. The line jerked out from under my foot, depositing me on the ground. The next thing I knew was that a loud sound emerged from the house as though it had belched almightily. Sarah gave a small somewhat nervous giggle. Then suddenly shooting from the house was collection of minced pork, bones and little pieces of washing line.

"That's obviously not the way in!" muttered John.

"No," I replied. "We've got to find another way. Let's try around the corner. I think there's a balcony."

John left us to find a ladder while the rest of us moved round the corner to survey the balcony. We examined it carefully, but could see no reason for not using it as a point of ingress. John returned with a ladder which he propped up against the railing of the balcony.

I climbed the ladder and swung my legs over the railing. Facing the house, there were three single windows with a door at the right-hand end. Ignoring the door, I tried the windows. The catch on the middle window was not latched. I tried opening it gently and seeing no magical reason not to enter I put one leg over the sill. By that time, John had followed me onto the balcony and I could see Sarah's head as she climbed the ladder.

Swinging my other leg over the sill, I stood unmoving as my eyes scanned the bedroom. There was no sign of a trap like the one at the front door.

Turning to the window, I said "John, will you and Sarah direct the backups in case Frederyk is here and tries to make a break for it."

I waited for Sarah and John to catch me up and warned them, "We have to be very careful in case Frederyk has set any more traps for us. Let's go downstairs and start from there. I want to know why he was here and everything he did while he was."

I was muttering a spell as we slowly descended the stairs. It wouldn't nullify any traps, but it would illuminate them.

We got down the stairs without tripping any traps and much to my surprise there was no trace of the trap inside the front door. I called to one of the Investigators outside the open door.

"Hey there! Can you throw something you don't mind losing through the door?"

He took off his cap and threw it. John caught it and returned it straight back to the Investigator. The trap was obviously a one-shot effect. I called through the door. "It's safe to come in now!" Sarah and I led the search, looking for any changes that Frederyk might have left. We were followed by the other Investigators looking for anything that might prove useful.

Ninety minutes later, we had finished our search, finding only a few pages of Anton's that Frederyk had overlooked. We were standing around, discussing what our next step should be. Then John came in waving a piece of paper.

He said, "Do you think this could mean anything? I found it discarded in the trash.

He handed me the paper and I examined it.

It proved to be an advertising brochure for a steamboat plying for trade on the Connecticut River. It looked from the drawing to be a miniature version of those operating on the Mississippi river. The brochure boasted that the 'Champion' had a top speed of six knots. I did my sums. Frederyk had a start of about three hours on us. The distance to the coast was a little over forty miles, as the crow flies; say about fifty miles allowing for the twists and turns of the river. That gave us about five hours to cover the same distance. It was too tight.

Consulting with the Supervisory Special Investigator of the local NEBI office, he made a suggestion that might help. There was a steam launch of the Coast Guard Service moored in Springfield. He said, "I think their repairs are complete and were due to sail this evening. I'll send a messenger to their Captain to request a rapid passage for you group down river."

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