The Antarctic Forgery Read online

  “Good,” Kotler said. “Watch.”

  He once again placed the compass on the map, and as they watched the needle wobbled from the motion of being placed on the table. As it settled, however, everyone leaned in.

  It was no longer pointing North.

  “What the …?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler smiled, then reached out and picked up the compass. Once again, it pointed to actual North. Placing it back on the map, it shifted.

  “There’s something magnetic in the map?” Liz asked.

  “Is it the brass plate?” Denzel added.

  Kotler shook his head. “No, brass isn’t a ferromagnetic material. It can’t be magnetized.”

  “So what gives?” Denzel asked.

  “It’s the map,” Kotler smiled.

  Denzel straightened, blinked, then shook his head. "I know you're all kinds of scientist, Kotler, but even I know that paper isn't magnetic."

  Kotler shook his head and chuckled. "Not the paper. The ink."

  Liz responded. “You’re saying the ink this was printed with is magnetic? How?”

  Kotler shrugged. “It isn’t all that unusual. You can buy magnetic ink by the gallon, from the right source. It isn’t even expensive. The real question is, why?”

  “It’s a message,” Liz said quietly.

  Kotler nodded, smiling.

  “A message?” Denzel asked. “What do you mean?”

  Kotler lifted the compass, and began passing it over the map, slowly. As it moved, the needle would suddenly and sharply turn, pointing at specific parts of the map. Kotler looked to Liz who had already taken out a notepad and started joining down everything Kotler pointed to.

  “It’s like playing with a Ouija board,” she said, smiling.

  It took a few minutes, but once it was done, they had a series of Phoenician letters, grabbed seemingly at random from various parts of the map, and all indicated by the turn of the compass needle.

  “What is this?” Denzel said, shaking his head.

  “The message,” Kotler said. “Or, it will be, once I decipher it. But for that, I’m going to need a key. And I think I finally know how to find it.”

  He rushed out of the room, leaving Denzel and Liz to stare after him, bewildered. It took several minutes and an elevator ride, but he eventually returned with the large, rectangular light box in hand.

  “Did … did you just steal that from the preservation room?” Denzel asked.

  “I … may have borrowed it from the preservation room,” Kotler replied.

  “You realize you’re working with the FBI, and not a high school library?”

  “I’ll put it back after,” Kotler said, dismissively.

  He placed the lightbox on the work table, and with Liz's help, he lifted the map, each of them taking two corners and putting the forgery on the lit surface. He had to adjust the brass plate again, to align it correctly. And then, with a deep breath, he turned on the light.

  The map illuminated from below and glowed a warm, amber color. The ochre lines printed on its surface stood out in relief. Nothing was immediately revealed by the light, but Kotler was playing a hunch.

  He picked up the sunstone, and held it over the illuminated map, looking through its clouded, crystalline frame.

  “My God,” Liz said quietly.

  "Hello there," Kotler said quietly and smiling broadly. "I've been looking for you."

  Chapter 5

  It was Liz who thought of using the beaker support stand to hold the sunstone in place. They were able to rest the crystal on one of the pivoting metal rings of the stand, which gave them the ability to move and reposition it over the map as needed. They could look through it much like looking through a microscope.

  Kotler used his phone to take photos of the message being revealed, and they were able to stitch these together on the lab’s computer. When it was complete, they could make sense of the message as a whole:

  The Gateway holds the key. Cargo is complete. Was intact when we left it. Edison was right.

  Find Abigail at coordinates.

  “Abigail?” Denzel said. “As in Gail McCarthy?”

  Kotler was shaking his head, thinking. “Doesn’t make sense. Or … maybe it does, I’m not sure yet. I get the impression this map was made by either Edward McCarthy or Richard Van Burren.”

  “Who?” Liz asked.

  Kotler looked up. "Sorry. Edward McCarthy was Gail McCarthy's grandfather. He and Richard Van Burren were business partners. They had a real estate empire but were also secretly running one of the biggest smuggling and black-market operations on the planet. Gail inherited that network, after Van Burren's death. We were investigating Van Burren when we discovered a cache of artifacts hidden on Thomas Edison's estate."

  “Artifacts from Atlantis?” Liz asked.

  “Allegedly,” Kotler smiled.

  “Sure felt like Atlantis when we were being shot at,” Denzel said, grumbling.

  “This hidden message references both Abigail and Edison,” Kotler mused. “That can’t be a coincidence. I think that this was written by Edward McCarthy.”

  “Why him?” Denzel asked. “Why not Van Burren?”

  Kotler shook his head. “Tone? I’m playing a hunch, really. Edward was Gail’s grandfather, so the reference to Abigail fits. It was also that phrase, ‘Edison was right.’ It’s superfluous credit, not really necessary to convey the message. I only knew Van Burren for a short time, but he didn’t strike me as the type to offer anyone credit for anything.”

  Denzel nodded. “Ok, I can accept that profile,” he said. “What about that part,” he pointed. “He says ‘find Abigail at the coordinates.’ That sounds like what Gail said to you.”

  Kotler nodded. "I thought so, too. Which means Gail knew about this message, at least. But then, why come to me? What was it she was missing, if she knew the secret contents of this map?"

  “Well,” Liz said, picking up the brass plate. “Maybe she didn’t know what to do with this?”

  Kotler blinked. “I think you’re right,” he said, and then chuckled. “Or she might not have had access to both the artifacts and the map at the same time. It’s possible that whoever authenticated the forgery as being real was already aware of the message but didn’t have the artifacts.”

  “I’m still a little unclear on why they went through the whole process of authenticating a fake,” Liz said.

  Kotler thought for a moment. “Those auction houses have very high-level security. It’s possible that Gail and her people might have thought it would be easier to steal it from whoever purchased it.”

  “Except the guy who bought it had a pretty sophisticated security system of his own,” Denzel said. “It would have been just as tough.”

  “So, they needed to get it away from Sir Eugene Stanley,” Kotler mused. His eyebrows shot up. “And nothing short of a government agency would be able to do that.”

  Denzel gave him a strange look. “What are you getting at?”

  Liz spoke up, “How did the FBI learn about the forgery?”

  Denzel looked from her to Kotler and back again. “We got an anonymous tip,” he said, almost groaning.

  Kotler laughed. “Gail arranged for the FBI to learn about the forgery, knowing we were looking for anything that might help in investigating her smuggling operation. And we took the bait.”

  “So, she arranged for us to get our hands on it,” Liz said. She looked at Kotler. “So that you would get involved.”

  "And then she made sure I had the artifacts," Kotler nodded. "I think she was having trouble solving this herself, so she put together a pretty elaborate plan. It's possible the map had been in the possession of the auction house for years, possibly before Gail and I even met. Her grandfather might have placed it there, for safe keeping."

  “Why not give it to Van Burren?” Liz asked.

  Denzel replied, “There were hints that McCarthy and Van Burren weren’t exactly buds. There was evidence that McCarthy wanted ou
t of their business but was in too deep.”

  “I’m starting to think that Edward McCarthy was secretly working against Van Burren for years,” Kotler said. “It would explain a lot.”

  Liz turned back to the computer screen and the message still floating there. She minimized the window for it and opened the other images they were working with. Photos of the coordinates and the message from the brass plate. "The message says, ‘find Abigail at coordinates.' We have a set of coordinates, in Oklahoma City. Is that where we find Gail McCarthy?"

  Kotler shook his head. “Still doesn’t make sense,” he said. “How would Edward know that Gail would be in Oklahoma City at any given time? And what would be the point? Gail obviously knew about this message. No, there’s something else. There’s something in the rest of the information we uncovered. I don’t think Gail has it, which gives us an advantage. But I think it’s what Gail is after.”

  “She wanted you to solve this, so she could take whatever it is we find,” Denzel said. “I don’t plan to let that happen.”

  Kotler shook his head. “Me neither. But for the moment, these are the clues we have. I think we’d better follow them.”

  “I knew it was only a matter of time,” Denzel said.

  “Until what?” Liz asked.

  Denzel shook his head, “Until Kotler found an excuse to get us to fly to Oklahoma City.”

  Chapter 6

  It was a warm enough day that Kotler had his coat draped over the back of his chair as they took a seat in one of the cafe's that lined the canal. Brick Town was known as the entertainment district of Oklahoma City. The Bricktown Canal was a riverwalk directly across the street from Chickasaw Bricktown Ballpark, and restaurants and shops were lining the canal to either side. The atmosphere was pleasant, but there were very few people out enjoying the space, despite it being a pleasant-if-warm mid-summer afternoon.

  Denzel was still wearing his suit jacket, despite the warm day. Kotler stifled a smile, knowing that his partner had to be uncomfortable but also knowing he was "on the job." Denzel wasn't exactly uptight, in Kotler's opinion, but he did work within some well-defined lines and boundaries. The badge came with responsibility, and Denzel was disciplined about taking that responsibility very seriously.

  Kotler, on the other hand, was never one to stand on formality. The warm day was excuse enough for him to drape his coat and open his collar a bit, and to order a mojito, ignoring the look he got from Denzel.

  “What do we know?” Denzel asked, stirring a packet of raw sugar into his iced tea.

  Kotler shook his head. “Not much more than we did before we left, but I’m playing with some hunches.”

  “Hunches?” Denzel shook his head. “Kotler, we need solid leads. This isn’t a vacation.”

  Kotler sipped his mojito and peeked over his sunglasses, nodding. "No, you're right. Ok, the coordinates brought us to Oklahoma City, but from here I'm not entirely sure what we're looking for. I think it has something to do with the last two sets of numbers, but they aren't coordinates."

  “Maybe city blocks?” Denzel asked. “Addresses?”

  Kotler nodded. "I thought of that, and I mapped both to a couple of local addresses. The first number, 11438, sends us to a neighborhood about 15 minutes from here. The second number, 51766, sends us to the campus of Oklahoma Christian University."

  “The university campus may have some promise,” Denzel said.

  "I agree, but how does 11438 play into it? There are no building numbers or any other significant structure on the campus that might tie into that. I've tried all sorts of things to figure out what it means. Character substitution gives us AADCH, which as far as I can tell only correlates with ‘Allergy & Asthma Day Capitol Hill,' an event that happened in 2016, and nowhere near OCU. I've been searching for that number sequence in public records, in course catalogs, in anything I can think of, and nothing ties in."

  Denzel thought about this for a moment. "You said all the artifacts had something to do with navigation, right? The map, the sunstone, the compass. But the brass plate … that just gave us the coordinates and another set of numbers?"

  Kolter nodded. “Right. As far as I’ve been able to determine, a brass plate has never really been used as a navigation instrument. It’s possible that the coordinates we got from using it with the map are just coincidence. It was just the best lead I could come up with.”

  "You found four sets of numbers," Denzel said. He had tilted his chin up slightly as if looking at the rooflines of the buildings across the canal. He looked back to Kotler. "How did you know the sequence? How did you know what numbers to put first, in those coordinates?"

  "Well, it was a couple of things. The map was made by a Westerner, and an English speaker, based on the hidden messaging. Psychologically we tend to encode messages in the way we've been taught to decipher them. English speakers tend to read from left to right. If we break data into two lines, we tend to repeat that pattern from line to line. Because the brass plate was rectangular, I assumed a new line, like a carriage return. So, 11438 and 51766 were on their own line. If it were a circular pattern, I would have reversed the order, and put 51766 first."

  “How confident are you that you got that right?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler shrugged. “Call it 98%. The other reason I ordered the coordinates the way I did was because of that negative symbol. That marked it as a latitude value, which typically comes second in the sequence.”

  “But the second two sets of numbers didn’t have decimals or negative signs,” Denzel said, smiling.

  Kotler shook his head. “I’m not following, Roland. Why are you smiling?”

  Denzel laughed. “Because for once I may be outthinking you,” he said. “So, give me a few seconds to just savor that.” He inhaled and exhaled slowly, smiling as if in a state of bliss. He took a slow sip of his iced tea, smacking his lips.

  Kotler chuckled. “Ok, I’m game. What did you think of that I missed?”

  Denzel grinned as he leaned forward. “If you just want a general location, like Oklahoma City, you basically only need four digits to a coordinate. But if you want to get specific, and find a particular location within Oklahoma City …”

  “You include more digits after the decimal!” Kotler said, smacking his forehead. “Roland, that’s genius!”

  Kotler took out his phone and opened the map app. He plugged in the coordinates again, this time adding the remaining five digits for each set. "Ok, assuming the same order sequence applies ..." In a moment he grinned and held the phone up for Denzel to see.

  “Centennial Land Run Monument?” Denzel asked. “What is that?”

  Kotler shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure. But it's only about a ten-minute walk from here."

  Denzel immediately stood up, throwing cash on the table. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Kotler hurriedly tossed back the last of his mojito and grabbed a few French fries, stuffing them in his mouth as he grabbed his coat and hurried after his partner.

  Kotler saw that they could get there fastest by sticking to the walkway along the canal. As a bonus, they had something of a scenic view as they marched at a brisk pace. Denzel was moving at a speed that made Kotler sweat a little, and he once again removed his coat and draped it over his arm.

  In just a few minutes they emerged to find themselves in a small park. Wide cement walkways circled the area, and they passed under a bridge, mounting a set of steps that brought them to a well-maintained space overlooking the waterway and walkway. Ahead of them was a dramatic vignette comprised of large bronze statues, illustrating the story of men with horses and covered wagons—a scene from the Old West—as wolves raced alongside the caravan, startling everyone and throwing one poor horse and its rider to the ground.

  “Very interesting,” Kotler said, smiling.

  Denzel nodded. “Ok, here we are. Now what?”

  Kotler shook his head. “I have no idea. This is as far as the coordinates can take us. Now we search.�
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  “Any way to narrow that down?” Denzel asked.

  Kotler thought for a moment. "Maybe there's a clue in the message from the map." He pulled out his phone and opened the note he'd been building, complete with the message and photos of the map and artifacts.

  “The Gateway holds the key,” Kotler read. He looked up to Denzel. “That seems the most logical clue.”

  “What about ‘Find Abigail at coordinates,’” Denzel replied, peering at Kotler’s phone.

  Kotler shook his head. “I don’t think the coordinates we have are for the end game. There are too many variables. And Gail doesn’t appear to know any more about what’s happening here than we do. I think this is a riddle with steps, and the current step is the gateway.”

  Denzel shrugged and looked around. “I don’t see any gateways around here, do you?”

  Kotler slipped his phone back into the inner pocket of his jacket, still draped over his arm. He glanced around the setting. The vignette of bronze statues dominated this part of the park, but there were also trees and paths lining either side of the waterway. There was a waterfall feature made of natural stone that made for an attractive and contemplative spot.

  People were milling about, enjoying the day. Families were migrating from the large parking lot just outside of the park. Some were walking in as Kotler and Denzel had, from the walkway along the canal.

  What could “gateway” mean in this context?

  Kotler studied the vignette again. From their position, there were several figures on horseback and three wagons with teams of two horses. The wagon train was attempting to cross the waterway and had been set upon by wolves, startling the horses and causing some chaos. Across the water, some of the party had already made the crossing, as if …

  “Passing through portals,” Kotler said. He looked up at Denzel. “Or a gateway.”

  “Kotler, you’re doing that thing again where you’ve come up with something in your head but haven’t shared it yet with your mouth.”