Crown's Vengeance, The by Andrew Clawson Page A

situated between two other open-air markets. A steady stream of visitors flowed in and out of the buildings, every door open to take advantage of the pleasant summer day. Three stories tall, constructed of red brick, the refurbished hall looked much the same as it did when it was built in 1742.
    “So would you care to tell me exactly how you plan on doing this when hundreds of people are all around?”
    A hint of a smile touched her lips.
    “Watch and learn.”
    Inside the Hall, food vendors lined a central walking path, each one offering a tantalizing aroma. Above them, the second floor was visible, a circular path of tables and other stores set alongside the walls, as the center of the entire floor had been removed to allow an unfettered view straight to the building’s cupola far above.
    “Not to rain on your parade,” he said softly, lips close to her ear, “but what if the message used to be in the middle of the room? That floor’s been gone for years.”
    Erika didn’t respond, but he could tell she was worried. Her eyes flicked rapidly about as she studied the building’s layout, occasionally glancing outside.
    “All right, I think I have it.” One finger extended to the far end of the Hall. “That’s east. The weathervane should be over there.” She took off at a near run, dodging between slow-moving tourists. Parker hurried after her, apologizing to an old woman Erika had knocked aside. Once outside the far door, Erika craned her neck back, looking skyward. “I was right. There it is.”
    Parker looked up and saw a golden shimmer above them. The weathervane was a magnificent sight, as bright sunlight sparkled off the gilded grasshopper.
    “Where do you think it is in relation to the floor?”
    He took a few steps further back, tried to gauge the grasshopper’s location.
    “Probably ten feet back from this edge, and another ten feet in from the side.”
    They both hurried back inside and looked to their left, expecting to see a table filled with screaming children sitting atop their targeted spot. Instead they saw a rickety wooden door with the word “Private” stenciled across the front. Before he could blink, Erika stood in front of the doorway.
    “Wait a second. We can’t just barge in there.”
    “Watch me.”
    All around them people moved through the building, none giving them a second glance. As Erika placed a tentative hand on the door, Parker prepared for the shriek of a security alarm, immediately followed by the arrival of several guards.
    “You do realize there are policemen outside.”
    Not fifty feet from where he stood, two officers on bikes were watching the crowds behind dark sunglasses.
    “No one’s looking at us. Don’t worry.”
    With a final glance around, she turned the dingy black doorknob. On squeaky hinges, the door slid open. Inside they found a small storage closet filled with cleaning supplies and other detritus. Brooms, mops, and other assorted implements of sanitation lined the walls. Several rusted chairs were stacked in one corner next to a folding table, and inexplicably, an ancient hand-operated lawn mower.
    “Quit staring and get inside.” Erika pulled him in and the door flapped shut behind them. Dust filled the air, and Parker unleashed a violent sneeze. “Be quiet and start searching.”
    Erika was already shifting mops and hanging buckets aside, her face inches from the dusty walls. Windowless, the room’s only light filtered in from beneath the closed door.
    “It doesn’t look like this place has been used in years.” He wiped a nearby wall with one hand, which came back gray.
    “I’d say that’s a good sign for us. If Revere really did put something underneath that bird, and he left it on the first floor, no one may have found it yet. And it’s unlikely Revere would have left Alexander Hamilton to stumble around in search of a hiding place. More likely, he would have left a marker behind, something to point Hamilton in the right