The Crown Heist by Deron R. Hicks

Author:Deron R. Hicks
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780358396086
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

Hinges?

Broderick stood in the middle of the chamber and stared at the stained-glass windows.

What is Camille talking about?

“Well?” Davenport demanded. “Have you solved the riddle?” He glanced at his watch. “We’re running out of time,” he said. “We need to get moving.”

A broad grin broke out on Broderick’s face.

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Moving! Hinges!”

Broderick rushed over to the stained-glass windows. He went first to the window on the left. On the side of the window—barely perceptible—was a small latch. Broderick reached up and pulled on it. It didn’t budge, which was not particularly surprising since it had probably been a couple hundred years since it was last opened.

He motioned toward Miles Davenport. “Come here,” he said. “I need this opened.”

Davenport walked over to the window and examined the ancient latch. He reached up, took the small iron lever in his hand, and pulled down. The latch released, and the window opened ever so slightly.

Broderick made his way over to the window on the far right side of the chapel and pointed at an identical latch on that window. “This one also,” he said.

Davenport made his way over to the window on the right side and opened it as well.

“What about the middle window?” Davenport asked.

“It doesn’t open,” Broderick replied confidently.

“I hope you have a good explanation for all of this,” Davenport said.

“Three made one,” Broderick said. He then turned to the window on the far left and opened it wide. He folded it over the middle window. It fit perfectly.

Davenport gasped. An image had suddenly appeared in the stained glass when the windows overlapped. It was a man in some sort of semicircle. He seemed to be gesturing with his right arm. Beneath the image were the letters S, T, and R. But the image was clearly incomplete.

Broderick went to the window on the far right and opened it wide as well. It too folded neatly over the middle window.

No one spoke.

It was incredible. Individually each window was simply a random assortment of oddly shaped pieces of glass—abstract and indistinct. But layered on top of one another, the windows revealed an unmistakable image—a picture of a man sowing seeds in a pasture. And beneath the image was a single word: SATOR.

Broderick turned to Davenport.

“In weak field whence youth depart’d, three made one ye sign impart’d,” he said.

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