Chapter 82

Dave sat at a table in the far corner of a large modern kitchen. The ropes that had lately restrained him had been replaced by two massive security guards who were nearly the size of the room. He'd been there for about two hours, waiting. He wasn't sure what to do. Alfonso had left swiftly, most likely to instruct Javier's guys to bring back what Dave had stated he wanted from his house. The idiotic map.

He had gotten the mail from the historian who had been instructed by Sir Anthony to contact him for whatever purpose, and there had been no explanation as to what the ridiculous poem meant until the secret message arrived before the bastard snatched him. It was a map of the Polish city of Warsaw.

It was simply a translation of the old rune from the tablet that had been blended to deceive and confound those who attempted to interpret it.