The Hidden Entrance

By I. M. Lerner and Catherine L. Osornio

On a hunch, he pressed down on the ledge, first on 'Hubris' and then on 'Nemesis.'
Crrrr....
The click-clackety sound of moving gears creaked loudly on the other side of the wall.
Slowly the bookshelf slid aside, revealing a dark hallway.

After spending the summer discovering the Under the Staircase Society, Nate, Maya, and Maggie are finally b

• Language: English
• Publisher: Under the Staircase Books
• Release date: Jun 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9780991318759

Book preview

PROLOGUE

PHILADELPHIA – MAY 1775

The old man stepped off the gangplank onto the dock. His legs, wobbly after a month and a half at sea, gladly welcomed firm footing. He gazed across the bustling port city, soaking in the sights and sounds he missed these many long years.

It was good to be home.

He tightened his grip on his valise, knowing that although he was home, he was not free from danger. The Distractors could be anywhere, watching, waiting, conspiring to keep him and the other members of the Society from succeeding in securing their freedom. There had been no incidents aboard the Pennsylvania Packet, but that didn’t mean the threat didn’t exist, especially at a time when patriots were still at risk.

He made his way cautiously across the dock, avoiding the sailors and dock hands unloading cargo from the ship, and skirting past the many passengers and visitors milling about. A few people recognized him and extended greetings. He nodded and smiled, his eyes quickly returning to the crowd.

Suddenly, he was bumped from behind. He instinctively gripped the valise tightly as he spun around, his heart thumping in trepidation.

Beg pardon, sir, the young sailor apologized, his eyes wide with fear. This bundle got the best of me. He indicated the big package he was trying to maneuver.

The old man sighed, grateful it was a boy and not a Distractor. No harm done. Please mind your way.

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

He continued on, wedging himself through the crowd.

May I help with your Correspondence, sir? murmured a voice to his right.

Without turning or slowing down, the old man replied softly, Yes, kind sir. I have something for you to post. Reaching carefully into the valise, he withdrew a package covered in brown paper and, with one fluid motion, slid the package to the man by his side.

The exchange was quick, hopefully quick enough to avoid arousing the suspicion of anyone watching. Without making eye contact, the old man slowed his pace to observe the man hurry through the crowd with the package tucked under his arm. An unmarked carriage slowly crossed the man’s path, and the old man held his breath, fearful of discovery. The man exchanged a brief word with the other occupant before quickly opening the door and hopping inside. Before the door swung closed, the old man caught a brief glimpse of the man inside the carriage. Was that…?

The old man smiled, feeling a great burden lift.

The package was in good hands.

He looked around for his own transport, raising his hand in welcome as he recognized a neighbor who had come to greet him.

In the meantime, the carriage the man entered quickly made its way through town toward the road to Virginia. The man set the package on his lap and carefully began to open it, setting aside a page of scribbles that covered a manuscript entitled, An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.

What is that you set aside? the other man, his uncle, asked.

Picking up the sheet, the man glanced over it. It is a design for the entrance to our little chamber. Rather ingenious, don’t you think? I assume our brilliant friend scratched it out on the voyage over and added it to the manuscript. Pulling out a drawing hidden in a compartment under the seat cushion, he showed his uncle another design, this one for bookshelves. This is the plan I created for the hidden library.

How many pieces do you think we will need to protect? his uncle asked.

However many it takes to preserve our freedoms and secure our liberties, the man replied.

The uncle glanced over the designs and nodded. You are missing one thing, my boy. Permit me one moment? He reached into his satchel and pulled out a few sheets of paper and a small traveling desk. Taking a piece of graphite, he began to sketch.

The nephew raised his eyebrows, but turned back to the manuscript, nodding as he read line after line of the handwritten document.

After some time, the uncle said, You may wish to add this.

What is it? the man asked as he took the sketch.

A second entrance. You never know. It may save a life one day.

The man froze. With a deep breath, he picked up the brown paper wrapping that had covered the manuscript and scribbled a small design in the center. It was the rough form of a staircase without rails.

The uncle nodded. Yes. It will be our calling card. No one but those in the Society must ever know what it stands for.

That, too, the man said, will be a matter of life or death.

Their journey progressed, halting only at secure and protected places along the road for food and rest. When they finally entered the gates of the nephew’s mansion along the Potomac, they sighed with relief.

Safe, the man said as they approached the house. We begin building tomorrow.

His uncle nodded in agreement, neither one seeing the horseman who sauntered past the gates behind them.

CHAPTER ONE

KIRKCALDY POINT, VIRGINIA – PRESENT

Coming through! ten-year-old Nate Liber called out as he hurried down the basement steps of his grandparents’ house, arms loaded with colorful pipes, glass, and filament.

Whoa! Grandpa John said, flattening himself against the stairwell to avoid being hit by a stray piece of pipe. Where are you going with all that? Did you get another customer?

Nate had been spending a lot of time in the workshop, taking on extra jobs to pay back Grandpa John for the used 3D printer they purchased several months before. He loved creating things and the 3D printer was a real find. So far he had completed everything from robots to prosthetics, and the requests kept pouring in.

Sorry, Grandpa John, Nate said. I’m just excited to get started on my project. This time it’s for me. Or I should say, for the Society.

What project is that? Grandpa John asked, following Nate into the basement workshop.

I’m building a periscope, Nate said.

Grandpa John’s green eyes twinkled. "I see. What will you