Ben, Riley, Abigail collected the items they needed, including cotton swabs, gloves, lemons, and several other glasses and set them on a table covered in black plastic. Ben slid on some of the gloves and removed the document from its container, gently laying it upon the tabletop. Y/n stood beside Riley as the four looked down upon the document.
"Looks like animal skin," Patrick announced. "How old is it?"
"At least 200 years."
"Really? You sure?"
"Pretty darn," Ben replied.
"Now, if thing's in invisible ink, how do we look at it?" Riley asked.
"Throw it in the oven," Patrick suggested. Each of the four protested his suggestion. "Ferrous sulphate inks can only be brought out with heat."
"He has a point," Y/n said.
"Yes, but this..."
"It's very old. This is very old,and we can't risk compromising the map," Ben explained.
"You need a reagent."
"Dad, it's really late. Why don't you get some rest?"
"I'm fine."
Ben turned back to the Declaration. "Lemons." Riley handed him the bowl and Ben grabbed one of the slices, reaching his hand down before Abigail grabbed his wrist.
"You can't do that."
"But it has to be done," Ben countered.
"Then someone who is trained to handle antique documents is gonna do it," Abigail said.
"Okay." Ben stood back asAbigail grabbed the lemon and stood in his former spot.
"Now, uh, if there is a secret message, it'll probably be marked by a symbol in the upper right-hand corner."
"That's right."
Abigail grabbed a cotton swab, rubbing it across the lemon. She sighed heavily, leaning on the table. "I am so getting fired for this." She gently applied the lemon juice on the corner, and waited. Nothing appeared. Abigail gave Ben an 'I told you so' look as Riley sighed.
"I told you. You need heat." Abigail and Ben leaned down over the document, each one exhaling. And just like that, a symbol appeared where the lemon was placed. Y/n grinned and hopped slightly.
"Yes!"
"See?"
"We need more juice."
"We need more heat."
Pretty soon, Abigail had a hairdryer, heating up the lemon juice while Ben wrote down the content shown.
"That's not a map," Riley noted. "Is it?"
"More clues. What a surprise."
"Are those latitudes and longitudes?"
"That's why we need the Silence Dogood letters."
"That's the key?" Abigail asked.
"Yeah. 'The key in Silence undetected,'" Ben answered. "Dad, can we have the letters, now?"
"Will somebody please explain to me what these magic numbers are?"
"It's easy, Riley. Look-" Y/n began.
"It's an Ottendorf cipher," stated Abigail.
"That's right."
"Oh, okay," Riley nodded. "What does that mean, Y/n?"
"Just codes," Patrick answered.
"Well, Riley, if I don't get interrupted again... each of the numbers corresponds with a word. Usually a book or article. In this case, the Silence Dogood letters. For example, it would be page five, line eight, and the first letter in that line," Y/n explained.
Riley nodded again. "That makes more sense."
"So, Dad, where are the letters?"
"You know," Patrick began. "It's just by sheer happenstance that his grandfather..."
"Dad."
"...even found them. They were in an antique desk from the press room..."
"Dad."
"...of The New England Courant. It was a newspaper."
"Dad, where are the letters?"
Patrick hesitated. "I don't have them, son."
"What?"
"I don't have them."
Y/n sighed. "This is troublesome..."
Ben flopped in the chair behind him, pulling his glove off with his teeth and clearing his throat. "Where are they?"
"I donated them to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia."
Ben gave a quick nod. "Time to go." Ben stood and began to walk out of the room.
Abigail covered her mouth and whispered. "I still can't believe it. All... all this time, no one knew what was on the back."
"The back of what?" Patrick quizzed, reaching forward.
"Whoa! No!"
Patrick lifted the document, and his face turned to panic, eyes wide as his mouth gaped open. "Oh my-" He was too stunned as he held the Declaration in his hands.
"I know."
"What have you done? This is..."
"I know!"
"This is the Declaration of Independence."
Abigail gently grabbed the document, continuing in a gentle tone. "Yes. And it's very delicate."
"You stole it?"
Riley and Y/n both pointed to Ben as if accusing him of the crime like a kid would.
"Dad, I can explain, but I don't have time. It was necessary," Ben said. "And you saw the cipher."
"And that will lead to another clue, and that will lead to another clue! There is no treasure. I wasted 20 years of my life. And now you've destroyed yours," Patrick scolded. "And you pulled me into all this."
"We can't have that."
"Ben... what are you planning?" Y/n questioned.
"Riley, go get your duct tape."
"What are you doing?" Patrick asked, panicked.
Ben handed his father a drink and the TV remote before pointing to the chair in front of the TV. Mere seconds later, Riley returned, duct tape in hand.
"Forgive me for this, Dad." Ben wrapped his father in duct tape, making sure he was firmly secured to the chair before grabbing a small book off the table and going to get the Declaration.
"We're really sorry for this, Patrick. I hope you understand that," Y/n announced.
"Keep him safe, okay? He tends to get in over his head."
"I can do that."
"Y/n! Let's go!" Ben called. Y/n waved to Patrick before hurrying out of the house and towards Patrick's car. Ben got in the driver's seat with Abigail in the passenger's and Riley in the back. Y/n climbed in the side opposite of Riley, securing the seat belt and gazed out the window as Ben drove away.
The ride was filled with silence for the first little while, until they were on one of the usually busy roadways. Riley leaned against the window, dozing off slightly. Y/n was trying her best to not fall asleep. She wanted to be awake in case anything exciting happened.
"Your dad's got a sweet ride."
"I think we should change clothes," Ben suggested.
"Yeah, that's a good idea. I don't want to be in formal wear for the rest if this," Y/n yawned in between her words. "Adventure."
"Sleep if you need to, Y/n."
"Okay," she said sleepily, subconsciously leaning her head on Riley's shoulder, causing him to perk up. She was asleep almost instantly as Riley looked down at her.
"Sleep well, Y/n," he whispered.