The Dane Maddock Adventures Boxed Set Volume 1 Page 29

  “Let me guess,” Maddock said, “He wanted to blow it up.” The look on Jade’s face was answer enough. “If he’s fool enough to try it, let’s at least hope he leaves the keys in the Range Rover before they cart him off to jail.” That got a grin out of her. “Are you up for a hike?” he asked cheerily.

  They took their time walking back to the park’s main loop. Maddock went through two of his water bottles and still felt parched. They passed the time looking at park brochures Maddock had stuffed into his pack. As he was flipping through a pamphlet on Pueblo Bonito, something caught his attention. “Listen to this,” he said, “it might be nothing, but in Pueblo Bonito there are seven corner doorways.”

  “The doorway is on the corner of the structure?” Jade echoed. “That’s unusual.”

  “Very rare. And one of them is an astronomical marker. It’s a second floor doorway, and at the time of the winter solstice, light passes through and shines on the base of the opposite corner of the room.” Jade looked skeptical. “Think about it,” Maddock said. “The picture on the breastplate was of Pueblo Bonito. It’s a solstice marker, and it’s cast by a highly unusual doorway. It’s one in seven, as in…”

  “Yes, I know,” Jade said. “As in the ‘Seven Cities.' All right, Maddock, I’ll grant you it’s worth a shot. But if we’re wrong, don’t say anything to Saul. He takes great pleasure in my mistakes.”

  “Few though they are,” Maddock added.

  “Of course.”

  Pueblo Bonito, the largest and most complex of the Chaco Canyon ruins, was an amazing sight. Set against the backdrop of sand colored hills, it was built in a half-circle, the outer rim a complex of multi-storied stone rooms that reminded Maddock of college dorm rooms, except of course for the odd, keyhole-shaped doors that led into each section. Another, narrow line of rooms ran across the straight edge, and another bisected the half-circle. There were many kivas here of varying sizes. He marveled at the scale and workmanship of the structures. Unlike the more famous Anasazi cliff dwellings that were constructed of large block, Pueblo Bonito was entirely constructed of small, flat stones that fit together with precision, giving the impression of a brick structure.

  “The walls were built in the ‘core and veneer’ style,” Jade explained. “The inner core is made of mud and sandstone. The shaped stones are the veneer. When people lived here, the veneer was plastered over and painted bright colors.”

  “So it wouldn’t be out of the question for something to be hidden within the core of a wall?” Maddock said. Jade shrugged. “It’s more likely than something being hidden under the slab atop Fajada Butte.”

  “I suppose so,” she admitted. “The place is deserted. Let’s find this room, and you do whatever it is you’re going to do before someone shows up. By Chaco Canyon standards, this is the most popular attraction.”

  They quickly located the solstice room. A small, keyhole-shaped second story window was cut into the corner of one of the larger structures. It was about eight feet off the ground, no problem to reach, but it would be a tight squeeze to get inside.

  “Make it quick, Maddock,” Jade said, watching for any unwelcome approach.

  “My, aren’t we testy?” he teased. “I didn’t take you for the nervous type.” He took off his backpack and dropped it at her feet. He’d never fit through the window with it on his back. “Toss that to me when I’m inside.” Not waiting for a response, he sprang up, catching the wider parts of the keyhole with his tender fingertips. He ignored the stinging- at least there were no helicopters around this time- and pulled himself up. It was not easy to find toeholds in the well-fitted stone wall, but he managed and was soon squeezing through the small window. He wasn’t the biggest guy though broader of shoulder than average, but he was forced to go in on his side, which made for an awkward spill down to the bottom. The walls mercifully hid his fall from view.

  “Everything all right in there?” Jade called.

  “Sure thing. Toss me my backpack.” She did not reply, but the black canvas pack came flying through the opening a moment later. He caught it and turned to inspect the opposite corner wall.

  Protected to a greater degree from the elements, the inner walls of this particular room were in better condition than the outer walls. The plaster was still intact in several places, including the bottom corner opposite the window.

  Using a small metal detector, he scanned the target area and was pleased with the resulting squeal that indicated something substantial lay behind the wall on the bottom left, a foot above the floor. Had he not gotten a hit, he would have tried Jade’s radar unit, but he was satisfied. From his climbing gear, he pulled out a spike and small hammer, and began chipping away at the plaster over the area where the detector had found something.

  He felt guilty at damaging a historic site, but he told himself that the damage would be minor, and the result might be of greater historical value. The plaster came away in half-dollar sized chips, and soon he had uncovered a stone two hand widths square. His heart raced as he noted how different this stone was from the others around it. All the rest were thin, rectangular slabs like those he had seen everywhere else. This one was out of place.

  He scoured the surface of the stone, rubbing away the last of the plaster. His fingertips found something strange. Something was carved into the rock! Using the spike, he scratched at the surface. When he was finished, his breath caught in his throat as he stared at it. It was a clover with a cross in its center.

  With renewed vigor, he worked the space around the stone. It was not fitted as tightly as the other stones. The space around it was filled with plaster. He had cleared the area around it and was about to pry it free when he heard Jade called a quiet warning. He stopped and listened.

  He soon heard two elderly voices, one male, and one female, engaged in friendly conversation with Jade. He could not understand the words, but by their tone, it was doubtless small talk that was trying her patience as much as it was his. The conversation finally came to an end, and he waited for Jade to give him the go-ahead, but she did not speak. Should he call to her, and risk discovery? After a count of twenty, he called her name softly, but no answer. He dared not climb up to the window, not without knowing who might be outside. He made up his mind to finish the job as quickly and quietly as possible.

  The stone came free with surprising ease. He placed it on the floor with care and scratched the hard, dry surface of the core. The mixture of mud and rock crumbled at the first touch. An inch below the surface, he struck something solid. Hastily he cleared the dried mud from around it and pulled it forth into the light.

  It was a metal box, seven inches square and four inches deep. The clover and cross of Fray Marcos were engraved in the surface. It was neither hinged nor lidded, but a careful inspection of the bottom surface showed that it had been soldered closed. They would have to take it somewhere else to open it.

  With a pang of regret, he wrapped it in a poncho and stuffed it into the bottom of his backpack. He flipped the stone over to hide Fray Marcos’ cross, and slid it back into the wall. Quietly he gathered the loose sand and plaster and sprinkled it around the far corners. At a casual glance, he doubted anyone would notice what he had done, and how often was someone likely to enter this room?

  Just as he was wondering what to do about Jade, he heard her call to him.

  “Are we clear?” he asked. At her confirmation, he climbed up to the window and held the backpack out through the window. “Careful. It’s heavy,” he cautioned. Her delighted smile was almost as great a reward as finding the box. His good mood was dampened only slightly when he saw that Saul stood nearby, keeping watch. He managed to climb out of the window more gracefully than he had entered, and in a matter of seconds they were headed back through the ancient site.

  “Sorry I ditched you,” Jade said. “Those old people invited me to walk with them, and I couldn’t very well stand in one place all that time without raising their suspicion. Saul showed up a few minutes lat
er, and I told them he was my husband.” Saul smirked and Jade grimaced.

  “So,” Saul said, sounding annoyed that Maddock had succeeded where he had failed, “what exactly did you find?”

  “I don’t know yet,” he said, “but I’ve got a feeling it’s something good.”

  Chapter 9

  Bones had no particular desire to finish the dig. Isaiah had made it through the surgery successfully, but remained in what the doctors described as a “shallow coma”. They assured him this was normal, and, in fact, a healthy way for a person with a brain injury to recuperate. This was not the sort of vegetative state from which patients did not come back; it was simply the body’s way of healing.

  Not completely reassured, but encouraged, he decided to go back to the dig. It was Isaiah’s project, and he felt an obligation to see it through to the end. And perhaps he could pick up some clues to his cousin’s attackers.

  The dig site had changed much in the four days since Isaiah’s attack. The ground around the rock overhang was roped off in squares and digging was well underway. But the dig lacked the pleasant air of people doing what they loved. Everyone worked in sullen silence. Only two of them even looked up from their work to greet him with curt nods. He headed to the rock face where a man in khakis and a starched pink oxford cloth shirt stood with a clipboard in hand, scowling at whatever he was reading.

  “May I help you?” he said in a sour voice, not looking up from his clipboard.

  “No, but I can help you. Your bald spot is getting sunburned,” Bones said.

  The fellow jerked his head up to scowl at Bones. One of the diggers snickered.

  “Thank you. I shall attend to that right away. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Dr. Horsely’s cousin, Uriah Bonebrake. I was helping him with the dig.”

  “I see. Well, I am sorry to tell you that we have all the help we need. I appreciate your visit and will thank you to leave without further disturbing our work.” He turned his back on Bones and walked away.

  “Wait a minute. This is Isaiah’s dig,” Bones protested.

  “Not anymore.” The fellow sounded disgustingly pleased with himself. “Dr. Horsely’s financial backers have placed me in charge. I will thank you to leave my dig immediately.”

  “Who are these backers, mister…?”

  “Doctor. Doctor William McLaughlin. And my backers are none of your concern. Now, if you will please excuse us, we have work to do. The Jesus picture is only the beginning.”

  “The Jesus picture? Have you established that’s what it really is?”

  McLaughlin was offended by the question. “Of course that’s what it is.” He turned and walked away before Bones could question him any further.

  “Pompous ass,” one of the diggers said in a hushed voice. Bones sidled up next to him. “All he cares about is fame.” The man was tall and angular, with an expression of permanent disdain on his sunburned face.

  “How about his backers?” Bones asked casually. “They after the fame as well?”

  “Hardly. I don’t know who exactly they are. No one on the dig knows. But I know they’re Mormons. They want it to be true.”

  “What’s that?” Bones asked.

  “The Jesus thing. Mormons believe Jesus came to America and appeared to the people here. They would love to have the archaeological record support that.” He spat in the dust. “They’re going to spin this their way. No consideration of anything else. Oh, he has us going through the motions of excavating the site, but he’s not at all interested in the artifacts. He wants more Jesus pictures.” He spat another gob in the dust and kicked it with the toe of his boot. “Anyway, how’s Dr. Horsely?”

  “He’s stable,” Bones said. “Still not come out of the coma, but the doctors aren’t too concerned yet. They say he’ll wake up when he’s ready. He’s going to freak when he finds out what McLaughlin is doing to his dig.”

  “No kidding. Well, I’d better get back at it before McLaughlin jumps my case again. He and Orley got into it yesterday. You should have seen it. That old farmer was warning him away from that barn of his with the sick bull. McLaughlin couldn’t care less about the barn or the bull, but he can’t stand to be told what to do.”

  Bones didn’t hear the rest of the story. He suddenly remembered the last thing Isaiah said before going into surgery. Orley doesn’t have a bull. Grinning politely as the fellow finished his story, Bones shook the man’s hand and walked away. Feeling dazed, he wandered back toward the farm until he came to the barn.

  It looked no more remarkable than it did the first time he had seen it: a small, sturdy wooden structure built against the side of a hill, though he had to admit that it was unusual to construct a building directly against a rock wall. He paused two steps from the door and looked around. No one was in sight.

  “Mr. Orley!” he called. “Hello?” He didn’t truly think the old man was around, but no need taking chances. “Anyone here?” He noticed that the door was padlocked. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened. Silence. If there was a bull in there, it was dead. He walked around the left side of the barn. Near the back, the ground had washed away, leaving a hole a yard wide and eight inches deep under the wall. Bones looked around again, then cleared away the rocks and loose. When he could make the hole no deeper without a pick and shovel, he dropped to the ground.

  He lay down on his back and squeezed into the opening. He had to exhale and relax his muscles in order to get his chest and shoulders through, but he made it with only a few scrapes. He climbed to his feet in the dim barn, brushed himself off and looked around.

  It could not properly be called a barn. It was more of a storage shed; a simple wooden building with various tools and implements strewn about. Old bales of straw were stacked to the ceiling against the back wall. Bones pulled one down, covering his face with his sleeve against the thick cloud of dust that kicked up from the old, dry bale. There was no back wall- the shed was three-sided and abutted the rock face. That was interesting. He moved a few more bales out of the way, then, half out of intuition and half out of impatience, he took hold of the two bottom center bales and yanked.

  The middle of the straw wall tumbled down, one of them bouncing hard off his shoulder. Dust burned his eyes and nose. He leaned down, plugged one nostril and blew the other out, then repeated with the other side. Maddock hated what Bones called “the farmer’s handkerchief”, and Bones took pleasure in disgusting his friend from time-to-time. As he was wiping his eyes, he was surprised to feel cool air on his face.

  A four-foot-high fissure, three wide at the base, split the center of the stone wall. This was getting more interesting all the time. He fished the mini Maglite out of his pocket and ducked down to explore the opening.

  The narrow beam of light shone on a long, narrow tunnel only a few feet high leading back into blackness. Never the one to ignore his curiosity, he made up his mind to explore. He had to crawl, holding his light between his teeth. The floor was smooth stone and cold on his hands. He had gone about thirty feet when the passage opened up into a room with a ceiling high enough for him to stand. He played his light over the walls. What he saw made him whistle in surprise.

  The room was roughly rectangular with a fire pit in the center. The walls on either side of him were adorned with pictographs much more impressive than what they had found outside, the likes of which he had seen only in pictures of southwest Indian ruins. There were spirals, handprints, and images of animals. They were beautiful and remarkably well-preserved. But it was the opposite wall that took his breath.

  A large circle, about a foot in diameter, was carved into the wall near the top. Seven straight lines descended from it, each ending in what looked like a hand.

  On the left side of the wall, below the row of symbols, was a scene reminiscent of the “Jesus” picture he had discovered a few days before. It was clear, however, that this was not Jesus. The bearded man led a line of men in Spanish military uniforms, and others dressed in ro
bes. These particular cave paintings clearly were not done by the natives who had carved the pictographs. Though not surprised, he felt a bit of disappointment at the knowledge that this was not Christ. The feeling, though, was quickly replaced by the excitement of knowing that there was definitely a mystery here.

  The men were pictured moving through various scenes with landmarks behind them that probably would have borne significance to someone familiar with the region. On the right side, near the bottom, was a scene depicting the same men bearing heavy sacks, climbing what looked like a giant staircase. The final image was that of a distinctive-looking peak though one that was unfamiliar to Bones.

  Near the base of the wall, a square niche was cut into the stone, similar to those in a kiva. Something glittered in the light.

  A closer look revealed a golden disc about seven inches in diameter, with an image much like the one on the wall carved on the front. Intrigued, he turned it over. Fine writing spiraled in from the outer edge in an ever-tightening circle.

  “Hebrew?” he whispered. “This is crazy.” He took out his cell phone and used the camera feature to snap some pictures. Although his was one of the better phone cameras on the market, it still took several tries to get a few decent shots. He took care to replace the disc just like he had found it. He then took a picture of the front of the golden circle as it lay in the niche.

  He backed up to the fire pit in the room’s center and took pictures of the walls. Suddenly aware that he had spent a long time in this place, he shone his light around the room one last time. Satisfied that he had seen everything, he turned to leave. Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled only two feet before the beam of his Maglite shone on twin shotgun barrels leveled at his face.