The Treasures of Death Valley

by Tom Hunter

  “Sir, I have your report. Are you ready to hear it?” Miss Welker was curt, but polite. In social situations, where he was uncomfortable, she was great. When she addressed him directly, he wished she’d just speak and get on with it.

  Noah signed and waved his hand for her to go on, “Yes, tell me what you’ve found. Though I think I can guess its contents. Not much progress to date, am I correct in assuming so?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Miss Welker began. “We’ve stationed the team at Red Wall Canyon, near Death Valley Park, per the leads we’d uncovered in the journal. So, we’re sure we’re in the right place. Further, our leads suggest the cave we seek, where we believe the treasures to be, have been filled and hidden. It seems that over the years, earthquakes and natural disasters filled and hid the caves, essentially sealing them,” she explained. “So, while we are in the right area, it will take some time to figure out which section leads to another entrance. It should be quite similar to the one we found near Mustard Canyon; the one Knight led us to.”

  Miss Welker paused scanning her report for details. “The diggers have found only a few incidental artifacts; stone tools, chunks of painted stone, a half-rotted leather harness, and even a few jewels from well-picked over veins. But nothing beyond that.”

  Noah furrowed his brows in frustration. He couldn’t do much, yet. But he knew one thing: Thomas Knight and his team would be back at it soon. Their skills, coupled with his, might help him get his treasure after all. And once he’d solved the secrets of the Ashbridge Journal, he could go anywhere and do anything.

  “Oh, before I forget. One final thing.” Miss Welker held up her index finger.

  Noah nodded, “Go on.”

  “It has come to our attention that one of the rangers has requested more money. We’re being extorted by one of the Death Valley Park Rangers. I knew there’d be trouble with those little maggots,” Miss Welker spit venom, as she thought of the foolish little man who had dared to ask her.

  “It has come to your attention?” mimicked Noah.

  “Fine. The brazen fool walked up to one of our team, and demanded more money, if truth be told. Really, how much does one need to just look the other way?” She shrugged. To her mind there wasn’t much difference between them hearing about it or the man coming to them directly. But, whatever. She mentally rolled her eyes at the tediousness. She knew what was coming. But she was paid to tell the man everything, and tell him she did.

  Noah sat back vehemently. His gut instinct had been to order her to bury the man in a sand dune somewhere. But, the whoosh of air as he sat back closer to an air conditioning vent cleared his mind somewhat, and he discovered he had a better solution to this little problem. “I’m already paying considerable wages out of my own family’s coffers – not the business mind you, but my own pocket – to keep these pups from barking too much. What did he ask for?”

  “Double,” replied Miss Welker. “Ramon,” she went on, “is of the mind to teach the ranger a lesson. Beat or kill him to send a message. He’s worried, as am I, that if the ranger does go public – which is his threat – it would undo your lawyer’s work, to keep Thomas Knight’s charges wrapped up in legal purgatory ad nauseum.”

  His eyes twinkled at the thought, but he shook his head sadly, “No, that will just make any problems worse. The problems that public brutality could hold far outweigh any potential benefits, especially since the ranger is a federal employee. I have long arms, but they’re not that long – yet.” Finally, Noah, pulled up his chair close to his desk and leaned forward, his elbow on the desk and his own index finger raised, “I would like to have a few words with the ranger, however. Perhaps, we can come to some kind of…agreement.” A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes deadly.

  “I will bring him to you straightaway.” And taking her cue from Noah’s curt nod of dismissal, she left.

  Alone again, Noah picked up the book, examining its binding, the leather strap around it and, when he opened it to the first page, the signature. Not a man to leave a stone unturned, he picked up a magnifying glass nearby to make sure the signature wasn’t a forgery of some kind. One could never be too careful in this business. He should know. He was one others needed to be cautious of. Really, the man should be more careful who he hired, he thought, a sardonic grin on his pasty face.

  Once he confirmed the journal did indeed belong to Reginald Ashbridge III, he turned a page or two, before he came to a map. It was a vague map of the region with strange markings. He’d seen those markings before, cryptic notes from Ashbridge III – something he’d seen in his grandfather’s study so many years ago. “So, there is more to the story,” he said under his breath. “More to the story of the mine.”

  Noah stared at the map. It was vague, but the stories he’d heard as a child all agreed – Death Valley, near Mustard Canyon. But, the journal was in pretty good shape, considering its age. But, what better place to preserve these pages than a cool, dry cave deep below the earth?

  Under his breath, he muttered to himself as he flipped the pages, “Okay - you old codger, what did you find? I know it was something big, so big it put our family name on the map. You didn’t get it all, well, according to what you’ve written here. If you did get it all, where the hell did you hide the rest of it?”

  Eleven

  Abby Hogan had been in mother hen mode all day. She’d gotten everyone into their rooms, had dinner ready at seven, and everyone had pitched in to clean up. She smiled as she thought about how readily a group of daring, accomplished, adventurers had accepted her mothering.

  It had been hours since they’d said their goodnights, and most everyone was in their rooms. Everyone, except Alexia. She hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d come back down to the study. Somehow, she felt the most comfortable there. Even though it was now empty, if she closed her eyes, it almost felt like home. From an open window down the hall she could hear crickets.

  Still dressed from the day, except for her shoes, Alexia tapped her index finger against her lips, thinking. Staring out the large window, in the study overlooking the backyard, she muttered to herself, “Am I in way over my head here?” She answered herself, “Probably.”

  A door creaked behind Alexia. Having been lost in her thoughts, she jumped. She whirled around to confront the intruder, and found herself face-to-face with Thomas Knight.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “Well, you did. I nearly jumped out of my skin!”

  “Sorry, again.” Thomas looked down sheepishly. “I was just on my way to the bathroom and didn’t realize anyone else was still up. I heard a voice coming from here.” He scuffed a toe at the plush carpet, and held up his beard comb.

  Alexia laughed softly, having seen him use that comb all day. It was like a nervous twitch, she imagined, or some kind of OCD; she wasn’t sure which. “Really? You comb your beard before you go to sleep?” She looked at him half quizzically, half worried, at what other strange habits might abound in the man.

  He smiled, “Got to look my best for the pictures, you know. I can make a joke of it, too,” he said, his eyes twinkling. Then, as if the thought had just struck him, he changed the subject. “I know why I’m up,” he began, holding up his beard comb again. “But, why are you up, Alexia?”

  “Just thinking, and you can’t beat the view,” Alexia smiled, and gestured to the immaculately manicured yard, colored the kind of green she’d only seen in The Wizard of Oz.

  Thomas nodded, smiling, then softly said, “Bullshit. There’s a window in your room with the same view. You could have stayed up there.”

  “How do you know what the view from my room is?” asked Alexia, partially to put the ball back in his court, and partially to get him off the topic of her thoughts. So, help her, if he asked for a penny, she’d give him pound.

  “I’ve known the Hogans a long time. Abby is great, and I think I miss Mr. Hogan almost as much as she does. That coral brooch she wears, that was on
e of his last gifts to her. I’ve stayed in that room. Your room. Hell, I’ve stayed in all of them, at one time or another. But, you haven’t answered my question.” Thomas finished.

  “There’s a lot to process. Think about it. I met four new people today, that I’m gonna have to learn to trust quickly – and I don’t trust easily – and on top of that, this place…it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but…” her voice trailed off, and her sharp look gave Thomas the clue he needed.

  “But, you feel like you don’t belong here. Feel like you’re in over your head?” he asked, picking up her train of thought. He nodded at the look in her eyes. He knew that look. He’d had it once himself.

  “You’re right. Weird, that is exactly what I was thinking, when you snuck up on me.” The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.

  “I did not-!” He stopped, when he saw a smile play at the corners of her lips. “Fine. Please continue,” he encouraged.

  She laughed, their little exchange already working its magic. Some of her tension had been released. “Seriously, though, you’re right. I’m a mechanic. I fix things. I’m not an adventurer or a treasure seeker. I’m still not sure why Abby called me, and then this place…well, it’s all a bit much. So, yeah, to answer your question, in a nutshell, I feel like I’m in over my head.”

  “Why?” Thomas asked.

  “Look around you, Thomas.” Alexia spread her arms wide, toward the immaculate backyard, and the study in which they now stood. “I’m not used to this. All this. This huge house has five people in it, but there’s no sound save the crickets chirping. I’m used to noise, a lot of it, and a lot of people in close quarters. If I close my eyes, I could be at home or camping. I was brought up simply. This is all just a bit…overwhelming.” Alexia knew she was overusing the word, but she couldn’t help it. There was no other word for how she felt. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say? It’s late, and I’m probably not making any sense.” Alexia looked down at her hands, noting her unkempt fingernails, then up into Thomas’s understanding eyes. He’d never looked away from hers. A sign of respect she appreciated, and something else, she couldn’t quite place her finger on. All she knew was, his smile made her feel more at ease. Then, when he touched her hand to get her attention again, she shivered.

  Thomas marveled that such small hands could have chosen a maintenance craft. It was clear the woman possessed a strong mind. It took skill and intelligence to maintain the kinds of things she would be in charge of: diggers, power shovels, 3D image mappers - and without thinking, he reached out to touch her hand. “What would you say to a glass of wine to calm our nerves? You up for it?” Thomas asked.

  Alexia nodded.

  “Good. I know where Abby keeps the good stuff,” he said, with a conspiratorial wink.

  Alexia laughed, “Abby won’t mind…?”

  “Well, she’ll mind, of course. But, this is my idea, so I’ll take the bullet, jump on the grenade, etc. It should make for an interesting show. I think you’d enjoy it.” He made such light of it, Alexia laughed more heartily than she had in a while.

  “Well! Who could say ‘no’ to that?! My knight in shining armor, first to steal, and then to lay himself upon the carpet of repent,” she quipped, following him out of the study, and toward the cellar. As they walked, Thomas stopped.

  “Uh, this is where I was headed initially,” he reminded her. The bathroom. He held up his beard comb again and said, “let me comb first, then we’ll get that drink. To do anything less would be uncivilized.” They chuckled.

  “That’s from a beer commercial, you know,” corrected Alexia.

  “Yeah, I know. But, if the shoe fits, as they say.”

  “Well, you’re just full of quips and proverbs and commercial slogans, aren’t you?” she asked, standing patiently as he combed his beard.

  “Got to keep you on your toes. There! Better isn’t it? It will not do, to be all scraggly looking while having a drink with a lady.”

  Alexia rolled her eyes and laughed, “Perfect!”

  Taking her by the arm, they marched on toward the cellar. Alexia shook her head, and smiled.

  Twelve

  While Thomas Knight and his team had been dining, visiting, and sleeping at the Hogan Estate, Noah Ashbridge, had been burning the midnight oil. He’d been up all night, reading every page, checking every cryptic note, and looking for watermarks. He’d combed that damned journal line by line, trying to make sense of it. At some point, he’d remembered another treasure trove he had – of letters and other artifacts – handed down to him from his grandfather Reginald III. He hadn’t looked at these letters and photographs in quite some time, and realized these weren’t proof there was a family legacy: these were proof Noah’s father, Clark, had been right in committing dear old grandfather to an asylum. When Reginald had died, they’d tried to bury his secrets with him. But, he’d pulled one over on them, and willed these documents to Noah.

  What was it he had said? Noah tried to recall. Something about giants in the Earth? Monsters? “No,” Noah breathed. Then, under his breath, “Grandfather Reginald always said, there were monsters, giants in the earth, and that it was they who had made us rich. They had shown or given him relics, which he’d claimed to have found. He then sold them, to build our family fortune…” His voice trailed off, immersed in memory, incredulous at the thought. He shook his head as he leaned back in his chair, the book held at arm’s length.

  Giants? Monsters? Father was right, Reggie was a fool. Sighing heavily at the thought, he placed the heels of his hands on his desk, about to shove away and go to bed, when he the door opened.

  “Why doesn’t anyone knock, any more!” Noah blustered, frustrated and tired. Ah, yes. Miss Welker, of course and…who is this? Noah wondered. He was too tired and exhausted to notice the uniform of the man, a Death Valley Park Ranger.

  “What are you doing here, so goddamned early? Leave me in peace and come back…”

  “I see you’ve been burning the midnight oil, Noah. It’s noon.” Miss Welker stated matter-of-factly.

  Noah looked up at his clock, noted the time, then looked from Miss Welker to the man she had in tow, “Ah yes, so it is. Then this fellow must be the ranger you spoke of the other day.”

  “Yes. Allow me to introduce Ranger Pedro.”

  Noah noticed immediately the ranger was missing his gun. Either Miss Welker or Ramon had confiscated it, he supposed. The man before him was of medium build, tanned caramel colored skin just beginning to turn to leather in the hot desert sun. Noah guessed his age around late 30s, early 40s. He wore the park ranger uniform well, and did his best to seem authoritative and demanding, in this small room. Noah couldn’t help but smile. Too bad the guy was out of his depth. He might have hired him, eventually, for other projects. But not now.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Pedro.” Noah reached across the desk to shake his hand. “I have asked you here to discuss your request for increased pay. Honestly, I must ask the question. Why?”

  “Is necessary. More diggers come. A new dig site has been authorized in Mustard Canyon. That means more travelers, more people to watch. More work,” Pedro explained.

  “And what makes you think only you should receive the increase?” Noah asked.

  “I work hard. Harder than everyone. And…” Noah cut him off.

  “I understand why you may think that. But, from what I have seen, everyone works hard. Everyone at my dig site works very hard, Pedro,” said Noah. “While I appreciate your looking away, in regard to my hiring and smuggling of illegals to do the manual labor, please understand, I am already spending a lot of money. I believe there is treasure where I seek it, but I do not know for sure. This is a gamble for me. Do you understand what I mean?” Noah asked.

  Pedro nodded, “Si. Yes, I understand. But…”

  “Pedro,” Noah stopped him with a look. “I will ask you this only once. Will you reconsider your request? Please, think carefully before you answer.”

 
Pedro shook his head. “I want double. Double what you pay. This is California, and even here, is expensive. When I look away, others must look away. You are not the only team digging here, and the questions are starting. I must also give money to keep people quiet,” explained Pedro.

  Then, almost as an afterthought, Pedro went on, “And no, ah, funny business. I have told friends, colleagues, where I am. They will know to come for me. Here. I don’t want no trouble, and I think neither do you.”

  Clearing her throat, Miss Welker warned him, “Mr. Ashbridge is not a man to trifle with, Pedro. Your threats are futile to a man of his influence.”

  “Thank you, Miss Welker. I can take it from here. Now, where did I put it?” Noah rifled through the papers on his desk, looking up at Pedro periodically. “Ah yes, here it is.” With a flourish, Noah pulled a small envelope from the papers on his desk and handed it to Pedro.

  Pedro took the envelope and sensed immediately something was wrong. It was too thin. This man didn’t write checks; he worked in cash, and Pedro liked it that way. This envelope should have been fat.

  Pedro tore open the envelope, and removed two photographs. One, of his wife, and the other, his two daughters. Both had been taken outside his home in Millspaugh, California.

  He knew better than to ask, but he did anyway, “What the meaning of this?” he asked, holding the photographs, and shaking them at Noah.

  “Let’s call it a warning. What I mean by that is, if I were to bend and give you more money, it’s like giving a mouse a cookie. Once you develop a taste for it, you will want more and more and more.”