A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1)

by James R. Callan

  #

  Suddenly, Mark sat up in bed, his mind completely alert. He glanced at the soft glow of the clock. 5:52. He’d been asleep maybe ten minutes. What had awakened him? For several minutes he didn’t move, his ears straining to pick up any unusual sound. Finally he said, “Shannon?”

  “Yes, Mark?”

  Okay, he reassured himself. The computer system is working. So, nobody has come down the drive, or else Shannon would have alerted me. And it isn’t likely that anybody came through the woods. That’s pretty tough in the daytime, even if you know where you’re going. At night, impossible. Still ... .

  “Shannon, outside lights on.”

  In less than a second, the computer began turning on the exterior lights. Within five seconds, more than two acres of land surrounding the house were illuminated. He peered out the window. Nothing moved on this side. This is ridiculous, he told himself. There’s nothing out there. Next thing, you’ll be looking under the bed. Even as he berated himself, he went into the den and looked out the window. Nothing. Of course not. What’d he expect?

  He made the rounds, pausing at one point to issue another command to Shannon. Finally, at 6:01, he told the computer to turn off the outside lights. Mark climbed into bed for the third time this night.

  Once again, his mind refused to quit. Someone could have come down the drive before he got home, he realized. The computer would have announced the person or car, but Mark would not have been there to hear it. Tomorrow, he would program Shannon to store the image, date and time of any arrivals if Mark wasn’t there to respond to the message.

  Was he being paranoid? Absolutely, he told himself. But it was only a small amount of program code, so why not? Besides, it would be nice to know who had been there when he was away, even if it was just a delivery truck. Like an answering machine for visitors. He drifted off to sleep, mentally writing the necessary instructions for the computer.

  Chapter 37

  BY 8:15, the entire office was buzzing. Almost everybody had noted the broken windows before they entered the building. Those who did not, saw Mark’s note and immediately headed for the computer room to inspect the damage and see how it would affect their work. Mark’s message had simply stated there was a fire and made no mention of a bomb, the police or likely motives.

  Bobby Don Russell, the computer technician, was the only one working. He had cleared some of the mess and righted the two cabinets. He had disconnected cables going into the RAID, put a call into the service center that he used to repair IRS computers, and was now perched on a charred stool, taking the case off a damaged server so he could study the inside.

  Sally, Phil, JT and Pam all shook their heads at the destruction, then wandered back to the coffee room. Phil had gently suggested the rest of the IRS staff get back to work.

  “Mark didn’t put a time on his note. Wonder when this happened?” asked Sally.

  “It must have been pretty late, or he’d already be back in this morning,” said Pam.

  “It happened at 2:28”

  JT said it so softly that Sally wasn’t sure what she heard. “What did you say?”

  “It happened at 2:28 this morning. I was running a 'search and check' series overnight. The database stopped responding at 2:28:05. The program sent a query every few milliseconds. That’s when it stopped getting data back.”

  “I had one running, too,” said Sally. “But I hadn’t thought to look at my log.”

  “ Okay. We know when. Anybody got any ideas on what caused it?” asked Pam.

  “I guess it could have been an electrical fire,” Sally said and looked over at Phil. He was running his finger around the rim of his cup, a sure sign he had an idea. “What do you think, Phil?”

  He continued to stare at his mug. “Hard to say.”

  “True,” said Sally. “But you have some ideas. Share them with us.”

  Phil was obviously reluctant to talk, but when the three women continued to stare at him, he took a deep breath, let it out slowly and started. “I don’t know all the facts, not nearly as many as you. But I’ve heard enough to suspect this was not vandalism. Crystal’s grandmother’s house was burned, and somebody died. Mark and Eddie Ray went looking for a couple of thugs. JT, you said Eddie Ray was still missing. I’d say the damage was the result of a firebomb tossed in a window.”

  “Firebomb?” said Pam, her voice conveying the alarm she felt.

  “Good God, Phil,” said Sally.

  Phil looked at the others. “Anything else we know that might have a bearing on this?”

  The four exchanged looks, but no one had anything to offer.

  “Has anybody talked to Mark since two-thirty this morning?” Phil asked.

  JT and Pam indicated they hadn’t. Sally spoke up, a mixture of apprehension and disbelief in her voice. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. But you asked me to share my thoughts. Crystal, Mark and JT are in the middle of this—at least it looks that way from what little information I have. JT is here. I’m just saying that two of the principal players are not here. And Eddie Ray—the only link with the bad guys—is nowhere to be found.”

  Sally took a moment to collect her thoughts. “So you’re saying it’s tied to Crystal’s problems somehow.”

  “No. I’m saying that’s the only connection I’ve come up with. Unless somebody here has made a customer really unhappy.”

  The corners of Sally’s mouth turned down slightly when she thought about the only leads: a puce 4x4 and a fire-breathing car. Were the arson in Wooden Nickel and the fire at IRS really connected?

  She stirred more sugar into her coffee. “He wrote the notes after the fire. So I guess he wasn’t hurt. You really think it was a firebomb?”

  “Looks like it to me. I’ve seen some before, when I was in the service. And the next question that comes to my mind is, why was Mark here to write the notes?”

  JT spoke quickly. “The police called him.”

  “That’s my feeling, too,” said Phil. “Could have been the fire department. But, if it was the police, that adds more weight to the bomb theory. And what would start a fire in the middle of the floor? Which is where this fire started. Someone here start smoking?”

  No one laughed.

  “Where’s this leave us for the presentations Tuesday?” Pam asked.

  Phil scratched his chin. “Mine is just slides and talk. Doesn’t affect mine, unless the slide projector was in the computer room, which is unlikely.”

  Sally took a sip of coffee. “We weren’t ready without this disruption. What do you think, JT? Can we pull it off?”

  “If Bobby Don can get us a computer by tomorrow, yes. In fact, we have enough data on my machine to make a demo. But we might have to work this weekend.”

  Sally was less confident than JT, but it wasn’t even her own project that worried her the most. Crystal’s project lagged further behind than hers. And all the IPPI data they had loaded was probably lost. Could they postpone the visit?

  “Hi, gang. Guess you all know we’re going to redecorate the computer room.” Crystal tried to sound light and casual, although she did not feel that way.

  The questions came in a rush. Crystal answered them as best she could, without divulging Tom’s theory that the fire was connected with the assaults on Nana.

  Her gaze took in JT. Her lower lip was trembling ever so slightly and it was clear to Crystal that JT was on the verge of tears. “JT, what’s the matter?”

  “I’m worried about Eddie Ray. It isn’t like him not to come home. I mean, when he hasn’t in the past, I knew why. He was mad or something. But everything was fine with us. And he left Luis and just didn’t come back. And now this. . .” The tears began to flow. “He said they threatened to kidnap Luis if we didn’t help them.”

  Tears gave way to sobs and Crystal put her arms around JT trying to comfort her.

  “Is there somewhere you can take Luis where he’ll be safe, like your mother’s,
or a sister or brother?”

  JT’s arms went around Crystal and she held on as if Crystal might try to escape. She was quiet now with only an occasional shiver running down her body.

  Pam offered a few words of encouragement and left. Finally, blowing her nose loudly and wiping her eyes, JT said her mother lived in Fort Worth and had a different name and nobody should find Luis there. She’d take him there tonight.

  “Why not pick him up right now? Don't wait; take him immediately. You’re going to feel a lot better, and so will Sally and I.”

  “I couldn’t take off right now. I’ve caused so much trouble and gotten our project behind and now, with the fire and all ... Dr. O’Malley will fire me.”

  “He won’t fire you,” Sally said. “Just go take care of Luis.”

  JT still looked reluctant.

  “Look, JT. When Mark’s away, who is in charge here?” Crystal asked.

  “Phil.”

  Crystal looked at Phil.

  Phil pursed his lips and nodded once sharply. “Mark’s gone, so I’m in charge and I’m telling you to go take care of Luis. That’s your job today. And we want you to do it right now.”

  Crystal took over. “Take him to your mother’s. You know he’ll be safe there. You’re not going to get anything done here today, anyway.” She saw the worried look on JT’s face. “Nothing’s going to happen to Luis. But you, and Sally and I will all feel better when you’ve done this. And Phil. So, get your purse and go.”

  JT wasn’t completely convinced, but she left the coffee room and headed for her office. A few minutes later, she came to the door, thanked Crystal, Sally and Phil, then left.

  #

  A little after nine, the intercom buzzed on Crystal’s desk. Pam told her Mark had arrived and gone to the computer room. “Just thought you’d like to know.”

  When Crystal got there, Bobby Don was giving Mark a status report on the extent of the damage and what he was doing to restore the functionality of each damaged item. But it wasn’t Bobby Don’s optimistic outlook that got Crystal's attention. It was Mark's appearance. While he did not usually wear a coat or tie at the office, he always looked like he could be in a Neiman Marcus ad. She and Pam were talking about it one day and Pam described Mark's dress as 'casual elegance'. This morning, however, he had neglected the elegant part. He wore faded jeans, a wrinkled knit shirt, and ropers that probably dated back to his rodeo days. He looked freshly shaved, but his eyes gave the impression that he hadn't slept at all.

  He and Bobby Don exchanged a few more thoughts on the repairs and then Mark turned to Crystal. "Well, Bobby Don says he'll have your RAID back on-line sometime tomorrow. He hopes. That's the good news. The bad news is that you'll most likely have to load all your data again. Not positive on that yet, but be prepared for it."

  "No problem. Can we go to your office and talk?"

  Mark looked a bit surprised, but nodded and headed down the hall, Crystal lagging two steps behind. Once inside his office, she closed the door and sat down in front of his desk.

  " Okay. What's on your mind?" he asked.

  Crystal wasn't certain exactly how to put it, so she opted for bluntness. "Mark, you've got to get out of this. They've firebombed your business. Things are getting too rough."

  “Getting rough on me? Four inches to the right and that bullet could have killed you.”

  "Only one inch to the left and it would have missed me altogether," she countered.

  "Don't give me that argument. I carried out research in information value theory and it applies to this case very nicely. The inch to the left may be more likely, but the results don’t change too much—from a scratch to no scratch. But results from the other possibility change drastically—from alive to dead."

  "Aren't you being a little dramatic?"

  "No. Realistic.”

  Crystal looked at her boss. “I'm in this because Eula is my grandmother, the woman who raised me, who taught me to experience and enjoy the world. She is my only living family. But you ... ."

  Mark put up both hands. "Hold it.” His demeanor had changed from mildly amused to deadly serious. “This isn't about Eula, as much as I like her. This is about Mark O'Malley. You're right. They firebombed my business. My business is me. That makes me a full-fledged, dues-paying member of this little rodeo. And one of the things I learned early in my rodeo days is that the most dangerous time in a bull ride is when you try to get off.”

  He paused and placed his hands flat on the desk. “Remember that picture of me your grandmother told you about? The one they captioned 'And the Bull Jumped Over the Moon'? Well, that happened because I turned my back on the bull. I thought someone else was taking care of the bull. I didn't make that mistake again in the arena. And I’m not making it here."

  Crystal studied the man in front of her, trying to penetrate the steady stare and read his thoughts. The only thing she saw was a steely determination. Slowly, she grinned. For the first time, Crystal was beginning to see Bull O'Malley.

  Chapter 38

  “EULA, this is Mark O’Malley.”

  “Hi there, Bull. How’s the rodeo business?”

  “In the past, I’m afraid. If I got thrown today, I doubt I’d be able to get up.”

  “I’d bet money, marbles or chalk you would. I don’t think you’re the kind to stay down long. Now, if you’re calling me up for a date, I’m going to have to turn you down. There’s this guy that says I can’t go out in public. Got to stay hid. Like a rabbit.” She laughed. “Or you got something else on your mind?”

  Mark had yet to talk with this woman when he didn’t smile. “I’d have to say he gave you good advice. However, today, I wanted to ask you about your lake and The Park.”

  “Well, I’m an authority on both. Let’s have your questions.”

  “This is going to sound a little silly, but I’m trying to correlate your lake and some folk tales about lost gold.”

  “I certainly consider The Park a gold mine.” She laughed. “Crystal told me there was some nonsense about gold in my lake.”

  “JT, a lady here in my office, has tracked down a lot of information on this folk tale. Much of it does seem to fit your lake. Probably a hundred other lakes, too. But there is one point that doesn’t fit.” He paused just a second. “All the versions she found specifically say the wagon was pushed off a cliff. Now, on the east side of your lake, there is a steep hill. But it could hardly be considered a cliff.”

  “No, I reckon not.”

  Mark started to speak, but something in the way she ended the sentence stopped him. He could almost hear her mind tracing something back through time. He waited.

  “Not now, anyways.” Eula was quiet for a moment, then continued. “But back when I wore pigtails, it was an honest-to-goodness cliff.

  “I remember Billy Wayne Simmons stripping off his shirt and then his britches, right down to his under shorts. I was a mite embarrassed. Course, not so much I didn’t look. He backed up a few feet, said, ‘Told you I’d do it and here I go.’ He took a run and jumped off the cliff, screaming like a Banshee. He was holding his nose and his feet was still running even when he was out in the air.

  “Well, I was a little scared, seeing as how I was the one what dared him to do it. I ran to the edge just in time to see him hit the water like a fat bullfrog. Seemed like a long time before he came up, and I don’t think I breathed the whole time he was under water. But he did come up, coughing and sucking air. And then he was looking up to see if I’d watched and grinning like a kid stomping in a rain puddle.”

  Eula was silent and Mark could picture her smiling to herself. He remained quiet, not wanting to intrude on her memories. After several seconds, she continued. “You know, I haven’t thought about that in sixty years, I reckon. But Billy Wayne told me he saw a wagon wheel down there on the bottom. Said he almost touched it, but run out of air and had to get back to the surface.”

  Mark felt his pulse quicken. “A wagon wheel?”

 
; “That’s what he said. Course, I didn’t believe him. Thought he was just trying to impress me.” She giggled. “He’d already done that. I don’t mean by jumping off the cliff, though I never would of done it. But I was impressed when he stripped down to his shorts. That was a sight. I’d never seen a boy in just his under shorts before. Back in them days, you didn’t.” She paused a beat. “I’d seen lots of wagon wheels.”

  Once more, Eula retreated into her own thoughts. After a minute, she said, “Billy Wayne went to college and later wrote a book. It told you how to be happy. I always figured if you had to read a book to know how to be happy, you weren’t going to be.”

  “What happened to the cliff?”

  “‘Bout the time Dan and I got married—no, it was a bit later—a big chunk of it sloughed off. And over the years, it just sort of wore down. It’s still a nice hill. But it was an honest-to-goodness cliff back when Billy Wayne stripped off his pants.”

  #

  Mark put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. That wasn’t exactly what he’d wanted to hear. He was trying to find data that would debunk this silly notion that gold might actually be hidden in Eula’s lake. He knew the cliff was a consistent feature in the various versions of the folk tale JT had uncovered. Now, Eula was telling him there used to be a legitimate cliff over her lake. And maybe a wagon wheel on the bottom. Of course, wagon wheels were common back then.

  Still, logic dictated that gold in a lake in a populated area for nearly two hundred years would have been discovered. And if it had been found, you’d think there would have been a mention of it in a newspaper or a history book. Did JT do as good a search trying to disprove its existence? If it hasn’t been found, then it’s still there. Somewhere.

  Mark mentally shook himself. If any gold was dumped into a lake in the first place. There’s no hard evidence; just folklore.

  He could see how Eddie Ray, or Joe and Al could get obsessed with the idea. Gold had the power to draw you to it, and its shine could blind you to reality.