“How do we even know the book will recognize the statement about the ten percent contract?” Abby asked.
“The truth is, we don’t know,” Nick admitted. “We won’t know until we try including it for the first time on locating a lost treasure.”
The discussion over Kenneth’s suggestion carried on for another hour before Nick called for a vote. The final tally was unanimous to ask The Book of Lost Treasures to locate any of the rare baseball cards that might still be in existence and lost. It was also decided to use the wording proposed by Kenneth when the request was written in the book.
“Now, when do we want to do this and how?” Nick asked.
Beaming in pleasure over the club’s endorsement of his idea, Kenneth waved his hand frantically to get Nick’s attention.
This time, Nick couldn’t help himself and laughed as he said, “The chair once again recognizes Kenneth!”
“The odds are if there are any of these lost baseball cards left, the map produced by the book will lead to a place a long way away from Pleasant Mountain. We need to be prepared to travel to another city and probably even another state. Since we don’t know how far away or how long it will take us to recover the baseball card, it might take days. Therefore, we need to decide which club members are going to go and then time our request to the book around their schedule. Once we have done that, I would suggest they leave immediately upon a map appearing in the book. There’s always the chance something might happen to the card that prevents us from recovering it if we wait one minute longer than necessary.”
Nick nodded, impressed with Kenneth’s logic. Apparently, he had given careful thought to his proposal, and Nick could find no holes in it. Kenneth had certainly come full circle from being the Doubting Thomas of the club to now someone who eagerly gave suggestions on what to ask the book next, he thought with some amusement.
“Okay, who wants to go?” Nick asked.
Suggestions were bantered back and forth until it was decided that Nick, Mark, and Kenneth should be the club members sent to recover any lost baseball cards revealed by the book. Furthermore, they would make the request of the book Friday morning so they had the weekend to travel and recover any lost baseball cards revealed by the book. Nick was an easy choice, since he had no regular job; Kenneth, since he was the baseball card expert; and Mark, because he had a more flexible work schedule than anyone else. Abby had nixed herself immediately since her classes at TAMU-Texarkana had started, and she already had tests to study for, while Steve and his garage band were playing a gig at a local bar for the next several weekends. Their course of action decided, Nick adjourned the meeting until Friday morning, and the club members drifted home one by one.
Nick was the last to leave, and he and Abby snuggled on the dark front porch for a while. Standing with his arms wrapped around Abby, they kissed and talked for about fifteen minutes or so before Abby told Nick she had to go to bed since she had an eight o’clock class the following morning. Disappointed, Nick managed to give Abby one final kiss before, giggling, she said good night to him and shut the door.
Nick’s disappointment was only temporary. Walking to his car, his thoughts turned to the upcoming search for the rare Honus Wagner baseball cards. Were they really worth more than a million dollars? Were there any more still even in existence? To find even one would make each club member’s share close to a half million dollars apiece!
Nick folded himself into the Sprint and started the little car. Pulling out onto the street, he wore an ear-to-ear smile.
He couldn’t wait for Friday!
Chapter 23
At precisely six o’clock Friday morning, the Treasure Hunt Club reconvened once again at Mark and Patti’s. Sitting at the kitchen table with The Book of Lost Treasures open before him, Nick copied word for word the request Kenneth had composed. As Kenneth held his Android before Nick with the text Nick was copying, the others held their collective breath. When he finally finished, beads of sweat had formed on Nick’s forehead, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand.
At first, nothing happened, and Nick feared they had hit a dead end with this request. However, just as he was opening his mouth to tell Kenneth he was sorry but that it had been a good idea, a now familiar flare of light issued from the book. Astonished, Nick turned the page and was greeted with a series of three maps. The first map led from DFW International Airport in Dallas and went straight west before ending at Albuquerque, New Mexico.
The second map was a detailed city map of Albuquerque, with a golden glowing line leading from the city’s International Airport to an address approximately ten to fifteen miles north- west of the airport.
The third and final map was a schematic of the interior of a split-level structure, obviously a home or house, with the brightly glowing words “Here Lies the Lost Treasure” indicating the location of the baseball card they were seeking!
An explosion of whoops and excited shouting erupted from the club members. By the very act of a map appearing meant there was at least one of the rare Honus Wagner baseball cards to be found and recovered! Dollar signs filled Nick’s vision as he joined the others in loud celebration.
When the excitement finally died down, Patti ran to retrieve her laptop and immediately logged on to the Internet. Moments later, she was searching for flights to Albuquerque from DFW. While she was doing this, the others were discussing the maps that appeared in The Book of Lost Treasures.
“I’ve never seen maps like this appear before in the book,” Nick said thoughtfully. “Its three maps, but they are all related to locating the same lost treasure.”
“I wonder why the first map is obviously a route one would take if flying to Albuquerque?” Mark mused. “I mean, the book could just as easily have produced a road map from Pleasant Mountain to Albuquerque.”
“I bet that whatever is the shortest and most direct route to a lost treasure is going to be on any map produced by the book!” Kenneth exclaimed.
“Who cares? Dudes, we are going to be rich!” Steve cried as he flung his arms around Mark and Nick. His face was flushed with excitement, and somehow, he managed not to spill any of the beer sloshing around in the Texas longneck he held in his right hand. Releasing his friends, he chugged the rest of the beer before setting it down with a loud thump on the kitchen table. Raising his hands above his head, Steve did an improvised Rocky Balboa imitation.
Although Steve’s reaction had Nick grinning in amusement, a small thought had managed to creep in the back of Nick’s mind. Was Steve genuinely excited, or was it the beer making him react in such a way? It seemed to Nick that Steve was drinking more than he usually did. In fact, this increased drinking seemed to coincide with the establishment of the Treasure Hunt Club. His train of thought along this line was interrupted as Patti, who had left to retrieve something from her printer, burst back into the kitchen.
“Here are your boarding passes!” she gushed as she passed them out efficiently one by one to Nick, Mark, and Kenneth. “Your flight leaves DFW at one twenty in the afternoon and arrives in Albuquerque at two fifteen in the afternoon. They are on Mountain Standard Time, so set your watches back one hour.”
Nick, Mark, and Kenneth had already packed in anticipation of having to make an out-of-state trip, so it was a simple matter of throwing their bags into the Expedition and climbing into Mark’s SUV. Mark kissed Patti good-bye, with Nick doing the same to Abby. As they backed out of Mark’s garage and pulled out onto the street, the remaining club members waved at them enthusiastically as they drove away.
The quest for the rare Honus Wagner card had begun!
Other than the usual hassle of getting through security at the Albuquerque airport, the hour and a half flight to Albuquerque went by without a hitch. They had spent most of the time on the flight studying and discussing the third and final map in The Book of Lost Treasures. Apparently, the baseball card they were seeking was secreted behind something mounted on a wall. As to what that something wa
s, the book’s map, surprisingly, did not provide them with a clue. They wouldn’t know until they got to the home or house. However, it meant they would need to make a trip to a hardware store to secure tools to excavate or pry whatever it was from the wall in order to get to the baseball card.
Once they arrived at the airport, they immediately collected their bags and went to the rental car section and rented a car. Getting a recommendation from the rental car clerk on a good nearby motel, they piled into the white Dodge Durango they had rented and set out to find the motel. As promised by the clerk, the motel was just a short distance from the airport. Pulling up to the front lobby of the La Quinta Motel, Mark got out to secure them rooms for the night. With him, he carried a debit card issued to the Treasure Hunt Club, as all their expenses would be paid for by the club. A short time later, he returned, and they trooped to their room on the first floor of the motel. Stowing their bags and belongings in the room, they left and immediately set out to find the location of the lost baseball card.
Getting into the Durango, Mark drove, while Nick sat in the passenger seat next to him, with Kenneth in the backseat.
With The Book of Lost Treasures open in his lap, Nick fed Mark directions. Other than stopping at a nearby Home Depot the motel clerk had steered them to in order to buy the tools they needed, they headed straight to the address indicated from the map in the book. As they followed the roads and streets outlined by the book’s map, the expanse of the Rio Grande Valley stretched out below them to the west. A strip of bright green vegetation grew on either side of the meandering flow of the Rio Grande River, while, in contrast, the mesa that spanned the land north and west of the valley was a drab brown of desert grasses and cactus. To the east, the Sandia Mountains towered over the city of Albuquerque, its rocky peaks thrusting upward toward the blue azure sky.
Less than twenty minutes later, they crossed a bridge that spanned the Rio Grande River. Wide, shallow, and a muddy brown color, the Rio Grande flowed in a southeasterly direction toward its ultimate destination of the Gulf of Mexico. Looking up from the book as they crossed the Rio Grande, Nick curiously studied the muddy river so prominent in southwestern lore. He saw numerous sand and mudflats scattered throughout the river’s basin, and a thick belt of cottonwood trees grew in profusion on either side of the river’s edge.
Although he was slightly disappointed at having thought the Rio Grande was a much larger river filled with a much larger volume of water, he had to admit it was still an impressive sight!
Having crossed the river, Mark turned the Durango right on a broad avenue named “Rio Grande Boulevard.” Traveling north, the map in the book indicated this road would lead them to their destination. Adobe houses and other structures, indicative of the southwestern architecture so prevalent here, appeared on either side of the road. As they drove further, the rural nature of the area became more pronounced, as fields of alfalfa began to appear. Irrigated by a series of ditches whose water was provided by the nearby Rio Grande, these patches of alfalfa dotted the land at intervals, along with the occasional barn, corrals of horses, and grazing cattle. Huge cottonwood trees grew everywhere, some with their massive boughs actually overhanging the road.
However, it was apparent to Nick, especially as they drew closer and closer to their destination, that the rural nature of the area was definitely in transition.
Small adobe houses existed side-by-side, huge, gated mansions. Expensive Mercedes, Lexuses, and BMWs appeared in the expansive multi-car garages of these mansions, while battered pickups and small fuel-efficient cars were parked in the blue-collar yards of the mansion’s neighbors. It was an eclectic mix of rural and urban, rich professionals and working-class poor. There was not the slightest doubt in Nick’s mind that should he pay another visit to this area in the next five to ten years, it would have been completely transformed into an upscale stretch of real estate, where only the very wealthy could afford to live.
“Is that it?” Mark asked, interrupting Nick’s thoughts as he pointed to an adobe house on their right with the address of 12573 Balcones Southwest. Checking quickly with the map in the book, Nick saw that it was the same address on the map, and he nodded his head affirmatively.
Pulling into a dirt alley beside the adobe structure, Mark killed the engine and they all got out of the SUV. Checking his watch, Nick saw it was a little past four o’clock. Studying the house, he saw several of the large cottonwood trees grew in the front yard. The day was hot, and sweat trickled down Nick’s face as he, Mark, and Kenneth moved in for a closer view.
A cracked concrete sidewalk snaked from a wooden one-car garage located beside the house and led to an open and spacious front porch. An old Ristra, or wreath of dried red chili, hung from a peg beside the front door. An ancient chain-link fence completely surrounded the modest front yard of the house, while the unfenced back of the house led to a large, open field. An old, Farmall tractor sat rusting away on the north side of this field and was canted to one side, due to one of the large rear tires being completely flat. Wild sunflowers grew in profusion within the field, their graceful stalks rising high above the hardy grasses and weeds that grew thickly on the ground beneath the sunflowers’ yellow blooms.
Quickly stepping into the shade provided by the cottonwood trees, Nick saw a realty sign planted in the front yard. The name “Chavez Realty and Associates” was on the sign, along with the company’s phone number. Nick looked over at Mark. He nodded that he too had seen the sign. Continuing on, they rounded the corner of the chain-link fence and came to a gate in the fence. Nick, Mark, and Kenneth filed through the gate and went up to the front porch. Peering through the dusty front window, Nick cupped his hands beside his head and attempted to look inside.
Although only dimly illuminated by the light coming through the windows, Nick saw that the inside of the house was deserted. There wasn’t a single stick of furniture in sight, and even from his imperfect view from the window, he could tell the house had been vacant for some time.
Trying the front door, Nick quickly determined it was locked.
Looking over at Mark he asked, “Now what do we do?”
Shrugging, Mark replied, “We call the realty company.”
Nick watched Mark take out his cell and punch in the phone number on the sign. After a moment or two, someone answered, and Mark spent the next five minutes chatting with that person. Finally, he smiled and said good-bye, flicking the cell phone shut and pocketing it.
“Well, I have good news and bad news,” Mark announced.
“What?” both Nick and Kenneth blurted in unison.
“The bad news is this property has already been sold, and the new owners closed on it last week. The realty company just hasn’t had time to take their sign down yet.”
A collective groan immediately issued Nick and Kenneth.
“However, therein also lies the good news!” Mark continued, unperturbed. “It seems a developer bought this property with the intention of tearing down the house and subdividing the land into at least three lots. Since the house is going to be torn down anyway, I convinced the associate I talked with to allow us to search the house for, er, things of value. Naturally, I mentioned the ten percent contract we would offer his company for anything we find.”
Nick gave a huge sigh of relief, immensely glad that Mark’s quick thinking had turned a potential disaster into an advantage.
“Now, when the realtor gets here, let me do all the talking,” Mark warned. “If he asks either of you anything, just play along with whatever I’ve been saying.”
“You got it!” Nick stated, a sentiment echoed by Kenneth. With that, they settled down to wait for the realtor.
A single locust began to trill on one of the nearby cottonwoods and was soon joined by other locusts in a chorus of loud buzzing. Impatient, Nick walked around to the back of the adobe house. Wiping a film of perspiration from his face with his shirtsleeve, he stood with hands on hips as he surveyed the area behind the house.
Trees and bushes grew thickly next to the field, with an old irrigation ditch running parallel to the property line. The Sandia Mountains rose in the distance, its majestic peaks now covered in a mantle of angry gray-black rain clouds.
From his distant vantage in the valley, Nick could actually see the sheets of rain that were falling on the Sandia’s western slopes. As he stood mesmerized by the sight, he observed an occasional bolt of lightning flash through the slanting rain.
“Nick! The agent is here!”
Startled by Mark’s voice calling him, Nick quickly gathered his wits and made his way back to the front of the house. He arrived just in time to see a young Hispanic man exit a black Cadillac Escalade. Slender and of medium height, the young man’s face cracked into a friendly smile as he shook hands first with Mark, and then with Kenneth and Nick.
“Gentlemen, my name is Robert Mondragon. I’m a junior associate with Chavez Realty. What can I do for you?”
Mark introduced each of them to Mondragon and produced a business card, which he handed to the realtor. It had The Treasure Hunt Club embossed on its face, along with a list of the club’s officers, business address (Mark’s), and phone number (also Mark’s).
“As I explained on the phone, we are in the business of finding and recovering antiquities and other unusual artifacts. We would like to search this house in hopes of finding something of value.”
The realtor, his face a mask of confusion, said, “But the house is vacant and has been for months! There’s nothing inside the house, no furnishings or anything!”
“I realize that, but our company has a rather extensive data- base, and this house was flagged as definitely having possibilities,” Mark replied smoothly. “You see, some of our greatest discoveries came from places no one else thought to look. By the way, do you know anything at all about the history of this house or area?”
The Treasure Hunt Club Page 19