by Claryn Vaile
Contractors and hotel engineers could be heard toiling on the mezzanine above her. Bursting with revelation, Rebecca went in search of Manuel and Lochlan, the two men whose knowledge of hidden history had engendered her insight and who would know – hopefully – what should be done about it.
Manuel’s eyes widened as Rebecca revealed the potential hiding place of the Keep’s golden treasure. The contractor shook his head and smiled at his own blindness.
“A good Christian all my life,” he said at last, “Yet I have walked by this image of the Virgin Mary a hundred times over the past few months and never seen it.”
“Why would you?” Rebecca said. “It’s just a discoloration in the stone. The pattern used to be partially obscured by a band of onyx about seven-feet high. All the columns in the atrium were banded at that same height. As best I can make out from old photographs, the bands were removed sometime in the 1930s. Probably part of R.J. Kuhrsfeld’s attempts to strip The Keep of its mystical powers.”
Lochlan studied the image, marveling. “It fits with the Knights Templars history,” he said. “It was religious faith that inspired the true ‘Soldiers of the Cross’ in their quest to regain the Holy Land for Christianity. They served the Church and pledged allegiance to the Pope --- and the Holy Mother. They invoked her strength and prayed to her for victory. The crusading knights sought the Virgin’s favor with their valor in battling the Arab infidels.”
“So Mary’s likeness would be the perfect marker for what the Knights Templar held sacred and precious.”
“The Keep’s buried treasure.”
“Wow,” the construction boss and the engineer murmured simultaneously, trying to appear nonchalant as the threesome strolled away from the spa entryway stone.
“Now what?” Rebecca asked when they’d found a quiet corner away from others’ earshot.
“Now we delve,” Lochlan said. “Manuel, you have a friend with a metal detector, right?”
“The newest best imaging ground scanner,” Manuel confirmed.
“We’re lucky they’re doing all this work in the lobby, tearing up the floor. Shouldn’t be too hard to convince Security that scanning the area is all part of the job. How soon can you arrange for your friend and his equipment?”
“For this? Tonight. How can we wait? My friend, he is an expert with the device. He has located many valuable objects in the ground. He is also a Masonic brother. He can be trusted.”
“I still can’t believe they didn’t let you go along,” Maureen said as she and Rebecca sat nursing drinks and killing time at Baby Doe’s Irish Pub, a block away from the Griffins Keep, “especially since it was you who told them where to look.”
Rebecca drummed impatient fingers on the bar. “It’s killing me,” she admitted. “But they were right to do this without me. Lochlan and Manuel and his friend Gregorio are all well known to the hotel security staff. Their poking around the current lobby construction won’t arouse suspicion. My presence there at 9:00 at night, on the other hand, would be difficult to explain.”
“I suppose.”
“Lucky thing there aren’t any big events planned in the hotel this evening. Fewer potential witnesses to worry about.”
“Corporeal witnesses, at any rate,” Mo half-teased. “You can bet The Keep spirits – especially the Templar knights overseeing the place – will be paying rapt attention to the gentlemen with the mysterious underground scanning device.”
“What if they actually discover something? What would it mean?”
“Well, for one thing, it would confirm all those treasure rumors that have floated around since before the hotel opened. For another, it would prove that there are secrets in The Keep’s past we can only guess at. Always good to pull the rug out from under complacent historians, if you ask me. They’re such know-it-alls. Need their perceptions of the past rocked every now and then. And, by extension, their perceptions of the present.”
Rebecca smiled at her roommate’s jibe and clinked her raised glass to Mo’s. “Here’s to totally rocked historians, among whom I count myself foremost at this moment. And to unexpected paradigm shifts that allow us to see in the dark.
“What’s taking those guys so long?”
The Surf’s Up security guard on duty in the basement glanced up from his PC just long enough to acknowledge the three familiar workmen heading for the service stairs.
“Hold on a minute, guys,” he ordered just before Gregorio ducked out of sight. “Is that a metal detector you’ve got there?”
Gregorio paused but did not falter. “Yes, it is,” he said. “Do you know something of them, my friend?”
The guard smiled broadly. “Hell yeah, I know something of ‘em,” he said. “My crazy brother-in-law’s like an amateur treasure hunter. Lemme see that thing.”
Gregorio had no choice but to oblige. Lochlan and Manuel backtracked to flank him.
“Whoa! State-of-the-art 3D deep-scan imager. Oscilloscope, value bar. real-time analysis of target depth, shape, size and type. These mutha’s cost a shitload,” he said, checking out the instrument. “Lookin’ for buried treasure yourselves?”
The three chuckled jovially.
“If only,” Lochlan said. “Much more exciting than scoping out plumbing. No, we’re just supposed to pinpoint the location of buried pipes so the new lobby feature installation doesn’t puncture any of them. Pretty routine. Pretty boring, I’m afraid.”
The guard frowned. “I’d think you’d have schematics for that sort of thing.”
“Schematics, sure. But there’ve been so many alterations to The Keep over time, this is the only way to be sure exactly what’s where, you know?”
“Yeah, OK,” the guard said. “Seems pretty late for you guys to be working, though.”
Manuel shrugged. “Tell us about it,” he said. “Just when we thought we were done for the day, we are told we must have this completed by morning.”
“Work’s a bitch, all right,” the guard empathized. “You guys’ll let me know if you find any golden stash, right?”
The workmen laughed at the idea.
“You’ll be the first to know, amigo,” Manuel assured him as they turned again to climb the stairs to the lobby level.
As they made their way toward the right-hand side of the former Grand Fireplace, Lochlan and his two co-conspirators cast wary glances about the atrium lobby.
Gregorio set right to work, sweeping the floor beside the Madonna pattern in the onyx with the detector head. The oscilloscope automatically compensated for the magnetic and electrical effect s of the soil and mineral strata at various depths. The LCD screen displayed images of the layers beneath the surface. “This depth analysis feature can detect underground cavities and chambers,” he explained as they watched the display intently.
Nothing unusual. Was Rebecca’s hunch wrong? Gregorio pushed the detector right up to the base of the stone entrance below the Virgin Mary. She seemed to gaze down at it serenely.
“Look! There’s something here. A shaft, much too regular and squared for a natural feature. This was made by man.”
“How deep is that?” Lochlan asked.
“About 15 meters. As deep as this head can probe.”
“The shaft obviously goes deeper,” Manuel said.
Gregorio reached into a canvas bag of accessories. “This large head can see even farther down,” he said, attaching it to the probe. “Generally, the longer the target has been buried, the more it will have oxidized and the greater the depth at which it can be detected.”
“The value bar identifies targets as one of four categories,” Manuel explained. “Gold, Valuable, Steel, or Iron. It can also detect non-metallic containers.”
Their eyes never left the screen as Gregorio methodically moved the larger head around the stone column. The squared shaft appeared to continue. Down and down. At 21 meters, it opened out into a large cavity, made visible by a red line on the screen.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” M
anuel could scarcely contain the excitement they all felt.
Within the chamber, the imager detected a non-metallic object, a box or a trunk, 4.8 meters long by 2.6 meters wide by 3.3 meters high, buried beneath the lobby floor.
“Damn! That’s gotta be as big as a dumpster.” Before Lochlan could ask what it was, the value bar displayed the answer in large red letters.
“GOLD”
The engineer quickly computed the mental math. “Nearly 40 cubic meters of gold!” he calculated, astonished. “How many solid ingots would that equate to?”
His compatriots stared at the display, momentarily too stunned to move or to think.
“Turn off the screen.” Manuel ordered Gregorio, quietly but urgently. “There are surveillance cameras in the lobby. They must not see.”
His friend complied instantly. “There is a treasure here,” he whispered breathlessly. “The largest treasure I have ever found, by far.”
Chapter 24
The pleased pirate expression on Lochlan’s face as he approached the bar telegraphed his announcement.
“It’s real.”
Rebecca and Mo leapt from their stools and embraced him simultaneously. Other Baby Doe’s patrons looked over, wondering at their public display of elation.
“I can’t believe it,” the historian exclaimed in a whisper.
“Believe it. It’s real. And it’s huge. But we can’t talk here.” He grabbed Mo’s drink, downed the last of it, and tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the table. “My place is nearby. Let’s go.”
“Where are Manuel and Gregorio?” Rebecca asked as they hurried from the pub.
“Still at The Keep, pretending to do a little work in the lobby, trying to take it all in, no doubt. You were right about the hiding place,” he said, embracing her impulsively. “That beautiful Madonna kept her secret from all but you. Gawd damn, this is exciting! Wait’ll you hear just how exciting. It exceeds even the most farfetched of my crazy expectations. They weren’t crazy! I’m not crazy! The Freemasons’ secret treasure exists.”
Lochlan’s Capitol Hill apartment occupied one side of a turn-of-last-century stone duplex. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered two walls of the front room. Through an arched doorway, Rebecca glimpsed part of a piano and a music stand. A polished brass magnifying glass on a stand flashed in the lamplight on a rolltop desk by the bay windows.
“Please, sit ladies.” Lochlan motioned to the worn leather sofa with an antique steamer trunk as its coffee table. The beautifully polished hardwood floor shone between large Turkish rugs. The vintage light fixture had been rescued from the trash heap after a Keep remodel several decades earlier. The stained glass window in the transom above the front door was one of many that had once graced the hotel’s original ballroom. The place smelled subtly of wood and incense and bookbindings. Rebecca felt instantly at home.
Too excited to sit, she loosed her volley of treasure trove questions. “How deep? How big? How much do you think it’s worth?”
No less impatient than his visitors, Lochlan hastily related the 3D groundscanner’s revelations. “Staggering, really, when you think about that much gold, what it would be valued at, what it could buy….”
“We can buy The Keep! We can wrest it from TITHE and undo all the awful changes they’ve made, take it back to its original glory. The Freemasons would approve, don’t you think?” Rebecca ventured hopefully.
Lochlan shook his head. “The treasure may technically belong to TITHE, since it’s buried under hotel property. Ownership in this case would be a very interesting question. It certainly doesn’t belong to us.”
“No Finders-Keepers law? Are you sure? What if we could recover it in secret and no one else would ever know the source of our sudden windfall? Couldn’t you claim to have inherited some castle estate in Scotland from a long-lost relative or something? We can’t just leave it there, now that we know. How could you dangle the golden carrot and snatch it away so quickly?”
Lochlan put a finger to his lips, signaling her to hush. He leaned back against the desk, hands braced on both sides, and glowered at Rebecca from beneath graying brows.
“We can just leave it there,” he said, “And we must.”
Maureen understood. “The Freemasons buried the gold for a reason, Beck,” she said. “It’s empowered the Griffins Keep for more than a century. It’s crucial to its function as a spiritual portal and sanctuary, as much as the alignment and the sunlight and the underground aquifer.”
“Not just the Keep, but the prosperity and success of the whole city may be derived from the Freemasons’ buried gold,” Lochlan explained. “Remember, the entire hotel is a cornerstone, the cornerstone of Denver. The oscilloscope showed the treasure chamber in a sandstone strata, sandstone comprised of billions of tiny quartz crystals.”
Mo extrapolated. “The sandstone transmits the fabled elemental properties of the gold – its aura of power and immortality -- not only throughout The Keep, but throughout the entire area.”
“I don’t care about the entire area,” Rebecca said, aware of how petulant she sounded. “Denver’s big enough to fend for itself now. I only care about the Griffins Keep. And if finding this treasure isn’t a godsend enabling us to save it from indignity and degradation, then…well, then I don’t know what.”
Her fervor fizzled. She knew Lochlan and Maureen were right. Leaving the treasure in situ and perpetuating the secret were imperative. They dared not undo all that the Freemasons had brought into being with secret rituals and personal sacrifices about which they knew nothing.
“What about Manuel and Gregorio? What if they have different ideas about the treasure? What if one or both of them can’t resist bragging about what they’ve found?”
“After considering all the tantalizing possibilities, they will come to the same conclusion,” Lochlan was confident. “They themselves are Freemasons. Even if they share the news with their brother Masons, it will go no farther. Brookings knew that when he left the Lodge the clue to the gold’s whereabouts. These guys have been keeping secrets for centuries, don’t forget.”
Rebecca blew out her breath, relenting. “The earth revolves around the sun,” she said, citing what was once a much bigger secret.
“And we’re not the center of the universe.” Lochlan smiled and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
A heartbeat later, animating with an impromptu Highland Fling, he declared in his best Scottish brogue, “Doesna mean we canna celebrate the hell outta this momentous discovery! Will ye bonnie lasses join me for a wee dram o’ my finest whiskey? I’ve been savin’ it for just such a fateful occasion.”
That night after Maureen went home, in his mahogany four-posted bed, Rebecca and Lochlan made love, rapturous and transcendent.
“Oh, Pete, no!” Rebecca reacted to the assistant manager’s news, remembering the inspiration he’d taken away from his visit to the archives months ago. “You can’t leave. You love The Keep. I was counting on you to move into upper management and advocate for the hotel’s history.”
“I do love The Keep, you’re right,” Pete conceded after divulging the news that he’d given notice. “That’s exactly why I have to go. We’ve talked about this, Rebecca. You understand. The Keep is losing its heart and soul, incrementally, day by day. Everyone who knows the hotel feels it. I thought I could make a difference, thought I could stop it, but I can’t. The new owners don’t give a damn about anything but profit and exploitation. I can’t stand to watch them bleeding her to death anymore.”
Rebecca hugged him, unreasonably hoping to hold him in place forever. Of course he had to go. He cared too much, just as she did. Recent developments were wearing him down, demanding more compromise than he was willing to make. The instincts for integrity and self-preservation would serve him well, wherever his future path led him.
She wanted so much to tell Pete about the Masonic treasure beneath the entrance to the Spa. Wanted to restore his faith in The Keep magic. But the secret w
as not hers to reveal.
“Before I go, I have something to share with you,” he said. “I got this a couple weeks ago on etsy.com. I check that site and eBay periodically for Keep memorabilia up for auction. Got it for $19. You’re gonna drool with envy.”
From his inside jacket pocket, Pete produced a tarnished silver teaspoon.
“Where did it come from?”
“An antiques dealer in San Diego. I contacted her, told her I worked at The Keep. But she had no memory of how it came to her. Knew nothing about its origins.”
In the bowl of the spoon, a bas relief showing two sides of the Griffins Keep. Atop its handle, a number of symbols. “Don’t know if they’re Masonic or Templar or what,” he confided. “But look here, on the back of the handle: ‘100% Colorado silver.’ How rare is that?”
Rebecca took historical stock. “This has to be from the earliest years of the hotel. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like it. May I?” she asked, holding out her hand.
“Obviously some of these symbols, like the unfinished pyramid on the top of the handle, are Masonic. But the crossed miners’ pick and sledge, the three snowcapped mountain peaks, the rods bundled together with the ax head – these are all elements of the Colorado State Seal. The ‘G’ in the center of the triangle is definitely Masonic, like the G for Geometry inside their square-and-compass symbol.”
“Or it could just be a ‘G’ for Griffin,” Pete pointed out.
Rebecca had to smile at herself. “Guess my imagination could be making me see Masonic secrets where there are none.”
“See here on the back of the handle,” Pete directed, taking it back. “Green: Smith Co. – Denver.’ I did some research in old city directories at the History Colorado library and found out there was a silversmithing company owned by a Mr. Elias Green in Denver around 1890, on Blake Street. His advertisement said that he specialized in custom pieces.”