Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold

by David Leadbeater

  Taking his words as their cue to continue, the team moved out. As they walked, Alicia turned to Caitlyn. Though reassurance was not normally a weapon in Alicia’s arsenal their newest recruit had been through enough severe adversity of late, enough to warrant an exception.

  “I heard it mentioned before that many other treasure hunters have sought out Montezuma’s treasure. Now, I understand where we’re different, having the old warriors’ notes at our disposal but surely at least one of the prospectors should have come close to finding it.”

  Caitlyn bobbed her head, black hair ruffled. “One man in 1914 brought photographs of petroglyphs from Mexico, convinced that they stated the treasure had been brought here, an instruction from the old Aztec priests. Skeletons were soon found, even staircases cut into the rocks—later attributed to the Anasazi, but no treasure. Another location was Three Lakes, where men ended up scuba diving, attesting that they found a man-made entrance at the bottom of a lake. The men never returned and the find was later denied by locals.” Caitlyn shrugged. “Truth? Conspiracy theory? Locals with Aztec ancestry protecting their heritage? Nobody knows. Montezuma’s treasure is as much a grand old fable as the Holy Grail and the actual Pacific Treasure Island. Before Michael came along the most accepted story was the one where a struggling and well-liked prospector and his wife were shown a cave of riches by local Indians, allowed to leave with a cache of the treasure, but blindfolded so they would never be able to find the cave again. Apparently, the prospector had saved the life of one of the Indians’ wives. The man settled close by but never did find the cave again. Now, that area is at the junction of two rivers—the Colorado and the Virgin, and since that time the Hoover Dam has been built . . .”

  Caitlyn paused for effect.

  Alicia finished. “Leaving the cave underwater?”

  “Actually under Lake Meade.” Caitlyn shrugged. “Perhaps it was a whole different treasure. Who knows?”

  Alicia nodded at their leader. “He does.”

  “You’re that confident?”

  “I’ve worked with Crouch a long time, mostly indirectly. If he said the Holy Grail was hidden in the Ghost Train ride at Blackpool Pleasure Beach, I’d follow him inside.”

  Caitlyn laughed as the team went east, spying several rock domes on the flats way below. Staying on an eastern heading the trail again dropped sharply. Another wash claimed them from view for a while, the dry creek displaying not even a trickle of water today. Alicia knew that in times of rain it could fill treacherously fast but saw no danger in the blazing sunshine that was starting to creep down the sky vault above.

  “See that ridge?” Crouch said as they again ascended. “It’s slickrock. We head that way. Keep it in your sights.”

  Using the ridge as a marker, Alicia trusted to their boss’s instincts and research sense. If he was winging it he was doing a good job of hiding his speculations. All the while he and every other member of the team kept their eyes glued to the landscape, searching for rocks of waves, canyons, mushrooms and arches, but the lines of the poem were as ambiguous as a politician’s election promise. After a few more moments Russo spoke up.

  “Damn, I just spotted Coker’s team. They’re on top of the first creek bed, heading our way.” He pocketed his small pair of Steiner binoculars, infrared lens still flashing. “Bloody bloodhounds.”

  Crouch pursed his lips. “All right,” he said. “Then we go to plan B.” He sent a private smile in Alicia’s direction, knowing exactly who the phrase reminded her of. “A few more miles and then we stop for the night. We’ll grab a few hours’ kip and then head out when it’s still dark and whilst they’re still snoring.”

  “Break camp?” Healey asked. “They’ll surely have a scout on us by that time.”

  “Leave the camp in situ,” Crouch said. “And risk that we’ll find what we’re looking for before we need it again.”

  “Couldn’t we just—” Alicia made a sniper’s shot with her fingers. “You know.”

  “I want no further loss of life on this trip,” Crouch declared. “We’re hunting treasure, not lives.”

  “And if they don’t feel the same way?”

  “Then I guess that’s a whole different story. But we will not fire first. Understood?”

  “Sure.”

  As they approached the slickrock ridge, Crouch pointed out the best place to make camp; one with a narrow ravine at its back that offered a covert escape route under cover of darkness. Risky, he confirmed, safety-wise, but the forecast was for no rain throughout the next several days. The team made a show of setting up several makeshift tents and lighting a small campfire as the sun began to wane in the west. Russo and Healey were assigned to keep a close but surreptitious eye on their followers, in case Coker’s crew suddenly decided to come in for a closer inspection, but the ex-Ninth Division soldiers soon reported the formation of a similar camp a few miles away.

  Alicia made her way to the top of the ridge as the western horizon became a broad, fiery expanse of vibrant color but it was the bleak land below that drew her attention. The land was uninhabited, wild, free. With freedom came a particular loneliness; it had been the darker side of the pendulum her entire life. Cut loose and leave those who cared about you far behind or stay with them and feel limited. Would she ever learn?

  The train of thought brought more recent complications to the surface. There had been a time a few months ago when she thought an old flame might be rekindled, the one man that had held and impressed her year upon year, a man that offered limits she would like to be a part of, but then his old flame stepped into the breach.

  Alicia sighed. Who knew what the future held? Treasure? Pandora? And after that?

  She turned her back on the freedom in front of her as she saw into its true heart, noted the wrenching seclusion, and made her way back to the companionship offered by her team.

  *

  As the campfire flickered, waxing and waning across the assembled faces, Cruz suggested they tell old ghost stories. Caitlyn blinked and Crouch fixed him with a stare before realizing the Mexican guide was joking. If they’d had time Alicia would have liked to quiz Caitlyn further, to dig into the real reason behind her leaving MI6 at such a young and promising age; she might even have liked to get to know both Healey and Russo a little better, but now wasn’t the time. Their little sham was working; nobody from Coker’s team had ventured closer than a mile since they set camp, most likely thinking they wouldn’t be crazy enough to set out through this wilderness at night.

  It was Crouch’s only thought. The maps he’d brought were explicit in their detail of the land’s topography—they wouldn’t fall down any unexpected canyons and despite dangers like quicksand, deep stitches in the ground and a hundred other pitfalls—and he remained incredibly determined to continue. The discovery of the Aztec gold was now within his grasp—just one of many boyhood dreams that had chased him down the years, unending, magnificent in its scope and, until quite recently, just another vision out of reach. A fantasy.

  Some people dreamed of fast cars. Island paradises. Movie celebrities and music stars; youthful aspirations and goals that faded as the weight of the world grew heavier with every passing year. Michael Crouch’s somewhat sentimental dream had never waned within him—he was a treasure hunter through and through.

  Allowing Coker to simply tag along and lead him straight to the Aztec gold was not a possibility.

  As soon as he deemed it murky enough, Crouch signaled to the team. Nobody had slept; the tension was simply too high, the risks too great. Sleep could wait until tomorrow. With adrenalin pumping, the five men and two women crept through the narrow ravine and over the slickrock ridge and into even deeper darkness, using the silvery moon and starlight to guide them. Crouch took several moments to regain his bearings before continuing.

  “Slowly now,” he whispered. “One slip and we’re done for.”

  “You really think those bastards won’t have seen us?” Lex wondered.

 
; Alicia glanced speculatively toward Russo and Healey. “Not if these two fine soldiers did their jobs properly.”

  The camp had been veiled, disguised to match what the enemy would expect even down to lumps in the sleeping bags. The gamble had been played. They were all in now. The backside of the slickrock ridge was unexpectedly steep, falling at a far sharper angle than the front. After a quick consultation Crouch stuck closely to the line he’d already drawn, bearing south.

  “Stay as high as you can,” he passed along the line as they traversed the ridge. “The further we descend the steeper the fall.”

  Alicia stuck to the narrow path, taking great care where she placed her feet. The going was made harder by the vistas that opened up to every side, temptations offered with each passing step. After ten minutes of cautious walking, Crouch stopped and pointed ahead.

  “See the large mountain? That’s where we’re headed.”

  “You sure?” Cruz sniffed, gazing back and forth with more than a little skepticism. “One place looks pretty much like any other out here, especially in this light.”

  “Of course I’m not sure,” Crouch snapped, the tension of the situation getting to him. “But we have to trust the old warriors. You of all people should know that. And for the rest of us—mostly soldiers—the notion of following their lead is nothing more than natural.”

  Cruz bent his head. “We’re just following in the footsteps of thousands.”

  “That we are,” Crouch said. “But even now no official trail of this region is provided to hikers. They are left to navigate and fend for themselves. The entire area is a challenge where travelers must find their own route. It’s very common for people to get lost and never find the landmark they’re searching for.”

  Alicia checked on Lex. The biker, along with Caitlyn, was struggling more than a little, but the terrain ahead was starting to ease somewhat. With more time to scan her surroundings, Alicia looked to the mountain ahead, noticing for the first time the long, vertical crack in its side.

  “Well, that’s a great landmark,” she said, nodding. “Surprised the Aztecs didn’t use something like that.”

  Crouch shrugged, still staying high on the ridge but walking easily now. “Perhaps it’s too obvious?”

  Russo, who had been trailing behind, now caught them up. “No pursuit,” he said. “I figure we’ve gained at least an hour on them. If all continues like this we should pull out two or three.”

  Crouch nodded, not stopping. Using flashlights at the more awkward places, the team continued south, alert for anything. At this point, Crouch wasn’t particularly worried about missing a clue or even the treasure itself—the line he had drawn through the map pointed toward many more hours of travel yet. They squeezed past the sandstone slabs, bearing toward the marker, and passing two large buttes not surprisingly known as the Twin Buttes. Crouch checked the land’s layout, directing them to the right and through yet another wash. Caitlyn swigged from a bottle of water and again recited the poem out loud.

  “As if we could forget,” Russo grumbled.

  “One thing I’ve learned is you can’t be too prepared,” the young woman said. “Because whatever you do—life will surprise you.”

  Alicia again wished they had more time. Caitlyn clearly had something she was struggling with. The one good thing about their new situation was that Healey was staying close—maybe the two younger members of the crew could help each other.

  Across to the opposite side of the wash they circumvented two multi-colored domes, the whole team in awe of the area’s beauty, its natural wonder. Alicia imagined the Aztecs wandering this way for the first time and being party to so much idyllic scenery—perhaps they’d imagined they’d been blessed by their gods after so much toil and travel. Maybe that was why they secreted their heritage out here.

  The sandy path now continued in an upwards direction, passing by the domes and entering a new section of the land. Crouch forged on ahead.

  And suddenly stopped, switching his full beam on for clarity.

  “Oh my.” His back was stiff, frozen. “This . . . is more than unnerving.”

  Alicia slipped around him to investigate, then stopped in stunned disbelief as many flashlights lit the scene. Before them lay a phenomenon unlike anything she had ever seen. Depressions and hills in the rock were formed of thin ridges of undulating, wave-like patterns, eroded by time and runoff and wind ripple. The rolling forms appeared to blend into each other, one vivid, colorful sandstone swelling rolling into the next.

  “Fantastic.” Caitlyn said. “Carved by the elements.”

  “It sure is stunning,” Healey said. “See how the whole landscape rolls.”

  “Not only that,” Crouch breathed. “It is our ‘rocks of waves’.”

  Caitlyn smiled. “The first landmark. Though I guess it’s not exactly definitive.”

  Alicia studied the many-hued chutes, marveling at their permanent yet eternally fragile appearance. This was the wild earth revealed in all its splendor, a dramatic piece of isolated beauty.

  “Once you’ve experienced something like this,” she said. “How will Oxford Street ever look good again?”

  Russo eyed her. “Somehow you don’t strike me as a girl that shops on Oxford Street.”

  Alicia narrowed her eyes. “Nah, but I might actually strike you.”

  “Next, the Shield Arch,” Caitlyn said. “Which is more of an Aztec reference don’t you think?”

  Crouch picked his way carefully through the small canyon. “I agree, since their shields were quite distinctive. Let’s keep moving. We couldn’t do better now than to get this landmark at our backs to help throw Coker off our scent.”

  Continuing past the phenomenon and down the far canyon the group resumed their march. Time passed, measured only by the sound of their own breathing. The night began to wane, giving way to the early beginnings of a superb sunrise. By now the canyons and washes were beginning to blend in to one another, but Crouch kept them on as straight a course as possible. Arches did indeed grace the surrounding landscape, but none that resembled a shield, and none even close to Crouch’s planned route. Down a scenic canyon they walked, stopping to drink from a trickling spring situated to their right. After that Crouch pointed out a fault-line crack in the canyon and matched it to the plotted course on his modern map.

  So far, their route matched the one originally taken by the old Aztecs.

  More fault lines passed. If this were rainy season they’d be walking downstream, or worse. Other canyons branched into their own and at each one Crouch took a good look around, searching for the next landmark.

  Eventually, he paused.

  “So this is Paria Canyon,” he said. “Which makes that—” he indicated an open seam to their right “—Wrather Canyon.” He stared toward its extremes. “Do you see that?”

  Alicia peered hard as the sunrise made a heady blush of the horizon. Not far, possibly no more than a slight kink away from Crouch’s hand-drawn line, stood a high arch. Alicia squinted.

  “The Shield Arch?”

  “It’s the closest yet to the shape of an old Aztec shield and the only one on the right path.” Crouch nodded. “The Wrather Arch I believe it’s called.”

  “Is it on our route?”

  “Within a hair’s breadth, I’d say. Either way it’s the only arch on their route so far that’s shaped like a shield.”

  “Wait.” Caitlyn had advanced further into the canyon and was peering hard around its natural curve. “There’s another. And another. In fact, they all pretty much look the same.”

  Crouch moved to her position. “All right,” he said in a rather lackluster voice. “Let’s take a look.”

  Arches were common to this part of the world, Alicia soon realized. Caitlyn soon pointed out several more as they gained a higher position.

  “The Wrather Arch is still my favorite,” Crouch said now that they stood beside it, gazing up at its truly amazing formation. He motioned back toward the trail
. “And only a moment’s walk from our trail.”

  “How can you be so sure the trail stays so perfectly straight?” Healey asked.

  “In truth, I can’t,” Crouch admitted. “Except for the expertise of the Aztecs themselves. If they wandered through this desolation, we’re lost. But then so would they have been. Making their route arrow straight worked in more ways than one, including as a form of backward navigation. I repeat – the Wrather Arch is the closest to our trail—I say we count it as a clue.”

  Despite the doubt, Alicia felt the excitement creep into her gut. “What’s next?”

  “But heed our warnings to the mushroom rock.”

  Alicia peered ahead. “So what the hell are we waiting for? Treasure this valuable doesn’t just find itself.”

  TWENTY FOUR

  The canyon soon began to widen, Crouch marveling at the emerging layers of sandstone that continued to make a miracle of the surrounding rock. The miles lay behind and before them, but despite their lack of rest none of them complained of weariness. Yes, the treasure had been waiting five hundred years, and no it could not wait a moment longer. Crouch kept in touch with their benefactor via satphone, carefully arranging their protection and cover for, if and when the find was made—another secure measure in place to negate the effects of Greg Coker and his trailing band of mercenaries.

  They negotiated some large boulders that had all but blocked the canyon at some time in the past; an obstruction that might put off all but the most ardent of explorers. Beyond the boulders the slight trail grew into the closest thing yet that resembled a path, twisting away from the broken walls of the Paria and on into the distance. The path turned and bowed but always came back upon itself, following Crouch’s line closely enough that he didn’t feel the need to call a detour. Canyon walls rose and fell to each side; buttes and washes dotted the way, natural springs burbled along time-bled stitches in the rock.

  Alicia saw the mushroom-shaped rock first. She stopped and pointed to the right and at the same time Crouch gestured to the left.