The Emperor's Treasure

by Daniel Leston

  David sat back in his chair, his eyes turning to the tattered vellum painting.

  Or had they?

  It was mid-afternoon when Pilar and Torres returned with a suitcase containing her few belongings—plus some basic information acquired at the county clerk’s office in Enid’s town hall. After leaving Indian Town they’d taken the time to swing in and pull what background could be gleaned on En-Tex Environmental.

  “Then that’s definitely the people we should be looking at?”

  “No question. I figured as much, but needed confirmation. It’s the only possible candidate in the immediate area where Peter was dropped off.” He paused and eyed the service cart. “Is the coffee—”

  “Still hot, I believe. Please go ahead. Both of you.”

  “I’m famished,” said Pilar, smiling as she quickly unwrapped one of the sandwiches. “We were going to stop for lunch, but everything took longer than anticipated and we knew you were waiting.”

  David gave Torres a few moments to pour and sip at his coffee.

  “So what did you two find out about the company?”

  “Well, not as much as I’d hoped. Wish to hell it was more.”

  He paused to pull a pad from his shirt pocket, referring to his notes.

  “Seems the property—which runs just over eight thousand acres—was purchased roughly five years ago, bought from a former cattle rancher who’d apparently fallen on hard times. Near as I could see—and I’m certainly no authority on speculative land pricing—the rancher made out like a bandit. By my estimation, he received considerably more per acre than it was really worth.”

  “En-Tex Environmental was the buyer?”

  Torres nodded.

  “A year later they applied for a series of re-zoning permits, allowing them to construct two buildings with private road access; one a single story office, and the other a high bay structure allowing for some sort of storage containment. It’s really not clear what was actually intended—or, for that matter, what the company actually does. The wording they used in their applications was all somewhat vague and unspecific. What is evident, however, is that they take their privacy very seriously.”

  “How so?”

  “When the buildings were put up they were enclosed within a sizable area of high-security fencing. Still are, in fact. Beyond this, all of the surrounding property was heavily posted with ‘no trespassing’ signs.”

  “Any local employees?”

  “None anyone knows about.”

  “And no one finds this curious or disturbing?”

  Torres lifted his shoulders.

  “Setting aside the suspicious behavior, the last I looked this is still a free country. I’m bound by the law. Everything they’ve done so far has been strictly by the book. Unless specific laws are violated, or serious complaints lodged against them, they’ve as much right to all the privacy in their daily business operations as anyone else.”

  He finished the last of his coffee, giving a sympathetic glance at Pilar before saying, “I really should be getting back to the office. Truth be known, I strongly suspect En-Tex probably had at least some direct connection to Peter’s death—yet for the life of me I don’t see how we can possibly delve any deeper into its background or operations without obtaining legal justification through the courts. Nor would I know how to even go about it beyond what we’ve already done by looking through the county public records. As I said before, however, I’m still good with our both driving out there on an official ‘fishing expedition’ to question their people regarding Peter—but I assume you still wish to avoid this as being potentially far too dangerous for Pilar.”

  “I do. It’s tempting, mind you, but I think there’s really nothing tangible to be obtained by going this route. If they’re as guilty as I believe, all we’d accomplish would be to tip them off about our suspicions. ”

  “So what’s next?” asked Torres.

  “We’ll just have to dig a lot deeper into their background.”

  “Easily said. How?”

  “Leave it with me. I’m waiting on a call right now that should go a long way toward resolving this problem.”

  At least he hoped as much.

  The anticipated call from Ted Quenton at DeCaylus Corp came in scarcely an hour later, and the gentleman on the other end quickly impressed David as being every bit as efficient and knowledgeable as Elizabeth described.

  If the man’s curiosity was aroused by her precise instructions, he gave no evidence of it over the phone—a loyal employee simply following orders. In fact, he asked few direct questions beyond those necessary for him to pursue his assigned tasks regarding En-Tex Environmental, promising to report back the initial results of his covert inquiries within the next twenty-four hours.

  Satisfied that he’d left this in very capable hands, David now turned his attention to ensuring Pilar’s comfort for the foreseeable duration. To this end, he registered her into the suite directly adjoined his own—then took her for a relaxed early dinner in the hotel’s restaurant. He was now fast appreciating just what it was that Peter had seen in this petite young woman, and felt increasingly comfortable with her unpretentious manner.

  In some ways, she actually reminded him of Elizabeth, not the least of which being her seeming oblivion to the effect her unembellished natural beauty had on others. What other similar traits that existed yet remained to be seen.

  Central Mexico. August of 1521 C.E.

  The dreadful news reaching commander Xaca came when just six days march from Tenochtitlan. It couldn’t have been worse. If all reports were to be believed, after a month long bloody siege by the Spaniards their glorious capital city had been effectively reduced to ruins, its smoldering remnants now entirely in enemy hands. What few staunch defenders who survived the fierce street-to-street combat had eventually succumbed to a combination of starvation and disease—the latter early on taking the life of Emperor Cuitlahuac. His equally young cousin and successor, Cuauhteoc, was eventually given no recourse but to surrender.

  The affect all this grim information had on everyone was nothing short of stunning when a weary Xaca then immediately called a general meeting to review its dire implications. Their otherwise successful mission in the emperor’s name—everything that they’d accomplished—was suddenly placed in jeopardy, its importance on the greater scale of things now become problematic.

  The discussion of how they were to proceed ran on through much of the night, the final conclusion being that they were all honor bound to search out and join whatever military resistance was surely being formed. Brave men that they all were, no other alternative was deemed acceptable—or even seriously considered.

  This settled, Xaca kept Chimuli at his side as everyone else gradually dispersed to their respective sleeping mats. Once beyond the hearing of others, he said in a low voice, “Your purpose in our long mission has been unique, my young friend, thus I have one more request that you may find at first distasteful. May I count on your willingness to obey me a last time?”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  Xaca paused, clearly choosing his words carefully.

  “I don’t doubt for a moment your willingness to join me and the others,” he said, “but I believe it’s of paramount importance that you follow a different path. Despite the passing of Emperor Cuitlahuac, your sworn oath to him regarding the mission he assigned to us cannot be dismissed as no longer being relevant. The detailed map you created must be preserved at all costs—therefore I can see but one way to ensure that this happens.”

  Puzzled, Chimuli awaited further explanation.

  “With all we now know,” Xaca continued, “I cannot guarantee its safety as we move closer toward Tenochtitlan. No one can predict what dangers the future holds—or how easily the map might perhaps fall into Spanish hands. Considering all we’ve been through, that would be a disaster for us all. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then I’ll
make myself clear. Do you recall the small village that we skirted around sometime ago near the eastern edge of the great desert—the one our scouts said was pleasantly situated with adequate wells?”

  Chimuli gave a hesitant nod.

  “Well, it’s my strong wish,” said Xaca, “that you take the map and return to that site, making it your home until a time comes when it can be safely retrieved for the benefit of our people—either by me or someone I’ve designated. As to how long this might take, only the gods know.” He again paused, a partial smile now coming to his grizzled face. “There’s another consideration you should weigh before giving me your final decision. It hasn’t escaped notice that your woman, Terzi, is now well along with her first child. What better place could there be to ensure her safe delivery?”

  Chimuli saw the overall wisdom. It had crossed his mind, as well.

  “It will be as you wish, my lord.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Present.

  After a solid night’s sleep in his own bed followed by a refreshing shower, David placed a quick call to Torres’ office at mid-morning. Though a still-disapproving Marge recognized his voice immediately, she apparently bit her tongue before brusquely putting him through to the Deputy Sheriff. Not that David cared. His chance of ever achieving even a cordial relationship with her was now pretty much out of the question.

  Such was life.

  Once connected, he brought Torres up to speed in regards to his enlistment of Ted Quenton and the resources of DeCaylus Corp, for David wished to keep him fully engaged in the daily progress of his investigation. His motives weren’t entirely motivated by friendship. To date, the officer had been most helpful, and he wanted him to remain so. Having a sympathetic ally currently heading the local police department might prove critical in the days to come—particularly if his suspicions concerning En-Tex Environment proved true. He ended their brief conversation by assuring him he’d pass along whatever information Ted and his people might uncover on the company. If and when things warranted, they could meet at the hotel to discuss it further.

  Torres was agreeable.

  David hung up to the sound of Pilar knocking softly on the door connecting their two suites. Having already unlocked his side, he glanced at his wristwatch and called her in. Their intention from last evening was to go down for a late breakfast at about this time.

  Now he thought better of it.

  “If you’re amenable,” he said, “I think it best if we just use room service instead. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Coffee and rolls sound okay?”

  Her response was at first hesitant.

  “Peter mentioned you weren’t a tea drinker. Myself, I actually prefer it to coffee in the morning. But whatever you—”

  “Duly noted,” smiled David. “You order up a pot of both, plus whatever else you’d like, while I set up my laptop and fax. I’m concerned about the hour time difference between Enid and Boston. Don’t want to miss a call from Ted by not being here. Besides, I found some possible pertinent information on the net yesterday that I want to share with you. Nothing earthshaking, but it may go a long way toward re-enforcing your family story about the meaning behind that old painting.”

  They spent the next hour in front of the computer, carefully reviewing not only all that David had learned about the fall of Tenochtitlan in 1521, but also the subsequent virtual enslavement of the Aztecs that soon followed. Equally devastating was the continual introduction of European diseases to which they had no immunity, causing rampant deaths of the native population on a scale not seen before in the Mexican heartland.

  The ringing phone eventually brought him to his feet.

  As hoped, it was Ted Quenton back in Boston.

  “I’ve already uncovered some preliminary information for you on En-Tex Environmental,” he informed, “which I suspect you’ll find quite interesting. I know I certainly did. It wasn’t easy, but my team does love a challenge. We’ll continue digging until you tell me otherwise, of course, but I thought you should be informed of our progress up to now.”

  “You’ve got my full attention. Let me put you on speaker phone.”

  “No problem.”

  David did so.

  “For openers, it appears this company has done no discernible business, whatsoever, since its establishment. It lists only one employee—if he can be called such—since its inception roughly five years ago. We still don’t have any specifics on him beyond a name, but we’re still working on it. It’s a Mr. John Marino.”

  David jotted the name down.

  “Now here’s where it starts to get interesting,” Ted continued. “We’ve found out that En-Tex is entirely owned by an outfit called Pertinax Inc., a classic shell company registered out of San Antonio. Are you familiar with that terminology?”

  “Not entirely.”

  “It’s basically an entity composed of several other companies that does no independent work, per se, but is used by its owner—or owners—to either carry out a particular operation or to control other companies. As you may imagine, that makes it very difficult to then trace who exactly owns what internally and who ultimately pulls the strings. There are various types as to structure, but they’re all fundamentally the same and serve the same deceptive purpose.”

  “Yet completely legal?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then you’re saying this isn’t all that unusual?”

  “By itself, no. But in this instance, it actually goes up another notch—which is definitely somewhat unusual.”

  “Explain.”

  “Well, we’ve now found that Pertinax Inc. is itself owned by yet another shell company out of Dallas, a registered entity of several ‘paper’ companies calling itself South-Cimmeron Investments.” He paused. “Can you see where I’m going?”

  David got the drift.

  “It appears you’re telling me someone—or some business group—has gone to extraordinary lengths to hide ownership of En-Tex Environmental, right?”

  “To say the least, yes.”

  “And you interpret all this as—what?”

  Ted hedged his response.

  “Perhaps too early to draw any definitive conclusion, David, but a couple things leap to mind. Experience tells me that whoever set all this up did a rather brilliant job—which, all by itself, strongly indicates that they undoubtedly feel they’ve something of real significance to conceal. What other logical explanation can account for all the time and cost spent going to such extreme lengths?”

  “Why indeed?” mused David aloud. He’d formulated his own theory, but was as yet unwilling to share. Considerably more proof was required. “So what’s the next step in nailing this down?” he asked.

  “Well, assuming you want us to continuing digging—”

  “Definitely.”

  “Then depending on whatever other little surprises we uncover, I think our next move is to start researching each individual ‘paper’ company inside the various shell entities and see what pops up. Who knows? Even with all the effort they’ve invested into this, it’s just possible that perhaps its original creator screwed up somewhere along the line. Buried in this confusing maze may be a pattern—a linking clue, if you will—that can somehow be used to eventually trace and isolate a single owner. Understand, this can’t be done quickly. Practically speaking, it may take a few more days with no guarantee of success. Possibly even longer.”

  “I appreciate it, Ted. Trust me on this. It really is important. All I ask is you give it your best shot.”

  “Will do. Talk to you soon.”

  Once off the line, David poured the last of the coffee into his cup, then sat and patiently walked a somber-faced Pilar through the ramifications of all this. As enlightening as Ted’s findings were so far, it actually did little to advance their investigation into exactly what En-Tex Environmental was truly about.

  It bothered him on multiple levels—particularly since his ins
tincts told him he already knew the answer.

  Seeing his growing frustration, Pilar surprised him by asking, “I’m guessing you’re now convinced En-Tex is sitting atop a pile of Aztec gold, aren’t you? The murderers of Peter probably plundering it even as we speak—and there’s not a damn thing we can do about, right?”

  He sighed, giving a slight nod of his head.

  “I’d hoped Ted’s call might provide the legal excuse the authorities need to get inside their compound,” he finally said. “But a theory is just that, still not grounds for action. Without substantial proof of wrongdoing, I’m afraid we may be stymied for a considerable time.”

  There seemed no point in offering false hope when none was forthcoming. To her credit, he knew her focus was solely—as it always had been—on finding the perpetrators of Peter’s death and seeing them brought to justice.

  For her, all else was irrelevant.

  After a lengthy pause, she said, “I’m no detective or legal expert, David, but if your theory is actually true, what exactly can be construed to be substantive evidence that they’re illegally plundering an ancient Aztec treasure?”

  He smiled.

  “You mean short of me and Russ sneaking into their compound with cameras and metal detectors?”

  She appreciated the intended humor.

  “No way,” she said with a shake of her head. “I wasn’t suggesting anything so hazardous. The last thing I want is to see either of you putting yourselves in unnecessary jeopardy. I was thinking more along the lines of—oh, I don’t know—maybe somehow finding a way to accomplish the same thing without having to physically break in. Or is something like this even possible?”

  He stared at her a long moment, thinking he’d just discovered yet another similarity to Elizabeth. Like her, Pilar was obviously capable, whether innocently or otherwise, of posing the most inspired questions.