by Kris Bock
He’d gone a couple of paces when a grunt and rushing footsteps behind him told him his ploy hadn’t worked. He dropped low and spun. The big man was practically on top of him. Drew turned his shoulder into the man’s stomach and used the thug’s momentum to flip him up and over. The man landed on his back with a thud that seemed to shake the tarmac.
The other man wasn’t much more than a blur in the darkness. He seemed to be reaching for a pocket. Drew didn’t wait to see what kind of weapon he might pull out. He took two steps and kicked, connecting somewhere in the vicinity of the man’s wrist or forearm. The smack of boot on flesh was drowned out by the man’s yelp of pain as he stumbled back. Drew had to admire the colorful swearing that followed as the man regained his balance, cradling one arm in the other. Drew wanted to follow up before the man could get a hand on any weapon again, but sounds from behind warned him not to forget the big man.
Between his military training and the occasional dust-up in rough bars around the world, Drew had experience fighting two at once. Unless the men were trained fighters, it wasn’t even much of a challenge. But a weapon, especially a gun, strongly skewed the odds. Drew wondered if he could get into his hangar. He had potential weapons there, tools and metal pipes. Of course, the smart thing to do would be to lock the door behind him and call the police. Drew wasn’t sure if he felt smart yet.
He ran around the big man, heading for the hangar. A light flashed on, blinding him. He’d forgotten about the spotlight over the door of the hangar, which the motion sensor set off. He faltered for a second, then put a hand out as he ran so he wouldn’t crash into the building. At least the light would be in the men’s eyes now as well.
By the time he touched the building he could see clearly enough to find the door handle. He fumbled for his keys. Before he could get the key in the lock, he sensed motion behind him. He spun and prepared to duck a punch.
The big man’s body slammed him against the wall. Drew’s head hit the metal siding with a smack that jarred through his neck. Air whooshed from his lungs and he felt his bones rattle. He was squashed against the wall as the big man grappled with his arms.
Drew brought his knee up to the man’s groin. It went against the grain, using a woman’s trick, but when you were fighting for your life you fought dirty. The man grunted and jackknifed forward, pushing Drew’s torso further into the wall but putting more space between their lower bodies.
Drew couldn’t pull his arm back for a decent punch, so he pushed his back against the wall for more leverage and swept his leg in an arc, hooking his heel behind the man’s ankle. The guy still didn’t fall, but he wobbled enough that Drew could twist his arms free and shove. The man staggered back, giving Drew room to move. He immediately looked for the other man.
The light made a bright half circle about 20 feet in circumference. Beyond that, only the dim blue marking lights broke the darkness. In the few minutes since they had landed, dusk had faded to full night.
Drew swiveled his head, trying to find the other attacker. Having the big man close offered some protection, as his companion might not have a clear shot. But the guy would recover in a moment. Drew had to find out what the smaller man was doing. He squinted and scanned the area beyond the light again, searching for any movement or lighter spot in the darkness. He swung his head to the right.
Blue light flashed on a silver blade.
Drew grinned. Fighting a knife was a thousand times better than fighting a gun. The smaller man rushed into the light, knife held underhand and sideways, at gut level, a sign that the guy knew how to use it. His hat still shaded most of his face, but Drew could see the angry snarl below the shadow.
At the same moment, the big man jumped toward Drew again.
Drew pushed off to his left, grabbing the big man’s shoulder as he brushed by and giving him an extra push so he slammed face first into the building. He bounced back, making a nice shield between Drew and the other guy. Before the big man could fully recover, Drew rammed into him, sending him staggering toward his buddy. He wondered if the smaller man had the presence of mind to control the knife.
He didn’t wait to see. He still had his keys clutched in his hand so he leaped for the door and unlocked it. He could fight two guys all night, but unless he knocked one unconscious, it would be pretty hard to subdue them both at once. If he could get one of them to follow him inside, and lock the door again before the other one got there, he might be able to keep a prisoner and ask a few questions.
He ducked behind the door, waiting to shove it closed the moment one of them came in. Even if the other was right behind, the impact of the door might bounce him back out.
A few seconds passed. Drew heard mumbles and scuffles outside. No one appeared in the doorway. He tensed at the sound of footsteps on the tarmac, but they faded into the night. He hesitated, suspecting a trap if he stuck his head outside again.
A door slammed.
Drew crouched low and rushed through the doorway, hoping that if anybody was waiting beside the door they would swing or grab higher up.
He heard a car engine start. Headlights flashed on behind the building. The SUV bounced over the rough desert with a screech, like fingernails on a blackboard, as they scraped past a patch of some tough brush. He hoped it messed up their paint job.
Drew considered following in his truck. If he went through the gate, he could probably catch them by the time they hit the road. On the other hand, he didn’t like leaving his helicopter out unattended. He should check the hangar and his truck carefully as well, in case of sabotage. They probably wouldn’t have done anything yet, if they’d hoped to bribe him into giving up information, but better safe than sorry.
He returned to the hangar, rubbing the back of his head. It throbbed a bit now that he had time to pay attention. He had to figure out what to do. The good news was they apparently didn’t know where Erin and Camie were. Drew had hoped that by sounding open to bribery, but asking for more money, he might delay them a day or two. That had failed. Nor had he found out who they were or if they were connected to Mitchell. But he had found out they were serious. What would they do next?
They wouldn’t give up, that was for sure. They might approach Drew again, with more cash or a bigger threat—he’d have to stay on his guard. They might search Erin’s house again, looking for a clue. They’d shown how easily they could get in and out. Drew didn’t have time to mount a 24-hour guard, and he didn’t know people here well enough to be sure of trusting someone else. He had to hope her clues were well hidden. The thugs might also rent a plane and do sweeps, looking for signs of the treasure hunters. Hopefully they would be looking in the wrong area, but maybe they had somehow figured out that the treasure wasn’t at Victorio Peak after all.
Erin and Camie should know what was happening. Then they could be prepared. But they’d said they’d keep their phones off, not just to conserve the batteries but for fear that somebody might track them through the signal. That meant they weren’t even checking messages. The only way to reach them was to fly down and find them.
Drew smiled. Somehow he didn’t at all mind the thought of heading down there the next day and finding out just what those interesting women were doing.
Chapter 17
Erin and Camie woke when dawn lit the desert. Camie heated water over a camp stove so they could make oatmeal and tea. It felt good to heat up from the inside, though Erin knew the next couple of hours would bring a 25 or 30 degree temperature rise, and she’d be glad for her light-colored clothing, wide-brimmed hat, and sunscreen.
They secured their sleeping bags in rubber tubs to prevent critters from sneaking in while they were away and then tidied camp, tucking everything under a slight overhang that would provide some shade and help mask their gear from the air. They’d studied the petroglyph map the afternoon before, compared it to the photograph, and made a plan. With small backpacks filled with water, snacks, and other necessities, they headed out to search for treasure.
/> Camie adjusted her hat, trying vainly to contain the curls too short for her ponytail. “Remember to watch out for snakes, especially if you have to step down off a rock and you can’t see the base of it.”
“I got it. You know, for all the talk about snakes, I’ve lived here for two years and haven’t even seen a rattler.”
Camie grinned. “We’ll see if we can rustle one up for you. They’re pretty cool—from a distance.”
Camie turned on her GPS and they started walking. Tiger kept pace with them, sometimes disappearing for a few minutes but never for long. When he got tired, he planted himself in front of Camie with a loud meow, and she let him ride on the top of her backpack. The sun rose at their backs, breaking up the deep shadows of the arroyo with sparkling patches of sand and glowing reddish rock.
The early birdsong faded, to be replaced by the occasional faint scuffle of a lizard skittering away or the buzz of insects. Once, Erin heard a faint sound on the cliff edge near her head and looked up, expecting to see Tiger. A broad cow face gazed back at her, its jaw working as it chewed its cud.
Erin chuckled. “Don’t look now, but we’re not alone.”
Camie glanced at the cow. “The BLM rents land to ranchers. We’ll probably see plenty of cows today. Maybe even a ranch house. And if we’re really lucky, a sexy cowboy or two.”
A week ago Erin would have said cowboys weren’t her type. Now she kept her mouth shut.
The sky above was a glorious blue from horizon to horizon. Erin knew that if it stayed clear, it could easily get into the 80s. At least people were right about the dry heat being more tolerable. It might be tempting to wish for some cloud cover, but in the southwest desert, clouds often meant rainstorms and that would bring their treasure hunt to a screeching halt. Finding shelter would be almost impossible, too. Big trees could attract lightning, and the arroyo, which might offer occasional shelter with an overhanging cliff, carried the danger of flash floods. That meant they would be stuck out in the open or huddled next to some lump of rock. The monsoon rains—brief afternoon thunderstorms—supposedly came mostly in late July and August, but in Erin’s short experience, they could hit year round. At least yesterday’s western clouds had vanished.
They kept the pace leisurely, checking the landscape carefully against the marks on the map. The arroyo deepened and became more of a canyon, with lovely wavy sandstone walls. The rock-walled canyon might have changed over the last century, but not as much as the arroyo, where the walls had been dirt and loose mudstone. Flash floods could remove or deposit several feet of dirt on the canyon floor and transport boulders the size of small cars, but the sandstone walls would change slowly, worn down by water and wind almost imperceptibly. Their map should hold true.
The canyon walls grew taller, rising to over 20 feet. They closed in suddenly, narrowing to an opening maybe three feet wide. A gray cliff eight feet tall blocked their way, forming a high step up into the next section of canyon. Erin could imagine water rushing through that slot and pouring down the gray cliff, smoothing the rock into sensual curves and depositing the loose, pale sand under their feet.
“Let me give you a boost up,” Camie said. She went down on one knee by the gray cliff. “Take off your backpack, and I’ll hand it up to you.”
Erin didn’t ask how Camie would get up after her. Camie had years of rock climbing experience, while Erin had tried it only a couple of times and had the added challenge of a broken finger. She dropped her backpack and pushed her hat back so she could see upward better. She placed her palms on the smooth gray rock for balance and stepped up on Camie’s knee.
“Reach up and feel around,” Camie said. “Take your time and get a good hold.”
Erin stretched her arms above her head and felt over the edge of the cliff, moving slowly so she wouldn’t jam her finger against something she couldn’t see. She felt smooth, rounded lumps of rock. She found a bump the size of her palm and curled her right hand around it, making sure she didn’t put weight on the injured middle finger. Her left fingers found a crack where the cliff went up to the side.
Camie tapped the gray rock where it sloped out above Erin’s left knee. “Foot here. Remember, keep your butt back so your foot is pressing into the rock and your weight won’t pull you downward.”
Erin pressed her booted foot against the smooth rock, wishing she had some thin, sticky climbing shoes. When she took her other foot off Camie’s knee, Camie stood and shifted to place her thigh under the heel of Erin’s boot and her hand just below Erin’s waist. “You got it.”
Erin pulled. She felt her right foot slipping, then Camie’s other hand went under her heel, supporting her just enough to maintain friction. With Camie’s support she pushed herself up until she could straighten her arms under her shoulders and pull her knee up onto the ledge. She winced a little at the pressure on her damaged finger but had too much else to worry about to really notice. She got her other knee up and braced her right elbow against the side wall. Belatedly, she remembered snakes and took a quick look around. The narrow slot opened into a wider section, the cliffs overhanging shallow caves to form a kind of natural room. She saw nothing living, so she stood up and turned to take her backpack from Camie.
Camie hoisted Tiger up and scrambled after him without even bothering to take off her backpack. She stood beside Erin in seconds. They paused and looked around, enjoying the coolness of the shade. “Looks like someone spent time here.” Camie pointed to the deepest part of the cave. “That dark area is staining from wood smoke.”
Erin grinned. Of course, anyone could have built the fires here, from ancient Indians to modern campers. The heavy staining suggested use over a long time, though, and the secluded canyon would make a perfect hideout for heretical priests, renegade Indians, bandits, or anyone else on the run. The various people using that area as a hideout would have had good shelter in the canyon. They might even have had a regular stream at the time, or a spring somewhere. She pulled out the map and pointed to a set of parentheses cupping a symbol that could have been fire. They were two thirds of the way down the map. She and Camie grinned at each other.
By late morning they had gone about two miles and reached the edge of the map. The canyon had grown wider and shallower, with plenty of small gullies running down the sides where water would flow in during a rain. Erin and Camie scrambled up a shallow slope and stood at the edge of the cliff, trying to compare the map to the surrounding landscape.
Erin shook her head. “We’re in the right area, but that’s as much as I can say.” She pointed to a rock outcropping maybe a quarter of a mile away. “I’m thinking that’s this.” She tapped a finger on the map and then turned in a half circle. “That rise over there is probably this mark. We’re between them, with that high peak above Silver Valley in the right direction, west-northwest. The symbol of the turtle is right about here, but I don’t see a cave entrance. It was probably hidden back then and certainly would be after a century of flooding and erosion.”
They went on until they were confident they’d gone beyond the limits of the map. “Nothing,” Erin said. “The cave entrance could be buried under twenty or thirty feet of sand and dirt by now.”
Camie scooped up Tiger and held him in the crook of her arm like a baby. He lifted his head and purred as she scratched under his chin. “So we go get The Finder. That’s what it’s for.”
“Yes. Do we move our whole camp here, to be closer? It will take a couple of trips.” She wasn’t sure what sounded worse, making the two-mile trip several times with loads of gear or walking back and forth every day, carrying a backpack heavy with water and food. It might take them days to locate the cave, if they found it at all, especially since they would have to head back to camp well before dusk or risk hiking in the dark.
Camie frowned and shook her head. “Moving our gear here would make it easier to identify this location. You and I can hide if we hear a vehicle or plane coming. But where would we hide the gear?” Camie pointed to the
west. “That patch of tall trees might work, but it’s at least another half mile away. We’ll waste more time moving gear than going back and forth.”
“Good point.” Erin took off her hat and mopped her forehead. She wished Drew would show up with his helicopter—merely for transportation purposes, of course.
It only took about 45 minutes to reach camp, since the arroyo acted as a trail and they didn’t need to study the map. They decided on an early lunch so they wouldn’t have to carry the food with them. When they headed out again, the sun shone high overhead. Sunglasses cut down the glare, but even the shade of hat brims and long sleeves offered minimal protection from the pounding heat. Too bad she hadn’t found the clue back before spring break, Erin thought.
They headed back along the top rim of the canyon. Since Camie had their destination marked in her GPS, they didn’t have to worry about landmarks. They were hotter up in the sun, but the path was easier. Still, the trip back dragged, since they had to take turns carrying The Finder, a metal box about a foot high and 18 inches on each side, with dials and knobs on the front panel. It only weighed about 20 pounds, but that got heavy quickly. Each turn grew shorter. By the third time she took it, Erin’s shoulders screamed in protest. She set herself the goal of holding on for five minutes, knowing Camie had held it longer, but Camie was in better shape and not recovering from an accident.
Erin felt the sweat beading between her breasts and sticking her shirt to her back. She decided five minutes had to be up, and set The Finder on a waist-high boulder with a grunt. They’d taken to stopping for water every time they traded off. It was hard to stay hydrated in the desert, and besides, the more they drank, the lighter their backpacks got. The smart thing might have been to rest during the heat of the day, but since it wouldn’t really cool down again until dusk, they had little choice. Erin prayed Camie would be willing to leave The Finder at the search site and not want to bring it to and from camp every day.
