Alicia myles 1 - Aztec Gold (15 page)

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.”

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.

“Is that—” Alicia began.

Crouch stared. “A mushroom shaped hoodoo!”

The formation stood hundreds of yards off their track, spiraling up through the wilderness. Nevertheless, a side canyon slid through the rock towards it. Both Healey and Russo started down the narrow ravine, but a few words from Crouch stopped them.

“It’s not right.”

Caitlyn frowned. “Because it doesn’t follow your path?”

“Exactly.”

Now even Alicia felt a touch of frustration. “Michael, it may not be arrow straight. The hoodoo is exactly what we’re looking for. Let’s check it out.”

Crouch wrestled with the problem, a dozen emotions crossing his face. “Damn. All right. Let’s take a look.”

The team threaded their way through the high rock walls, Russo taking the time to watch their backs. “Coker’s men could trap us down here, guys, if they wanted to. It’s a great place for an ambush.”

Alicia grinned. “Sure, John Wayne. Just lead on.”

It took almost a half hour to reach the hoodoo, the shape lengthening and rearing up higher with every step they took toward it. The narrow canyon gradually widened, its walls spreading out as its floor lost much if its steepness.

“Bloody hell,” Crouch moaned. “We’re nearing the valley floor.”

“If that’s the hoodoo,” Caitlyn pointed out. “Then where’s the ‘warning’?”

Alicia recalled the poem.
Heed our warning that leads to the mushroom rock.

The team stared into the extensive wilderness, so great that all four directions blended into one gigantic expanse. Alicia circumvented the bulky spire, studying its rocky surface and the floor to all sides. If there had been other boulders or twisted formation close by, she would have examined them also, but the hoodoo stood in its own splendid isolation.

“There’s nothing,” Healey murmured, following her around. “Just . . . nothing.”

Crouch turned to gaze back up the canyon they’d traversed. “And nothing the way we came,” he said. “No wall writings. No caves. Is this where it ends then?”

Alicia squinted at him. “That doesn’t sound like the Crouch I know and love.”

“To put it bluntly – we’re winging it here. One wrong step and the entire mission is thrown out of whack. What if this is that step?”

“We go back to the last place we’re sure of.” Caitlyn said. “The rock waves.”

“If we’re thrown off the path this easily—” Crouch paused.

“Just remember the arches,” Lex said with a shrug. “We didn’t find just one. I’m damn sure there are a hundred of these friggin’ hoodoo things out here.”

Crouch stared at him. “I guess you’re right.”

Alicia noted the downcast faces, the questioning frowns and saw for the first time, a pall of uncertainty and doubt falling across her team. “It’s ultra-important now that we stay strong,” she said. “Keep to our faith. God knows how many times I’ve said that to myself over the years, but belief is everything. Right now. Right here. If we trust in ourselves that we can do this, we
will
do it.”

The team chalked it up to a misstep and scrambled back up the canyon, this time going against the slope and finding progress hard. Russo and Healey ranged ahead, alert for any sign of Coker’s men. By the time they reached the spot where they’d strayed from Crouch’s ‘perfect’ line, they were sweating and irritable.

“The next person who says we don’t follow the line,” Crouch growled. “Stays in the desert. We follow the age-old philosophy: ‘Your best guess is always your first’.”

Alicia didn’t respond, and was glad to see Caitlyn holding her tongue. The team took a short break for water and a quick scout of the terrain toward their rear and then started forward once more, following the twisting path. The ridge line dipped and rose, wound left and right, led them past breakneck plunges and across narrow rims. The canyon wall widened and narrowed with every turn, constantly undulating, until even Crouch himself began to wonder if this were the correct path. Twice more he took out his improvised map, doubting himself, wondering where they could possibly have gone wrong.

Perhaps the rock waves weren’t in fact part of the land formation they’d already found. What else?

Then, an abnormality in the rolling formation of the canyon walls caught his eye.

“Look here,” he murmured.

The team gathered around. Crouch indicated the canyon wall to his left. A series of orange figures had been carved into the dark brown wall; men, women and animals with curved horns drawn all in a row. The people had arms outstretched and bent at the elbows, the bodies elongated and the legs strangely short. Other creatures may have existed there at one time—faint depictions of turtles, dogs and snakes that had all but eroded by now. The row of figures led directly toward an altar where a figure lay prostrate, a priestly man with a dagger upraised above him, blood running from its blade.

“A warning?” Healey wondered.

“That leads to the mushroom rock.” Alicia drew their attention to the formation ahead. “This, more than anything yet proves we’re back on the right track.”

Crouch eyed her speculatively. “We hope.” The man’s confidence had taken a severe beating after their wrong turn.

The rock arrangement was called a hoodoo—a thin upstanding spire, narrower through the middle, carrying a wider, almost block-like structure at its apex. A mushroom pillar. It rose out of the lands below, impossibly balanced, both a testament and a defiance of the elements that formed it.

Crouch and Caitlyn barely gave it a glance. “Then beyond the known territory of the braves,” they said in unison. Crouch gave the surrounding lands a shrewd frown.

“All this rock,” he said. “Is known as Navajo limestone. The Colorado Plateau, this part of Arizona, is made up of it. All the lands around here once belonged to the Navajo Indians—whose warriors were often known as braves. The Aztec warriors themselves would have respected the title.”

“Going back to the petroglyphs.” Caitlyn nodded at the rock drawings. “The Aztecs are notorious for their belief in human sacrifice. To them it was a religious practice, simply the cultural tradition of the peoples of Mesoamerica at the time. It might not mean anything.”

“Priests.” Russo shook his head. “Always blood-letting at the heart of religion.”

Caitlyn blinked. “Not true. If you’re referring to today you’re referencing gruesome fanatics twisting religion to accommodate their vile needs. In ancient days the priests believed the gods sacrificed themselves so that man may live. The Aztecs, under pain of death, said ‘Life is because of the Gods; with their sacrifice they gave us life . . . they produce our sustenance . . . which nourishes life’. What they’re saying is that ongoing sacrifice sustains the universe.”

“Sacrifice in all its forms.” Alicia surprised herself by joining in the debate. “Not just physical.”

Crouch pointed past the mushroom hoodoo. “Navajo. Hopi. Beyond those lands and past the terraces the old map changes its measurements from the Aztec representation of passing days to one of footprints.” He smiled even wider. “We’re almost there, my friends.”

“But how far do the Indian lands stretch?” Lex asked, the ever-present worried expression turning his young face into a middle-aged man’s.

“Not far.” Crouch checked his maps. “I have current and past versions right here. Beyond the flatlands there, where the ground starts to rise.” He pointed at the middle distance. “That’s where they end.”

“Doesn’t look very hospitable,” the biker grumbled.

“All uninhabited,” Crouch affirmed. “No roads. Barely a trail. We’re already past any known site previously claimed for Montezuma’s treasure. Seems the old prospectors didn’t look far enough.”

“Or deep enough.” Caitlyn thought about Lake Mead and then shrugged. “But not to worry about that, eh?”

The team trudged on, dropping further into the lowlands with every step, now being pounded by the rising sun and lack of shade.

“Just great,” Lex complained. “Perfect. We get the high cold mountains at night and the low hot desert during the day.”

“Stop whining,” Alicia sizzled back at him. “Unless you want me to spank you in front of all these folks.”

Lex blinked quickly and shut up, savvy enough to take Alicia at her word. Crouch grinned at them both.

“Smart man,” he said. “I wouldn’t put anything past our Alicia.”

“Sun’s not fully risen yet,” Russo pointed out. “If we hoof it we can probably get among those small mountain rises ahead before it does.”

Crouch led the way, picking up the pace as they entered the expanse of flatland. Green and brown shrubs dotted a hundred twisting sandy paths. In one place a tiny river turned into a mini-waterfall as it suddenly fell into a round man-sized hole cut into the rocky ground—just another remarkable natural spectacle.

As they approached the rising mountains, Crouch slowed and stared at his map. “So we’re nearing the end of the lands of the braves. Up next we have ‘among the terraces’. Out here . . .” he scanned their surroundings. “I’m lost.”

“Great observation.” Alicia bobbed her head, blond hair flying. “Out here—everyone’s lost.”

Russo passed among them. “We have company.”

“What?” Lex almost turned to scan their rear but Russo, thinking him the one most likely to turn and give the game away, placed a huge arm across his shoulders.

“Don’t be a dick.”

Alicia also hugged into Lex. “Big unit?”

“One man.” Russo shrugged, almost lifting Lex off the ground with the simple action. “Must be a scout.”

“But he’ll be in radio contact.” Alicia said, thinking about what had to be done. Ahead, Crouch stared up at the layered mountain as it rose up out of the desert, each fifteen-foot-high level a large step of pure jagged rock jutting toward them in wedges.

Alicia knew they had to draw the scout in. If he was any good he’d be in constant contact with Coker, have eyes on all their party in case someone suddenly vanished, be fully armed, and might even have a secondary spotter further back.

“No choice.” Crouch also seemed to be computing the scenario as he stared up at the multi-ridged mountain. “We have to capture him. It’s the only set-up that buys us time.”

“How long would the cavalry take to get here?” Caitlyn wondered. “If you pushed the button now?”

Crouch smiled at her. “Out here, Caitlyn, that’s a beautiful analogy. They used to film all the old westerns here and over near Kanab.” He seemed lost for a moment, the sentimentalist in him taking over. Alicia imagined what it must have been like watching the legendary Audie Murphy, John Wayne and Alias Smith and Jones gracing the silver screen.

“Michael?” she prompted gently.

“Oh yes. Well, it would take them an hour to mobilize and reach us. But I can’t push the button until we find something definitive. The resources involved in steaming to our rescue in sufficient force are tremendous and it’s not just about money. Entire units and groups of men and women have to literally put their lives on hold to make this happen properly.”

“I get it,” Caitlyn said. Alicia knew Crouch wasn’t just talking about cops or soldiers, he was referencing Aztec specialists around the world, important security professionals that couldn’t afford to order an operation on bad information, key members of the World Heritage Committee, even Interpol would have an interest in Coker and his boss and were ready to lead an operation of their own in conjunction with the United States.

“Oh my God,” Crouch suddenly breathed, still staring up at the ridges rising out of the desert, and then repeated more slowly. “Oh . . . my . . . God.”

Alicia raised an eyebrow. Crouch wasn’t exactly known for his proliferate cursing. Now what?

“It’s the mountain,” he whispered. “It’s formed of fucking terraces. Look!”

Alicia looked up. Something that had been staring them in the face all the way across the flat desert now became apparently obvious. The line of the poem ran through her mind—
among the terraces—
making her heart soar as yet another clue presented before them.