Saul turned around and was about to protest when something caught Dane’s attention.
“That’s enough,” he said. Jade rounded on him but he did not give her a chance to speak, taking her by the shoulders and turning her toward the west where a black spot on the horizon was growing larger by the second. “You see that? That’s a Sikorsky S-70, a military helicopter, though it doesn’t have any markings to indicate it’s anything other than a civilian craft now. It probably has nothing to do with us, but just the same I think we should get out of here.”
Chapter 8
Dane was relieved that Jade did not argue with him. She squinted and looked at the approaching helicopter for a moment before nodding her assent. They collected their gear, and Jade and Saul made a rapid descent. Not wanting to leave any evidence behind, Dane took the ropes loose and dropped them down to Jade. He looked back at the Sikorsky and found that it still seemed headed directly toward them, and it was coming fast. There was no way he could make the free climb to the bottom before it was upon them. He knew he was being overcautious, but his instinct told him that the black bird on the horizon was bad news.
“Go on! I’ll catch up!” he shouted down to Jade and Saul. She put a hand to her ear and tilted her head. “I can’t get down in time!” He pointed toward the path along which they had hiked. They understood then. Jade shook her head, but Saul took her by the upper arm and trotted away. Jade had to follow or be dragged. He’s happy enough to get rid of me, Dane thought.
He stole a last glance at the approaching helicopter before beginning his descent. It was slow going, feeling for the cracks and ledges he had climbed earlier. He wanted to look back and see if Jade and Saul had gotten away, but it was critical that he maintain his concentration.
A low hum filled his ears, quickly growing into a sound like a thousand angry hornets. The bird was almost there. Down and to his right was a crack in the stone face that looked almost wide enough to squeeze into. He made for it, his fingertips clutching at the most miniscule lumps of stone as he scooted across the rocky face. He slid his right foot out onto an egg-shaped protrusion, and shifted his weight to his right hand and right leg. Almost there.
With a soft crunch the rock broke away and he was dangling by scraped, raw fingertips. He held on tight, not panicking. A less experienced climber might scrabble his feet against the stone searching for a foothold, and actually force his body away from the rock. Dane took a deep breath, ignoring the scorching hot pain that coursed through his wrists and forearms. Sliding his right foot upward, he found an angled crack in the rock into which he could push his toe. Soon he had found purchase for his left foot, and he was on steady footing four feet away from the fissure.
The helicopter was virtually on top of him now. Bits of sand and rock blown by the wash of the rotors rained down on his head. He searched for a way to get to the fissure, but the intervening space was worn smooth by sand and wind. He looked up to see the craft hovering over the butte. Had they seen him?
His senses sharpened by adrenaline, he spotted a crack running horizontally along the far inside wall of the fissure, level with his waist. Ignoring his better judgment, he flexed his knees, ankles and wrists as much as possible, gathered his strength, and leapt sideways across the face of the rock.
For a panicked instant he thought he was going to fall. As he had intended, he overshot the fissure, reached in and hooked the crack with his left hand. A violent yank nearly tore his shoulder from its socket, but he held on. His feet swung out, and he felt as if he were going to be upended, but then he swung back and caught hold with his right hand. Sucking in his breath he squeezed back into the shadowed opening.
He waited there, listening to the beat of the rotors. His arms burned with the effort of holding his weight, and he squeezed deeper into the crack, forcing the rock to bear some of the load. After about thirty seconds, though it seemed a half hour to his weary mind and body, the bird flew away to the east. As the sound faded away, he heard voices.
“See anything?” The voice was a man’s, youthful with a Midwestern accent.
“Nothing. I wondered if we’d find anyone out here. This place is pretty remote.” The second speaker pronounced “out” so that it rhymed with “remote”. Canadian, perhaps. “I’m just glad we got here first.”
“How can you tell? The rotors would have washed away any footprints. Never mind. What’s the radar say?”
“It says…” The man Dane now thought of as Canuck paused. “Rock. Lots and lots of rock.” He paused again. “All over the damn place. Rock.”
For no apparent reason, Dane thought of songs with “Rock” in the title. “Rock Rock Til You Drop”, “Rock of Ages”, “Written in Rock”, “Rock Me”… He corralled his subconscious and focused on what was being said up above.
Midwest man uttered a vile oath, and must have kicked a fist-sized stone, because one nearly cracked Dane’s skull as it tumbled down. “You’re absolutely positive?”
“Yup,” replied Canuck. “The big man won’t like it so much, but that’s how it is.”
“Fine.” The tone of Midwest’s voice said that it was anything but. “I’ll call the bird back.”
“Suit yourself.”
The chopper returned less than a minute later, hovering over Fajada Butte long enough to pick up the two men, before heading west, back in the direction from which it came.
Relieved, Dane scrambled down the rock faster than was safe, but he’d had all the rock climbing he could take for one day. At the bottom, he scanned the horizon but saw no sign of the helicopter. No reason it should return anyway. Not stopping to regain his breath, he set off at a jog toward the hiking trail.
Jade met him halfway back to where they had left their Range Rover. He wondered where Saul was, but did not care enough to ask. After assuring her that he was hale and healthy, he recounted what had happened on the Butte.
“Who could they be?” Jade frowned, her intense eyes boring into him. “And what are they looking for?”
“Probably the same thing we’re after,” he said, taking her by the hand and setting off down the trail. He had thought about it, and nothing else made sense. Surely Jade wasn’t the only person in the world who had heard of Fray Marcos de Niza and his connection to the legend of Cibola.
“But how would they know?” she protested. “Do you think it’s the same person who broke into your boat?”
“I suppose there’s a connection,” he said. “Right now, that’s our only suspect in any event.” With nothing left to them but idle speculation, they lapsed into silence.
Ten minutes later they stood in the empty spot where they had parked the Range Rover. Jade exhaled noisily and punched Saul’s number into her cell phone. She made a face and snapped it closed. “No signal. The jerk! We had an argument. He read somewhere that Casa Rinconda, which is the largest kiva in Chaco Canyon, and not too far from here, has a solstice window. Every year at the summer solstice the sun shines through into an alcove. He wanted to check it out, but I told him the kiva had been excavated before. Whatever sat in that alcove, if anything, is long gone.”
“Let me guess,” Dane said, “He wanted to blow it up.” The look on Jade’s face was answer enough. “If he’s fool enough to try it, let’s at least hope he leaves the keys in the Range Rover before they cart him off to jail.” That got a grin out of her. “Are you up for a hike?” he asked cheerily.
They took their time walking back to the park’s main loop. Dane went through two of his water bottles and still felt parched. They passed the time looking over park brochures Dane had stuffed into his pack. As he was flipping through a pamphlet on Pueblo Bonito, something caught his attention. “Listen to this,” he said, “it might be nothing, but in Pueblo Bonito there are seven corner doorways.”