She furrowed her brow. “How’d he find it?”
I scrabbled across the rest of the box and entered a small cave. Stale air, with a metal scent to it, wafted into my nostrils.
Beverly, moving with far more grace than I could ever manage, slid out to join me. “Maybe it wasn’t always below ground.”
She arched an eyebrow.
I waited for Graham and Ben to make their way into the cave. “Okay, I’ve got an idea about what happened here and it might explain the missing trucks, too,” I said. “Justin and his crew came here ahead of time. And when they arrived, I think this cave was at ground-level. In fact, I think much of the clearing was on a different level.”
Beverly’s eyes widened. Graham’s look turned thoughtful. Only Ben seemed utterly confused. “What do you mean by a different level?” he asked.
“In other words, the ground was lower than it is today,” I explained. “So, Justin’s crew installed the machines, laid the pipes, and hooked up generators to power the whole thing. Afterward, they trucked dirt here, burying everything and building up the terrain.”
He blinked. “That sounds like a lot of work.”
“You’d work hard too if you were trying to make off with 4,500 metric tons of gold.”
“I suppose so. But even if you’re right, it still doesn’t explain what happened to the trucks.”
I didn’t have an answer for him. So, I took out my flashlight, turned it on, and aimed the beam at the metal box. To my surprise, it wasn’t alone. A second box, of roughly the same size and featuring similar controls and access panels, stood next to it. Pipes connected both boxes to nearby machines, at least two of which looked like generators.
Widening my gaze, I noticed the cave wasn’t enclosed. Instead, a large corridor curved to the northeast. I hiked into the corridor and followed it to a gigantic cavern. For a moment, I gawked at the sight before me.
Ten dump trucks, parked neatly in two rows.
We’d done it. We’d actually found the trucks and presumably, the gold. But more importantly, we were getting closer and closer to the truth. To solving the mystery that had plagued my dad for much of his life.
To finding out, at long last, what had happened to Justin.
Chapter 71
“Here goes nothing.” Lifting my arm, I pulled a small section of an old canvas tarp into the air. Graham, positioned next to me on the siding, aimed his beam into the truck’s dump bed, illuminating a sea of glittering gold bars.
Beverly climbed up to join us. For a few moments, she surveyed the bars. “We should probably test them. I think I saw a couple of toolboxes near the far wall.”
We dropped back to the ground. While she headed east, I took out my flashlight and aimed its beam south, past the trucks. The darkness quickly ate up the light. Rotating in a circle, I swept my beam around the cavern. To the northwest, I saw the corridor leading back to the small cave. To the northeast, the cavern gave way to blackness, indicating there was still more to see.
Clearly, the dump trucks hadn’t entered via the cave. It was too small and besides, it would’ve already been buried by the time they arrived in the clearing. And that area to the northeast didn’t look right either, given that it was positioned away from the clearing.
I walked south and aimed my beam at the wall. A gigantic steel plate, covered with grime and rust, materialized out of the darkness. It stood fifteen feet tall and was just as thick. A small ramp, also made of steel, descended from the plate into the cavern.
I couldn’t help but grin. “Clever.”
Graham walked over to join me. “What’ve we got here?”
“A garage door.”
“So, the rocks outside are fake?”
“Possibly.” I gave the door a shove. It didn’t budge. Tilting my beam upward, I saw an angled steel beam welded to the plate. A complex mechanism connected it to a nearby machine. “I wonder if any of this stuff still works.”
“All things considered, the machines are in pretty good shape.” Graham ventured toward some tall canisters, tucked into an alcove along the east wall. Unscrewing the top off a canister, he gave it a good whiff. “There’s still some gas left. So, yeah, I could probably get stuff working again.”
“Do it.”
As he went to work, I retreated to the small cave and made my way back to the surface. The clearing was deserted. All around me, I heard shouts, yells, and the buzz of electricity.
Mentally calculating the position of the steel plate, I hiked to the mesa’s southern face. Looking closely, I saw ridges, cracks, clefts, and small peaks. I touched some of the rocks. They felt rugged, uneven, and firm. In other words, just like rocks.
It looked real. It even felt real. And yet, it wasn’t real. It was just another one of Justin’s deceptions.
The mesa started to tremble and groan. I stepped back a few more feet as the steel plate cracked open and slightly outward, revealing the cavern’s yawning interior.
More puzzles pieces slid into place. The plate, like the smoke machine and pipes, had been prepared in advance. On December 14, 1949, Justin’s crew had driven into the clearing. While Milt watched from a distance, Justin had opened the plate and sent one of his men into the cave to man the smoke machine. As smoke poured into the clearing, his crew had driven the trucks into the cavern.
It was a good theory. But unfortunately, incomplete. For one thing, it didn’t explain the lack of engine noises prior to the disappearance. Also, it didn’t account for the absence of tire tracks.
My boots made slight scraping noises as I headed down the sturdy ramp. “It looks real,” I said, with a wave at the rock-covered plate.
Graham nodded. “Justin must’ve used some kind of epoxy to attach rocks to it.”
Ben appeared at Graham’s side. “Can epoxy really last that long?”
“It’s possible if the bonds don’t change or degrade over time.” Graham shrugged. “Justin must’ve had access to all sorts of top-secret technologies during the war. Maybe it included some form of heightened super glue.”
Ben saw fit to argue the point. While they bickered, I walked back to the small cave and shone my beam at the smoke machine. Then I turned my attention to the second metal box and focused in on a two-foot square hatch, sealed with screws.
I found an old toolbox off to one side. Grabbing a screwdriver and some work gloves, I went to work on the rusty screws. Afterward, I yanked the hatch cover. Metal groaned as it broke free from the box.
Graham and Ben, no longer bickering, strode into the cave. “Another smoke machine?” Graham asked.
I pulled off the gloves and reached into the box. My fingers touched a soft, yet brittle material. “I don’t think so.” I aimed my beam into the box. “There are tons of rubber tubes in here. Like giant balloons, only thicker and stronger.”
Ben frowned. “Tubes?”
I closed my eyes and willed my brain to imagine things as Milt Stevens might’ve experienced them back in 1949. I heard the ever-present shrieking sound. Smelled the fresh mountain air. Felt the chilly breeze and the heavy snowflakes touching my skin.
I pictured the trucks, viewed from a great distance and surrounded by a swirling blizzard. As smoke shot out of the earth, the image slowed in my head and I watched as the trucks vanished into the night.
Laughter came to my lips and at last, I understood how Justin had pulled off the impossible. He’d been far sneakier than anyone could’ve ever imagined. “Those trucks, the ones that disappeared… they were fake.”
“No, they weren’t.” Ben frowned. “We were just looking at them.”
“I’m talking about the trucks Milt saw right before the smoke appeared.” I pulled out one of the tubes and held it up for him to see. “The inflatable trucks.”