“Coronado figured out the riddle,” Sean said quietly, running a finger along the unusual piece of gold.
She nodded. “Yes. He found it here in this cave. Even though the medicine man had underestimated Coronado, he still knew that the explorer would only uncover a piece of the greater riddle, one he could never hope to unravel. “So, he left the piece here in this chamber to return in secret. He soon after became ill and never returned to the mountain. However, he did leave clues in some of his writings as to how to get back here.”
“Writings?” Emily asked.
“The Diary of Francisco Coronado.”
Adriana stepped over to the safe that also featured a keypad like the door leading into the secret room. Her fingers entered a set of numbers and the little metal box opened with a click. Gently, she reached her hand inside and withdrew a small, leather bound book. The object was worn. Its original owner had probably carried it through a vast array of circumstances. Sean knew that rain, snow, dry desert, humidity all had different effects on the way artifacts were preserved. For as old as it was presumed to be, he was impressed with the book’s excellent condition. She brought it close and held it out to Sean so he could have a closer look. He clutched it carefully in both hands as if simply touching it might break.
“The dry air in here has helped preserve it. I was surprised it was in this good a condition considering where I found it,” Adriana pointed out.
“Where did you say you found it?” Emily piped in.
“I didn’t.”
Starks puckered her lips in understanding, letting the topic go.
Sean stared at the nearly worn out letters in the faded brown cover. La Journal de Francisco Coronado.
Chapter 21
Tommy paced around the cavernous apartment, deep in thought. Terrance was dead. He could have been. And Sean had been shot at as well. It was difficult to make sense of it all. Now Sean was telling him that the Order of the Golden Dawn was possibly at the center of it all? He’d only learned a little bit about the secret society in passing. Maybe he had seen it in a presentation somewhere. Tommy couldn’t remember. But he did remember that they were an odd group, bent on ancient rituals and the idea that there was some sort of ancient power they could call upon.
The Order of the Golden Dawn had been historically insignificant, dwindling away in the early 1920s. Maybe that was their plan all along. He needed to talk to Mac. The new riddle he’d retrieved the night before had to be solved and he had a feeling that his friend would have an answer. Of course, there was a problem. Joe had been shot during the adventure a few weeks ago. He was fine and his shoulder was healing nicely, though still in a sling. The real issue was his better half.
Mrs. McElroy had been less than happy when her husband was nearly killed.
When she had arrived at the hospital, she didn’t say anything to Tommy or Sean. But the look she gave said a million words.
He knew Sean felt guilty about involving their long-time friend with the pursuit of the golden chamber. Although, it wasn’t like someone put a gun to his head. Well, none of the good guys anyway.
Tommy felt like he could get a pass from the wife simply because he had been kidnapped in the fiasco. Surely she held a little sympathy for that.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking.
Will came through the opening with a bag from Panera Bread Company and a couple of coffees in a drink carrier.
“Breakfast?”
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
“Coffee with milk, right?”
Tommy eyed him with a suspicious grin. “How’d you know that?”
Will raised his eyebrows. “Seems like you mentioned it a few weeks ago.”
Smiling, Schultz seemed to accept the explanation and took the proffered beverage. He smelled the intoxicating and soothing aroma of the brew.
Good coffee was something Tommy loved. On one of his trips to Spain he’d learned of what they called white coffee. The smooth consistency of the milk was a great combination with the bitter earthiness of the coffee. He drew a big sip into his mouth, careful of how hot the drink was based on the warmth of the cup. “Ahhh,” he exhaled. “Now that’s good Joe.”
“Glad you like it. Got an egg soufflé for you too,” he added as he set the food out on the counter nearby.
“Thanks,” he said and grabbed a fork from within one of the brown bags. “Oh, speaking of Joe, I need to see him as soon as possible.”
Will looked dubious. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“She’ll get over it,” he said confidently, masking his uncertainty.
“You think Joe knows what that riddle means?”
Tommy shrugged. “It’s worth a try. He probably has a better idea than I do. Joe’s good at these sorts of things.”
“Maybe you should call first.”
“Yeah, probably,” he laughed at the thought and took a bite of the soufflé.
Chapter 22
The morning had been less than hospitable to Alexander. His conversation with Jennings did little to reassure him. He knew that his mole in the justice department would do anything he ordered. The problem was whether or not he could follow through without drawing more attention from the public eye. Last night’s shootout had been just as much of a fiasco as the ordeal in Georgia a few weeks prior. That was the sort of thing that got far too many people asking questions. He sipped his coffee while sitting on a balcony overlooking the desert to the west.
In the distance, The Grand Canyon wound it’s way through the landscape. Lindsey had gone there once as a child. He recalled the experience as unpleasant. It had been a particularly hot day. At the time he hadn’t cared for the desert climate. His father told him of how sacred the land was. He believed that the veil between God and man was thinner out there in the desolate plains. Young Alex didn’t fully understand at the time. But as he grew older, his appreciation of spiritual things became stronger. He spent hours each day studying Biblical texts. Raised a devout Mormon, he also spent a great deal of time researching the books of the Latter Day Saints and believed strongly in their ideals and teachings. He had been a zealous advocate for the church. Until sixteen years ago.
Lindsey had been chosen to be one of the twelve apostles, a group that was part of the council of the church presidency. It was his father’s dying wish that Alex become part of the presidency’s cabinet and, because he was one of their primary benefactors, the church conceded to the old man’s request. The other members of the group of apostles were receptive, at first, to the younger Lindsey’s ideas and thoughts. He’d brought about new revenues and means of bringing in more converts through outreach programs and fundraising efforts. His influence grew stronger both within the church and outside of it. He had headed up subtle public relations campaigns that began erasing what had, for a long time, been a beleaguered opinion of Mormon beliefs. Then everything changed.
The church’s President, Howard Hunter, passed away after serving only one year in the position. It was an unexpected event, and it forced the cabinet of advisors and apostles to prematurely gather together in prayer to elect their new leader.
It was no secret that Alexander wanted to be the next president, or prophet, as it was known. During the months leading up to Hunter’s death, Lindsey had become noticeably more aggressive in his pursuit of the head position, something that was out of character for any apostle. Alexander had even mentioned publically how he would run things if he was in charge, something that left a foul taste in the mouths of the other council members. Apostles were pious men and were not expected to promote their own ends towards advancement since it was believed that God would choose the next leader through inspiration. When it came time to elect the new leader, he was not even among the final few nominated, a fact that had incited him to question the chamber’s chairman.