"You did all that in your head?"
Mathews grinned. "I can teach you how to do that too, mate. Although that is a lot of mileage to go on foot. They must have used animals of some kind. That many miles wouldn't have been manageable." He returned his attention to the map. "So if we say around sixteen hundred miles to the northwest…" He reached over and took out a compass and made a circular line around the area in question.
He leaned over the map and looked closely. No towns intersected the line, but there was something even more interesting on the paper that was closer to his drawing than anything else.
"Crikey," Mathews said. He glanced back up the hill at the rock lying on its side. Then he looked at the map once more. "It can't be. Why… How would they…" His voice trailed off.
"What?" Charley prodded. "What you going on about?"
Mathews said nothing. He just stared down at the point where his finger had stopped. Next to it was one word.
Uluru.
Chapter 1
Annie shuddered at what she'd just done.
Maybe no one noticed, she thought.
Annie Guildford had worked at the museum for nearly thirty years without ever breaking anything. Being meticulous and overly cautious had served her well over the length of her career. Her immaculate reputation was well known around the tight circles of museum curators both in the city and throughout the country.
Now that could be thrown out the window.
She'd been taking inventory of some items in the storage vault as she did on a yearly basis. If she was honest, Annie often wondered why they did it annually. Very few things were added to the collection in storage. Most of the new stuff was put on display or sent around the country for exhibits.
She stole a quick glance toward the only door in and out of the room. No one had seen or heard what happened. How would they? She was the only one working after hours. Reminding herself of that eased her paranoia. A few deep breaths, and she was okay.
Still, there was the issue of the desk.
Annie bent down and looked underneath it.
The item in question was an antique oak desk that dated back to the early part of the twentieth century. She wasn't even sure why the museum was holding onto it, thinking it might be better suited for an auction house or perhaps the office of a writer who enjoyed antiques. The stain had faded over the decades, but the desk remained in good condition. Well, except for the fact Annie had broken it, or so she at first suspected.
A piece of wood dangled from the underside of the desk near its front. When she'd looked initially, it appeared she'd knocked a piece loose. Now she realized it wasn't an ordinary piece of wood like all the others composing the desk. This one was hanging from internal hinges.
It was a false door.
She stood up and looked around again, making sure the room was vacant. Annie shook her head. "You're the only one here. Remember?"
Her eyes involuntarily searched the room once more as she crouched down on her knees and tilted her body to stare up at the anomaly. It was too dark under the desk, so she pulled out her cell phone and turned on the LED light. The bright, sterile glow cast on the desk's underbelly revealed what she'd suspected. Whoever owned this desk had installed a fake panel.
But why?
She rolled onto her back and slid under to get a better view. Holding the phone up to the hanging panel, she shined the light into the cavity. It was difficult to see at first, but there was definitely something inside. Carefully, Annie pushed herself up enough so her head was against the bottom of the desk and her eyes were nearly level with the opening.
Annie got her first view of the object within the desk. It was a rolled up piece of paper. She reached out her hand to take the scroll, but something clicked from the front of the room near the door. Her hand snapped back to her side, the other quickly dimming the light by pressing it to her blouse. Her heart pounded in her chest, beating faster with every breath. She swallowed hard and tried to mute her breathing but felt like it echoed through the room.
After a few minutes that seemed like hours, she crawled out from under the desk and took a quick look around. Still empty. She had no idea what had made the noise, but as far as she could tell, she was alone. Her eyes darted back and forth until she was convinced. Then they drifted back to the mysterious desk.
With another swallow she got back on her hands and knees and crawled back to the spot under the desk. She wasted no time. She pointed the light into the hole with one hand and reached up with the other.
Wait, stupid. This is potentially a hundred-year-old piece of paper. You know better than that.
She scrambled back out from under the desk and walked over to a workstation against the wall near the door. She picked up a pair of white gloves sitting on the table and slipped them on. Annie had been handling delicate items for a long time. She wasn't about to get sloppy now. Plus the walk to the door gave her a chance to do one more survey of the room.
Still alone, she thought. Maybe she was going a little crazy after having been by herself in the vault for so long. Some fresh air would do her good. First, though, was the matter of the paper in the desk.
She strode back to the antique piece of furniture and slid underneath again. Once more she put the light's beam directly into the cavity. With the other hand she reached up and gently rolled the paper with a gloved finger until it rested on the edge of the hole. Then, with a steadfast patience, Annie pinched the paper as lightly as possible and pulled it down out of the desk. It wasn't until she held it in her palm that she realized she'd been holding her breath.
She sighed and took a few deep breaths as she stared at the strange object.
A minute later she was back over at the work table. She warily pried apart the paper and began rolling it open. Annie had to be careful not to do it too fast. If the page had collected any moisture during its time in the desk, the surface could stick together and tear. Since the document had been hidden for the better part of a century, she assumed whatever it was must be important. Tearing it was not an option.
This wasn't the first time Annie had worked with old paper. She'd done it dozens of times over the years, though usually under the watchful eye of experts. The techniques were ones she'd learned from her predecessor. He'd been a gruff man and stubborn to a fault. When it came to taking care of valuable antiquities, however, he was like a father with his firstborn. He worked with a sort of fear hanging over him, as if he screwed something up the world would come to an end.
Annie had taken on those traits through constant observation. As she finished peeling back the paper and pressing it against the surface of the table, she breathed a sigh of relief. Again she'd been holding her breath, although consciously this time.
She stared at the nonsensical writing on the page. Her eyebrows stitched together as she tried to understand what it could be about.
Journal Entry 73,
Charley took ill about a month ago. We haven't been able to do any further investigation on the treasure for nearly three weeks. It appears that he has taken a turn for the worse, and I do not believe he will survive the next few days.
My heart aches to see my friend in such pain. He's been a loyal assistant and comrade throughout this strange journey, a journey I fear is at an end.
I cannot go on without him. It wouldn't be right. After all, the treasure we seek belongs to him and his people, not me — an alien in this land. I'd hoped we'd find it before he passed. I even had the idea of going it alone in an attempt to bring it back to him. His condition, however, grieved me, and I didn't want to leave his side.