Dennis Yates - Red Mountain

“Isn’t that the place his grandfather used to warn him about?”

“That’s the one.”

“Robert said he could never get to the bottom that story. The old man would only tell him it was an evil place and that he should stay away from it.”

Will couldn’t help but grin. “I believe it. I stayed the night a few times up at his cabin when Bobby and I were kids. He scared the crap out of me with his crazy stories. He was quite a character. Too bad you never got to meet him...”

When they’d driven several miles clear of bone dry ranches and barbed wire fences, they passed through dark stands of ponderosa pine until the road crested a hillside and the land opened up onto a long stretch of rock and sage. Will pulled over to study his map and they all climbed out to see the view.

Looming before them was the ominous blue cutout of Mt. Hood rimmed by setting sunlight. They smelled smoke and when they turned around they saw forest fires burning on a distant plateau while a harvest moon waited somewhere offstage for the first sign of night.

Peggy turned back and stared at the mountain.

We’re going to find you Robert. I know we will...

CHAPTER 55

Deep inside the glacier Marco and the crew used torches to extract the coins while Carol tended a fire in the pit and kept watch for potential cave-ins. She couldn’t stop herself from becoming distracted by the rising mound of treasure. How much money in gold had they taken so far? A million? More than that? The size of the frozen robber’s horde was staggering…

Her three graduate students worked harder than they had all summer and Marco was pleased with how fast things were going. He glanced at his watch and smiled, comforted by the fact that they would be able to finish up well before sunrise. Unless they encountered some early climbers on their way to the summit, they’d have plenty of time to return to base camp before anyone took notice of their haul.

So far they’d removed about two thirds of the treasure, including the corpse of the man who’d taken it down into the mountain with him nearly a hundred years earlier. Marco had them set the body down as far from the fire as they could to avoid melting. He didn’t enjoy having the corpse watching them so he covered its face with a piece of groundsheet. The expression on the dead man’s face had given him the creeps.

It wasn’t the first time Marco had been involved in taking treasure from the hands of the dead. There’d been many others over the years that he’d done the same to, millionaires whose planes disappeared into the mountains and were never found or men who’d decided to take up mountain climbing as a hobby and then vanished without a trace. Marco loved the challenge of cracking a mystery, especially if there was money to be had. He’d scour a hundred different newspapers and websites to find his next lead, and he had a knack for breaking open long-closed cases.

This opportunity had dropped into his lap unexpectedly. On a flight to Peru to follow up on some leads with a corrupt government official regarding a missing drug cartel’s plane he’d met a passenger from Portland. Several cocktails later his friendly chat with the man turned to the subject of treasure hunting and maps. And although he never saw him again he did receive a fax copy of a map the American claimed to have found in some old family heirloom—a mysterious carved wooden box that no one in his family recalled the significance of. Marco wrote the man and told him he’d get back to him if he ever gleaned something useful from it. After studying it for a few days he put it away when another prospect stole his attention.

Years later, while reading a book on famous bank robbers of the West, Marco had come upon a story describing Charlie Maynard and his violent history. The man’s name had jogged his memory, and when he dug the copy of the map from his files he was finally able to piece it together.

Plagued by visa problems, Marco knew he wouldn’t have enough time to properly search the mountain. It wasn’t until he searched the websites of universities who had summer mountain research programs that he came up with an idea. Carol had played perfectly into his plan…

CHAPTER 56

Marsh bitched at him for not driving fast enough. He told Robert to turn off the highway onto an old service road. Robert didn’t know where he was at first, but a few miles later he began to recognize certain boulders next to the road and the thick stands of blue fir. It was the same short cut his grandfather sometimes used when he went up for Christmas trees. The road also worked as a quick route to the timberline, where the trail they sometimes took to the glacier dipped down to a campground often used by climbers as a base camp.

Robert hoped Will would recognize where to turn off before recalling how his friend used to come up here and bow hunt in the fall.

He’ll remember how to get here. If he’s still alive…

When they’d gone several miles up the dusty road, Marsh ordered Robert to pull up between some trees heavily bearded with bright green-yellow lichen before tying his wrists together with a piece of rope. They got out of the truck and walked. Bats zipped past their heads catching moths and an owl hooted from a canyon below them.

After twenty minutes Marsh found two men back under the trees. They were sitting next to a fire smoking and drinking whiskey. In the dying light Robert noticed that the ground around them was littered with empty Vienna sausage tins and beer cans. When Marsh approached the campfire the two men almost fell out of their seats.

“What the fuck?” A man named Billy said. Marsh’s appearance had caused him to spill his drink down his shirtfront.

The other named Chester raised a gun and pointed it at Robert and Marsh. He was obviously drunk but trying his best to appear sober.

“Who the hell are you?” Chester demanded.

“It’s Marsh you dumbshit.”

Chester settled the gun at Robert. “And who’s he?”

“He’s the big winner. The one we get to trade for a fortune in gold.”

“Oh...” Billy lowered the gun and peered at Marsh. “What… What happened to you?”

“I got burned. What the fuck does it look like?”

“How’d it happen?”

“Long story Chester. One I don’t have time for now.”

The drunk shook his head in amazement. “Damn that’s got to hurt … You’re one hell of a crispy critter, aren’t you?”

Marsh didn’t reply. He turned away and grabbed something out of the fire. When he spun back around the end of a flaming branch appeared in Chester’s face. Chester jerked back and clutched at his singed nose.

“Why the fuck did you do that for?”

Marsh waved the branch in front of both men, until he was sure he had their full attention.

“We’ve got work to do gentlemen. A lot of work.”

Billy peered up, his bloodshot eyes watering. “It’s too late Marsh. Some people already got to the gold.”

“Why wasn’t I told about this?”

“We tried to call you. When you didn’t show up we thought maybe something had gone wrong.”

Marsh withdrew the burning branch and let the fingers of his free hand play in the flames. He couldn’t feel a thing. Nothing. The two men stared fearfully as they began to sober up.

“You wouldn’t be shitting with me now, would you?” Marsh said.

“It’s true,” Chester said. “These scientific types have been hanging around up there all week. We didn’t think they’d be anything to worry about. But we got up closer and watched them climb down inside the glacier today. It was like they knew what they were looking for.”

“We saw them raise up burlap sacks and pack them on a sled,” Billy added. “It just had to be the gold they was bringing up.”