Clive Cussler - Treasure

Lily peered at the wording and read it aloud as the others crowded around her.

"This stone marks the way to where I ordered buried the works from the great Hall of the Muses.

"I escaped the slaughter of our fleet by the barban'ans and made my way south, where I was accepted by a primitive pyramid people as a sage and a prophet.

"I have taught them what I know of the stars and science, but they put little of my teachings to practical use. They prefer to worship pagan gods and follow ignorant priests' demands for human sacrifice.

"Sevenyearshavepassedsincemy arrival. My return here is filled with sorrow at the sight of the bones of my former comrades. I have seen to their burial. My ship is ready and I shall soon set sail for Rome.

"If Theodosius still lives I shall be executed but accept the risk gladly to see my family one last time.

"To those who read this, should I perish, the entrance to the storage chamber is buried under the hill. Stand north and look straight south to the liver cliff."

Junius Venator 10 August 398

"So Venator survived the massacre only to die seven years later on the return voyage to Rome," said Pitt.

"Or perhaps he made it and was executed without talking," added Sandecker.

"No, Theodosius died in 395," said Lily in wonder. .,To think the message was here all this time and ignored as a counterfeit. "

Trinity's eyebrows lifted. "You know this Venator guy?"

"We've been tracking him," admitted Pitt.

"Have you searched for the chamber?" Sandecker asked.

Trinity nodded. "Dug all over these hills, but found nuthin' but what you see here."

"How deep?"

"Used a backhoe about ten years ago. Made a pit six meters down, but only found that sandal over there in the case,"

"Could you show us the site where you discovered the stone and other artifacts?" Pitt asked him.

The old Texan looked at Garza. "Think it's okay, Herb?"

"Take my word, Sam, you can trust these people. They're not artifact robbers."

Trinity nodded vigorously. "All right, let's take a ride. We can go in my Jeep."

Trinity steered the Jeep Wagoneer up a dirt road past several modern homes and stopped in front of a barbed-wire fence. He got out, unhooked a section of the wire and pulled it aside. Then he climbed back behind the wheel and continued on over a trail that was grown over and barely perceptible.

When the four-wheeled Jeep crested a long, sloping rise, he stopped and turned off the ignition. "Well, here it is, Gongora Hill. A long time ago somebody told me it was named after a seventeenth-century Spanish poet. Why they named this dirt heap for a poet beats grits out of me."

Pitt gestured at a low hill four hundred meters to the north. "What do they call that ridge over there?"

"Has no name I ever heard of," replied Trinity.

"Where did you discover the stone?" asked Lily.

"Hold on, just a little further."

Trinity restarted the engine and slowly edged the Jeep down the slope, dodging the mesquite and low underbrush. After a two-minute bumpy ride, he braked beside a shallow wash.

He stepped from the car and walked to the edge and looked down.

"Right here I found a corner of it sticking out of the bank."

"This dry wash," observed Pitt, "winds between Gongora and the far hill."

Trinity nodded. "Yeah, but no way the stone traveled from there to the slope below Gongora unless it was dragged."

"This is hardly a flood plain," agreed Sandecker. "Erosion and heavy rains over a long time period might have carried it fifty meters from the summit of Gongora, but not half a kilometer from the next summit."

"And the other artifacts," asked Lily, "where did they lie?"

Trinity swept a hand on an arc toward the river. "They were scattered a little further down the slope and continued almost through the center of town."

"Did you conduct a survey with transits and mark each location?"

"Sorry, miss, not being an archaeologist, I didn't think to pinpoint the holes."

Lily's eyes flashed disappointment, but she made no reply.

"You must have used a metal detector," said Pitt.

"Made it myself," Trinity answered proudly. "Sensitive enough to read a penny at half a meter."

"Who owns the land?"

"Twelve hundred acres hereabouts have been in my family since Texas was a republic."

"That saves a lot of legal hassle," Sandecker said approvingly.

Pitt looked at his watch. The sun was beginning to fall beyond the string of hills. He tried to visualize the running fight between the Indians and the Roman-Egyptians toward the river and the fleet of ancient ships. He could almost hear the shouting, the screams of pain, the clash of weapons. He felt as if he had been present that fateful day so long ago. He returned to the present as Lily continued her questioning of Trinity.

"Strange that you didn't find any bones on the battlefield."

"Early Spanish sailors who were shipwrecked on the Texas Gulf Coast and managed to make their way to Veracruz and Mexico City," Garza answered her, "told of Indians who practiced cannibalism."

Lily made an expression of utter distaste. "You can't know for certain the dead were eaten."

"Perhaps a small number," said Garza. "And what remains that weren't dragged off by tribal dogs or wild animals were later buried by this guy Venator. any they missed turned to dust. "

"Herb's right," said Pitt. "any bones that remained on surface ground would disintegrate in time."

Lily became very still. She gazed almost mystically at the nearby crest of Gongora Hill. "I can't begin to believe we're actually standing within a few meters of the treasures."

An icy calm seemed to settle over them for a few moments. Then Pitt finally echoed the other's thoughts.

"A lot of good men died sixteen centuries ago to preserve the knowledge of their time," he said softly, eyes staring into the past. "I think it's time we dig it free."

The next morning Admiral Sandecker was passed through the compound gate by Secret Service guards. He drove along a winding lane to the President's hideaway cottage on the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. He stopped his commercial rental car in the drive and removed his briefcase from the trunk. There was a crisp chill in the air, and he found it invigorating after the steamy temperatures along the Rio Grande.

The President, dressed in a warm sheepskin jacket, came down the steps from the porch and greeted him. "Admiral, thank you for coming. "

"I'd rather be here than in Washington."

"How was your trip?"

"Slept most of it."

"Sorry to bring you up here in a mad rush."

"I'm fully aware of the urgency."

The President put a hand on Sandecker's back and steered him up the steps toward the cottage door. "Come in and have some breakfast. Dale Nichols, Julius Schiller and Senator Pitt are already attacking the eggs and smoked ham."

"Assembled the brain trust, I see," Sandecker said with a cagey smile.

"We spent half the night discussing the political impact of your discovery."

"Little I can tell you in person that wasn't in the report I sent by courier."

"Except you neglected to include a diagram of your proposed excavation."

"I would have gotten around to it," Sandecker said, standing his ground.

The President was not put off by Sandecker's attitude. "You can show everyone over but."

They broke off the conversation for a few moments as the President led him through the log-constructed house. They walked through a cozy living room decorated more for modern living than a hunting lodge. A small fire crackled away in a large rock fireplace. They entered the dining room, where Schiller and Nichols, dressed as fishermen, rose as one to shake hands. Senator Pitt merely waved. He wore a sweatsuit.