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“I look ridiculous.” Bones cast a sour frown at the coveralls he was wearing. They were too small and left his wrists and ankles exposed. He turned to Kendra. “This is almost as bad as when you put me in that cheap costume to infiltrate a Halloween parade. For her part, Kendra merely smirked and snapped a couple of pics.
“This one is a keeper,” she said, admiring her work.
“There’s got to be something else I can wear.”
“Stop complaining. We were lucky to find anything your fat butt could squeeze into,” Maddock said.
Thanks to Spenser’s behind-the-scenes knowledge of the park, they had entered a network of tunnels that ran underneath the park, allowing employees to move quickly and unobserved from place to place. There they had purloined two pairs of coveralls from a laundry cart and grabbed a couple of hand tools from an unattended toolbox.
“Put on your happy faces,” Spenser said. “Drakeland doesn’t tolerate frowny employees. You go around looking like that and they’ll know you don’t belong.”
“This is my happy face.” Bones stared blankly at her.
“Close your eyes and imagine country music has been banned,” Spenser said.
“Some old-school country is okay, so I’ll imagine it’s modern bro-country.” Bones closed his eyes and smiled. “What do you know? It works.”
They lurked near the service entrance at the back of the Ghostly Manor until they saw an employee approaching. All smiles, they fell in step a few paces behind the young man, who unlocked the door and politely held it open for them.
“Thanks,” Maddock said.
“Got a minor repair to deal with.” Bones held up a screwdriver.
“Is an electrical issue again?” the employee asked. “The dancing ghoul keeps shorting out.”
“We’re supposed to look at the lighting in the graveyard, but we’ll check out the ghoul when we’re finished,” Maddock said.
Using Daniel’s maps of the Ghostly Manor, they had memorized the way to the graveyard where the hearse was parked and found it quickly. Maddock opened the access door and peered inside.
“The carriages come in a steady stream, five to ten seconds apart,” Maddock said.
“How are we going to do this without being spotted?” Bones asked.
“Are you a SEAL or not? This is what we’re trained for.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about the day we spent hiding in a theme park ride.” Bones rolled his eyes.
“Are you afraid you can’t do it?”
“You think that’s going to motivate me?” Bones asked.
“Forget it. I’ll do it myself. You’re too big and clumsy anyway.”
“Screw you, Maddock.”
Bones shoved past him, got down on hands and knees, and crawled into the graveyard. Maddock followed behind him. They slithered across the floor, weaving in and out of headstones with humorous epitaphs engraved on them. Maddock grinned as he passed a grave marker that read Here lies Les Moore, No Les no More. Another was inscribed with the words, I told you I was sick.
The horse-drawn hearse was parked at the far corner of the graveyard. It was hand-carved with ornate ionic columns and a draped, glassed-in space for the body. They scrambled underneath it just as a car came rumbling along the track.
“This is going to be a pain,” Bones said.
“Just try to remain out of sight and be patient.”
“Patient? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”
They gave the underside of the carriage a quick inspection but found nothing. They waited for the next car to pass, then Bones climbed inside to continue the search. Maddock had to do his part—inspecting the exterior—in fits and starts, ducking behind cover every time another carriage rolled by.
“I got nothing,” Bones finally said. “I think the interior has been refurbished. Whatever was once here might be gone.”
“It would be hidden in a place no one would look.” Maddock’s eyes scanned the ornate scrollwork at the top of the hearse. Something caught his eye—a slight variation in the pattern. He waited for a break between cars and moved in for a closer look.
Faintly engraved on a raised disc was the cross-in-clover symbol of the Dominion. He tried to turn it, but it did not budge.
“This has got to be it.” He ducked down as another car rolled by. The hearse had obviously been repainted, probably many times, in the century-and-a-half since it had carried Brigham Young to his final resting place. Perhaps main force was in order. Next opportunity, he got a firm grip on the disc and threw all his strength into the effort. With a series of cracks and pops, the disc rotated a full turn to the right. He removed it to reveal a hollowed-out space. Inside lay a bundle wrapped in oilcloth and bound with twine. He removed it, tucked it inside his coveralls.
“I’ve got it,” he said to Bones. “Let’s go.” No one batted an eye at them as they made their way to the exit door.
“What do you know?” Bones said as he turned the door handle. “It went off without a hitch. That never happens.”
As the door opened, Maddock spotted two costumed characters lingering nearby. One was a chestnut-haired man in a Prince Lerryn costume, the other a bearded man dressed as the pirate Captain Rattlebones. “Hold on, Bones. I think we’ve got a problem.”
“Those dudes? They work here, don’t they?”
“Characters never loiter. They travel underground and stay out of sight when they aren’t on duty. Besides, the prince should be in Magicland and the pirate in Swashbuckler’s Bay.
“That Dominion guy did say they had other people in the park,” Bones said. “Should we find another way out?”
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” A bespectacled park employee wearing a nametag that read DWIGHT-ASSISTANT MANAGER came strutting up to them.
“We took a look at the dancing ghoul,” Maddock said. “We need to replace a fuse and some wiring. We’re going to get it now.”
Dwight frowned. “I haven’t submitted that request order yet.”
“One of your staff mentioned it,” Maddock said. “You do want it repaired, don’t you?”
“That is not proper procedure.” Dwight frowned, pursed his lips. “Let me see your work order.”
“It’s here somewhere.” Maddock patted his breast pockets.
“It would be on your park-issued phone.” Dwight rested his hands on his hips. “How long have you worked here?”
“I’ve got it.” Bones took out his phone, stepped up, and held the screen in front of the officious assistant manager’s face.
“This is a photo of Teddy Roosevelt riding a velociraptor,” Dwight said. “Is this a joke?”
“Yes, and the joke’s on you.” Bones punched the man square in the jaw, and he went out like a light.
“Nice going,” Maddock said as he grabbed the unconscious manager before he hit the ground.
“He’s an assclown.” Bones cracked his knuckles. “That felt good. Let’s do the characters next.”
“Maybe they aren’t actually looking for us.”
“Don’t ruin this for me,” Bones said. He pushed open the door and stepped out into the bright sunlight. Captain Rattlebones and Prince Lerryn were waiting for them. The two characters moved to block the pathway that led back to the park.
“Is there a problem?” Bones asked.
“Give it to us,” Rattlebones said.
“Why don’t you give it to each other?” Bones said. “Plenty of privacy back here.”
“Don’t play dumb,” Rattlebones said. “You are on the hunt same as us.”
“The hunt for what?” Maddock asked.
“The hunt for Golden Jesus,” the prince blurted. His cheeks turned scarlet under the heat of Rattlebones’ glare.
“I’ve heard of Purple Jesus and Touchdown Jesus, but Golden is a new one to me,” Bones said. “I’m afraid we can’t help you. Now, step out of the way or we’ll move you.”
“You think so?” Rattlebones drew his sword and Lerryn followed suit. Maddock could tell in an instant these were not replicas, but actual swords. Their razor-sharp edges flashed in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the trees. “Last chance,” Rattlebones said.
Maddock knew the talking would soon come to an end. Time to seize the advantage. He unhooked the hammer from his belt and flung it at Rattlebones. It struck the costumed character square in the forehead, and he let out a yelp of pain and covered his face. Maddock bore him to the ground and punched him in the jaw.
“I give up,” the pirate grunted.
Prince Lerryn wasted no time attacking Bones. He made a quick thrust at Bones’ throat, but the experienced fighter moved just out of range. He tried another thrust. Bones disdainfully smacked it aside with a pipe wrench he carried. Annoyed, Lerryn took a reckless swipe at the big Indian’s head. Bones ducked the sword stroke and clocked Lerryn in the temple with his wrench. The prince collapsed.
“Did you kill him?” Maddock asked. He had Rattlebones pinned to the ground.
“No, I was careful. How about your guy?”
“He’s fine.” Maddock turned to Rattlebones. “Who do you work for?”
“Drakeland,” the pirate said.
“Hand me your screwdriver,” Maddock said to Bones. “I’m going to shove it up his nose and scramble his brain.
“I’m serious!” Rattlebones pleaded. “We’re security for Joab Zollinger. He’s a V.P.”
“Did you say Zollinger?” Bones asked.
“Yes. He’s German.”
Maddock frowned at Bones. A man named Jude Zollinger had once been the leader of the Utah branch of the Dominion—the Deseret Dominion. His son, Saul, had been an archaeologist whom they had encountered during their search for Cibola. They were American, but Maddock had a hunch there was a connection.
“Did Zollinger send you after us?”
“Yes. He said you were planning on stealing something, and we should let you find it, then take it from you.”
“And what is Golden Jesus?” Maddock asked.
“I don’t know. We heard him through the door talking to someone on the phone. He mentioned it and said he would send us to retrieve it. No idea who he was talking to or how he knew you would be here. That’s all I can tell you. You have my word.”
Maddock turned to Bones. “Should we let him go?”
“Look out!” Bones shouted.
Rattlebones had managed to take hold of his fallen sword. Before he could swing it, Maddock grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head against the asphalt. The pirate’s eyes went fuzzy, and the weapon slipped from his grasp.
Maddock and Bones dumped the semi-conscious men in some bushes, hid their coveralls, tools, and swords in some nearby bushes, and hurried away. Out in the park, Spenser and Dakota were waiting for them.
“Did you find something?” Spenser asked.
Maddock patted his chest where the oilcloth was hidden inside his shirt. “But we need to get out of here fast. At least one higher-up in the park knows we’re here and is searching for us.”
“What was inside the hearse?” Spenser asked as they double-timed it to the exit.
“Papers. We haven’t examined them yet, but according to the guys who attacked us, we’re looking for something called the Golden Jesus.”
