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They made their way back to their vehicles without further incident. There was no sign of the Dominion. The hour was growing late, so they made the drive back to their hotel to regroup and reassess. Bones drove while Spenser and Maddock reviewed the information they had gathered, looking for any clue they might have missed. In the back of his mind, he was still trying to puzzle out the last clue—the center of the Trinity. They finally stopped in a town called Tropic where they dined on savory barbeque from a food truck and discussed the mystery.
“Now we know the story is true,” Spenser said. “And we know one of the places the Spaniards hid their treasure. We just need to figure out where they were when they finally hid the Golden Jesus and the rest of their trove. Native tradition puts it in the Fiftymile Creek area, but that’s not definitive proof.”
“That only leaves the entirety of the Utah desert,” Bones chimed in.
“Thanks for that,” Maddock said.
“Did they have a planned destination?” Spenser asked.
“The oldest town in Utah is Ogden, which wasn’t founded in 1845,” Maddock said. “That suggests the Spaniards would not have headed north—there was nothing there for them. Neither were there any towns of any size in northern Arizona.”
“Either they were headed for New Mexico, or they had no plan at all and were simply pillaging aimlessly,” Platt said around a mouthful of brisket.
“Aimless pillaging sounds like something a bunch of deserters would do,” Bones said.
“They burned their bridges with the Spanish when they raided churches,” Maddock said. “Not many places they could go without fear of repercussion.”
“If it were me, I would found my own city. And I would serve better food.” Segar made a face as he watched Gold devour a pulled pork sandwich.
“We’re sorry you couldn’t find sushi in small-town Utah,” Gold said. “Now, shut up and eat your celery.”
“It’s limp,” Segar said, “like your manhood.”
“Let’s explore Segar’s idea,” Maddock said loudly, trying to forestall another argument. “Put yourself in the mindset of the surviving Spanish soldiers. They can’t go back to California or Mexico. They could try and make it to New Mexico, but even if they survived the long journey through the desert, a journey which would have taken them through Navajo, Ute, and Apache territory, there is still a chance the authorities in Santa Fe would have been made aware of their depredations. It doesn’t seem like a realistic idea to me. Finding a place to settle down would make the most sense.”
“Of course it does.” Segar took a bite of rubbery celery and chewed thoughtfully.
“Suppose you want to start a settlement,” Maddock said. “What are the essentials you’ll need for survival?”
“Women,” Segar said.
“Food, water, and fuel,” Bones said.
“The only women around were natives. They could get food, water, and fuel in the Escalante area.”
“And we know they didn’t make it out of the desert before they ditched the treasure,” Bones said.
“So, we’re back where we started,” Maddock said.
“That’s a huge area,” Bones said. “We can’t search every inch of it. How do we narrow it down? And don’t say we’re going to draw a grid over the entire area and search it inch-by-inch,” Bones said.
“Maybe later,” Maddock said. “How about we put Jimmy on the case? He might turn up something.”
Jimmy Letson was a reporter who had worked for various newspapers on the east coast. He currently wrote for The Washington Scribe. He was also an accomplished hacker. A Navy veteran, Jimmy had been part of Maddock and Bones’ SEAL class but had rung out of training before completing the course. Since then, they had remained in touch, and Jimmy had aided them in many treasure hunts. Maddock punched up Jimmy’s number and turned on the speakerphone.
“Do you know what time it is here?” Jimmy said when he answered.
“It’s not even ten o’clock on the east coast,” Maddock said.
“I’m watching a ballgame and you’re interrupting,” Jimmy complained. “Why don’t you text like a normal person?”
“This is the age of streaming. Just hit the pause button. Besides, you never reply to my texts.”
“Take a hint, why don’t you?” Jimmy sighed deeply. “Let’s get this over with. What do you asshats want?”
Maddock quickly summarized the events of the past few days and gave Jimmy the high points of their research.
“You act like I have a magic wand and I can just conjure up obscure clues to lost treasures.”
“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Maddock said.
“Screw you, Maddock. I’m just annoyed by your laziness.” In the background, they could hear Jimmy’s fingers pounding away at a keyboard.
Segar leaned in and shouted into the phone. “Mister Letson, this is Sensei Steven Segar. I would consider it a personal favor if you would help us out.”
“Good Lord, Seagull, it’s a phone, not two cans and a string,” Gold snapped.
“Maddock, that is the worst celebrity impression I’ve ever heard,” Jimmy said. “And if you’re going to impersonate an action hero, make it someone who can actually fight, like Jean-Pierre van Dyke.”
“I taught him everything he knows,” Segar protested.
“Dude, you don’t even sound like him,” Jimmy said. “Now, cut the crap and read me the clues you’ve gathered.”
Spenser read Brigham Young’s story aloud while Jimmy hammered away at his keyboard, occasionally dropping a curse word. He added in a few keywords related to what they had already discovered in the canyon. Finally, he let out a whoop!
“I’ve got a ton of matches, all from a book published in 1949.” Jimmy paused, swore again. “Never mind. It’s a novel. Fiction, I’m afraid.”
“Fiction can be heavily grounded in facts,” Maddock said. “What’s the title and author?”
“Desert Gold by Kirk Striker.”
Everyone but Segar and Dakota reacted immediately. The cryptex had been found in a vault beneath Striker’s crypt. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I’d love to get a copy of that book, but it’s probably long out of print,” Maddock said.
“It’s the twenty-first century,” Jimmy said. “It’s been digitized and put online. I’ll send you a link.”
Maddock thanked Jimmy and promised his standard fee—a bottle of Scotch. He, Jimmy, and Bones took a minute for some good-natured banter before ending the call. Meanwhile, Spenser had already begun skimming the book.
“It’s the story of the search for a lost Spanish treasure,” Spenser said. “Instead of a Golden Jesus, it’s a Golden Lamb. And the soldiers aren’t thieves, they’re protectors of the treasure. The treasure is entrusted to them by a Spanish priest, who wants to keep it away from a dangerous sect within the church—a group called the Servati.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Bones said. He and Maddock had recently run afoul of the Servati while on a trip to Ireland. “Get to the part where the treasure is hidden.”
“Read it yourself,” Spenser said. “Jimmy sent you the link, too.”
“Is there an audio version?” Bones asked.
Spenser ignored him. Soon, everyone was reading on a phone or tablet. Segar had the annoying habit of reading over other people's shoulders and expecting them to proceed at his pace.
“Seagull, if you don’t leave me alone, I’m going to shoot you square in your tiny little...” Gold held up his pinky finger.
“If you were a better reader, you wouldn’t slow me down,” Segar said. “Why don’t I read aloud for everyone’s benefit? My first gig in the entertainment industry was supposed to be a voice-over for a Japanese martial arts film. The producer took one look at me and knew my face deserved to be onscreen. So, he scrapped the project and decided to film a reboot with me as the star.”
“Who was the producer?” Dakota asked.
Segar smiled. “Me.”
“Let’s stick to silent reading,” Maddock said. “Helps me focus.”
“No need,” Bones said. “I know where the treasure is hidden. Rather, I know where Stryker put it in this book.”
“How can you already be finished?” Spenser said.
“I read it the same way I read mystery stories,” Bones said. “I skipped to the end. And you’re not going to like it.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Maddock said.
“The same place as Brigham Young said. The center of the Trinity.”
“Dammit!” Gold pounded his fist on the table. “Does he elaborate at all?”
“He phrased it, ‘the cross at the center of the Trinity’.”
A flash of insight struck Maddock. They had encountered the cross-in-clover symbol multiple times on this hunt. And the clover was used by many as a symbol of the Trinity. He called up a satellite image of Fiftymile Creek, zoomed in, and gave each twist, turn, and spur a careful inspection. There it was! He smiled and held up his phone for all to see.
“I think I’ve got it.”
