A Treasure Deep (5 page)

In the center of the small office was an oak
desk, scarred with age. It had once belonged to her father. Several
pink message slips were laid out on her desk awaiting her
attention. She stacked them and put them aside. Lowering herself
into the leather executive chair behind the desk, she snatched up
the phone and dialed a two-digit number.

“Bob Vincent,” the voice on the other end
said.

“Bob, it’s Anne. Are you aware of a large
construction project going on in town?”

“No. Should I be?”

“I just saw a caravan of trucks go by, and
some of them were transporting large equipment.”

The director of the planning department
asked, “What kind of equipment?”

“I saw a backhoe and dozer and something I
didn’t recognize. There were also a couple of semis and a bus.”

“A bus? You’re kidding.”

“Straight-up truth, Bob. I assume that
they’re bringing their own workers in.”

“That’s possible. Makes me curious.”

“Me too,” Anne agreed. “Have you ever heard
of Sachs Engineering?” She spelled the name.

“Can’t say that I have, but that doesn’t mean
much. Engineering can mean anything. It’s like companies with
‘Communication’ in their name. That covers speechwriters to
telephone companies. Have you tried the Internet?”

“Not yet; I wanted to see what you knew.”

“Sorry I can’t be more help. You want me to
call the county and see if they know anything?”

“That’d be great. I’ll see what else I can
find.”

Anne was on her computer within seconds of
returning the phone to its cradle. Keys clicked and clacked until
she was on the Internet searching for “Sachs Engineering.” A list
of over 150 hits appeared on her screen. Most were dead ends. She
wanted the business site and found it near the top of the list. A
mouse-click later she was looking at a professionally designed,
brightly colored web site. Across the top of the page were photos
of skyscrapers, industrial centers, and airport terminals.

“Wow,” Anne said to herself. She studied the
web page and found a button titled About Us. She clicked it and
watched as the screen dissolved to yellow then reassembled itself
into a grouping of text and photos. She read quickly, mumbling the
words aloud.

“Sachs Engineering . . . founded in 1975 by
Henry Sachs . . . specializing in major construction projects
around the world . . . Hong Kong . . . Bombay . . . London . . .
Dublin . . . Rio de Janeiro . . .” She stopped short. A quick count
revealed fifteen projects in South America, twenty-eight in Europe,
eight in Africa, and sixteen in Asian countries. She didn’t bother
counting the long list of projects in the U.S. “What are you doing
in our little neck of the woods?” she asked the monitor.

She spent the next twenty minutes perusing
the site. It was a professional and impressive presentation but
still simple. There were no flashing images or sounds. Just
straight-to-the-point information.

Anne’s phone rang, and she jerked at the
sound of it. It was Bob Vincent.

“Ready for what I found?” the planning
department head asked.

“That didn’t take long,” Anne said.

“It didn’t take long because I struck out,”
Bob explained. “I called the county, and they don’t show anything
going on in the areas just beyond our city limits. I also checked
with the utility companies, and they said they had no projects in
our area. I made other calls and struck out everywhere. No one
knows anything.”

“I saw the trucks and equipment go through
town,” Anne said.

“I don’t doubt you,” Bob interjected. “Maybe
they were just passing through.”

“Did you check with San Bernardino
County?”

“Yeah. I also had my aide call Bakersfield
and Mojave. Nothing doing.”

Anne’s mind processed the information. “I
wonder if they’re planning on doing something sneaky. They’re a
huge firm,” she said, then told him what she had learned.

“Firms like that don’t sneak around,” Bob
said. “If they want to do something in a small town like ours, then
they would just bowl us over with high dollar attorneys.”

“Something’s not right,” Anne said. Her
curiosity began to churn. “You want to take a drive?”

“Where?”

“To wherever they are. I don’t think they
were just pulling through town, Bob. We’re a little off the beaten
path. They are either completely lost or are headed here. And they
had enough equipment to make me think that some big project is in
the works—a project that no one knows anything about.”

“Maybe it’s a government thing,” Bob
suggested. “You know those guys. They think they’re exempt from
every law, especially those in jerkwater towns like ours.”

“Tejon is not a jerkwater town, Bob. People
live here because the air is clean, they can see the stars at
night, and it’s a great place to raise kids.”

“I know that, Anne,” Bob said defensively.
“But to big city clowns that come through here on occasion, we’re
just a little hamlet in the hills.”

“You want to go with me or not?” Anne
demanded.

“Yeah, I’ll go. Someone needs to keep an eye
on you. You sound like you’re in the mood for a fight.”

“Not really,” Anne replied. “I just don’t
like someone taking advantage of our city or our county.”

“I’ll drive,” Bob said. “We’ll take a city
vehicle. That way we’ll look official. Any idea where they
went?”

“No, not really. I know they were headed west
through town. That was half an hour ago. They can’t have gone
far.”

“Moving big rigs on these roads is a slow
process. Still, we better get going.”

“Okay,” Anne said. “I’ll meet you out front.
I’m going to make a quick call first.” She hung up, pulled a city
directory from her desk, searched for a number, then placed a call.
Three minutes later she was in the front seat of a white Dodge
pickup. Bob, a tall man in his fifties, sat behind the wheel. He
smiled through gray eyes. “Ready for Anne’s big adventure?”

“Just drive, Bob,” Anne said as she slipped
her seat belt on.

“Who’d you call?”

“Sergeant Montulli. I thought extra eyes
might be useful, so I asked him to alert his deputies. If they see
the caravan, he’ll call me on my cell phone, assuming we’re not in
a cell phone dead zone. Connections are iffy in these hills.”

“Pretty smart. I guess that’s why you’re
mayor and I’m just a city employee.”

“Let’s see, who gets the full-time salary?
Wait, don’t tell me. That would be you.”

“Ah, small town life.” Bob dropped the truck
into gear and drove it out of the parking lot.

PERRY KNOCKED LIGHTLY on the wood jamb and waited.
The front door was open, and he could see through the aged screen
door into the simple living room. The house was a white ranch style
that he judged to be less than fifteen hundred square feet. When he
pulled his vehicle up the dirt drive and into the gently sloping
front yard, he noticed that the home was in need of repairs. The
roof was a blanket of weathered composition shingles, many of which
were askew or missing. The walls were covered in shiplap siding
that had been exposed to years of California sun and roughly abused
by decades of persistent wind.

To the south side of the house stood a simple
vegetable garden, bordered by a three-foot-high fence of chicken
wire to keep out rabbits and squirrels. Now he stood on a creaky
wooden porch waiting for someone to answer his knock. Gentle music
wafted out the door.

Perry knocked again. The music died, and he
heard the sound of a sliding glass door opening, followed by muted
footsteps. A woman with a wrinkled brown face approached.

“Yes?” she said softly. She stayed a few
steps back from the door. Perry could see her apprehension.

“Good afternoon, I’m Perry Sachs. I’m here to
see Hector and Rose Trujillo.”

“Oh, Señor Sachs,” the woman said with a
broad smile. “I am Rose. Please, come in, come in.” She approached
and pushed the screen door open, and Perry entered. The room was
filled with the lush smells of food, and his stomach came to
attention. “I didn’t know you were going to stop by,” she said. Her
voice was spiced with a Mexican accent but not as strongly as he
had expected. He had spoken to her previously, but only on the
phone and only for a few moments before being handed off to her
husband. “Hector is in the back.” She led the way.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said.

“Oh, no. We don’t get much company out here,”
she said.

“Out here” is right, Perry thought. The
nearest neighbor was several miles away. Nestled in the hills as
the home was, no other house could be seen.

Rose led Perry through the small living room,
past the dining area, and back outside through a sliding glass
door. “Hector, it’s Señor Sachs.”

Perry descended a three-step set of creaky
stairs and found himself standing on a cracked concrete patio
covered with a worn, whitewashed latticework that checkered the
floor in squares of shade. The patio was furnished with two
cushioned lounge chairs and two plastic chairs. A small, round
redwood table separated the lounge chairs. On the table were plates
and two half-filled glasses of tea. One plate held only a few
crumbs; the other had a half-eaten portion of casserole.

A thin, brown man who looked to be in his
early seventies was seated on one of the lounge chairs. Perry knew
the man was only fifty-eight. He was dressed in jeans, a tan work
shirt, and one tennis shoe. Only one shoe was necessary since his
left leg was missing. Next to the chair was a pair of crutches. The
man reached for them.

“Don’t get up,” Perry said quickly. “I didn’t
mean to disrupt your lunch. I assume you’re Hector.” Perry extended
his hand and approached.

The man settled back in the chair and shook
hands. “Yes, I’m Hector. It’s good to have a face with the name,”
he said. He smiled, showing straight, white teeth. Perry wondered
why he had expected a gap-toothed grin. “Please sit down. Can Rose
get you some tea?”

“No, thank you,” Perry said. “I won’t keep
you long. I’m just back in the country, and I’m a little worn out
from the trip. I’m looking forward to a nap in my motel room.”

“I didn’t expect a personal visit,” Hector
said. His voice was strong, but his eyes revealed an inner
weakness. Perry knew he was sick, but seeing it firsthand filled
him with a deep pathos.

“How are you feeling, sir?” Perry asked,
pulling up one of the plastic chairs. Rose returned to her
lounge.

“Some days are better than others. The cancer
continues to spread, or so the doctors tell me.”

“You’re undergoing chemotherapy?”

He nodded. “It leaves me tired. My house
grows old with me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

It was Perry’s turn to nod. “I came by to say
thank you for letting us investigate your property—and to give you
this.” Reaching into his suit coat pocket, Perry pulled out a slip
of paper. “It’s another check.”

Hector took the check and looked at it. “Ten
thousand dollars,” he said with surprise. “This is very generous.
You’ve already paid ten thousand. That was our agreement.”

“I know,” Perry said. “But I was able to get
more. You have been very gracious to us. I appreciate that.”

“Most businessmen don’t pay more than they
have to,” Hector said. “This I’ve learned from years of life.”

“True, but Sachs Engineering isn’t like other
businesses. I also wanted you to know that we’re on the site now.
When we’re done, we’ll return the ground to its original condition
just as promised in the contract. We’ll also be as speedy as
possible.”

Hector passed the check to Rose. “Take your
time,” Hector said. “I can do nothing with the land now. I can no
longer ranch. The cancer has stolen my livelihood.” He shifted his
gaze to the green hills beyond. “It has been two years since I sold
my livestock. That was during my first fight with . . . with this.”
He motioned to his body. “They took my leg back then. I suppose I
could have adjusted, but the cancer continued to spread. All I have
now is the land—the land and my wife.”

“We have our children,” Rose said.

“I suppose, but they are not here, are they?”
Hector turned back to Perry. “We have two children; both have moved
out of state. One teaches; the other is a nurse.”

“Noble professions,” Perry said.

“Yes, but what of the land? I suppose I can
sell it, but it’s been in the family for many generations. My
grandfather made a ranch of this place and gave it to my father,
and he gave it to me. I will pass it to my children, but they will
sell it. Do you have any children, Señor Sachs?”

“No, I’ve never married. Been a little too
busy, I guess.”

“Children make you old,” Hector said.

“You stop that,” Rose demanded. “Children are
a blessing from the Lord.”

Hector smiled then winked at Perry. “I can’t
run from her anymore, but I can still find ways to irritate her.
It’s good entertainment for a man in my condition.”

Perry chuckled politely.

“What are you looking for?” Rose asked.

The question caught Perry off guard.

“Rose,” Hector said quickly, “I told you that
they want to keep that secret.”

“I know it sounds strange,” Perry
interjected, “but I can’t tell you.”

“It’s not oil,” Rose said. “You have to go
down into the valley for that, and all those sites were bought up
two generations ago.”

“No, it’s not oil,” Perry replied.

“Gold?” Rose prompted. “There’s no gold
here.”

Hector frowned. “Rose, leave the man alone.
We agreed to let them have their secret.”

“Why can’t we know?” Rose persisted. “It’s
our land. We may be cash poor, but we still have the land, and it’s
valuable. We own whatever there is in it.”

“Mrs. Trujillo,” Perry said. “Your land
remains yours, including all mineral rights. We’re not prospecting
or mining. We should only be here a few weeks at most and probably
much less than that. Right now I have to keep certain things under
wraps, but when the time comes, I promise to tell you.”