TEMPLARS QUEST: LUCEM SANCTAM (THE TEMPLARS QUEST CHRONICLES: A Historical Mystery Book 3) (2 page)

When he finished, I asked, “What happened?” I was really trying to contain myself. I didn’t want to show my anger and hate for him. He was free and Adam was still captive.

White Feather said, “Yesterday Adam and I were looking for glyphs. As we came to a dirt road there was a truck with four men. They greeted us and seemed friendly enough. They asked what we were doing here since the park was closed. We told them and they offered us a ride back to our camp.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Adam told them we were searching for glyphs that proved the Knights Templars came to this area. He showed them the glyph picture of the Ark.”

“What did they say?”

“Not much at the time. Then I mentioned the treasure and they really became interested, wanting to know more.”

Baldwin said, “So, you told them about the treasure in the Grand Canyon. That was pretty stupid.”

“I didn’t think it would hurt anything. Anyway, that is when they pointed their guns at me and took us prisoners.”

“Ok, then what did they do?” I asked.

“They blindfolded us and tied our hands. We were taken to some building, and they asked me many questions. If I didn’t answer they’d beat me and threaten to kill me.”

“What did they do to Adam?”

“Adam was locked up in a room. Then they locked me up and started talking to Adam. They asked him many questions about the treasure. They wanted to know exactly where it was located.”

“Did they hurt him?”

White Feather said, “I do not know for sure, because I managed to untie my hands and escape out a window. I hid until I saw them leave and then started walking back to your camp.”

“Did they search for you?” Baldwin asked.

“Yes, they searched all night for me. But I know how to hide very well.”

Maggie asked, “Who are these guys?”

White Feather looked at her and replied, “I do not know exactly. But this is called the Badlands by the local people. In the Badlands there are groups we call Nomad Bandits. That’s who they are.”

“Bandits?”

“Yes, bandits, who rob and kill people. They are nomads and don’t live in any one place to long.”

“White Feather, do you know any of these men?” I asked.

“No, of course not.”

“Are they Indians, or Hopi?”

“The men who captured us were not Indians. But I only saw a few of them because of the blindfold. The Hopi would never do such things.”  

“One final question. Do you know where they’re going?”

“Maybe the Grand Canyon. I don’t know for sure.”

I said, “I don’t think so. They can’t find the treasure until the summer solstice, which is June 21
st
. That’s 25 days away.”

Baldwin spoke up, “They only had ten men here, so maybe they’re going to their camp before going to the canyon.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right, George. The question is, where’s their camp at?”

“Let’s look at the map,” Maggie said.

While we were looking at the map, I noticed that Black Horse was talking to White Feather. I kept an eye on them, because I didn’t trust White Feather.

The radio came on. “We got company. Two Sheriff trucks just pulled up.”

Baldwin, Maggie, and I went outside to meet them. They were staring at our armored Humvees. Four Deputies peered at us and one said, “Are you men with the Army or Special Forces?” They stopped about thirty feet away, facing us. The Deputies guns were at low ready as they glanced around at our group of warriors, wondering who the hell we were.

The problem was we didn’t know if they were real Deputies. They might be fake ones, which was a common trick used by bad guys. Everyone was on edge and ready to take action.

George told a little white lie. “We’re Marine Special Forces assigned to the Army.”

The same Deputy replied, “Semper Fidelis.”

This has been the Marine motto since 1883. It is always spoken in Latin and means ‘Always Faithful.’ When a man says Semper Fidelis it usually means he was in the Marines. Once a Marine, always a Marine.

George repeated the motto back to the man, who had some stripes indicating he was a Sergeant. After shaking hands and introductions, Sergeant Smith asked, “Did you break in here?”

Baldwin lied again. “No, we found it this way. Four pickup trucks were here before us. They must have done it. They headed west on I-40. Did you come from that direction?”

“Yes, but we didn’t see any pickup trucks. We only spotted a few cars and some business trucks. The guys that broke in here must have been the bandits we’ve been chasing.”

“How many bandits are around here?”

“We don’t really know.”

I said, “We counted ten men.”

Smith replied, “Yeah, they run around in small groups.”

“How often do you get out this way?”

“We try to make it here once a week. By the way, where are you heading to, Captain?” Sergeant Smith asked.

Pointing at me, Baldwin said, “Jack, you tell him.”

“Yeah sure … we’re going to Flagstaff area looking for missing Army families.”

Deputy Smith nodded his head. “How many people are you looking for?”

“I think twelve, but there might more. We don’t know for sure.”

“Sergeant, how safe is Arizona?” Baldwin asked.

“What do you mean safe?”

“Are the cities safe so can people go about their daily business without being killed by gangs or bandits?”

“Mostly, but you still need to carry a weapon for protection. You never know what’s going to happen. Most towns have a Police Force and the state has the Highway Patrol and National Guard on duty.”

“So, you still have problems, but not as bad as New Mexico.”

“Yeah, that’s right. New Mexico has problems because they didn’t have any National Guard troops and very few active Police Officers. The Governor didn’t think they needed them. Here in Arizona we still have a lot of trouble down near the Mexican border.”

I asked, “What about Flagstaff area?”

“It’s pretty safe, if you stay on the main highways,” Smith advised. “With your firepower I doubt anyone will screw around with you.”

Deputy Smith’s radio came on and interrupted the conversation. After talking for a few minutes he advised, “Gentlemen, we have an emergency call and have to go. Do me a favor and lock this place up before you leave.”

“Ok, will do. Stay safe out there,” Baldwin told them.

Smith yelled back, while getting into his truck, “You too, Captain,” as he waved goodbye and sped away. We stood there a minute watching them leave.

“Jack, why didn’t you tell them that Adam was kidnapped?” Maggie asked.

“Because I don’t want the police involved in this. It’s family business and we’ll take care of it.”

“Let’s look at the map again,” Baldwin said. “We have to figure out where these guys went.”

I said, “My guess is, if the Sheriff didn’t see the four trucks, then they turned off I-40 somewhere and are taking back roads.”

I moseyed over to White Feather who was talking to Black Horse on the couch. They glanced up at me and I asked, “White Feather, do you know this part of the country?”

“Yes, I do. What would you like to know?”

“If you were these guys, where would you hide at?”

White Feather scratched his head as if thinking. “This is Navajo country. They might know where these men are.”

“Who can we talk to about this?” Baldwin asked him.

“I know several people we can speak to. They live in Indian Wells and Dilkon City, on the Navajo Reservation.”

“Where exactly are these towns?” I asked. White Feather was pissing me off. Getting information out of him was like pulling teeth. You had to pry it out of him, he didn’t volunteer it.

Mr. Feather stood up and advised, “Not far from here,” as he slowly walked to the map and pointed at the two towns. “If they went by these towns then someone saw them.”

Indian Wells was on Route 77, just north about 50 miles. Dilkon City was just west of Indian Wells, on Navajo Route 15.

Studying the map, it was clear, we needed to proceed west on I-40 for about five miles and exit on Route 77. Then go north for 50 miles to Indian Wells. All of a sudden a bell rang in my brain. This could be the route the bandits took. Maybe some Navajos did see them.

Baldwin peered at me and said, “Are you thinking what I am?”

“Yeah, this could be the route that the kidnappers took.”

“Bingo! Baldwin shouted, “Everyone, get ready to move out!”

Glancing at my watch it was already 11 am. Baldwin gave orders for the convoy to keep in a tight formation. We mounted up; as usual Maggie and the dogs were riding with me. It felt weird that Adam wasn’t sitting next to me.

As we were about to roll out, Black Horse came up to my window. “Jack, I think you should know that White Feather is acting strange. He told me when we get to Indian Wells he wants to leave and go to the Hopi Nation. It is not far from Indian Wells, just 10 or 20 miles away.”

“Ok, thanks for telling me, Black Horse.” As he returned to his truck I thought,
White Feather isn’t going anywhere until he helps us find Adam.
                 

Maggie overheard Black Horse. “I can’t believe that White Feather wants to leave our group. Are you gonna let him?”

“Of course not,” I replied. “He’s not going anywhere until we find Adam.”

I punched the gas as the convoy took off at a top speed of 45 mph. Damn it, I wish these Hummers were faster.

Once we entered the reservation, Route 77 changed into Navajo Route 6. An hour and a half later, we arrived at the small town of Indian Wells, without incident. It’s actually located about half a mile off of Navajo Route 6, on Navajo Route 15.

Indian Wells is a small town out in the middle of nowhere. It’s an unincorporated community located in Navajo County on the Navajo Reservation. The scenery is spectacular. This area is part of the Painted Desert, and it has many high buttes popping up in the colorful landscape. A picture is worth a thousand words. Words can’t describe the beauty and peacefulness found here. Driving over 50 miles we hadn’t seen a single person.

To our surprise, nothing was in Indian Wells other than a few homes, a couple of businesses, and a school. The convoy pulled over, and stopped on the side of the road, next to the school. White Feather was riding in the pickup behind mine, along with Black Horse and Billy.

I approached the truck and opened the door. Peering in at White Feather, I asked, “Where should we go?”

“You wanted to speak to someone to see if the trucks passed by here. Then this is the place. The guard at this school is my friend. If they came by here, then he saw them. His name is Jimmy Two Times.”

“How’d he get the name Two Times?”

“In the old days he would shoot everything two times to make sure it was dead. It’s his nickname. He used to be a Navajo Reservation Police Officer.”

White Feather and I walked up to the school’s front door. As we approached, a man dressed in a blue uniform, wearing a black cowboy hat, came outside. He carried an AK47, which was pointed at us, and wore a revolver on his hip. I stopped and raised my hands, showing I meant him no harm.

White Feather yelled, “Jimmy Two Times, put that gun down! It’s me, White Feather.”

He replied, “White Feather, what are you doing here?” Jimmy kept walking towards us until he was within a couple of feet. He still kept his gun pointed at me, which was making me a little uneasy. “Who is this man?”

“He is my friend. The white eyes came here searching for some nomads who kidnapped his grandson.”

Jimmy pointed his weapon towards the ground. I reached out my hand. “Hello, my name is Jack Gunn.” He shook my hand with a firm grip. Jimmy was an older man whom I guessed to be about 60 years old. His facial characteristics clearly looked different than White Feathers.

“Howdy, Mr. Gunn. I am Jimmy Two Times. Sorry to hear your grandson was taken. There are a lot of bad people out there. That’s why I stand guard here at this school. How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for four pickup trucks that might have passed by here this morning.”

“A lot of pickups pass by here. What time do you think they went by here?”

“I guess around 8 or 9 am.”

He pulled a little book out of his pocket and scanned the pages. “My memory is not so good, so I write everything down.” He kept flipping the pages in his little book. “Yep, got it right here. Four pickups went by here at eight-thirty today. One was green and three were white.”

White Feather said, “Jack, the truck that picked us up was green.”

“Which way did they go, Jimmy?” I asked.

He pointed west. “They went that way, on Route 15, like they always do.”

“They come by here a lot?”

“Nope, but they pass by every now and then. I hear they purchase supplies over in Dilkon City. Are they the ones that took you grandson?”