The Cleric's Vault (20 page)

Chapter 38

Atlanta, GA
 

The
rafting guide had showed Sean an old mule trail up the canyon that would take
he and his friends back to where they could find their way to the car.
 
It had been a long hike, taking a few
hours to wind their way to the top.
 
Fortunately they had eaten a good breakfast, provided by the generous
guide.
 

He’d
been a friendly fellow, with narrow eyes and light blonde hair and beard.

The
man had asked if they wanted to come aboard their enormous touring raft but
taking the mule trail was a faster way to get back to the car and given the
events of the last 48 hours, speed was of the essence.

When
they’d finally reached the top, their legs burned and all three of the hikers
were gasping for breath.
 

Where
the trail had come out on the desert plateau, they were actually fairly close
to the parking lot.

When
they’d finally reached the top, their legs burned and all three of the hikers
were gasping for breath.
 

After
a two-hour drive and paying way too much for a plane ticket out of Las Vegas
International, the group of three arrived in Atlanta’s Hartsfield International
Airport about eight hours later.

With
the time change, the daylight was already waning when they arrived at IAA
headquarters in downtown Atlanta.

Tommy
received the group’s entrance as he would have on any other day, casually and
to the point.
 
He laughed, “You
guys look rough.”
 

“Vacation
was great.
 
Thanks for asking,”
Sean said sarcastically as he plopped down in a standard-looking office chair
with black leather upholstery.
 

The
conference room had various maps from all over the world posted on the walls
with pushpins and notes tacked in different places.
 
The room itself had a warm feel to it.
 
Lots of wood appointments, including
ceiling lattices and beams, that made it feel more like an opulent home rather
than a workplace.
 
A burnt-red wall
made the place seem cozy yet trendy.
 

“Well,”
Sean spoke before his long-time friend could get another word in, “it
was
fine until I got shot at.
 
That kind of took the enjoyment out of
it.”

Schultz
gave him a rough grin.
 
“I know the
feeling.
 
Had some similar issues
here and in New Mexico, too.”

“Odd.
 
Seems like I remember we got into this
business to leave all that behind,” Sean said reflectively.
 
“Who was after you?”

“I
have no idea.”
 
Changing the
subject the subject, he said, “Hello Emily.
 
Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,
Thomas,” there was an odd tone to the way she said his name.

His
gaze lingered for an awkward extra second on Emily before turning his attention
to the Spaniard.
 
And none of his
other friends called him by his formal first name.
 
“And who is this?” he shifted his eyes to the other woman in
the room.

“My
name is Adriana Villa,” she stated as she reached out her hand.

He
extended his hand as well and got a polite but firm shake.

“She
saved our butts in Vegas,” Sean threw in.

“Maybe
I should hire her to help keep you out of trouble,” Tommy ribbed.
 
Then, he sat back down.
 
His long-time friend simply gave an
amused shake of his head.

Tommy
went on, “By the way, saw what happened at the poker tournament.
 
Brutal beat, man.”
 

“It
happens,” Sean replied as he set a small book bag on the table.
 
“At least we came out of the desert
with
something
.”

Tommy
pulled the bag closer to him and unzipped the main compartment.
 
“What is it?” he asked as he pulled out
one wrapped towel and then another.

“We’re
not sure.
 
You and I have seen a
lot of stuff all over the world.
 
But this one has me stumped.
 
They look like a golden leaves.”

Schultz
stopped unwrapping the package momentarily.

“Leaves?”

“Yeah,
like off a tree.
 
But a little
bigger.”

Tommy’s
eyebrows came together, revealing he was perplexed about the new
information.
 
He reached into the
bag and pulled out one of the objects, much like the one he and Will had
recovered in New Mexico.
 
Curious,
he unwrapped the second piece and held both up, comparing them
side-by-side.
 
They were nearly
identical.
 
Their structure and
detail matched almost perfectly.
 

“They’re
fairly light considering what they are made out of.” Sean said while his friend
examined the relics.
 
“Whoever made
them must have been an expert metal worker.”

Tommy
carefully laid both objects down and stepped over to a box that was sitting
next to a window.
 
He reached in
and pulled out a piece that appeared exactly like the two he’d just been
looking at.
 
“They match the one we
found in New Mexico,” he said with a perplexed look as he set the third leaf
next to the other two.

“So
what I want to know is, how does all of this come together?” Sean asked.

“I
think I may be able to lend a hand with that.”
 
A familiar voice, gruff and southern came from just outside
in the hall.
 
Joe McElroy appeared
in the doorway.
 
His hair was
thick, flowing brown with some streaks of gray, just to the bottom of his
ears.
 
He was in jeans and a
flannel jacket, one arm in a sling from the bullet wound he’d received a few
weeks before.
 
His face was shaved
clean, making him look a lot younger than he was.

Sean
grinned.
 
“I thought I smelled
something funny around here.”
 
He
stood up and slapped his friend on the back as Joe entered the room.

“It’s
probably you three,” he joked loudly.
 
“Y’all look like you haven’t had a shower in days.”

“How’d
you get away from the wife?” Sean jeered with a laugh.

“Actually,”
Emily interrupted, “we could really use a shower and a good night’s rest.
 
So could we move this along?”

“Hello,
Emily,” Joe greeted her.
 
“Nice to
see you, too.
 
And, Ms. Villa, it’s
nice to meet you.”

Adriana
raised an eyebrow and spied the newcomer suspiciously.
 
“How did you know my name?”

“That’s
for another time, I suppose.
 
For
now, I’ll just tell you that I like to know things, lots of things.
 
But at the moment, you all are lookin’
for answers about these here golden leaves.”
 
He reached down and picked one up, eyeing it with a grin.

Joe
collapsed into a chair as if he’d been standing all day.
 
“Tommy, cue up the screen so I can show
them what we’ve learned so far.”

Tommy
nodded and stepped over to a laptop that had been connected to an overhead
projector that hung from the ceiling.
 
The lights went dim and the shades closed to the subtle hum of an
electric motor.
 
After a few
seconds, the projector came to life and the screen changed to an old man in
priestly robes.
 
His face appeared
worn with the wrinkles of time and the thick, gray beard matched a thinning
patch of hair on his head.
 
There
was something wild about the man’s eyes, an intensity and determination that
belied his years.
 
He stood with a
younger man, dressed in a white button up suit and some dark pants.
 
From the look of the picture quality
and the style of the clothes, Sean estimated the photograph to be from the
1970s.

“Have
you ever seen this man before?” Joe asked the group.

“Which
one?” Sean requested.

“The
older one,” Joe refined.
 
“The
younger guy is Stan Hall.”

“Doesn’t
ring a bell.”
 

Emily
shook her head in agreement while Adriana said nothing.

“That
there is Padre Carlos Crespi.
 
He
was a missionary to the town of Cuenca in Ecuador until 1982.”

Tommy
handed Joe a remote control, which he quickly used to change to the next
slide.
 
It was a photo of the old
priest with three small children smiling next to him.

“This
guy, Crespi, was a saint to the locals in Cuenca.
 
Along with servin’ as a priest at the church of Maria
Auxiliadora, he ran an orphanage there and helped the people in any way he
could.
 
His life was dedicated to
the ministry of true Christian service.”

The
next slide caused Sean to perk up in his seat.
 
In it Father Crespi stood awkwardly, holding what appeared
to be a metallic sheet.
 
The thin,
yellow material had been imprinted with symbols and a language that Sean
recognized instantly.
 
Sanskrit.

Joe
continued, “The padre had a love for history and archaeology, a fact that most
of the villagers knew.
 
So, they
started bringing him artifacts, like the one in this picture.”
 

He
changed to the next slide.
 
This
one was of a stone sculpture that looked just like it had come from Babylon
itself.
 
Another slide flashed onto
the screen, one displaying relics that could have come right out of an ancient
Egyptian tomb.
 
Still more pictures
appeared with objects from Assyria, Sumer, and Israel.
 
Sean sat speechless, wondering how he’d
never heard of this mysterious priest before, while Joe finished his
presentation with a video showing the padre speaking with the man named Stan
Hall they’d seen in the initial photograph.

The
priest was speaking in a rush of Spanish, his voice loud and impatient.
 
It was as if he was trying to get Hall
to understand something important.
 
Crespi opened a pair of large, wooden doors and led the way into a
high-ceiling room with a single light bulb dangling from the top.
 
The old man pulled on a string and the
bulb instantly illuminated the room.
 
Shelves that went all the way to the fifteen-foot high ceiling were
packed with objects and relics from cultures nowhere remotely close to the
location of Cuenca.
 
Pieces of
stone, bronze, and gold were scattered on the shelves and overflowed onto the
floor.
 
Enormous sheets of copper
and gold were rolled up, leaning against the shelves or in the corners.
 
Hall asked the priest where all of the
objects came from to which the old man kept saying the same word, “las
cuevas.”
 
The caves.

The
video stopped running.
 
Joe reached
over and turned the lights in the room back on.

“I
would love to see that collection.” Sean said in a matter-of-fact tone.
 

“Me
too,” Tommy agreed.
 
“Unfortunately, Father Crespi died in 1982.”

Joe
nodded.
 
“When he passed away, it
was discovered that his vault of ancient artifacts was empty.
 
It had been completely cleaned out.
 
No one is sure where all of the pieces
went or who took them.”

“Vanished
into thin air,” Tommy added quietly.

Joe
went on.
 
“People often asked
Father Crespi who had brought him the items in his vault, to which he always
responded, ‘the people from the forests.’
 
Only one man has come forward and claimed to know the location of the
items that were taken from the cleric’s vault.
 
Mysteriously, that man was murdered soon after.
 
He was found shot dead in his apartment.”

“So
no one has a clue where to look?” Emily asked after remaining silent for the
previous few minutes.

“The
‘caves’ the old man was talkin’ about are near a river, though nobody has found
them yet.
 
A few people thought
they did, but no one has ever produced any evidence.
  
Neil Armstrong was even brought in as an investor and
participant in one of the explorations, but all they found were empty caverns
and a few skeletons.”