The Lincoln Myth (51 page)

He actually still did not know what to do. His own prophet an enemy? His president against him? Now his chief ally had a spy in their midst? He wasn’t sure as to the solution, but knew that once the truth was exposed Josepe would know what to do. Danites were resourceful like that. Never had anything been said to him that even remotely implicated anything improper or illegal had ever occurred. So his heart was pure. The details had been left to Salazar, who to his credit had always handled them.

And that’s what would happen today.

Here, at
Falta Nada
.

The name appropriate.

Missing Nothing.

SIXTY-FIVE

M
ALONE RACED UP THE TRAIL IN THE DIRECTION OF THE THREE
retorts, Luke quick on his heels. Around a bend a huge house came into view. A mixture of timber and stone, three-story, with large-bowed windows and a steep gabled roof. Two stone chimneys stretched skyward. Trees rose on all sides, a mountain behind, a grassy clearing leading up to its front entrance.

Stephanie trotted up behind them.

“That’s it,” she said. “They’re in there.”

“I’ll go in the front,” he said to Luke. “You take the rear.” He stared at Stephanie. “You wait here.”

She nodded.

Luke darted right, gun in hand, and wove a path through the trees.

He kept down and hustled to the base of a redwood staircase that led up ten feet to the front door. He stared back to see Stephanie take cover behind a tree trunk. He started up the stairs, the wooden risers cushy at spots from years in the elements. The house itself appeared in good shape. Somebody had been doing regular maintenance. He made it to the porch, which seemed to wrap itself completely around the exterior.

The door was a solid slab on a wood frame.

He carefully tested the knob.

Locked.

There were more windows and he carefully spied into each one, listening carefully, hearing nothing.

L
UKE STOOD OUTSIDE THE REAR DOOR, BENEATH A COVERED
terrace. A mountain rose a hundred yards away, dense forest extending upward. He tried the latch and discovered it locked. Windows were adjacent to the rear entrance, and he stared inside to see a great room, the wood unpainted, the tones of pine and spruce blending with the bland columns and beams that supported a high-pitched ceiling. The furniture was simple and functional, a splash of color emerging from the fabrics on sofas and chairs. Another window opened into a kitchen equipped with stone countertops, wooden cupboards, and stainless-steel appliances. From beyond the deck he heard the gurgle of a stream and caught sight of a spinning waterwheel.

Something about this wasn’t right.

He heard no voices from inside.

He’d have to kick the door from its jamb in order to enter, which wasn’t a problem except that it would announce his presence loud and clear.

He heard movement on the deck.

And felt a vibration across the wood floor.

M
ALONE STARED THROUGH THE WINDOWS AS HE ROUNDED
the covered porch. Everything inside had the look and feel of a typical mountain retreat, its size and furnishings signaling affluence.
Still not a sound from anywhere in the house. Had they seen them coming and retreated to safety?

He didn’t think so.

His hunch had been confirmed by the wood floor inside, where a layer of dust coated the planks. Unmarred. No sign that anyone else had entered and walked about.

This was a dead end.

“Luke,” he said.

The younger agent appeared from around the corner. “I was hoping that was you. Nobody’s here.”

He shook his head in agreement. But Stephanie had specifically said this was where Rowan, Salazar, and Cassiopeia had gone.

“She lied to us.”

They both darted toward the front porch. Stephanie was nowhere to be seen. He leaped down the stairs two at a time and ran for the tree where he’d last seen her.

Gone.

A noise on the trail behind him caught his attention. He whirled and leveled his gun. Luke did the same. Charles Snow appeared, helped with his steps by the two young Danites.

They lowered their weapons.

“What’s happening?” Snow asked as he dislodged his arms from his helpers’ shoulders.

“Stephanie’s gone,” Malone said.

“The house is empty and locked tight,” Luke noted.

“She didn’t tell you? The house is not
Falta Nada
.”

That information grabbed Malone’s attention.

“It was built later.” Snow pointed to the mountain.
“Falta Nada
is up there, a cave, you can’t miss it.”

S
TEPHANIE HUSTLED UP THE ROCKY PATH, CLIMBING THE
forested ridge. The air was noticeably cooler. She’d misled Cotton and
Luke to provide herself an opportunity to slip away. Snow had told her the details on the flight west last night.

“There is something you need to know about this place,” Snow said. “There will be a dwelling at the location, but it is not
Falta Nada.
The site is above the house, inside the mountain. The trail is easy to spot. One of the early settlers discovered the place. The story goes that he was cutting timber when he spotted mountain lion tracks. He followed them to a high ledge and found a gash in the rock. A cave opened beyond, which he explored. Fifty years ago we wired that cave with lights and the power remains. It is a place only a few have seen. Once special, now forgotten. The fact that Brigham Young chose it as his vault for both the gold and what Lincoln sent him is no surprise.”

Malone was right. She’d created this mess and it was up to her to fix it. How to accomplish that was still a mystery, but she’d figure it out. Doubtful either Luke or Cotton would find her, since they had no idea of the real locale. True, Charles Snow could tell them. But by the time they retreated to the cars, learned the truth, and returned it would all be over.

Ahead she spotted the cave entrance, framed by a doorway of pine poles iced with green moss. An iron gate at its center hung half open, a destroyed padlock on the ground. She retrieved it and saw the damage. Now she new why three shots had been fired.

She tossed the lock aside and found her gun.

Ahead was a lighted passage.

Time to practice what she preached.

Two steps and she was inside.

M
ALONE WAS FURIOUS
.

He’d pushed Stephanie, and now she was walking into something that she was ill equipped to handle.

“Pappy, nothin’ about this is good,” Luke said as they raced up the trail.

“She’s going to get herself killed.”

“Let’s not let that happen.”

“That’s certainly the plan. Unfortunately, we have no idea what’s up there. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“Not this time. She kept me in the dark.”

He stared up the trail. Everyone had a head start on them.

“It’s just you and me,” he said to Luke.

“I get that. And I’m with you, all the way.”

SIXTY-SIX

C
ASSIOPEIA WAS IMPRESSED
. T
HE CHAMBER THEY STOOD INSIDE
was twenty meters across, that much and more wide, and that tall. Stalactites hung like icicles. Needlelike crystals and smooth and spiraling helictites corkscrewed downward. Draperies of orange calcite stretched down, thin as paper, which allowed light from the incandescent fixtures to shine through to a spectacular effect. Popcorn clumps of white rock dotted the walls. Toward the center was a pool of still green water, its surface as flat and reflective as a mirror. On one edge stood a plinth that displayed an enormous statue of the angel Moroni. Four meters high, sculpted from stone, in the familiar pose of blowing a trumpet, everything sheathed in gold leaf.

She stepped close to the image.

“Having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people,”
Rowan said. “Revelation 14:6. Moroni is our messenger from heaven. This is the plaster original from which the hammered copper statue atop the Salt Lake temple was fashioned. Brigham Young himself brought this here.”

Josepe was clearly in awe. “He is the angel of light, who wore a loose robe of most exquisite whiteness. A whiteness beyond anything ever seen. His whole person glorious beyond description.”