Treasure

  I-All these years no one believed me," Sam muttered dazedly. "Even after they read the stone, they accused me of chiseling the inscription myself."

  "Stone, what stone?" Pitt asked sharply.

  "The one standing over in the corner. I had it translated at Texas A and M, but all they told me was, 'Nice job, Sam. Your Latin ain't half bad." They've kidded me for years for dreaming up a firstrate fish story."

  "Is there a copy of the translated message?" asked Lily' re, on the wall. I had it typed and hung in a glassed frame. I cut off the part where they panned it."

  Lily peered at the wording and read it aloud as the others crowded around her.

  "This stone marks the way to where I ordered buried the works from the great Hall of the Muses.

  "I escaped the slaughter of our fleet by the barban'ans and made my way south, where I was accepted by a primitive pyramid people as a sage and a prophet.

  "I have taught them what I know of the stars and science, but they put little of my teachings to practical use. They prefer to worship pagan gods and follow ignorant priests' demands for human sacrifice.

  "Sevenyearshavepassedsincemy arrival. My return here is filled with sorrow at the sight of the bones of my former comrades. I have seen to their burial. My ship is ready and I shall soon set sail for Rome.

  "If Theodosius still lives I shall be executed but accept the risk gladly to see my family one last time.

  "To those who read this, should I perish, the entrance to the storage chamber is buried under the hill. Stand north and look straight south to the liver cliff."

  Junius Venator 10 August 398

  "So Venator survived the massacre only to die seven years later on the return voyage to Rome," said Pitt.

  "Or perhaps he made it and was executed without talking," added Sandecker.

  "No, Theodosius died in 395," said Lily in wonder. .,To think the message was here all this time and ignored as a counterfeit. "

  Trinity's eyebrows lifted. "You know this Venator guy?"

  "We've been tracking him," admitted Pitt.

  "Have you searched for the chamber?" Sandecker asked.

  Trinity nodded. "Dug all over these hills, but found nuthin' but what you see here."

  "How deep?"

  "Used a backhoe about ten years ago. Made a pit six meters down, but only found that sandal over there in the case,"

  "Could you show us the site where you discovered the stone and other artifacts?" Pitt asked him.

  The old Texan looked at Garza. "Think it's okay, Herb?"

  "Take my word, Sam, you can trust these people. They're not artifact robbers."

  Trinity nodded vigorously. "All right, let's take a ride. We can go in my Jeep."

  Trinity steered the Jeep Wagoneer up a dirt road past several modern homes and stopped in front of a barbed-wire fence. He got out, unhooked a section of the wire and pulled it aside. Then he climbed back behind the wheel and continued on over a trail that was grown over and barely perceptible.

  When the four-wheeled Jeep crested a long, sloping rise, he stopped and turned off the ignition. "Well, here it is, Gongora Hill. A long time ago somebody told me it was named after a seventeenth-century Spanish poet. Why they named this dirt heap for a poet beats grits out of me."

  Pitt gestured at a low hill four hundred meters to the north. "What do they call that ridge over there?"

  "Has no name I ever heard of," replied Trinity.

  "Where did you discover the stone?" asked Lily.

  "Hold on, just a little further."

  Trinity restarted the engine and slowly edged the Jeep down the slope, dodging the mesquite and low underbrush. After a two-minute bumpy ride, he braked beside a shallow wash.

  He stepped from the car and walked to the edge and looked down.

  "Right here I found a corner of it sticking out of the bank."

  "This dry wash," observed Pitt, "winds between Gongora and the far hill."

  Trinity nodded. "Yeah, but no way the stone traveled from there to the slope below Gongora unless it was dragged."

  "This is hardly a flood plain," agreed Sandecker. "Erosion and heavy rains over a long time period might have carried it fifty meters from the summit of Gongora, but not half a kilometer from the next summit."

  "And the other artifacts," asked Lily, "where did they lie?"

  Trinity swept a hand on an arc toward the river. "They were scattered a little further down the slope and continued almost through the center of town."

  "Did you conduct a survey with transits and mark each location?"

  "Sorry, miss, not being an archaeologist, I didn't think to pinpoint the holes."

  Lily's eyes flashed disappointment, but she made no reply.

  "You must have used a metal detector," said Pitt.

  "Made it myself," Trinity answered proudly. "Sensitive enough to read a penny at half a meter."

  "Who owns the land?"

  "Twelve hundred acres hereabouts have been in my family since Texas was a republic."

  "That saves a lot of legal hassle," Sandecker said approvingly.

  Pitt looked at his watch. The sun was beginning to fall beyond the string of hills. He tried to visualize the running fight between the Indians and the Roman-Egyptians toward the river and the fleet of ancient ships. He could almost hear the shouting, the screams of pain, the clash of weapons. He felt as if he had been present that fateful day so long ago. He returned to the present as Lily continued her questioning of Trinity.

  "Strange that you didn't find any bones on the battlefield."

  "Early Spanish sailors who were shipwrecked on the Texas Gulf Coast and managed to make their way to Veracruz and Mexico City," Garza answered her, "told of Indians who practiced cannibalism."

  Lily made an expression of utter distaste. "You can't know for certain the dead were eaten."

  "Perhaps a small number," said Garza. "And what remains that weren't dragged off by tribal dogs or wild animals were later buried by this guy Venator. any they missed turned to dust. "

  "Herb's right," said Pitt. "any bones that remained on surface ground would disintegrate in time."

  Lily became very still. She gazed almost mystically at the nearby crest of Gongora Hill. "I can't begin to believe we're actually standing within a few meters of the treasures."

  An icy calm seemed to settle over them for a few moments. Then Pitt finally echoed the other's thoughts.

  "A lot of good men died sixteen centuries ago to preserve the knowledge of their time," he said softly, eyes staring into the past. "I think it's time we dig it free."

  The next morning Admiral Sandecker was passed through the compound gate by Secret Service guards. He drove along a winding lane to the President's hideaway cottage on the Lake of the Ozarks in Missouri. He stopped his commercial rental car in the drive and removed his briefcase from the trunk. There was a crisp chill in the air, and he found it invigorating after the steamy temperatures along the Rio Grande.

  The President, dressed in a warm sheepskin jacket, came down the steps from the porch and greeted him. "Admiral, thank you for coming. "

  "I'd rather be here than in Washington."

  "How was your trip?"

  "Slept most of it."

  "Sorry to bring you up here in a mad rush."

  "I'm fully aware of the urgency."

  The President put a hand on Sandecker's back and steered him up the steps toward the cottage door. "Come in and have some breakfast. Dale Nichols, Julius Schiller and Senator Pitt are already attacking the eggs and smoked ham."

  "Assembled the brain trust, I see," Sandecker said with a cagey smile.

  "We spent half the night discussing the political impact of your discovery."

  "Little I can tell you in person that wasn't in the report I sent by courier."

  "Except you neglected to include a diagram of your proposed excavation."

  "I would have gotten around to it," Sandecker said, standing his ground.

  The Pre
sident was not put off by Sandecker's attitude. "You can show everyone over but."

  They broke off the conversation for a few moments as the President led him through the log-constructed house. They walked through a cozy living room decorated more for modern living than a hunting lodge. A small fire crackled away in a large rock fireplace. They entered the dining room, where Schiller and Nichols, dressed as fishermen, rose as one to shake hands. Senator Pitt merely waved. He wore a sweatsuit.

  The Senator and the Admiral were close friends because of their closeness to Dirk. Sandecker caught a hint of warning from the elder Pitts somber expression.

  There was one other man the President hadn't mentionedHarold Wismer, an old crony and adviser of the President who enjoyed enormous influence and worked outside the White House bureaucracy. Sandecker wondered why he was present.

  The President pulled out a chair. "Sit down, Admiral. How do you like your eggs?"

  Sandecker shook his head. "A small bowl of fruit and a glass of skim milk will do me fine."

  A white-coated steward took Sandecker's order and disappeared into the kitchen.

  "So that's how you keep that wiry shape," said Schiller.

  "That and enough exercise to keep me in a perpetual state of sweat."

  "All of us wish to congratulate you and your people on a magnificent find," Wismer began without hesitation. He stared through glasses with pink lenses. A snarled beard almost hid his lips. He was bald as a basketball; brown eyes wide to give a slight popped look. "When do you expect to move dirk?"

  "Tomorrow," Sandecker answered, suspecting the rug was about to be pulled out from under him. He pulled a blowup of a geological survey map showing the topography above Roma from his briefcase. Then he followed it with a cutaway drawing of the hill indicating the planned excavation shafts. He laid them out on a free section of the table. "We intend to dig two exploratory tunnels into the main hill eighty meters below the summit. "

  "The one labeled 'Gongora Hill'?"

  "Yes, the tunnels will enter on opposing sides of the slope facing the river and then angle toward each other, but on different levels. One or both should strike the grotto Junius Venator inscribed on Sam Trinity's stone, or, with luck, one of the original entry shafts."

  "You're absolutely sure a treasure trove of artifacts from the Alexandria Library is at this place," Wismer said, tightening the noose.

  "You have no doubts."

  "None," asserted Sandecker in a salty tone. "The map from the Roman stup in Greenland led to the artifacts found in Roma by Trinity. The pieces slot together nicely."

  "But could the-?"

  "No, the Roman objects have been authenticated." Sandecker cut Wismer off abruptly. This is no hoax, no attempt at fraud, no wild stunt or game. We know it's there. The only question is how extensive is the hoard."

  "We don't mean to suggest the Library's treasures do not exist," said Schiller quickly, a little too quickly. "But you must understand, Admiral, the international repercussions of such an enormous discovery might be difficult to predict, much less control."

  Sandecker stared at Schiller unblinking. "I fail to see how bringing the knowledge of the ancient world to light will cause Armageddon. Also, aren't you a little late? The world already knows about the treasure.

  Hala Kamfl announced our search in her address to the United Nations."

  "There are considerations," said the President seriously, you may not be aware of. President Hasan may claim the entire trove of relics belongs to Egypt. Greece will insist on the return of Alexander's gold casket.

  Who can say what claims Italy will put forth?"

  "Maybe I took the wrong tack, gentlemen," said Sandecker. "It was my understanding we promised to share in the discovery with President Hasan as a means of propping up his government."

  "True," admitted Schiller. "But that was before you nailed down the location beside the Rio Grande-Now you've brought Mexico into the picture. The fanatic Topiltzin can make a case on the fact that the burial site originally belonged to Mexico."

  "That's to be expected," said Sandecker. "Except that possession is nine tenths of the law. Legally the artifacts belong to the man who owns the property they're buried on."

  "Mr. Trinity will be offered a substantial sum of money for his land and the rights to the relics," said Nichols. "I might also add, his payment will be tax-free.,'

  Sandecker regarded Nichols skeptically. "The hoard might be worth hundreds of millions. Is the government prepared to go that high?"

  Of course not."

  "And if Trinity won't take your offer?"

  "There are other methods of making a deal," Wismer said with cold determination.

  "Since when is the government in the art business?"

  "The art, sculpture and the remains of Alexander the Great are only of historic interest," said Wismer. "The knowledge in the scrolls, that's the area of vital interest."

  "That depends on the eye of the beholder," Sandecker said philosophically.

  "The information contained in the scientific records, particularly the geological data, could have enormous influence on Our future dealings with the Middle East," Wismer continued doggedly. "And there is the religious angle to consider."

  "What's to consider? The Greek umslation of the original Hebrew text of the Old Testament was made at the Library. This translation is the basis for all books of the Bible."

  "But not the New Testament," Wismer corrected Sandecker.

  "There may be historic facts that dispute the founding of Christianity locked away under that hill in Texas. Facts that would be better left hidden."

  Sandecker gave Wismer a cold stare, then turned his eyes to the President. "I smell a conspiracy, Mr. President. I'd be grateful for the reason behind my presence here."

  Nothing sinister, Admiral, I assure you. But we all agree, this has to be conducted within stringent guidelines."

  Sandecker was not slow; the trap had sprung. He'd known almost from the beginning what was going down. "So after NUMA-" he paused and stared at Senator Pitt 'and especially your son, Senator, have done all the dirty work, we're to be pushed aside."

  "You must admit, Admiral," said Wismer in an official tone, this is hardly a job for a governmental agency whose bureaucratic responsibilities lie underwater."

  Sandecker shrugged off Wismer's words. "We've taken the project this far. I see no reason why we can't see it through to the end."

  "I'm sorry, Admiral," said the President slowly, "but I'm taking the project out of your hands and turning it over to the Pentagon."

  Sandecker was stunned. "The military!" he blurted. "Whose harebrained idea was that?"

  An embarrassed look came into the President's eyes. Then they flicked to Wismer for an instant. "It makes no difference who conceived the new plan. The decision is mine."

  "I don't think you understand, Jim," said the Senator quietly. "What you stumbled upon goes far beyond mere archaeology. The knowledge under that hill could very well reshape our Middle East foreign policy for decades to come."

  "Reason enough why we have to approach this thing as if it was a highly secret intelligence operation," said Wismer. "We must keep the discovery classified until all documents are thoroughly examined and their data analyzed."

  "That could take twenty or even a hundred years, depending on the number and condition of the scrolls after underground storage for sixteen hundred years," Sandecker protested.

  "If that's what it takes. . . ." The President shrugged.

  The steward brought the Admiral's fruit bowl and glass of milk, but Sandecker had lost his appetite.

  "In other words, you need time to add up the value of the windfall,"

  Sandecker said acidly. "Then negotiate political bargains for the ancient charts showing the locations of lost mineral and oil deposits around the Mediterranean. If Alexander hasn't turned to dust, his bones will be traded to the Greek government toward renewed leases for our naval bases. All this before the America
n people find out you've given away the store."

  "We cannot afford to go public," Schiller explained patiently. "Not until we're prepared to move. You fail to realize the tremendous foreign policy advantages you've laid in the government's lap. We can't simply throw them away in the name of public curiosity about historic objects."

  "I'm not naive, gentlemen," said Sandecker. "But I do confess to being a sentimental old patriot who believes the people deserve better from their government than they receive. The treasures from the Library of Alexandria do not belong to a few politicians to barter away. They belong to all America by right of possession."

  Sandecker didn't wait for them to answer. He took a quick swallow of milk, then retrieved a newspaper out of his briefcase and casually tossed it on the center of the table.

  "Because everyone is so wrapped up with the big picture, your aides missed a small item from Reuters wire service that was carried in most of the newspapers around the world. Here's a copy of a St. Louis paper I picked up at the car-rental agency. I circled the piece on page three."

  Wismer picked up the folded paper, opened it and turned to the page indicated by Sandecker. He read the heading aloud, and then began the text.

  "Romans land in Texas?

  "According to top-level administration sources in Washington, the search for a vast underground depository of ancient relics from the famed Library of Alexandria, Egypt, has ended a few hundred meters north of the Rio Grande River in Roma, Texas. Artifacts found over the years by a Mr. Samuel Trinity have been acknowledged as authentic by archaeologists.

  "The search began with the discovery of a Roman merchant ship, dated from the fourth century A.D., in the ice of Greenland '

  Wismer stopped, his face reddening with anger. "A leak! A goddamned leak!"

  "But how . . . who?" wondered Nichols in shock.

  "Top-level administration sources," Sandecker repeated. "That can only mean the White House." He looked at the President, then at Nichols.

  "Probably a disgruntled aide one of your supervisors either passed over for promotion or sacked."