The Lincoln Myth(115)
“It’s breathtaking, isn’t it?” Rowan asked.
Cassiopeia was studying some drawings on the rock wall. Salazar examined them, too, and saw strange pack animals, like llamas, led by a man dressed in what appeared to be armor.
“The Spanish,” Rowan said, noticing their interest. “They found this cave when they came north from Mexico in the 16th century and mined these hills, looking for gold.” Rowan stepped to a pile of white quartz and lifted one of the rocks. Stringers of yellow could be seen. “These were found along with tool marks on the walls from shovels and picks. The Spanish were here long before Saints ever came.”
Rowan motioned to a passageway.
“There’s more.”
ROWAN ALLOWED SALAZAR AND CASSIOPEIA VITT TO GO FIRST, then he laid the quartz back down and followed. He’d been coy when Josepe introduced his companion, feigning ignorance, and ultimately offering his acceptance.
But he knew all about Cassiopeia Vitt.
“She works for the president,” Stephanie Nelle said.
The call had come just before he’d left his house to drive north from Salt Lake City.
“She’s been embedded with Salazar for some time. They were lovers once, in their youth, so it was thought she could make inroads where others couldn’t. And she did. He has no idea.”
He’d listened with a mixture of anxiety and anger. How many times had the federal government interjected itself into church business? How many spies had there been? Too many to count. Everyone said that sort of violation was a thing of the past. How wrong they were.
“She was sent by Daniels. He’s been watching you and Salazar for over a year. Your prophet, Charles Snow, has been working with him, too.”
That he knew.
“I found out about Vitt and Snow a short while ago.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because I need you to succeed in whatever it is you’re doing. That helps me in what I’m doing. So I thought I’d pass this along.”
“I’m glad you did. But what do you expect me to do with it?”
“I don’t give a damn. Just finish whatever it is you’re doing and keep the president occupied. That’s all I need.”
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
MALONE 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.
LUKE 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.