“Maybe,” Watts said, “we should be shaking hands and wishing each other goodbye, like they do in the Westerns.”

Morwood grimaced. “Not yet.”

53

NOW THAT THE treasure—and its location—seemed a reality, Corrie knew that sleep was going to be almost impossible for a third night in a row. There was a chance, of course, that the treasure was gone, someone having found it years ago. But she doubted it—a treasure like that would be hard to keep secret, especially on a missile range. Sixty-two mule loads. A mule, according to Nora, could carry about a hundred-and-fifty pounds max, so one-fifty times sixty-two equaled over nine thousand pounds of treasure. Not anywhere near the sixty tons of legend, but the historic and artistic value alone would be immense. Tomorrow, she thought with satisfaction, it would all be over: there would be an immediate, public, and official search, and the treasure would be found and secured. And the general, if he was involved, would be shit out of luck.

Her cell phone rang. Nora was on the other end.

“Corrie?”

“Hi, what’s up?”

“I’ve made a discovery that changes … changes everything. You’ve got to come over.”

“What?”

Nora sounded almost tense. “The phone isn’t good, just like you said. We have to do this in person. You’ve got to come by my place in Santa Fe.”

“It’s eleven o’clock. It can’t wait till morning?”

“Please come. And bring the parchment. I’ve got to go now.”

And she hung up.

Corrie put down her phone. That was a strange call, for sure. What could she have found? It must’ve really upset her, judging from the tone of Nora’s voice. But then, her own voice probably sounded the same way, under the circumstances.

Corrie opened the safe and took out the evidence envelope containing the two pieces of parchment. She glanced at her service weapon, remembered Morwood’s lectures that carrying it always should be second nature, and holstered it. She went to her car for the drive to Santa Fe.

*

Nora’s condo was on Galisteo Street, just south of Paseo de Peralta. Her car was in the driveway and the lights were on, curtains drawn. Corrie parked behind Nora’s car, went to the door, and knocked, holding the envelope.

“Come in,” Nora called. “Door’s unlocked.”

Corrie entered and immediately felt herself seized and immobilized in a hammerlock. She struggled, trying to scream, and was hit hard against the side of the head.

“Get her weapon,” someone said.

She was disarmed with great efficiency, her purse and ID taken, her wrists handcuffed behind her back, and she was shoved, half-stunned, from the hall into the living room.

There was Nora, taped to a chair. Lying on the floor was Skip, hands cuffed behind his back, face bloody. There were a handful of soldiers in the room, along with Lieutenant Woodbridge and General McGurk. One soldier had an M16 pressed to the back of Skip’s head.

Without a word, the general tore open the envelope and removed the two pieces of parchment, looked at them, shoved them back in, and handed them to Woodbridge.

“He was going to kill my brother,” Nora sobbed. “I’m so sorry, he was pointing that gun at Skip’s—”

A soldier smacked her across the face. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Where’s the translation?” the general asked.

Corrie stared at him. His calm control frightened her more than anything else. She realized that he hadn’t just tapped her phone—he must also have bugged her apartment. What exactly had they said and not said? Had they spoken the name of the Mockingbird Butte? She wracked her brains, trying to remember.

“I don’t have it,” she replied.

The general considered this a moment. He looked at Corrie. “But you know where the treasure’s hidden.”

Corrie didn’t answer. The general made a gesture, and the soldier with the M16 to Skip’s head gave him a jab with it.

“Your last chance to answer.”

“Yes,” said Corrie. “We know where it is.” Despite everything, her initial panic was being replaced by a feeling of scorching clarity. The bastard wasn’t going to get away with this.

“If you kill him,” she said calmly, “you’ll never, ever get the information you want from us. You’ll have to translate that old Spanish document on your own, and, believe me, it won’t be easy. It will require experts. Experts have questions. And they don’t know the desert like Nora does. But if you let him live, we’ll tell you where the treasure is.”

The general gazed at her. “Tell me? No, thank you. You’ll lead me to it.”

Corrie returned the stare. “And then?”

A long silence ensued, and then the general said, “You’re a cool little bitch, considering the circumstances. We’re not going to kill anybody if you cooperate. If the treasure’s where you say it is, you’ll be fine.”

Bullshit, thought Corrie.

McGurk turned to Woodbridge. “Lieutenant, call in the transportation.”

She got on the radio, and three jeeps soon pulled up. Everyone got in, and they drove south out of town a few miles on I-25, to the U.S. Army Reserve National Guard base. A helicopter was waiting on the tarmac. All three hostages were silenced with gags and tape; the soldiers pushed them into seats, and the chopper took off into the velvet night.