City Of Sand Read online

  CITY OF SAND

  RICHARD SMITH

  ONE

  Cody Larson sat in front of an antique wooden desk in a stuffy office on the third floor of the Natural History Museum in Los Angeles. The office space belonged to Valerie Case, the museum’s chief curator.

  “This was found where?” Valerie asked, dropping her head slightly and looking at Cody over the top of her reading glasses.

  The young engineer studied the stiff face of the curator and wondered if she had not read his letter. “Death Valley, Professor,” he said with a furrowed brow, “I put that fact in the letter with the photographs.”

  “Of course, Mr. Larson,” the young woman said as she adjusted her glasses, “I just wanted verbal confirmation. It evidently was planted by someone as a joke.”

  Cody thought the outspoken woman rather pretty, in a pristine and proper kind of way. To him, she looked very much like a librarian. Her dark hair was pulled back and she wore a black blazer over a white blouse. He had learned through a little research that Valerie Case was the youngest individual to ever hold the job of chief curator at the 105 year old museum.

  “As I also mentioned in my letter, professor,” Cody said, drawing in a deep breath and trying his best to keep his composure, “the object was found over 100 feet below the surface of the sand.”

  “Planted, Mr. Larson,” she said again as she turned the object over in her hand, “obviously planted by someone on your crew to stir up a story.”

  The accusation was too much. Cody stood as he reached out and grabbed the object from the professor’s right hand. “No one on my crew would plant an artifact in the sand for fun and games, Ms. Case,” he said, raising his voice, “that just wouldn’t happen.”

  “Are you an Archeologist, Mr. Larson?” Valerie asked, raising her own voice, obviously becoming upset at her visitor’s attitude.

  “I’m a Civil Engineer,” Cody shot back, knowing that this smug lady could probably care less about his credentials.

  “Then you have no idea as to what you’ve found – you have no idea, do you?”

  “I thought that you could have helped with that,” Cody answered bluntly as he held the strange object over her desk, “but it appears that I came to the wrong curator at the wrong time at the wrong museum.” Cody was angry. He reached down with his left hand and brought his briefcase up and sat it hard on the professor’s desk. He placed the object in the open leather case and turned toward the door. “Nobody accuses my crew of screwing around on the job or being unprofessional,” he said as he pointed a finger at the surprised curator; “Nobody – you got that, Ms. Case; Whatever this thing is,” he added swinging the briefcase around toward the door, “you’ll never see it again.”

  As Cody opened the door to leave, a voice behind him beckoned him back – a different voice.

  “Mr. Larson,” Valerie said in a much softer tone, “Please hold on for a second.” Now, she was mad at herself. “I’d like to apologize, and I’m truly sorry for the way things started out.” Her mother had told her for years that she needed to engage her brain before engaging her mouth, and she realized that she had just screwed up again. Maybe one day she’d learn. “We seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Mr. Larson,” she said with a grin, “would you please come and sit back down – please?”

  Cody was determined to leave, but as he turned he saw a new face, a smiling face – one that seemed to be calm and sincere. Somehow the hard face had become pretty again.

  Valerie held a thick book in her hands and placed it on her desk. She removed her glasses as she opened the book to a page close to the center. “Could you please look at this, Mr. Larson?”

  Cody moved back into the room with his right hand holding tight to the briefcase. He walked over to the big book now opened on the curator’s desk and looked at it suspiciously.

  “This is it, isn’t it,” Valerie said, pointing to the photo on the page, her finger started to tremble, “this is what you found two days ago at one hundred feet below the surface in Death Valley. They’re one in the same aren’t they?”

  The photograph of the object in the book and the object in his briefcase were indeed identical.

  “What is that?” Cody asked as he stepped closer to the opened book.

  “It’s the Saqqara Bird,” she answered quietly, but her voice was full of excitement, “discovered in 1898 during excavation of a tomb in Saqqara, Egypt. It dates to 200 B.C. It’s currently on display in Cairo, at the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities.”

  Cody stared at the photo in the book. He opened the center of his briefcase and slowly brought out the mysterious object that resembled a bird in flight. The two birds were identical in every aspect except for their composition. The bird in the Cairo museum was carved from wood, and the bird from Death Valley appeared to be carved from turquoise. “I guess I’m at a loss here, Ms. Case, exactly what did my crew find?”

  “If this Death Valley bird is real, and can be authenticated,” she said as she stared at the polished sculpture resting on her desk, “then you and your crew have found nothing less than a miracle, Mr. Larson.”

  TWO

  “I’d like for you to take me there,” Valerie said as she sat back down behind her desk. Her blue eyes sparked with enthusiasm and excitement, “I’d like to see exactly where your bird was recovered.”

  Cody also sat back down as he thought about an answer. He knew that the state would never accept the liability of bringing an outsider to the site, but he also started to realize just how important this stone bird might be. Not only that, Valerie Case had become even more attractive as the chill around her thawed a little. “I’ll need to check, Ms. Case,” Cody answered, smiling “I’ll just need to check with a few higher ups.”

  “Your card reads, Larson Engineering – obviously you’re the owner,” Valerie said as she returned Cody’s smile, “don’t you call the shots?”

  Some of the bubbling attraction Cody had for the pretty curator suddenly ceased to bubble, and his smile faded away. He started to believe that Valerie Case could easily agitate a monk. “My company is under contract from the state of California, Ms. Case,” he said flatly, “unfortunately I’m under their thumb.”

  “I also work for the state, Mr. Larson, so we’re on common ground,” she said with a little sarcasm laced with overwhelming confidence; “What department are you currently under contract with?”

  “The Department of Natural Resources,” Cody answered, knowing that this lady probably had connections.

  A new, broader smile washed across Valerie’s face, “Bob Sinclair,” she said as she rose from her desk and pointed to a picture on her wall. The picture was a photo taken of her standing with the director of the DNR just a year earlier. “Is this the man you’re working for?”

  Cody raised his eyebrows and stood, focusing on the framed photo. “That’s him all right,” Cody answered, rubbing his short beard, “the director of the DNR; you know him?” he asked coyly, returning her smile and knowing the obvious answer.

  “His third grandchild was baptized last weekend and I was there.”

  “So,” Cody said, letting his breath out quickly and clearing his throat, “I do believe I can probably get you cleared to visit the site, Ms. Case.”

  “I never had any doubts, Mr. Larson,” Valerie replied, holding her smile, “I never had any doubts at all.” She stared at Cody like he was her long lost friend; “When can we go?”

  Cody put both hands in the air and shrugged; “How about in the morning? I need to be at the site by 10:00 am.”

  “I’ll clear my calendar,” she said with excitement; “can you meet me in the cafeteria for breakfast?”

  Cody answered with a chuckle, “I’m afraid we won’t have time for
a formal breakfast, Ms. Case; I’ll have bagels and coffee in the truck.”

  “Bagels and coffee will work,” Valerie replied, “whatever you’ve got – I’m not a big breakfast person anyway.”

  “Okay, so I’ll just plan to pick you up at 8:30 – if that works for you.”

  Valerie nodded as the bright smile drifted from her face. “8:30 is fine,” she said as her voice took on a much more somber tone. “This is a very important odyssey we’re about to embark on, Mr. Larson,” she said quietly, her blue eyes reflecting a sincerity that he had not seen before, “what we learn from your discovery in Death Valley will likely impact the rest of history – you do understand that, don’t you?”

  Even though he thought Valerie’s comments a little melodramatic, Cody felt he understood the importance of the discovery of this special bird, but he wasn’t sure, “I’m with you, Ms. Case, I’m as anxious as you are to see where this all leads.”

  “I’ll be ready, Mr. Larson,” Valerie said, her face losing some of its softness and switching back to all business, “I’ll wear my boots.”

  “That will be good,” Cody replied, “but just don’t over dress. I presume you have been to Death Valley before.”

  “Not yet, but it’s been on my bucket list for a while. I’m looking forward to it.”

  It was hard for Cody to imagine that anyone living in the Los Angeles area had never ventured to Death Valley, especially someone that worked for the Museum of Natural History. But then again, he knew that most people did not relish or want the physical discomfort that emanated from this parched piece of earth. The bleak landscape and rippling waves of heat were only beautiful to certain people. Cody adapted to the desolate environment the first day he had visited there over two months ago. He was always the one in his office who wanted to venture out. It had been like that since he was a kid. He spent his weekends and off days exploring. “It’ll be 120 degrees by noon, Ms. Case, wear clothes that will breathe and apply plenty of sunscreen.”

  “I’ll be ready, Mr. Larson,” she said with the face he liked – her pretty face.

  “Please call me Cody,” he answered back.

  “Only if you call me, Valerie.”

  THREE

  Cody’s white Dodge Ram sat in front of the Natural History Museum in a no parking zone on Exposition Park Drive. Valerie had insisted that he not come inside to get her – she would meet him at the curb. He remembered sitting at the curb of Molly Johnson’s house when he was seventeen, waiting on the pretty girl he’d met at the bowling alley to come out to his four-door Plymouth. It would be their first real date. Molly’s father had come to the curb instead.

  “Son, you must be waiting on the ice cream truck or a pizza van or something.” Molly’s linebacker father had said through the open side window, “because you surely ain’t waiting on my Molly; she only dates gentlemen, boy’s that know how to treat a girl – boy’s that know to come to the front door and introduce themselves. You might want to drive around the block and try again, son.”

  That was the last time Cody waited on a date to come out to his car. It was a learning experience – one he’d always remember. He half-way expected Valerie’s father to burst through the big doors of the museum and storm out to his truck.

  What he saw now was not at all what he had expected. Valerie exited a side door close to the parking lot and came around the side of the museum. She wore hiking boots with knee-high socks and safari shorts. She had a jungle green vest over a camo T-shirt. Her hair was pulled up under a wide booney hat from the Vietnam era, and she moved under the weight of a large dark green backpack. Cody raised his eyebrows and had to stifle a laugh. The curator looked like one of her young paleontology students had dressed her for a dinosaur hunting expedition.

  Early morning fog was drifting low over the manicured lawns of the museum’s huge campus as Valerie approached the truck. Cody got out and opened the passenger door for her. He had always done that for all the ladies of his life and the gesture was always much appreciated.

  “Thank you, Mr. Larson,” Valerie said with a smile, then hesitated; “I mean, thank you, Cody.” She held the smile as she proceeded to climb into the passenger seat and removed her back pack.

  “Looks like you’re good to go,” Cody said, his eyebrows still slightly raised. “just stow your stuff behind the seat.”

  “I brought two canteens,” she said proudly as she raised one from her belt, “I knew water was important.”

  “Good call,” Cody said, thinking that this lady had probably never been camping in her life, “but we’ve got plenty of reserve at the site; Water is not something you want to run low on in Death Valley.” He pulled the big truck out onto Vermont Avenue and turned toward I-5.

  “Tell me about the site,” Valerie said, “you said that you and your crew were doing core drilling?”

  Cody nodded as he turned up the A/C. “Drilling through the desert floor into different strata and sediment levels to test the viscosity of the sand at specified depths.”

  Valerie never blinked, as if understanding completely. “And the end result would be?”

  “To see where the most moisture exists and at what depth,” Cody answered. “The state wants to establish wells at certain areas in the valley where visitors and tourists can always count on water – they’re calling the areas, water depots.”

  “Like an oasis.”

  “Exactly,” Cody responded.

  “How much water have you found so far?”

  Cody looked at Valerie and then at his watch. “After two months, eight days, ten hours and fourteen minutes,” he said with a big smile, “none.”

  “The state of California is paying for all this?”

  “Your friend Bob Sinclair approved the project.”

  Valerie frowned, “it’s like pulling teeth to get him to approve buying new carpet for one of the museum galleries, now he’s authorized the money to find water were there is none?”

  “Oh, I’m sure that there’s water down there somewhere,” Cody answered, “but how deep and how much is the question. My company has a state contract that proposes that Larson Engineering has a very good possibility of finding water, all based on current scientific data, but with no guarantees. We are not bound by contract to find water.”

  “So you get paid either way,” Valerie said, “Whether you find water or not.”

  “That’s the conditions of the contract,” Cody replied.

  “What do you believe?” Valerie asked.

  “Every geological survey indicates the possibility of water at 150 feet, we just haven’t got there yet, but I seriously have my doubts of finding water even at that depth. The state decided to take a gamble, and my company was hired based strictly on the odds.”

  “When does your contract expire?”

  “When we reach 150 feet,” Cody answered with a grin, “or, in about two weeks.”

  The two sat silent for a few minutes as they proceeded down the interstate. Cody was thinking about the bird. “You said in your office that we may have found a miracle,” he said as he turned toward his passenger. “Exactly what did you mean by that?”

  Valerie looked at Cody and wondered what he’d believe about the bird by the time they reached the site. “Let me start by telling you a story.”

  FOUR

  Valerie stared straight through the windshield as she remembered the strange story that she was about to repeat – a story that she had heard long ago – a fascinating story that never really gained much traction in her analytical mind, but an intriguing story just the same. She had heard the story when she was in college and remembered laughing about it with her friends. Now, it was all coming back.

  “In 1909”, she began, “The Arizona Gazette, in Phoenix, published an article written by a Smithsonian backed professor named S.A. Jordon. Jordon’s story was about an adventurer that discovered a secret cave in the Grand Canyon that same year. The adventurer’s name was G.E. Kirkland, and Jordon went
on to say that Mr. Kirkland ventured into the cave and uncovered an unbelievable underground world.”

  Cody glanced over at Valerie and could see her eyes fixed on something not on the highway, but something many years in the past. He wondered if she really believed any of this crazy tale she was beginning to spin.

  Valerie looked at Cody as she took in a deep breath. She seemed a little embarrassed about sounding so serious about an obviously outrageous story, but she continued anyway.

  “Kirkland claimed that there was a large temple in the cave surrounded by columned courtyards,” Valerie continued, her voice going quieter, “He said that there were steep stairways leading to dwellings above the temple that had been carved into the walls of the cave. Large animal and bird figures had also been carved into the stone walls, and some were painted and gilded with gold. He said that in the courtyard were three…” Her voice began to fade away as she stared ahead. Valerie sat silent. The sound of the truck’s motor and its roaring tires against the concrete interstate was the only thing audible for over a minute.

  “Valerie,” Cody said, turning. He was beginning to worry about her, “Hey, you okay?”

  Valerie nodded and sucked in a deep breath, she suddenly seemed energized as she continued; “Kirkland said that there were three stone pyramids in the courtyard, the tallest at least 50 feet high.”

  “Wow,” Cody said as he let out a low whistle, “So this Kirkland guy evidently stumbled upon some old Indian city, a city buried beneath the earth for who knows how long.”

  “You’re right,” Valerie said, “a lost city that had been beneath the earth for maybe two thousand years – maybe more, but the city wasn’t a native Indian undertaking, Cody; It wasn’t built by native Americans.”

  Cody was waiting for Valerie to give the answer to the jackpot question, but she just stared across the seat at him.

  “Okay,” he said, thanking that all of this was hypothetical anyway, “so what inhabitants on this earth could ever put together a city two hundred feet below the surface and actually reside there – what civilization could possibly do that?”