Chasing Gold

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

They reached Wardensville just thirty minutes after Crouch had left.

Alicia made sure she made a quick recon of the place even as they drove through the parking lot. It was highly unlikely that a shooter would have been left behind, but they couldn’t take any risks. Both she and Russo exited the vehicle first and appraised the area.

Eight fuel pumps stood outside a glass-fronted shop, with a toilet block to the side and a restaurant to the rear. It was fairly typical, as far as Alicia knew. The only thing different about this one was that Michael Crouch had been here less than forty-five minutes ago. Of course, they had insisted the cops put out a BOLO — be on the lookout — for the license plate, but expected the gunmen would soon change either the plate or the car.

“Check the restrooms first,” Russo said. “Alicia, you wanna take the Men’s? I assume you’d feel right at home there.”

“Sure, I can do that.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a retort, knowing this would work better. “Let me know what you find in the Ladies.”

Russo was past her before she could blink. “Changed my mind. I’ll take the Men’s.”

“Thought you might.” Alicia didn’t expect to find anything, but spent a few minutes scrutinizing every surface. There was quite a bit of graffiti, which made her smile, and she had to wait for a woman to finish, but found nothing from Crouch.

“It would help if we knew what we were looking for,” Caitlyn said over the comms.

Alicia agreed. All they had was a shouted message: “Chase the gold,” and their own profound certainty that Crouch would have found a way to leave them a clue at the first place they’d stopped.

What else could there be except faith at this point?

Alicia knew they were wasting time out here. “Has to be the shop,” she said. “Just remember— we’re chasing a man who’s been abducted. Kidnapped. What would he do?”

They entered the shop and paused to take it all in. Eye-catching labels and colors proclaimed brand names in every direction. Every inch of the floor, it seemed, was taken up by something saleable.

Russo headed over to the coffee machine, grumbling that he needed a caffeine fix to stay sharp and he’d start from there. Caitlyn went in the other direction, while Austin drifted toward the aisles. Alicia stayed back, trying to put herself inside Crouch’s head.

Chase the gold.

Did he mean something related to the banner? Or himself?

She wandered over to the teller and waited until he was free before pulling out her cellphone and showing him some pictures that the FBI had pinged across. The man remembered Crouch and Terri, which was good enough for Alicia. When asked though, he didn’t recall anything important expect for the fact that Terri had fallen over.

Did that mean anything?

She crossed over to the Slurpee machine and then took another few minutes to study the shop from this new angle. Again, the result was unrevealing. Russo and the others were slowly making their way through the shop and Alicia decided now that she should do the same.

Rows and rows of soda, confectionery and fries greeted her at first, followed by a useful-items aisle. She saw bottles of antifreeze and coolant, air fresheners and support cushions. She moved on to small grocery items: tins of hot dogs and beans, and ready-made meals. Around the outside were arranged refrigerators with every kind of drink and ice cream she could imagine. She was surprised to see people pushing trolleys down the aisles, supermarket shopping at their local gas station.

A shelf full of books caught her attention for a while. She searched in vain for anything SAS related, anything covering treasure hunts, but beyond a couple of fictional paperbacks she found nothing. Even then she held the spines and shook them, but nothing fell out.

She met Russo at a six-foot-high, circular metal stand that contained about a hundred different flavors of gum.

“Any luck?”

The big soldier swiveled the stand with his little finger. “Nope. Would you look at this? Watermelon flavor. If I wanted that I’d buy a fucking watermelon.”

“Focus, Russo, focus. What are you looking for?”

“A note, I guess. Caitlyn is checking the video feed just in case.”

“And the ‘gold’ part?”

“Well, there’s some Gold Rush bubblegum here, but nothing else.”

Alicia grunted, equally frustrated and stymied. “Let’s keep looking,” she said and they passed silently like ships in the night.

Near the end of the next aisle, close to the counter and adjacent a dedicated Krispy Kreme stand, Alicia stopped before a display that Russo had just walked past. Quickly, she called him back.

“Did you check this?”

The big man stared. “Didn’t see it,” he admitted.

“Shit, man, but I bet you noticed the donuts on the other side?”

“Damn, right. The iced Krullers look incredible.”

Alicia stared at a fake jewelry stand. The arms of the shelves were dripping with gold, festooned by bracelets and necklaces, ankle bands and earrings.

“You think…?” Russo let it hang.

“It’s possible, right? What else could he do? He probably gained a few seconds of privacy when Terri fell. What would you do?”

“No way could he have known this display was here.”

“Agreed. But he had to believe something would pop up. If not this, something else. Crouch knew they would have to stop for petrol — or gas. This is what he used.”

Russo glared at the display as if trying to intimidate it into giving up its secret. Alicia rustled among the dangling trinkets, hoping something would fall out.

A few seconds later, it did.

A folded piece of paper, the size of a credit card holder. Alicia saw with interest that it had been wrapped around the only necklace that could possibly come close to an Aztec design. Her heart leapt as she unfolded the note.

Russo craned his neck over her shoulder.

Caitlyn joined them, sensing they might be on to something.

“What the hell?” Alicia said.

Caitlyn took the note and smoothed it out, laying it across a large box of chocolates so that it was flat. Slowly, she read it out loud.

“A.M. Here is the origin of fountain and chili, a home of Bengals.” She paused.

“There’s another line,” Alicia said.

“I know. I was letting the first one sink in.”

“Consider it sunk.”

“All right. Then: Sakura, Old Rybolt.”

Alicia picked it up, turning and turning the sheet of paper but learning nothing new. “Well, what I expected was an address. You know?”

“Crouch can only pass on what he hears,” Caitlyn said, then re-read the first line. “Here is the origin of fountain and chili.”

“A home of Bengals,” Russo added helpfully.

“That all means jack to me,” Alicia said.

“I’m guessing it’s something Crouch would know all about,” Russo said. “What kind of guy is he? What does he like?”

Alicia shrugged. “Treasure. Quests. Gold.” She shrugged. “Beyond that… I’m out. I don’t spend time with him, not like you guys.”

“He loves sport,” Caitlyn said. “And Bengals makes me think of tigers. Or Bengal in India. Or the Bay of Bengal.”

“That’s three more things than it makes me think of,” Alicia said. “But India is a long, long way from here.”

“A home of Bengals,” Russo said. “Plural. I’m going with tigers.”

“Hey, could it be an American football team? Or baseball? Or something like that?” Alicia asked.

“There’s no Bengal Tiger sporting team in the US,” Caitlyn said.

Austin now joined them and caught up quickly. “A.M.,” he said. “That’s gotta be you.”

“Yeah, we get that part, kid. It’s the rest that’s screwing us up.”

“There’s only one thing you can do with shit like that,” Austin said. “Google the arse off it.”

Alicia inclined her head, unable to see anything clearer. With a sigh Caitlyn pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and typed three words into the search bar:

“Bengals,” she said. “Fountain. Chili.”

Alicia waited impatiently, flicking at the jewelry and watching the other occupants of the shop. Anxiety pulsed through her veins. Already, she guessed, they had lost another twenty minutes in here.

The trail was growing colder by the minute.

Then Caitlyn began to grin. “Well, well,” she said. “I do believe I’ve got it. Well done, Michael Crouch. Well done.”