The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Sutherland was on the move most of the day after leaving Route 66, scudding along under a cloudless sky to Durango, following Route 550 north through the San Juan national forest to Silverton where she stopped for a burger and Diet Coke before setting off again.

She caught her first glimpse of Ouray, Colorado after an exhilarating ride along a snaking stretch of mountain road known as the Million Dollar Highway. The city of Ouray calls itself the Switzerland of America, and the description works on some levels. Ouray is more than seven thousand feet above sea level, nestled in a narrow valley hemmed in on three sides by the thirteen-thousand-foot-high peaks of the San Juan mountain range, and laced with canyons, waterfalls and rushing rivers. The Victorian buildings that line the main street have a charm rivaling the quaint villages that occupy alpine valleys.

But the place lacks the green pasture gentility of its Swiss counterparts. The countryside around Ouray was shaped by volcanoes and glaciers, and later by rugged people who tore the riches from its rocky soil, leaving the evidence of their work in abandoned mines and the ruins of once-rich ghost towns.

Sutherland passed through Uncompahgre Gorge and followed a series of switchbacks to the city’s main thoroughfare. She found a comfortable B and B on a side street and washed the road dust off her face. Taking her computer bag, she got on her Harley and rode to the tourist information booth next to Ouray’s big hot springs pool.

She got a map showing all the abandoned mines in the area from the woman behind the desk, then she rode back to the B and B and sat on her bed with her computer. She called up the U.S. Geological Survey map of Ouray and surrounding countryside.

The Kurtz property was located off the Alpine Loop scenic byway, a sixty-five-mile-long road that winds through the northern San Juan range in the heart of mining country. Using the USGS chart for guidance, she called up satellite photos of the territory around the Kurtz mines and was able to zoom in on a section of woods at the base of a mountain. Some buildings were visible through the thick foliage.

She reread the file she had compiled on the Kurtzes. The first Kurtz mine was started in 1880 on former Ute Indian land at an elevation of 9800 feet. It closed in 1922, the same year Hiram Kurtz set off for Afghanistan, but during its decades of operation, produced nearly twenty million dollars in gold and silver, mainly, along with copper, lead and zinc as well. The peak population was nearly a thousand, and the mining town included stores, saloons, brothels and even a brick mansion for Kurtz. It was abandoned after the mines played out.

She found the old mining town using Google Earth and saw a few dirt roads and several buildings in the satellite picture. Most of the site was hidden by tree foliage. On the way out of town she stopped at a sporting goods store and bought a paper version of the survey map which she tucked into her computer bag, and a few minutes later she was back on Route 550 heading south.

She left the main road at Animas Forks and headed east, riding around twenty minutes before she turned off onto a gravel road and traveled around fifteen miles without seeing another person or vehicle. She was riding at a fast clip and almost missed a side road that after a hundred feet or so led to a double metal gate around ten feet high.

On either side of the gate was a chain-link fence topped with razor wire. The insulators spaced along the fence indicated that it was electrified. A second fence several feet inside the first had no insulators, but sprouted antennae that could broadcast the presence of an intruder. She saw no cameras, but that didn’t mean they weren’t cleverly disguised to blend into the thick pine woods.

As she got off her bike and approached the gate, she heard a soft rustling patter and two Doberman Pincers as big as ponies galloped along the road on the other side of the gate. They stood up with their front paws against the second fence, and their black eyes stared at Sutherland as if she were a doggie chew.

“Nice puppies,” she said in a high voice.

She backed away and walked the bike another hundred yards along the road. The dogs must have been trained to stay silent because as they paced her they didn’t even growl. She had seen enough. There was no way she could penetrate security without getting electrocuted, sliced by razor wire or torn to pieces by guard dogs.

She turned around and headed out of the forest. She analyzed the problem on the ride back to Ouray. When she pulled up in front of her B and B, she knew what she had to do. She went to her room and stared at her pudgy cheeks and round glasses in the mirror. Wussy. Not much she could do to change her appearance, but as a student of human nature, she knew that personality is projected from the inside out.

She opened a can of diet soda, popped her laptop and began to read the Kurtz website. She allowed herself to soak up the venomous outpouring that emanated from the screen. The paranoia was the easiest for her to absorb. There were some advantages to being delusional, she reflected. She clicked the link labeled Contact Us. She took a deep breath, stifled her disgust and started typing.

She said she was a former soldier and inserted snippets of the truth as bait. Her birth in the poor coal mining state of West Virginia. Her decision to join the army. Her service in Iraq. Her distrust of the government. She said she was traveling through Colorado, had looked up organizations that shared her philosophy, learned about the Ouray camp, and asked permission to visit.

She reread what she had written and hit the SEND command.

Nothing to do but wait for Kurtz to check out her background. She was sure he had his sources. She went out for pizza and while she was finishing her last piece she checked her computer.

The email had been sent by Colonel Hak Kurtz.

She had set the hook, very much aware that a five-hundred-pound great white shark might be hanging on the line. She’d have to make up the rest of her plan after she got on the other side the fence.

She replied to the invitation.

She checked her email and saw the message from Hawkins. She breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he was on his way home and that no one had been hurt, but she simmered over a feeling that she had been abandoned. He let her wait; she would let him wait. She imagined herself presenting himself with the emerald scepter and a shower of gold and gems.

She sent a summary of her plan to Hawkins, but clicked off before he had the chance to reply. Then she went to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.