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  "So what's your plan Cracker," Willy asked. "I'm all ears." "The marks Frank saw on the tree were M © and Ў right?" Cracker replied. "Right."

  "Let's assume that the letter M does stand for one hundred. Could be feet or yards we don't know for certain. The symbol Ў is a false marking carved by Jesse to throw other treasure hunters off the trail. That leaves the character ©. You said you thought it's a symbol for gold, a circle within a circle."

  "Exactly," Willy responded. "Part of the inner circle wore off over time." "I disagree," Cracker countered. "I think it indicates the direction." "How so?" Willy questioned.

  "The two points of the letter 'C' point to the direction where the gold is buried." "Oh, come on Cracker. Now that is a leap of faith." "Maybe so," she replied. "Got a better theory partner?" "It doesn't matter," Willy said with a frown. "Either way its a false KGC marking. The gold isn't buried there."

  "Correct, but all we have to do is to search nearby for the true KGC marking of a Ќ. My guess is that Jesse left that carving on a tree or rock. Once we find it, I'll bet we see a © carved there as well pointing to the direction of the buried gold. If the 'M' is there too, we pace off one hundred feet and one hundred yards and dig."

  "You've given this a lot of thought haven't you," Willy said smiling broadly. "I'm not the ignorant tramp you made me out to be Willy. Where big money is concerned, I'm one sharp cookie."

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  Chapter Fifteen

  Buzzard's Roost

  THE WEEKS went by quickly as Marcus became acclimated to his new job with The Mandela. The long days at the warehouse gave him ample time to study the many Mandela publications. The weekly gatherings he'd attended thus far at the Garfield's home had been both pleasurable and enlightening. He was beginning to understand why Robert picked him for the job.

  The Mandela, Marcus discovered is a spiritual organization started in the early nineteenth century in Adyar, India. The group was established along the same lines as the Rosicrucians and relies on ritual practices as a means for members to move from one level of standing to another within the society. The general philosophy of the group is a belief in new age esoteric principles and practices as a method of realizing one's true identity.

  Their central principle is to assist their members in uncovering and remembering who they really are. One of the methods they use is to be alert to and recognize synchronicities when they occur. They believe that a synchronicity will assist them in awakening to who they really are while in the physical body. Their main body of work is printed in a two-volume set of the publication A Wink from the Universe by Jamison Tolliver.

  Removing volume one from the stacks Marcus said aloud, “This is the same book I spotted in Albrecht’s library under a glass enclosure.”

  Originally published in 1895 and revised multiple times over the years the books contain the main teachings and objectives of the Mandela. The last chapter entitled The End of Mankind was of particular interest to Marcus. It refers to a major shift in human consciousness that will expand man's existence to a higher level. This expansion or awakening will lead mankind to a new level of enlightenment and presence. This awakening will help to avert and hopefully prevent man's destruction of planet Earth. Marcus wished this was true but at the same time he hoped this event was in the distant future.

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  Willy and Cracker searched every inch of Buzzard's Roost and the surrounding area within a quarter mile radius of the false markings left by Jesse. After two weeks of roaming the grounds on foot all they had to show for their effort was $1.65 in loose change Willy found with the metal detector. They were about to give up when Cracker, shouting loudly and waving her hands above her head, signaled Willy to come over.

  "This might be it," she shouted excitedly. Limping over to the rock Cracker was staring at he replied anxiously, "What have we got?" Brushing a light dusting of snow from a large rock Cracker replied, "Pour some water from your canteen on the rock Willy. There's a carving here."

  As Willy poured the contents from his canteen on the rock face, a faint, weathered carving became visible. "I'll be damned," he replied excitedly. "It's a Ќ." "Sure is," Cracker responded pumping her arms in the air. "We found it." The snow started falling more heavily as Cracker brushed the remaining dirt and water from the rock face.

  "See any other markings?" Willy asked. "Nope, not a one." "Damn," he replied. "No M or ©. Well, Jesse buried it here alright but where? How far from here and in what direction?" "I don't know, but we'll figure it out," she replied the wind howling in her ear.

  The snow was coming down now in earnest. Big wet, heavy flakes. Willy's Range Rover was barely visible through the blinding wind and snow. "We'd better hurry," he said loudly. "Looks like we're in for a blizzard."

  "Grab the crowbar and shovel from the Jeep Willy and let's pry this rock up. Since there's no other marking maybe the gold is buried underneath," Cracker shouted. While Willy limped slowly backed to the Range Rover Cracker tried prying the rock up with a small trowel. "Damn it," she cried as the trowel bent in half without budging the boulder.

  Brushing two inches of new-fallen snow from the Range Rover, Willy opened the rear hatch and retrieved a shovel and crowbar. With the tools in one hand and his cane in the other he trudged slowly back to where Cracker was waiting.

  "Hurry up," Cracker said as she spotted Willy coming over the top of a bluff. "We've got to shake ass. This snow is piling up." Positioning the crowbar and shovel under the lip of the rock both Cracker and Willy pressed down with all their strength. "Damn it," Cracker exclaimed. "It won't budge."

  With the snow and wind howling around their ears, they heaved again and again. "It's no use," Willy said with a labored sigh. "We'll need to get help to pry this sucker up."

  "The hell we will," Cracker exploded. "We're not telling anyone about this find. I’m not sharing the treasure with anyone but you.” “What about Marcus?” Willy exclaimed. “He deserves a cut as well.” “Screw Marcus,” Cracker replied derisively. “He’s not here now and after the way he treated me he can go fuck himself. Give him a portion of your share if you like Willy. He gets nothing from me.”

  “Come on, let's dig around the rock and see how deep it goes." Using the crow bar and shovel the pair spent the next half hour digging furiously around the rock. “Damn,” Cracker sighed. “How far down does this rock go?”

  "It's no good Cracker. My leg won't take it, and I can hardly see with all this snow. Let's head back to the motel and try again tomorrow." "I'm not leaving here Willy," she replied. "I'll stay here all night if I have to. We can't risk someone else finding this." "Come on Cracker. No one else will be out in this weather, and I'm worn out." "You go then," she replied wearily. "I can't leave you out here in the open," Willy replied.

  "OK, here's what we'll do," she said kneeling down in the snow. "I'll drive you back to the motel then I'll come back here and stay in the Range Rover overnight. You rent another car and come back in the morning. Buy two, six-foot-long two by fours and bring them with you. We'll use them as a lever to pry the boulder out of the ground."

  "Find a few large branches, and we'll drive them into the snow to mark the spot," Cracker said moving away. Using what was left of the trowel, she hammered several three-foot long sturdy branches into the ground surrounding the boulder. She tied a strip of green cloth, torn from the bottom of her shirt, around each branch. "That should do it," she exclaimed. "Let's get out of here while the roads are still passable. I'll drop you at the motel, pick up a few supplies and drive back."

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  Early the next morning Willy turned on the TV in his room to hear the local newscaster announce that the ongoing blizzard was the worst to hit SE Oklahoma in 20 years. Schools were closed, roads were blocked, power was out in some areas and the locals were being advised to stay home. Dressing hurriedly he left his room for the lobby to get some coffee and to see how much snow had fallen.
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  There was a large group of motel guests hovering about the coffee pots in the lobby. Most of them had arrived the evening before looking for shelter. The motel hadn't seen this much business in years.

  "Holy shit," a heavy set elderly man waiting in line said. "It's still coming down."

  Looking out a snow covered window Willy could barely see the cars parked in the lot. A six foot blanket of snow covered everything in sight. "Do you think the main highway is open?" he asked the young girl behind the front desk. "No way," she replied looking harried. "Not today anyway. State police are telling everyone to stay off the roads."

  "Do you think I could rent a car to give it a try?" he asked. "Hell no Mister, you wouldn’t get out of the parking lot." Moving away from the crowd Willy called Cracker's cell phone. No answer. He waited a moment and dialed again. No answer and no voicemail prompt.

  "I've got a friend stuck out there about ten miles from town," he explained to the desk clerk. "How do I contact the State Police to inform them?" "That won't be hard," she replied pointing to a tall uniformed guy sipping coffee in the lobby. "That's trooper Lowe over there. He got here late last night. Talk to him."

  Curtis Lowe, a nine-year veteran of the Oklahoma state police was surrounded by motel guests asking questions and seeking advice. Easing his way into the crowd Willy elbowed several people aside to corner him.

  "Hey pal," a short, bald-headed guy shouted angrily. "Take it easy. We're all in this together." "Sorry," Willy responded. "I've got a friend stranded out there and I need some help." Turning towards Willy and ignoring the other guests the Trooper asked, "Who's this friend and where's he located?"

  "Her name's Virginia McCracken and she's stuck somewhere out by Buzzard's Roost." "What in hell she doing out there in this weather?" he asked. "That doesn't matter. The point is she drove out there late yesterday, and I've not heard from her since."

  Removing paper and pen from his pocket Lowe said, "Drove out there in what?" "A late model rented Range Rover," Willy answered. "Black four-door." "Plate number?" "I don't know officer. It's listed in the rental agreement, but that's in the glove compartment."

  "Who did you rent the vehicle from?" "Budget in Fletcher. What does that matter?" Willy said sounding agitated. "I can get the plate number from them, pal. Calm down. Just a few more questions and I'll call in a missing person. We'll find her."

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  Marcus was closing up the warehouse for the day when his cell phone rang. "Marcus, its Willy." "Willy," he replied excitedly. "Good to hear your voice it's been awhile." "Yes, too long," Willy replied. "I'm afraid I have some bad news." "Oh, oh," Marcus replied. "You haven't located Jesse's gold?"

  "No, I haven't but that's not the bad news. Cracker is gone." "Gone," Marcus replied sounding astonished. "Gone from where?" "From here my boy, from here," he said sadly. "What do you mean Willy? What happened? Where are you?"

  "I'm in Cement, Oklahoma," he replied. "Cracker and I had been searching Buzzard's Roost for the gold for some time and now she's gone." "Cracker and you?" Marcus asked. "When, how, I don't follow?" Willy spent the next five minutes bringing Marcus up to date on all that occurred since he and Cracker joined forces.

  "The State Troopers found my Range Rover yesterday. It was parked by Buzzard's Roost. The keys were in the car, and it was out of gas. Some of Cracker's gear was in the car but no Cracker. The troopers surmise that the car ran out of gas during the blizzard and that she must have taken off on foot to try to make it back to town. There were no footprints due to the heavy snowfall."

  "They went out with tracker dogs this morning and found her body buried beneath six feet of snow in a gully about two miles from where she parked the car." "Oh my God!" Marcus replied sounding shocked. "Poor Cracker."

  "She must have lost her way in the storm and froze to death," Willy said. "I'm still so shocked I don't know what to do. They're attempting to locate and notify next of kin. I have no idea who her relatives are. I gave the police your number and Albrecht's number thinking one of you might know something about her family."

  "I don't I'm afraid but I'm sure that someone at the Hiwakulani would know. She worked there, after all." "I should have thought of that," Willy replied sadly. "I'll alert them right away." "How are you holding up Willy?"

  "Not well son. Not well. Her death has shocked me to the core. She was so excited when she thought that maybe we had located the treasure. I was as well. And now . . . . . . "

  "Are you staying out there awhile Willy?" "No, I can't do this anymore. At least not now. Not with Cracker gone. I’m out of funds, and I’m worn out. To hell with Jesse's treasure. I'll be heading back to San Diego as soon as the police say I can leave."

  "I'm so sorry Willy," Marcus replied. "Sorry for you and Cracker. Is there anything I can do?" "Give me a call son when you're back in town. Until then take care."

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  Chapter Sixteen

  Namaste

  ON HIS WAY home from work, Marcus phoned Maggie to give her the news about Cracker's death. "Oh my God, that's horrible," Maggie exclaimed. "I'm so sorry Marcus I know you two were close. Is there anything I can do?"

  "There is, yes," he replied. "Can we meet for a chat?" "Why yes, of course. Should you return to Hawaii we can meet." "I'm here now," he replied. "I have a job in Pacific Palisades and a place in Pearl City." "Really?" she replied sounding shocked.

  "Let's meet at the Shore Bird for a drink," he said hopefully. "I don't know Marcus," she replied sounding hesitant. "I'm not sure I want to start up with you again." "Who said anything about starting up again," he blurted. "I just want to talk. I really need to talk to you about what happened to Cracker and Willy and with you and me as well."

  After a pause, Maggie replied, "Well OK, but not the Shore Bird. Remember where we sat on the beach that first day you arrived?" "Sure, the bench on Waikiki off Ala Moana." "I'll meet you there at four p.m. tomorrow. But I’m not promising anything." "Great, I understand, see you then and thanks, Maggie."

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  Later that evening, Marcus attended the weekly Friday Mandela meeting at the home of Patricia and Gerald Garfield. Taking off his shoes as he entered, Patricia led him through a brightly colored door to the meeting room in the rear of the house. The neat, well-kept room was already occupied by a dozen or so Mandela members.

  The room consisted of colorful bamboo mats placed in a semi-circle on the floor. An image of a smiling Buddha stared back at the guests from a small table in one corner. The opposite corner accommodated a compact kitchen with double sink, brick oven, and a small refrigerator. Free standing storage cupboards, with overhead teak shelving, sat next to towering stacks of weathered books and pamphlets.

  "We have a visitor here tonight," Patricia announced gesturing to a young lady wearing a bright yellow sundress nervously leafing through a magazine. "Alice works in Gerald's office and expressed an interest in learning what we're all about." "Welcome Alice," the group said in unison. "Hi all, thanks for having me," she replied with a nervous smile.

  "If everyone's settled in we'll get started," Gerald announced. "The subject of tonight's discussion revolves around the teachings of Paracelsus. In particular, his theory that our current life is but one of an infinite number of lives that we can experience. And that our soul is aware that our current life here on planet Earth is not all there is. Paracelsus called the soul or self the Anthropos although we prefer the term, soul."

  "Sounds like reincarnation theory to me," Alice said. "I never bought into all that cause and effect stuff about karma that reincarnation theorists preach. Seems like you have to suffer to pay back all the bad karma you've accumulated in life."

  "Well, Alice," Gerald answered, "You're on the right track, but you've not made the proper connection. For one thing, there’s no need to suffer or pay back bad karma as it were. Suffering is not good for the soul unless it teaches you how to stop suffering."

  "I like that analogy," a member of th
e group exclaimed, slapping his knee enthusiastically. "I've got to remember that one." "The Mandela," Gerald continued laughing, "believe that no particular ends must be accomplished by any given personality or soul. It is enough that we wake up to the truth that our current life is not all there is. We believe, that after death the soul has many choices. A personality may decide to reincarnate again on planet Earth. Or one may decide to enter another system of reality altogether. Instead, the soul may focus on a personality's past lives."

  "The point is that we need to recognize this truth now during our current life. Or at the very least, we need merely to concede that Paracelsus might be right. That our soul is aware that our current life here on planet Earth is not all there is. That’s the next step for consciousness to follow—to come awake from our normal waking state."

  "So our soul and our consciousness are the same then?" Alice questioned. "Part and parcel, Alice but not the same. Your consciousness is part of your soul! Consciousness is the direction your soul looks at any given time. You are not your consciousness. Consciousness is something you use. It is like a flashlight you hold in your hand that you may shine, in any direction, to illuminate your path."

  "This may sound silly, but how do I recognize my consciousness? Is it separate from my thoughts?" "Excellent question. Your consciousness is the awareness in the background. The awareness behind your thoughts. Your thoughts, the incessant thinking that drives us, is not who you are. That voice in your head is not who you are. You are the soul, the awareness, in the background. Your soul uses your consciousness to focus on your current reality."

  "Are there other realities that our consciousness might also focus on?" a member of the group asked. "Ah, another good question. Yes, there are. Using our analogy, if you were but to turn your flashlight slightly, to the right or the left, you could become aware of other realities that are around you at all times. It is somewhat of a knack, in this day and age to do so, but it is within our capability."