So here, at the end of the journey, I must abandon this quest. It pains me to have come so close only to have to walk away.
I have left the clues in place for whoever may find this note. When I gave my speech to the Royal Society, I omitted anything that has to do with the treasure. While they are a decent group of people, there is corruption among them. Were one of the bad seeds to find the clues to the treasure and decode them, I fear the great reward would fall into the wrong hands. As I've said before, it belongs to the Aboriginal people.
If you, dear reader, make the decision to embark on this treacherous journey, remember that. Should you find the treasure, it must be given to the Aboriginal people. I realize there are many tribes, but at their core they are one.
I leave you with this, if you are considering the task. It began with Baiame and a foreign stone, turned and unturned. From there, forty-five suns to the northwest in the northern chasm of the three. Rivers mark the way where light turns dark.
R.H. Mathews
Annie blinked rapidly as she finished the passage. Who was R.H. Mathews? And what was this treasure? From his description, it sounded significant. There were several references to Aborigines and the treasure belonging to them. As far as she could recall, she'd never come across any relics from their culture — nothing of financial value, anyway. Everything she'd seen was more valuable from a historical perspective.
While Annie did have a vague grasp on Aboriginal history, it was hardly her field of expertise. Her mind raced. She had to know someone who might know who this Mathews fellow was, or perhaps knew something about this treasure.
Her thoughts stopped on one name. He was a long shot, but she figured if any of her friends knew anything about what was in this letter, it was him. More importantly, she could trust him. If she were to tell her coworkers about this, who knows what they would do? Better to keep it confidential for now.
She pulled out her cell phone and snapped a quick photo of the paper, careful to make sure the words were clear enough to read. Then she sent it to her email.
Next Annie slid into the desk chair at the computer on the table and logged into her email, found the one she'd just sent, and then typed a quick message to her friend. She copied the image attachment into the email and then hit send.
She let out a short sigh and then shut down the computer. It was time for her to leave. She'd stayed longer than normal anyway. Her eyes darted back to the paper on the table. She'd need to secure that.
Annie stepped over to a shelf where they kept several compressed plastic files. She'd used them before for delicate documents just like this one. Essentially, the files would seal off the inside from external air, thus preserving the paper for considerably longer than if it were just sitting around.
She was lucky the Mathews document wasn't in worse condition. Now that it was in the hands of an expert, she would take better care of it. She carefully slid the paper into the folder and pressed the edges down to complete the seal.
Annie had already decided where to hide the thing. She floated over to a filing cabinet where dozens of similar documents had been stored and slid it in right behind the letter M on the divider. That way she would know exactly where to find it when she came back. And should anyone question her about it, she could claim she'd done as she was supposed to and kept it where it belonged. Annie wouldn't be accused of thievery.
She closed the filing cabinet and then walked over to where she'd left her keys on the work table. She hoped her friend received the email by morning. Curiosity was getting the best of her.
Whatever the Mathews paper was about, one thing was certain: Annie wouldn't be getting any sleep until she had some answers.
Chapter 2
"You gotta be kidding me!" Reece Skelton stared at the television screen in disbelief. "How you gonna let him run all the way down the field like that?"
The television announcer commented on how easily the player made his way through the defense.
"Thank you, yes, we all saw what just happened. Idiots."
He shook his head and reached for the bottle of VB sitting on the end table next to his chair. The second he wrapped his fingers around the cool brown bottle, he realized it was empty. "Of course."
Reece got up and took the bottle to the kitchen, dropped it in the rubbish bin, and opened the fridge to get a fresh one. He opened the new bottle and tossed the cap into the bin with the others and returned to his usual spot.
"Since you blokes aren't gonna help me out today, I guess I could get some work done," he said to the television. "I guess that's what I get for cheering for a bunch of rabbits."
He set the beer down on the nightstand and picked up the laptop from the lounge cushion next to him.
Reece ran his own adventure tour business. Most of his runs went from Adelaide up to the north, and they usually consisted of Americans. They all wanted to see the famous Ayers Rock, known to the locals as Uluru. Of course, Reece always threw in a few extras with his trips. A few picturesque mountain ranges, some pretty waterfalls, a little mountain biking and kayaking from time to time — depending on the fitness level of his customers.
Lately, things had gotten slower. That was highly unusual for this time of year. Reece knew what was to blame.
The internet was chock full of adventure tour guides hocking amazing trips to all parts of Australia. He'd been offered the opportunity to join one of the bigger internet groups, but by doing so he knew he'd have to stick to a more rigid set of rules.
Reece Skelton didn't care too much for rules.
As a result, he'd slowly been squeezed out of the adventure tour game. His last jaunt was two weeks ago. And he didn't have another one scheduled for two more weeks. That was nearly a month without a paycheck. The last time he checked his bank statement, the news hadn't been good either. He had enough saved up to get him through a couple of months of bills. After that, he might actually have to do something he detested even considering.
He'd have to get a real job.
Worse, he might have to go work for one of his competitors. Not that they weren't nice guys. He'd been friends with some of them for years. It was the thought of having to tuck tail and fold up shop that really got under his skin.
The laptop screen glowed to life. Reece took another sip of beer before clicking on the little mail icon at the bottom of the desktop. He looked out the living room window as a late morning breeze rattled the wind chimes on his front porch. Five new messages popped up in the queue. Three were from creditors. One was from a prospective customer, apparently based in the UK. The fifth was from his old friend Annie Guildford. The subject line said it was urgent, and since he hadn't heard from Annie in a while he figured he may as well check it out first.
He checked the time it was sent and immediately felt a bit guilty for not having read it sooner. She'd sent it the night before at a fairly late hour. It came from her work email, which caused him to wonder what in the world she was doing on the job so late. Then again, it was Annie. She was more tied to her work than anyone he knew.
Reece clicked the email and started reading. It was only a few paragraphs long, but he could sense her urgency in the wording.
Annie said something about finding an old journal entry from a guy named R.H. Mathews. She claimed she'd found it in an antique desk in the museum vault but didn't know who the guy was or what the message meant.
Reece clicked on the attachment and narrowed his eyes to get a better view of the writing. It was a tad difficult to read, but he could make out well enough to get the gist.