The Secret of the Stones (16 page)

Chapter
25

Cartersville,
Georgia

“Mormons?”
 
Sean blurted out.
 
“What do they have to do with this?”

Joe’s
head turned from side to side as Allyson continued Sean’s line of thinking, “Yeah.
 
Are you talking about the Latter Day
Saints…those Mormons?”

“The
very same.”

“Alright,”
Sean jumped back in.
 
“Enlighten
us.”

Again,
their host took on the look of an avid storyteller.
 
“You see, right about the same time the Indians were moving
west, the newly formed and heavily criticized Mormon Church was facing an exile
of its own.
 
Their founding leader,
Joseph Smith, along with his brother, had been murdered by an armed lynch mob.
 

“Brigham
Young and other church leaders, seeing that the denomination was faced with a
great deal of prejudice due to their ‘unconventional’ beliefs, decided that
moving west to a place where they could govern themselves would be in the best
interest of all their members.
 
So
that is exactly what they did.”

“And
by west, you mean Utah?”
 
Allyson
knew a little about the history of the Mormon Church.
 
One of her best friends was a Latter Day Saint.

“Eventually,
yes.
 
Of course, Utah now has more
active members than anywhere else in the world.
 
That is where their headquarters is located, as well as
their great temple.”
 
Gaining
momentum, Joe went on, “However, early on in their migration, they had
intermittent periods in the Midwest, settling briefly in Missouri and Oklahoma.”

Sean
had to interrupt.
 
“Wait a
minute…Oklahoma?”
 
He paused for a
second, putting the pieces together.
 
“Are you saying that the Mormons helped the Indians move their gold out
west?”

“That
is exactly what I am saying.
 
And
all you have to do is look at the history of the two groups of people to understand
that it is not only plausible…it’s dang well probable!”
 

“Really?
 
You honestly think that the Mormons
took the risk of helping the natives move all that gold?”
 
Sean couldn’t buy into this new idea.
 
“What would keep them from turning it
in to the authorities or just keeping it for themselves?”

“Look
at the facts, my friend.
 
First and
foremost, the Indians didn’t take all of it at once or to one location.
 
The only thing we do know for certain
is that no one has found it since the Cherokee were removed from the area.
 
Fact number two: if the gold was here,
and we are assuming it was, there was no way those Indians could have removed
it without some kind of assistance.
 
And who better, than a group of Christians, who themselves, had nothing
to lose?
 

“Mormons
could come and go as they pleased for the most part, ministering to the
Cherokee, helping them with their ailments or trying to comfort them.
 
The soldiers escorting the natives
would not even think that the ‘innocent’ church members would be trying to aid
the natives in sneaking their gold out of the South.
 
It was the perfect cover.”

“So,”
Allyson cut in, “how did the Cherokee people know they could trust the
Mormons?
 
I mean, who’s to say that
these ‘Christians’ that were helping them wouldn’t just take the gold and run?”

“Excellent
question, Allyson.”
 
He raised his
finger in acknowledgement.
 
“First
of all, John Ross, the leader of the Cherokee nation, knew several Mormons as
personal friends.
 
He had even
briefly studied the religion while in Washington D.C. after hearing some
Congressmen talking about the Mormon group being dangerous to the true
Christian morals of the country.
 
So, Ross knew a little about their belief system.”
 

Joe
twisted open a bottle of water he’d brought from the kitchen and lifted it to
his mouth to take a swig.
 
After
screwing the cap back on, he resumed.
 
“Now, one of the most interesting ideas the Mormon Church has presented
to the world is that the Native Americans were and still are, the lost tribe of
Israel.”
 

Sean
and Allyson looked at each other and then back at McElroy.
 
It was Sean that spoke up. “Lost tribe
of Israel?”

“Yep.
 
They believed that the Cherokee were
part of missing tribe of Israelites, lost Jews if you will.
 
Apparently, the tribe had left the
kingdom at some point, and had traveled west.
 
John Ross knew about this belief.
 
He also knew the troubles that this group of radical
Christians was having.
 
So, in a
last ditch effort to save the ancient tribal fortune, he contacted some of the
leaders of the Mormon Church and made them a deal.”

“What
kind of deal?”
 
Allyson poked.

Nodding,
Sean agreed, “Yeah, the Cherokee hardly seemed in a position to make a deal
with anyone, Christian or otherwise.”

“True,
but don’t underestimate religious values of the zealous.
 
The Mormons held the Indians in the
highest regard.
 
They were treated
almost like living saints.”
 
He
stood and walked over to the fireplace and stoked the flame with the black
metal a few more times before saying, “And let’s not forget, the Cherokee had
something that every church in the world seems to crave…money.”

“So,
you are saying the Mormons helped siphon off millions in gold right under the
noses of the federal government?”
 
Sean was still skeptical.

“Absolutely.
 
But there is something you need to
remember about the relationship between the Mormon Church and the Native
Americans.”

“Which
is?”

“They
both needed each other.
 
The
Indians were treated like animals and the Mormons were outcasts.
 
Without the Mormons, the Cherokee would
not have survived the journey west nor would they have been able to salvage
their treasure.
 
Likewise, the
Mormons would have faced annihilation at the hands of other tribes as they
moved further west had they not possessed something that would ensure their
safe passage.”

“What
do you mean by that last sentence?”
 
Allyson was intrigued.
 
“What did the Mormons have that would keep them safe from other tribes.”

Joe
persisted, “Look at the history of all the white settlers that went west.
 
There are literally hundreds of stories
of Indian attacks on the wagon trains.
 
Everyone knows about them.
 
But there is not a single recorded incident of any tribe ever attacking
a Mormon settler or a group of Mormons.
 
Why do you think that is?”
 

Allyson
and Sean looked at each other again, wondering what the answer was.

Joe
answered the question for them, “Remember the local stories I told you about
the gold bars?
 
There was a symbol
on each yellow brick, right?”

They
both nodded.

“John
Ross told the Mormon leaders that if they would use that symbol in their wagon
trains and show it to any Indian they came across, their people would be
granted safe passage.”

“So,
there was a universal symbol that every Native tribe in the country knew and
acknowledged?”
 
Sean still wasn’t convinced.

“Look
through the history books, buddy.
 
I can’t make this stuff up.
 
There was not a single recorded Indian attack on Mormon Settlers, ever.
 
Seems a little odd, doesn’t it?”

“So
the gold that the Mormons were smuggling kept them safe from being attacked by
all tribes?”
 
Sean still didn’t see
how it was possible.

“It
wasn’t the gold that was so important.
 
What every tribe respected was the symbol on the gold.”
 

“And
what exactly was this symbol?”

Joe
smiled as he replied, “It was the same one that is on that medallion.”

Chapter
26

Atlanta,
Georgia

The
phone on the other end rang another time before the voicemail came on the
receiver.
 
Morris had attempted to
call Sean Wyatt’s cell phone three other times without success.
 
Sean was either ignoring the call or he
was in a place where wireless service was poor.
 
He doubted it was the latter.

Tired
and frustrated, Trent had left the scene of the double homicide hoping that he
could at least talk to Wyatt.
 
The
voicemail beeped after a short message.
 
“Hey, Mr. Wyatt.
 
Trent
Morris here from Atlanta PD.
 
Please give me a call back as soon as you get this.
 
I had a few more questions I wanted to
ask you.
 
I appreciate your
help.
 
Thanks.”

He
flipped his phone closed and tossed it into the empty passenger seat.
 
The Charger veered from the middle lane
of the interstate over to the far right lane as his exit approached on the
right up ahead.
 
Fatigue was
starting to get to him and his eyes seemed to get heavier by the second.
 
Fortunately, other cars were sparse at
this time of night.
 
He maneuvered
up the exit ramp leading toward home.
 

As
he turned at the stoplight, a thought occurred to him.
 
Reaching over, he picked up the phone
again and pressed some numbers.
 
A
few seconds later, someone answered on the other line, “Homicide.”

Recognizing
the voice on the other line, he said, “Lynch, it’s Trent Morris.
 
I need you to do me a favor.
 
You busy?”
 
He imagined the young detective sitting alone at his desk,
the rest of the police department having long since disappeared for the
night.
 
They always kept someone on
hand, though, for emergencies.
 

“Nah,
Trent.
 
You know the routine.
 
Pretty much just sitting here playing
solitaire.
 
What’s up?”
 

“Hate
to interrupt you,” he replied with a laugh, knowing he’d done the same thing
ten years ago.
 
“There’s something
I want you to take a look at.”

“Hit
me.”

“Look
up any known associates that Sean Wyatt might have, other than Thomas
Schultz.
 
I’m trying to figure out
where this guy may have gone today.”

“You
want me to just look up people he knows within a certain radius?”
 
The young cop was efficient.
 
Morris liked that.

“Yeah.
 
And see if you can get any outgoing
flight information from Hartsfield International.”
 
He added, “I know that the IAA has their own private jet,
but it could be that they decided to take a commercial plane.
 
It’s unlikely, but check it out
anyway.”

The
other end of the line was quiet for a second as Lynch was busy jotting down all
the information that Morris wanted.
 
“Alright, sir.
 
Anything
else?”

“I
think that about covers it.”
 
Then
he had another thought, “Oh, Lynch, go ahead and check to see if his cars have
Lo-Jack.
 
We might get lucky and be
able to trace exactly where he is.”

“Okay.
 
Anything else?
 
Fries?
 
Milkshake?”

Trent
released a forced laugh.
 
“No.
 
I’m good.”

“Sir,
if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so interested in Sean Wyatt’s
whereabouts?
 
Do you think he might
be connected to the Schultz kidnapping?”

Deciding
that it would be okay for the younger cop to know a little, he simply answered,
“Possibly.
 
Just get me that info
as soon as possible.
 
You have my
cell number?”

“Yes,
sir.
 
Got it right here.”

“Good.
 
Call me when you get something.”

“Okay.”

“Oh,
and Lynch…,” Morris added.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t
mention this to anyone.
 
I’m not
sure what is going on, but I don’t want too many people to know where we’re
snooping.”

“Ten
four.”

Morris
hung up the phone as he pulled the car into his driveway.
 
A few moments later, he was stumbling
through the door like a drunk on a binge. He laid his keys down once again on
the counter in the kitchen.
 
“What
a day,” he sighed, making his way into the bedroom without even turning on any
lights.
 
His let the softness of
the mattress take him in as his body collapsed onto the bed.