I dug my big Sherlock Holmes style magnifying glass out of the desk, and studied the postcard, paying special attention to the indentation below the W. Even with the magnifying glass, it was hard to make out. The imprint had been made with something small like a fine point pen, but there was no ink in the hole.
I thought about it for a second, then realized what I held was a treasure map. John Sunday left this map to show where he buried the treasure that everyone wanted but no one could find, except me.
“Eureka,” I said. Then I pursed my lips and said, “What exactly is Eureka, anyhow?”
One thing I knew, I didn’t have the luxury of time. I had to find it, and fast. I looked at the postcard again. I needed to go there, right below the W, in the No-Trespassing area. I would have to sneak in unobserved to the Hollywood sign, which was anchored on the side of the mountain in full view of most of Los Angeles. I knew they had nine or ten surveillance cameras monitoring the area, plus park rangers, plus a chain-link fence and an occasional LAPD helicopter. My respect for John Sunday went up another notch, because that meant he got into the place and hid…whatever it was, and got out without anyone seeing him.
I needed to retrieve it the same way, and fast. Then I’d have something to bargain with for Jett’s life; that is if I could find Berenko. I thought about it for a while and came up with a plan.
**
“Say, Holmes,” Atticus said as I pulled into the car lot.
“You three off work?” I asked.
Oscar said, “Just got off. So, how are you doin’? We saw it on TV.”
“I’m okay.”
Atticus said, “We saw where they killed Magilla. Man, I didn’t think that was possible, unless, you know, maybe with a cannon. And your friend Hondo was hurt, too. How is he?”
“Not good.”
“And the girl?”
“That’s why I’m here. I need your help. But it’ll mean breaking some laws.”
“And you’re going after the guys who banged up our baby, right?” Tomas said.
“Your baby?”
“Your truck, Holmes.”
“Oh, right.”
Atticus looked at his cousins, who nodded. Atticus said, “We’re in. What do we get to do?”
“Can you follow me to Griffith Park, up to the stables? I’ll explain it all there.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Atticus said.
As I drove toward Griffith Park, my phone rang. It was David Gleason.
I said, “Hello.”
“Ronny, I heard what happened. How is Hondo?”
“He’s still in ICU.”
I could hear him shuffling papers, then he said, “I don’t know how to say this, other than just saying it. The gears are rolling on our movie, and production starts tomorrow. Because of the secrecy i
ssue, we’re going to sequester the actors for rehearsals.”
I sighed and said, “I understand.”
“If Hondo’s in ICU…well, you know.”
I said, “You can’t let his being in the hospital stop production.”