Page 39 of The Catcher
“Myself and one of the volunteers,” a trooper said, motioning toward a group of more than fifty people, many of whom were from Adirondack Mountain Rescue and others from the community wishing to help.
They walked the short distance to where Porter was conferring with DEC plain-clothes officers, some Adirondack sheriff’s deputies, and High Peaks local cops.
“Well done. You should probably head home. Take a shower.”
“Planning on it, sir. But first, I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
“You and I both.”
They were gathered outside a small shed used by landfill staff. “Here he is,” Porter said, turning toward him. “Thought you would never get here.”
“Truck had a little trouble,” he said. He wasn’t lying. He had only gotten a few miles down the road when it started having a coughing fit. Fortunately, he was able to glide into a gas station and fill up. Ed had left the tank on almost empty.
Porter gestured to the large imitation rock that had been used up on Whiteface Mountain. Below it was a cover and a numbered padlock.
“The code was a simple math-based puzzle based on the date when the summit was dedicated by Franklin Roosevelt in 1929 and opened by him in 1935.”
“All right, let’s do this.”
Porter opened the bottom of the fake rock. Inside was a shard of a blue and white porcelain tile, a baseball mitt keyring, a quarter, and a log book. His brow furrowed. “That’s it?”
Noah slapped on a pair of blue latex gloves and picked out each item, taking a closer look at them. “In the last geocache, there was a faucet, a lock of hair, and a key. The key opened the gadget we found nearby but didn’t indicate what it was for. In both instances, our perp hijacked someone else’s geocache, turning a traditional into a multi. He can’t control the geocache page information as it belongs to someone else, but he expects us to figure it out.”
“Well, then, what’s all this supposed to mean?”
Noah held the items in his hands. “We know this geocache is a traditional. That’s what the original owner set it up as. That’s why the logbook is there. There isn’t meant to be another waypoint.” Noah took out the logbook from a small plastic bag and thumbed through it. As expected, there were dates and signatures except for the last entry, which gave a recent date, two days ago, and said: “I enjoyed the view.”
“I enjoyed the view,” Noah muttered repeatedly as he looked at the items. “We need to go. Now.”
“Where?”
“Back to the summit.”
“Why?”
“That’s where this geocache was. What else is on the summit?”
“Nothing.”
“Wrong. The old coin-operated binoculars.” He held up the 25-cent coin. “I enjoyed the view. That’s what it said. He wants us to look through one to find the coordinates to the third stage.”
Out of breathand with his adrenaline pumping, Noah and the team of law enforcement officers rushed to the summit of Whiteface Mountain, their vehicles skidding to a halt as they reached their destination. The brisk mountain air whipped around them, invigorating as they embarked on their urgent mission.
As they reached the summit, Noah approached the row of silver coin-operated binoculars permanently mounted on sturdy stalks. His eyes darted from one to the next, searching for any sign of the elusive clue they sought. Each pair of binoculars stood sentinel-like against the backdrop of the sprawling landscape, its lenses gleaming in the sunlight.
“Which one?” Porter asked.
“I assume the closest to where the geocache was, but it could be any of them,” Noah replied, his mind racing as he approached the nearest pair of binoculars and inserted the coin.
With a quick twist of the handle, the viewfinder sprang to life, revealing the breathtaking panorama of High Peaks Lake and the surrounding islands. Noah’s heart raced as he scanned the landscape, searching for any hint or clue that might lead them closer to their goal.
“Anything?” Porter inquired, his eyes scanning the horizon alongside Noah’s.
Noah shrugged, his frustration mounting as he continued to swivel the viewer. “What do you want us to see?” he muttered quietly, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Turning to face the other officers, Noah noticed Porter fishing into his pocket, retrieving a handful of coins. With a quick nod, he distributed the coins among the group, each officer taking their place at a different pair of binoculars. With a collective sense of determination, they peered through the lenses, their eyes scanning the vast expanse of the Adirondacks for any clue.
Suddenly, one of the officers called out to Noah. “Sutherland! Over here.”
