Since returning to the City, Professor Simons had been in his Berkeley office arranging the final details of Nicasio's trip to Spain. He was planning for his young research assistant to spend valuable hours perusing the original sixteenth century records kept in the General Archives of the Indies of Seville. He would focus on these authentic records relating to the most obvious New World explorers. Who had sailed into the vicinity of the 36th latitude, sometime after 1542. His research was clearly going to cover a time before the colonial Mission Period of the 1700's when the California coast began to see its first Spanish agricultural settlements dot the coastline.

The most logical mariners for this narrow time period, known both to the professor and Nicasio, were Cabrillo, Vizcaino, Ferello, and possibly De Fuca—though Dr. Simons maintained his own academic position that the very existence of this Greek adventurer, sailing under the Spanish flag, had always been in question due to a lack of hard documentation. There had, as yet, been no ship logs or primary sources discovered of De Fuca's voyages up the California coast. Yet there was some tangential notes about him prior to his being clearly mentioned as participating on the first commercial galleon enterprises, crossing the Pacific from Mexico to the Philippines.

Curious to the literature, however, were secondary claims by others of De Fuca's rumored exploits along the California coast. His legendary discovery of the sought after 'Strait of Anian,' which he had supposedly boasted of after returning to Europe, had always piqued the interests of 16th and 17th century New World historians. These rumors were mentioned by map makers and navigators whom De Fuca was thought to have contacted while back in Spain, following a reported lifetime on the Pacific as a navigator. But other than these recurrent wisps of legend, there was nothing to suggest to Dr. Simons that he should be considered as a serious candidate for their inquiries. Nevertheless, Nicasio wanted to look into what the Spanish repository of existing textual evidence in Seville had of this explorer's participation. The mere suggestion that he was indeed a pilot during those times, along the Pacific coast in the 16th century, made him in Nicasio's opinion a valid contender.

At 9:45 AM, after accomplishing most of what he had planned to do that day the professor's office phone rang. It was the Chief of the Monterey Sheriff's Department. He apparently had some new security concerns about the Bixby "pot crop" site.

"Yeah, that's right, sir. We've got a couple of real issues down there right now."

The Chief sounded casual about the irregularity and a little too anxious to wrap up the conversation quickly with the professor.

"Can you be more specific, Chief. I need to be appraised of all details regarding security down there."

"That's why I'm calling you, Professor Simons."

"Please . . . continue."

"First of all, there's been some aggressive journalists coming around. Seems they're curious . . . about our vehicles, mainly. You know . . . local yo-yos trying to get a scoop on a crime story . . . happens all the time."

"Journalists? From where?"

"Well, they're either independents or maybe news junkies from MontereyCounty. San Luis Obisbo press, maybe? They've been pressuring my guys to answer questions about the ongoing investigation. Why we seem to be still so active down there. Guess they've seen our squad cars coming and going for about a week now. People from the highway just got curious and probably called them."

"I see."

"It's just journalists at this point. You know . . . ghoulish public interest."

"I understand, but it's absolutely essential that you keep that area . . ."

"And that's the other thing, professor. See . . . the place . . . as a crime scene anymore . . . well, it's got to be wrapped up . . . now."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I can no longer afford to keep personnel down there."

"What? I was told specifically by your people that we would be provided with protection. From the public as long as . . ."

"Yeah, well I can't guarantee that beyond this week, professor. See, it's a jurisdiction thing now."

"Jurisdiction?"

"Our work on the cannabis case is pretty well over . . . and . . ."

"And by the way, you were going to inform me of any information you took from the suspects. From your interrogations of them? What did they have to say about the structure we're investigating? What was their connection to it?"

"No connection apparently. They were just told it was off limits and to ignore it while at the pot field was in operation."

"So, are you satisfied with that answer?"

"Look. All seven suspects we arrested who worked that farm corroborated the same story. They all had an understanding that your underground building was just an empty storage area of some sort. Now understanding of its history. They were just migrants told to keep it covered. We still haven't ascertained who was really running the show down there yet. That's pretty typical of a pot farm. We may just never get that info, professor."

"Why?"

"It's always a real cat and mouse game. These guys who do the actual work usually just do their time, get out after a few months of growing and get hired on again as transients. And that's usually just somewhere else up those canyons or down the coast. Always a remote place, hidden but fairly close to the Highway One is what they like for easy transport."

"I see."

"But whoever it was, though . . .they counted on making a pretty sweet profit on that field. They just never were able to do it." The Chief laughed a little devilishly.

"I don't care about that, chief."

"OK. But you understand it's just the tip of the iceberg, for us, Dr. Simons. This whole scenario is going on night and day down that coast. And up those valleys. We play this game all the way down to Cambria and MorroBay, in fact.

"I understand."

"Marijuana is still the number one cash crop in California, if you haven't read the papers for the past forty years."

The professor was silent, only thinking of what the loss of the security detail could mean to their work.

"Look professor . . . you might want to arrange with your two universities their own security people down there. You see, under these present budgetary troubles, I just have to take my men back. We've got bigger things to worry about than history or archaeology."

Two universities? Had he heard the Chief correctly? The strange comment was starting to incubate in his thoughts.

The professor saw no point in arguing with the Sheriff's assessment of the personnel details. He knew his energies could be better spent getting a new, more viable security system for the tholos into place immediately. But it would be catastrophic if the press or public began to enter the area unrestricted. Certainly a university security force might only generate more public curiosity. Yet, it also just might give them the added time they needed to wrap up the preliminary study. And hopefully before the whole story was picked up by the media.

In several weeks, Professor Simons visualized, the summer tourist season would be in full bloom. This meant an endless cavalcade of sightseers down Highway One toward Big Sur. They would come from everywhere in the world, he knew, as they had done historically each summer. BixbyBridge and the high vantage point of the majestic cliffs from the highway was one of the area's most popular attractions. Even the bungee jumpers and parasail gliders had discovered the bridge to be a venue for their daring activities in past summers

Suddenly, the professor could not let go of what he thought he had heard the man say earlier.

Two universities? Why did you mention two universities, Chief?"

"So I just wanted to let you know. . ."

The Chief's voice seemed anxious to get off the line.

"Look, professor, I'm really sorry about my department's limitations. How much we can actually help you out beyond this point. See, I just can't have my guys down there indefinitely. We're dealing right now with a serial rapist case in Monterey and well . . . I'm sure your work is very important, too, but. . . . Maybe your two institutions will be able to sort something out."

"Two institutions?"

"Yeah. In fact . . . I forgot to mention. Late last night one of your colleagues from Stanford dropped by the site."

The professor froze.

"Stanford?"

"Yeah. She apparently made a quick check inside the structure with a flashlight and thanked my guys for their hard work. For keeping the public out these past two weeks."

"Last night?" The professor was stunned. It had been just before sunset that he and Nicasio had departed from the site.

"What time? And did you say Stanford?

"Yes."

"How do you know it was a colleague? Stanford?"

"Well now, hold on just a minute . . . let's see. . ."

The chief was obviously reading from a field report.

"Yeah . . . here it is . . . According to our officer's surveillance record . . . this person had some identification from . . . let's see . . . Yup, he says Stanford University. And it also says here she . . . mentioned your name specifically . . . it was around . . . eleven-fifteen?"

"She? My god! Did you get a name?"

There was a pause as the Chief seemed to be reading the report more carefully.

"No. No name, professor. According to my report here it was . . . hold on . . . a well-dressed . . . middle-aged woman. Says also she . . . flashed her Stanford ID and confirmed she was working with Dr. Jack Simons from Berkeley. Sorry professor, but that's you right? Seems . . . no . . . she left no name."

The professor hung up the phone.

* * *