We walk out the front glass door of this building, down the steps and twenty feet across the patio to a wooden slatted double door of another building. Mr Facty keys a padlock and swings the door open. I’m expecting to find garden tools in this closet but instead, all we see is a wooden staircase. Just inside the door jamb, he points down. There it is, embedded in the cement floor. The USGS marker. Unlike so many others we’ve seen, this round metal medallion is in very good condition, no scuff marks, no holes poked into it, no weathering. Of course it’s in good condition: it’s inside a damned closet.