Jogging down past the Forts parking lot, he approached a wooden bridge that crossed the Fort’s moat. Stopping to scout the immediate area before realizing he had no other options, he slowly made his way across by softly sliding his feet, realizing the sounds of his crossing would echo for 50 meters or so if he walked normally. Once across, he knelt on the grass to scan both directions around the Fort for any signs of activity. Satisfied he was indeed alone, he donned his night vision gear, adjusting its intensity and once again scouring the Forts perimeter before proceeding. With his night vision gear, the night’s darkness would be his ally. Looking straight ahead, he detected the main door to the Fort ajar. That presented him with two options: that the security guard was on patrol and carelessly left the door open or the rebel was now in the Fort using it as a platform for his mission. Igor prayed for the first option.
Following Sergey’s directions he readied his weapon before proceeding down the path between the moat and the Fort.
It was time.
Using the base of a 30 foot oak tree for cover, well within range of the person who was digging, Tom took several deep breaths to calm his racing nerves, looking up to the sky and wondering what in the hell he was getting himself into. Looking down to his weapon, satisfied for the tenth time that the safety was indeed off, he stepped out from behind the tree, pointing his weapon at the man that stood before him.
“Freeze,” mimicking the same stern tone he used to discipline his grandchildren. “Stop the digging and put your hands in the air!”
Peter was caught totally off-guard, being so engrossed in his work that he had disregarded his immediate surroundings. Damn you. Having been instructed to always stay in tune with the area in which you work. Searching the night’s darkness in the general area from where the voice had emanated, his hawk-like eyes locating the man’s distinctive shadow outline a short distance away. Peter cursed aloud, realizing his own weapon lay just of reach, located halfway between himself and his newfound friend. He had removed it from his pants waistband in order to dig more freely, without constrictions, this being his second possibly fatal mistake.
“To whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting?” Peter said, trying to draw the man closer and possibly overwhelm him or at least stall for time, enabling him to dive for his own weapon.
Moving closer to his subject, Tom flicked on his bulky flashlight, shining it abruptly in Peters face, still pointing his weapon at the man.
“Don’t try any funny business. I have a weapon here and I know how to use it son,” Tom said menacingly. He looked down at the metal case Peter had recently removed. “What do we have here?” He then pointed down at the case with the flashlight’s beam. “Does this help you detect metal items in the ground that you then dig up and steal from the American people? Looks like a fancy metal detector.”
Peter’s mind raced before realizing the man had unwittingly provided him an excuse for his being there. The security guard must be thinking that he was stealing wartime related artifacts from the hallowed grounds surrounding the fort. That had to be his rationale. Only now to play along with that very thought.
“You caught me sir,” Peter said. He was trying to find a foothold that would enable him to spring from the hole and dive for his weapon. “I have found something of extreme importance and placed it in this case for transport. I was hoping to sell it for close to a million dollars. He was trying to peak Tom’s interest and have him to move closer to the case, knowing he couldn’t balance both the gun and the flashlight at the same time. Something would have to give.
“And I already have a buyer.”
The flashlight almost dropped from his hand when he heard the man say one million dollars. That would supplement a lot of vacation time thought Tom, as he stood there dumbfounded. He had to lean against a tree for some stability in order to keep from falling down.
“Are you telling me,……..Do you mean,………” Tom said, stammering as he searched for the proper words. “You dug something up around here that was worth one million dollars?” His senses grabbed hold, wondering what this guy was trying to pull, his hand tightening on the gun. “No, wait one minute young man.”
“Look for yourself,” Peter said. He redirected his attention back towards the metal case. Peter had to move quickly, this man was having some doubts about the credibility of his story. He could tell he wasn’t dealing with the typical stereotyped security guard, uneducated and bored with the job. That type of person would have called in the police to handle his intruding upon the forts property. This man had ambitions. But he also was aware of the predicament that all security guards in the US faced, undervalued and underpaid. Underlining that issue could work to his advantage and where Peter could strike first. Money.
“If you were to over look this little incident, I may see my way to providing you a 10 % finder’s fee.” He knew he had the security guards full attention, as Peter found a foothold and was ready to maneuver closer to his weapon, waiting for the right moment.
Tom’s mind was spinning now. A hundred grand just for looking the other way? Several moments passed as Tom stood transfixed staring at the case; the money already spent supplementing the little extras in life he and his wife would require. He looked back in time to see Peter trying to extract himself from the earthen hole.
“Stop right there,” Tom said, common sense taking hold, moving the flashlight over to the metal case then back to Peter. “What’s to stop me from taking the case and making the deal myself, that way I get to keep the whole million?”
Peter realized he now possessed the man’s soul. He had snapped at the bait.
“You’re right, you could have the whole million. But you would also require the buyer information now wouldn’t you? Peter had attained his position and ready to dive for his weapon. “Let me call the buyer right now,” pointing over to where the case was, possibly leading the man to think he had a cell phone near the case. “He doesn’t live far from here.”
Everything was moving way too quickly for Tom. Walking closer to both Peter and the case, realizing he held the edge with a loaded weapon to back him up. “All right, I’ll take the 10 %,” Tom said against his better judgment, something deep inside telling him that everything wasn’t as cut and dry as it seemed. “But you have to fill in this hole,” using his flashlight to point to the 3 foot deep hole Peter stood in.
The Americans and their greed had saved him once more from certain death. That was the one surefire downfall for most Americans, greed. Only money talks in their capitalist society.
“Deal,” Peter replied, having nothing to lose, knowing there was no money or artifact in his case to sell, only its lure. “Can I get out from this hole without you shooting me?”
“One minute,” Tom said, “Catch,” throwing the flashlight to Peter. “You hold the flashlight so I can open the case. That way I still can my gun pointed at you,” thinking he had outsmarted the thief with his simple maneuver. “I want to see what a million dollars looks like,” fumbling with the cases titanium latches.
Peter caught the flashlight with one hand. The idiot having provided him a weapon: one lacking bullets but still a weapon.