“Hello, are you still there?”
“I am sorry sir. I guess that you haven’t heard?” The man’s voice sounded more surprised than concerned, that clearly Sam was unaware of recent events.
“Heard what?” Sam’s heart missed a beat.
What now?
“I regret to inform you that Mr. Kevin Reed and his wife had an accident on the mountain earlier today. His rope broke, and tragically, both he and his wife fell to their deaths.”
“Oh my God!”
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” The man asked.
Suddenly, the realization of how serious this was hit Sam like an avalanche. It was his fault that his old college acquaintance and his wife were now both dead.
Someone had been after him because he’d found out about the gold. But how did they know?
“Thank you for your help.”
Sam hung the phone up before he made the mistake of letting them know he was still alive.
He then sat there, looking blankly at the computer screen, which was still displaying a picture of the head of the Wolfgang Corporation, a blond man with a rigid face, but a kind smile, staring back at him.
What did you have to do with this?
He struggled to recollect the chain of events that had transpired since the discovery of the gold’s existence. His friend, Kevin, had discovered the gold and now he was dead; he himself had made some inquiries about the gold, and now someone had made very serious attempt on his life, too.
Who else knows about the gold?
Then he remembered, Blake Simmonds, his father’s friend.
Simmonds had said that he’d spent years fascinated by the story of the Magdalena and her disappearance, which was why he had called as soon as he’d seen the picture of the gold, with the G & O emblem clearly marked.
Could Blake have betrayed me?
No one else knew about the discovery. It was certainly possible. His father’s friend might have deceived him. Even the best of friends may choose betrayal if the reward was high enough, except that in this case, he’d never even met the man.
Someone else must have been searching for this gold for quite some time in order to be willing to commit murder to prevent anyone else from getting to it first.
That thought sent a shiver down his spine.
At that point, the door opened and Tom walked in.
“Tom, I just spoke with Mary in Human Resources. You have four weeks leave owing?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right. Why do you ask?”
“Because I’ve just told her that you’ve decided to take them starting tomorrow.” Sam said.
“Tomorrow?” Tom’s patient, smiling face looked back at him with surprise.
Sam had seen that look on his friend’s face before. It said, what have you gotten me into this time?
The friendship between Sam and Tom went back years, well before they’d decided to join the Marines together. Over the years, they had dragged each other along on some pretty crazy adventures. It was a wonder that either of them were still alive to tell the tale.
“Yep. Tomorrow.”
“Why would I do that? I’m planning to go surfing at the big wave contest in Oahu in September!” Tom protested.
“Don’t worry about the surf. It will still be there next year.”
“What do you mean, don’t worry about the surf? I’ve been looking forward to this for three years running!” Tom complained.
“Now, we’re going to Europe instead.”
“And why the hell are we doing that?”
“Well, buddy…” This time it was Sam’s turn to look at his friend, with an expression he had seen many times before, which said, Believe me, this will be worth it, “… because we’re going on a treasure hunt.”
Sam scrolled through the priority list on his satellite phone, and clicked on the words: “The Old Man.”
He didn’t have a particularly close relationships his father. They had never been the typical American immigrant family, who maintained their close family ties. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his dad, and he certainly respected him. After all, the man was exceptional in his field, and in any other in which he had to deal, for that matter, that much was certain.
Sam only spoke with him two, or sometimes three times a year, and it was rarely for personal reasons. Today was different. He needed help. He was in trouble and his dad might just have the right connections to help him out.
He had no doubt that his father loved him. In his own way.
The phone never even got the chance to ring, “Yes?” His dad didn’t waste time with unnecessary terms such as “hello.”
“Hey, Dad.”
No response.
He was waiting for Sam to make the next move, as though their conversation was an intricate chess battle.
“I’m in trouble.”
“Yes, I heard that you refused to return to your post because you were off chasing some perfect disaster of a storm, instead of performing the task that you were paid for, and as a result my ship was sunk — and even more importantly, something of tremendous value was stolen from me.”
I was on bloody holiday!
Sam knew better than to get into this argument with his father. Besides, given what had happened, the point was moot.
“This isn’t about work. This is serious!” Sam said. “Someone tried and very nearly succeeded in killing me.”
“Really?” His father sounded interested, or at least somewhat amused — certainly not concerned in the way a reasonable parent would be, but rather in the way that a rich man might enjoy hearing a good anecdote.
It took Sam several minutes to relate the entire story to his dad, omitting how he survived by using his dive equipment, and focusing on the fact that someone wanted him dead. He also included his opinion that at this stage, his only guess as to the reason why, was because he’d discovered the possible resting place of an old WWII airship filled with what he assumed were Jewish treasures. He concluded with the name on the back of the helicopter, which had been aboard the offending ship, Wolfgang Corporation.
Sam’s father didn’t interrupt, and allowed him to finish the entire story.
“Oh, by the way, I met a beautiful girl when I got back to shore,” Sam said. “I don’t know if I’d ever welcome another near death experience just to meet her, but she seemed pretty great to me.”
“A girl, hey?”
Sam knew that his father would be far more interested in hearing about her than he was in hearing the rest of Sam’s story.
“What’s her name?”
“Aliana.”
“Nice name. So, what are you going to do about all this?” His father was always direct.
“Tom and I are going to Europe to see what we can find, and where it leads us.”
“And the Maria Helena? What about your responsibilities there?” his father asked.
“We’re finished in Australia. Matthew is transferring her back to San Diego. She needs an overhaul anyway. I won’t be missed, and Tom is owed leave.” He then paused for a moment, and asked, “Dad, have you ever heard of the Wolfgang Corporation?”
“No, should I have?”
“I don’t know. It’s the only name I have to link to the man who attempted to kill me.” Sam paused, and then said, “Dad, I need you to look into the Wolfgang Corporation for me.”
“I understand.” His father had many connections, and they went just about as high up and as low down as could be imagined.
Sam knew that his dad had sunk large amounts of money into Obama’s election campaign in 2008, and, ever since the man’s presidential success, the two men had maintained a close relationship. As a result, his father had been appointed a senior financial advisor to the Obama administration. The President would have been pissed as hell if he ever learned that Sam’s dad had also poured money into John McCain’s campaign coffers. Sam doubted that his father would use any official channels to conduct this search. His father kept a number of mercenaries around the globe who provided very specialized services. Some of them were legal, many were questionable, and others were utterly, outright, illegal.