by Hep Aldridge
The state group hurried off to an anteroom, huddling, arguing, and cussing in not-so-quiet whispers all the way. In fifteen minutes, court reconvened, and the state’s lead stood and said in a somewhat quavering voice, “Your Honor, on behalf of the state, we accept the compromise as proposed.”
The judge smiled, hammered his gavel, and said, “Case closed.”
There were cheers and applause from the gallery and much pushing and shoving by the media to get to all parties involved for interviews.
The three of us got up and shared handshakes. I looked at Lawrence, smiled, and said quietly, “Chump Change.”
He laughed out loud.
Dave said, “Colt, that was one hell of a performance. If you ever get tired of treasure hunting, let me know. I think you could have a future in the legal field or Hollywood.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll leave all that legal stuff to you pros and Hollywood to the pretty guys.”
“Lawrence,” Dave said, “you up for some freelance corporate work?”
“I might be,” he said, but I’d have to check with my boss,” and laughed.
“Oh, crap, Lawrence, I forgot to tell you. You’re not going to have any free time for a while.”
“Huh?” he said.
“I bought us a winery in Ecuador that I’m pretty sure is going to keep you busy for a while.”
“What, you did what?” he stammered, looking pleasantly stunned.
“I’ll give you the details on the way back to Cocoa,” I said.
Dave shook his head as we left the courtroom and said, “Man, there’s never a dull moment around you guys.”
After an hour of hallway interviews, we were able to get out of there.
On the way back, we shared the good news with the rest of the team, and Nils insisted we celebrate at the new bar & grill in the marina.
“You mean they’ve re-opened the old Nautical Spirits?” I asked.
“Yeah, but it’s now the Hawksbill Bar & Grill; they just opened after you left for Ecuador—really nice place. The new owners, Carol and Scott, did a great job of remodeling and updating the place without losing its original vibe. I mean, it’s still the place, the beginning, where you came up with the idea for Risky Business back in the day; that’s historical. What better place to celebrate our first successful treasure venture?”
“Good point, Nils, set the time and let them know we’ll be coming and to expect a little ‘rowdiness’ from this crew.”
“Don’t think that will be a problem; they’re party people. Besides, I’ve been going in there since they opened, and they’ve heard the stories and are looking forward to meeting you.”
“Oh, great, Nils, what kind of rumors have you been spreading?”
“Only the good kind, Colt. Only the good kind,” he said with an eye roll. “I’ll be in touch.”
The celebration was great, and Nils was right; the new owners of Hawksbill Bar& Grill were super people, and… the Vibe was still there.
I decided that Risky Business had a new local hangout.
Chapter Forty
Eight months later…
After our court battle, I had expected things to slow down a bit and looked forward to a little R & R. Yeah, right. If anything, the train picked up speed and was highballing down the track.
I was sitting in my office on the third floor of our new building, looking out the panoramic glass window at a view of the Indian River in the distance. It became apparent that we needed some new digs after the court thing concluded and our discussions of expanding the business began. I was able to find this building on US 1, between Cocoa and Titusville, close to Space Coast Executive Airport and Tico airport AKA (TICO). The building had once belonged to a start-up aerospace company that went defunct—three stories, very large parking lot, surrounded by a nice, wooded area. The price was right, so the new “Risky Business Consolidated” had a home. We had discussed the integration of the tech we had gotten from Jeannie into our world and decided we needed a research facility of our own to help provide a cover and support for our activities. We were still directly affiliated with Fitz’s Acme, Inc., but now in a partnership capacity.
The building had five labs on the ground floor and our IT center. The second floor had three more labs, a conference room, and five office spaces. The top floor was the executive area that housed my office, five others, and an executive conference room. We turned one of the offices into overnight quarters to accommodate visitors like O’Reilly and Reggie with an en suite bathroom, not as cool as Jeannie’s, but still pretty classy.
A month and a half after our court battle, Lawrence was contacted by his counterpart in California, who had been working on Reggie’s legal problems for her and us. The guy who had filed the lawsuit against her because of his girlfriend’s death in Ecuador got thrown in jail for major drug trafficking and perjury and got fifteen years in prison. His suit against Reggie got revisited, and the fact that the Ecuadorian government had found her innocent of any wrongdoing was accepted by the judge in California. He threw out the charges and expunged her record. She now could come back to the States without any fear of arrest or criminal prosecution.
During this time, our deal for the Mendez property and winery went through. Lawrence has been traveling back and forth, helping Doug get things set up and the winery operating at full capacity. It turns out they were already in pretty good shape, thanks to the local people Mendez had working there. All Lawrence had to do was start making improvements, money no object. Plus, he had quickly set up a supply/distribution chain for importing the wine into the U.S., and the winery was already making money. He certainly had a legal knack for making things he was interested in happen.
As an aside to the deal, the government had even thrown in Mendez’s helicopter as part of our purchase of his assets. We kept Tex on as its crew chief, now working for the winery. O’Reilly had gone down a couple of times to check on… things and let us know everything was GREAT! I guess that meant both Tex and the winery.
Doc had headed back over to Seville, doing more research in the archives, and come up with some promising leads for Nils and Gus, who were now running the nautical side of the treasure hunting company. They had procured leases up around Amelia Island, Florida. Doc said his research showed that could be a productive area to investigate.
One of our new company’s divisions was our environmental research department. Another was working with emerging artificial intelligence and aerospace-related technologies. With what Jeannie had already provided us, it was a logical move to help cover our activities. Anything she might provide us in the future could be run through the ET division in conjunction with Fitz’s group. Yes, I did intentionally name our division Emerging Technologies just so we could call it the ET division, a little homage to our benefactor, whom I have to say was the epitome of knowledge and grace.
Tess had flown in for a two-week visit, and, as usual, we “clicked” as if we had never been apart. I had almost forgotten how nice it was not to shower alone. I filled her in on some of our Ecuadorean adventures but left out some of the crazier aspects for her own safety. Frankly, much of our activity had to be kept on a “need to know” basis. Unfortunately, her job required her to head back overseas, but we agreed that we should both work a little harder on coinciding our schedules. I realized that Tess kept me grounded in reality in what had become an unreal world.
Did I mention the corporate jet? My bad. Yes, we bought a jet, a Gulfstream G-280—the baby brother to the one we chartered to fly back from Ecuador. We had a hangar at TICO airport, just a hop, skip, and a jump from our new offices. The jet has proven to be very useful, and its location convenient. Yes, it was expensive, but we did have the money. Besides, Wilson, our accountant who works for Fitz, told us it was a tax write-off. Cool.
I guess some of the biggest things that occurred were our recent activities concerning the environment. We had asked Jeannie for tools that would help, and she provided them, so
it was up to us to get to work.
Dimitri and Joe had flown to drought-stricken Ethiopia and Sudan under the guise of doing environmental research. Chartering helicopters, they flew over the worst-hit parts of the country and used the device Jeannie gave us to scan for underground water. They found it, an underground river in Ethiopia. It seemed to follow an ancient riverbed that was still partially visible on the surface. They mapped the area and then drove into it at night. Joe said digging or drilling the wells was easy and quiet, using the device Jeannie had given us for excavation. Multiple wells were dug in the worst areas of both countries, and water began flowing from them immediately. They were sure that the water flow from the individual wells in Ethiopia would start following the old riverbed and bring water to one of the worst drought-stricken areas.
This all was accomplished undetected. They left the countries with information that would be beneficial for future drilling. The new water sources were reported in the media as the result of some kind of natural phenomena.
I sent O’Reilly and Reggie, when she arrived in the States, to Los Angeles to address the air pollution with Jeannie’s device. That was four days ago, and reports of gradually improving air quality in the region had started coming in. Being, L.A., of course, every politician around was eager to take credit. Hence, our activities were almost comically easy.
Doc and I returned from our road trip last night, and the memory lingered.
As we stood on the bank, looking out over the water, I threw one of the small balls we had gotten from Jeannie as far as I could into the river after having previously tossed one into Lake Huron.
We slowly and silently walked back to the car and drove away. As we merged onto the road to the airport, Doc said, “Do you really think this is going to work and actually restore water quality?”
I looked in the rearview mirror at the sign we were just passing.
“I know it will,” I replied.
So, that’s where things stand. The first testing phase of our plan has been implemented. This was only the beginning, and there was going to be a long road ahead, but as Jeannie had said, “You don’t have a choice to advance as a civilization; you must first survive.”
As I sipped my scotch and watched twilight approach through the big windows, I thought, my God, what a monumental task we have taken on. Is it even possible?
A voice, clear as a bell, startled me out of my reverie, “It is possible, Colt, and you are capable.”
Startled, I sat upright and said out loud, “Jeannie?”
I heard only faintly that familiar laugh and then nothing.
As I sat asking myself whether I was hallucinating or it was really her, my cellphone rang.
I answered it.
“Dr. Burnett,” a female voice said.
“Yes,” I replied.
“This is Lilian Morrison, Michael Rivers’ sister.” We met two years ago when you kindly shared the fate of my brother, the pilot who went down in Ecuador.”
Then I recognized the voice, “Yes, Lilian, how are you? Is everything all right?”
“It is, Dr. Burnett, thank you; I hope I’m not interrupting you.”
“No, not at all; what can I do for you?” I asked.
“I wasn’t sure if you would be interested in this, but an old friend of mine recently contacted me. We grew up together as kids on the reservation. Anyway, she called and said her grandfather had just passed away and left her a box that had a lot of his old papers and things that were from his father, her great-grandfather in it. While going through them, she came across a folded piece of animal skin, she thinks it’s deer, with a note inside. The note was rather cryptic and hard to read, much of it had faded out, but she said it mentioned warriors from the south, jaguars, and a golden eagle. There were two dates scribbled on the paper, 1905 and 1521, the same date that was on the skin next to the map drawn on it.”
“Map?” I asked.
“Yes, she says the map has strange markings on it and writing in a language she is not familiar with. I have told her about you and how you helped return Michael’s things. And she has read about your exploits in the newspaper. She was wondering if you would be interested in this. She would be happy to give the papers and old map to you if you wanted them. Her father is ill, and she cannot leave him, so it is of no use to him or her, and there is no other family alive.”
There was silence as I sat there, my mind going a mile a minute.
“What should I tell her?” Lilian finally asked.
“Tell her I would be very interested in them and can make arrangements to pick the box up at a time that is convenient for her.”
“Good, I was hoping you would say that. I know she will be pleased.”
“You can give her this number if she wants to speak with me directly, or I would be happy to have you as my intermediary if she would feel more comfortable with that.”
“I will call her tomorrow and pass along your information; thank you, Dr. Burnett.”
“You are quite welcome, Lilian. I look forward to hearing from you soon.”
The call ended, and it took all of my willpower to keep my mind from racing.
I sat there, now only the glow of my desk lamp lighting my office, as it was full-on dark outside. I poured myself a little more scotch and swirled it around in the few remaining cubes of ice.
As I looked into the darkness outside my window, I thought, “Well, looks like we’re putting the band back together,” and tossed down the drink as I reached for my cellphone.
Apparently, our adventures would continue…
About the Author
A retired college administrator, Hep Aldridge is a certified scuba diver, cave diver and amateur archaeologist whose main area of interest is Pre-Columbian cultures of the Americas. He has led or been part of archaeological expeditions to Mexico and Honduras, making discoveries that have been reported in National Geographic Magazine.
Hep’s related interest in space, and space exploration and “things unknown” was fueled by his father who worked for NASA. While living in New Mexico, he began to question the many strange and unexplained things he saw in the night sky in the mid 60’s, and also developed an interest in lost treasure that has stayed with him his whole life.
The combination of these diverse interests led to the genesis of the Risky Business Chronicles, Book One, his first novel of a three part series.
Hep is an Air Force veteran and resides on Florida’s Space Coast.
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Contents
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
About the Author
