GOLDEN REICH

by Mark Donahue

  From hundreds of feet away, Lester felt the heat and the thick wooden door move on its hinges. Within moments a second blast caught him by surprise when a car parked eight feet from the truck also exploded. To his right, he saw three men running from the small office area that was now engulfed in smoke. The men ran toward the main entrance to the mine, but Lester couldn’t be sure if Rolle was one of them.

  For the next five minutes, Lester watched as a second truck and two more cars exploded in a conflagration the likes of which Lester had not witnessed since he saw a battleship explode in France in 1917.

  The acrid fumes from the fire made Lester wonder if he should abandon his position and return to the safety of air shaft he had descended moments earlier. But as the fire raged, most of the smoke and flames were making their way to the main entrance for escape.

  As the flames slowly flickered out, an eerie darkness spread over the cavern. The mawkish yellow lights had been blown away by the explosion leaving only long cords dangling from a soot-stained ceiling. Small patches of fire from the remains of trucks, cars, and guards were the only light in the cavern, which became darker and darker by the second until all that was left were the embers of smoldering cloth seats.

  On the outside of the cavern, Rolle, a guard, and Becker, stood behind the Lincoln. They peered into the cavern, as thick, acrid smoke curled up the face of rock into the night sky blackening the area above the entrance. Three flood lights located on the outside of the cavern were not destroyed in the explosion and emitted the only light in or out of the mine.

  The explosion had blown in the windows of the office, and broken glass had virtually decapitated one of the guards in the outer office. Rolle and Becker had been knocked to the ground but had been protected from serious injury since they were in the private office thirty feet away from the front of the office.

  For the first time Rolle saw a visibly shaken Becker. No longer the leader of men, he seemed at a loss on what to do next. But his highly trained guards, whom he had ordered to “stay at your posts, no matter what,” had done so, except for one lieutenant who ran up to Becker after hearing the explosion. He had been ordered by his field commander to determine if there were new orders from Becker based on what the men had seen and heard.

  Never having seen action before, even though he was a general in the army, Becker was not prepared to respond to a crisis of this magnitude. Screaming at the young lieutenant for leaving his post, Becker turned back toward the cavern and had no answer. Finally, it was Rolle who told the lieutenant to step a few feet away and await further orders. After several more minutes, Rolle quietly suggested to Becker that perhaps it would be a good idea to bring in the rest of the guards to ascertain they were in fact still alive and could be depended on. Becker stared dumbly at Rolle and only nodded. Rolle then gave the order for the lieutenant to bring the other guards back and rendezvous next to the Lincoln.

  Two hours earlier, when the guards announced that three bodies had been discovered at the base of the rock face, and a fourth was missing, Rolle knew Lester had somehow escaped and was carrying out a plan. Rolle also knew there was no way he would be able to meet with Lester to discuss what they would do next. The explosion convinced Rolle that Lester had his own plan and was willing to risk his life to carry it out.

  Although they had not spoken, Rolle knew the problems Lester faced. The most compelling would be trying to figure out how many men he was fighting. The explosion had killed seven guards, and Lester had taken care of four others earlier, but he could not know exactly how many other guards were still part of Becker’s dwindling army. But at the very least, the odds were getting better.

  Rolle’s order to bring all the guards together next to the Lincoln would enable him and Lester, if he was watching, to see what they had to contend with over the next several hours before the trucks began arriving.

  Within five minutes, the sound of boots on gravel began to make their way to the Lincoln. With Becker still reeling from shell shock, Rolle waited patiently for the last of the men to arrive from their posts and asked the major, “Is this everyone?”

  “Yes, Colonel, but General Becker had ordered us to maintain our positions, and it is not a good idea to expose our men in one location.”

  “I understand your concern, major, but we must ascertain how many men we have left so that we can deploy them in a manner to carry out our mission.”

  “Sir, including myself, we have ten guards left with substantial armament, including grenades and automatic weapons.”

  That was more men than Rolle had hoped, but at least he now knew what he and Lester faced.

  “Thank you, major.” Rolle looked into the eyes of the frightened young men around him who only hours before had looked like implacable hardened killers, ready to give their lives to protect what they thought was Germany’s life blood. Now, in those same eyes, he saw the toll of fighting an unknown, unseen enemy in a hostile land thousands of miles from home. Rolle saw fear.

  “Colonel, do we know what caused the explosion?” The major asked, trying to ease the concerns of his men.

  “I’m not sure but it must have been the buildup of gasoline fumes in the cave and the heat from the trucks. It is a setback for us, but we can still achieve our goals if we can depend on you and your men to keep your focus and let General Becker and me think through our alternatives.”

  While the major didn’t believe the “gasoline fumes” story, he was glad Rolle used it as an explanation of what had happened and not what the major believed to have been the cause.

  “Colonel, you have the total dedication and commitment of my men and me. However, I do suggest we deploy the men in a manner to protect the perimeter of the mine as we had before until final orders are given by you and General Becker.”

  With Becker still looking glassy-eyed and saying nothing, the major surmised that the chain of command had been, or soon would be passed, and therefore he had directed his comments to Rolle.

  “Major, I agree with your preliminary plan. Deploy your men as you see fit and return here in thirty minutes for further orders. Dismissed,” Rolle snapped. Turning to his men, the major barked out his orders, and within seconds the guards disappeared into the darkness. Rolle had learned the numbers of his enemy. Now he needed a plan to fight them.

  Chapter 30

  Scottsdale Motel—2014

  Jon woke from a fitful sleep, tried to turn over, but as he rolled into the body next to him, he let out a bloodcurdling yell and fell out of bed as he twisted away from a screaming Rachel. The stereo outcry woke Tom in the adjoining room who rushed in and turned on the lights just in time to see Jon bang his head on the wall next to the bed, stub his toe on the bed frame, then begin to sob incoherently all within five seconds.

  “Holy shit, what’s wrong with you?” the make-up free Rachel howled, as she looked down at a clearly out-of-control Jon who was cussing a blue streak, holding his foot and head at the same time while apparently speaking in Spanish with a Norwegian accent. “This happens to convicts all the time, he’s just not used to sleeping with anyone, and he must have freaked out waking up next to you.” Tom proffered while smiling as he looked down at his fellow Tiger, still writhing and moaning on the carpet.

  “He’s crazy, and he couldn’t even get it up last night,” said the now suddenly less than lovely and equally insensitive Rachel, as she began to pick up her clothes that were scattered over the floor. “Brenda, one night with this loser’s enough, I’m outta here, you coming with me?”

  Brenda, the last of the group to be awakened by Jon’s breakdown, was not quite sure what all the commotion was about, but nonetheless looked for her clothes, and within a minute the lovelies from Mesa had left the rooms, disappearing into an Arizona sunrise.

  As soon as the girls left, a profound silence took over the room, and Jon, now miraculously free of all pain, sat on the edge of the
bed with a proud grin on his face.

  “Really? Was all that necessary?” Tom asked.

  “Had a decision to make. I could waste a lot of time this morning figuring out how to get rid of her, or I could let her make the decision.”

  “You have to get out of this nasty habit of waking up every morning at dawn. It’s okay to sleep in sometimes.”

  “I know, but the idea of being able to do what I want, anytime I want, is more interesting than staying in bed all morning with a Star Wars bar escapee.”

  “By the way, if what Rachel said was true, don’t feel bad. You got to understand it’ll take you awhile to get back in the swing. All cons face that. Rumor is they put stuff in the food to keep the testosterone down. It’ll get better.”

  “God, I hope so. Did I ever tell you about this redhead I knew in New York…?”

  “Yeah, about a hundred times. Since we’re up, no pun intended, let’s get out of here and grab some breakfast. We have work to do.”

  Within an hour the men headed back toward the Jasper. As they drove, they passed a white prison van carrying a group of inmates headed for a long day in the hot sun. Neither man said anything. They didn’t have to.

  Turning north off Route 60, Tom pointed the van up the now-familiar road and stopped near the spot where he, Jon, and the two embezzling lovebirds, had begun their work months before. As Tom fumbled over several maps, Jon got out of the van, walked over to the side of the road, and looked across the vast expanse of Arizona desert that lay before him. Although still only 8:00 a.m., the sun beat down and foretold of another scorching day.

  The emptiness Jon saw before him somehow depressed him and made him realize the hopelessness of Tom’s dream of finding more of the gold.

  Walking back toward the van, Jon was tempted to tell Tom that he wanted out of their unwritten agreement to chase Tom’s dream. Maybe even out of their friendship, if that’s what it took for Jon to be able to go home, wherever that was, take whatever job he could find, and try to get his life together.

  Before Jon had a chance to vent his feelings, Tom interrupted as he exited the van and spread a map across a boulder on the side of the road. “Look, this is the road we worked on, and up about ten miles is the spot we found the bar. As I said before, this is the only road that leads to the mines.”

  “So what?”

  “I’ll tell you what, I’ll bet you my share of the bar that the creek bed we found that ingot in, which we know by the map meanders all the way to both mines, served as a water runoff, and maybe even some sort of trash dump for one or both mines.”

  “So is your theory someone absent mindedly threw out a twenty-pound bar of gold from a silver mine, and we happened to find it, even though it’s at least eight miles away from the nearest mine? Couldn’t it be just as likely that the locations of the mines have absolutely nothing to do with the gold bar?”

  “Look out there, what do you see?”

  “Not a fucking thing but sand and rock,” Jon said.

  “Right. Except for the creek bed, which is the closest thing to a path you can find in this place. If you wanted to hide a lot of anything, you’d need something like the mines in which to hide it, and a way to get to it without being on the road.”

  “You mean people used the creek bed as a path from the mine carrying one piece of gold at a time to walk it back to Phoenix where they took it to a jewelry store and cashed it in, no questions asked?”

  “Damnit, I don’t have all the answers, but if you’re going to be such a negative pain in the ass, then I’ll take you back to the motel and you can lie in bed, watch soap operas, and feel sorry for yourself in peace and quiet.”

  Suddenly angry, although not sure at what, Jon said, “Maybe a soap opera would have more semblance of reality than looking for a fucking gold mine in one hundred degree heat. How long do you intend to do this? Are you really serious about this bullshit? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  Staring at Jon for a few moments, Tom dropped his gaze and began looking at the map again, and said, “If we take this road to the furthest mine, it’s called the “Vega,” we can work our way south down the creek bed to the Jasper and see what we can see. “What do you think?”

  Seeing he was being ignored by Tom, Jon was ready to explode with rage. But for some reason he said nothing more. And he wasn’t sure why.

  After several seconds, he moved to the boulder and softly said, “Yeah, I guess that’s as good a plan as any.”

  Back in the van as they headed up the mountain to the Vega, Jon felt like a piece of shit for losing his cool and acting like a spoiled child. He thought about apologizing, but Tom had already accepted it by understanding that Jon’s reintroduction into “freedom” was going to have moments like the one Jon just experienced, and they would have to work through them. Had Jon ever doubted Tom’s friendship, he would never do so again.

  A rusted dumpster lay upside down nearly blocking the entrance to the Vega. The road that Tom and Jon had traveled that started fifteen miles south ended at the mine. Beyond the mine, hundreds of miles of mountain ranges and high desert plateaus lay to the north and east.

  Tom parked the van next to the dumpster. He and Jon walked the fifty yards to a shack that at one time had been the mine’s office. The dirt area that led to the shack was strewn with broken beer bottles, pop cans, and rusted heaps of fencing, long since torn down by vandals. As they approached what was left of the shack, they could see its only door lying in two pieces eight feet from the office. With all the windows broken, it appeared the only thing that held the shack up was the graffiti in English and Spanish that adorned its exterior walls.

  Looking into the shack from the doorway, Tom saw a scorpion scurry across the floor and under an overturned desk, its drawers long since opened, and used as target practice. Tom moved to the back of the shack, while Jon began the thirty-yard walk toward a chain-link gate due west that was secured with a large brass Yale lock.

  Narrow-gauge steel tracks curved from the middle of the yard under the fence that had four “Private Property Do Not Trespass Signs” attached to it. While the fence was ten feet high and topped with barbed wire, Jon easily slid under the fence with Tom lifting a sag in the wire.

  Tom required a little more time negotiating the path under the fence but joined Jon via the same route. The two men then walked single file another fifty yards from the fence to the entrance of the mine. When they approached the second barrier, it was clear that the owners were a bit more serious about keeping folks out of the Vega.

  A solid iron door was secured to iron bars and welded at strategic points throughout its fifteen foot height and twelve foot width. In addition, concrete had been poured into any crevices that were created by the unevenness of the dirt road, therefore eliminating the possibility of someone slipping under the door. Graffiti covered almost every square inch of the door. “Not exactly as far off the beaten track as I thought it was given all this artwork,” Tom said.

  “Yeah, some of this stuff is pretty good.”

  As Tom shook the iron door to see if it was impregnable as it appeared, Jon noticed scrape and gouge marks near the hinges of the iron door.

  “Looks like folks have tried to get in here before but didn’t have much luck.”

  “Wonder if there are any other entrances?”

  “Even if there were, what do you expect to find in there?”

  “I’m not sure, but according to the local history books, this mine has been closed since 1919. If nothing else, it would be cool to get inside and see what we can see.”

  “Isn’t this private property now? Are we going to get shot if we somehow get inside?”

  “I doubt it. This place was operated by a Boston family for years after it was leased from the Arizona Territory in the late 1800s. After they closed the mine, it reverted back to the state. By the way it looks, they pa
dlocked the place and forgot about it over the years.”

  “Why would that door be welded shut?” Jon asked rhetorically.

  Chapter 31

  Jasper Mine—1943

  As total darkness engulfed the Jasper, Lester had limited options. He could make his way up one of the air shafts to the top of the rock face, stay where he was in the relatively protected tunnel, or try to make contact with Rolle, thus risking exposure and certain death at the hands of the now nervous, trigger-happy guards.

  Feeling fatigue grip his body, he based his decision on what option would offer him less immediate discomfort rather than what was either practical or basic combat strategy. The thought of trying to climb back up the air vent was not an option he considered all that much. He was just too damn tired for that. And the idea of staying where he was, in total darkness for the next twelve hours, wasn’t all that interesting either. He also decided that he wasn’t quite through with the krauts.

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  For twenty years after World War I, Lester roamed the country. Never exactly a bum, at least by normal bum standards, he was, to be kind, a free spirit. At least that was his mother’s definition. His father, a silver miner at the Jasper, had another definition that was not quite so kind. Yet, they both loved their son, and were frantic when they received a telegram from him while he was on another “excursion” this time in Paris. Their concern heightened when he informed them that he had enlisted in the US Army while in France and was on his way to Germany to fight in a war they knew little about. “How could the Army take a boy of fifteen?” his mother had asked over and over.

  After two years in the Army in which he had seen action in eight major campaigns, Lester was awarded the Silver Cross for bravery and several commendations for heroism in the face of enemy fire. He also had been captured by the Germans and spent four months in a German prison camp before he and two other men escaped after overpowering six prison guards. Lester got a medal for that too.