by Mark Donahue
“Daddy, what’s wrong, you okay?”
“That toy… it’s…”
“It’s what?”
“Never mind.”
Jon moved to the next barrel, opened it, and discovered more thick notebooks, gold plates, and silver place settings. The third barrel had notebooks, watches, and gold jewelry. After each discovery of treasure, Jon looked like a kid on Christmas morning, no longer able to speak but instead showing his utter joy by his ear-to-ear grin.
“I think we need to get out of here,” Ben said.
Jon ignored Ben and instead moved to open the fourth and last barrel. The expression on his face moved slowly from glee to curiosity as he stared into what looked like black tar. Then the jellied substance gurgled, and an air bubble rose to the top of the barrel and belched out a putrid odor that enveloped the space.
“Holy Christ, what is that stuff?” Jon said as he fell back from the barrel and landed on a pile of gold, covered his nose, and coughed.
Sam helped Jon to his feet with one hand and covered her nose with the other, as she peered into the barrel. Sam gagged at the vile odor that had drifted near the opening in the wall where Tom and Ben stood.
“Jesus,” Tom said. “What the hell is that smell?”
“Tom, hand me that piece of wood over there,” Sam said.
Using the stick as a stir, Sam churned the black goo with one hand while she kept her mouth covered with the other. After her third stir, something short and black fell out of the barrel onto the floor. Jon used the claw part of the hammer, picked it up and examined it.
“What is that thing?” Sam asked.
“I dunno, but this part looks like a gold ring.”
“Oh my God,” Sam gasped. “It’s a finger.”
“Holy shit,” Jon dropped the finger to the floor.
Suddenly, the contents of the fourth barrel began to churn and bubble; items floating to the surface of the black mixture. As she looked into the barrel, Sam saw human remains. There were ears, jaws, bones, teeth, fingers that were part of a viscous, rotting liquid that took on the appearance of a ghastly, hideous soup. The airtight barrel had prevented the contents from drying up; instead the body parts seeped blood that had turned black over the decades.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” Sam said as she climbed through the hole in the wall, sprinted across the platform, and vomited on the mine floor.
“Jon, put the lid back on that barrel and get the hell out of there now. That stuff could be toxic,” Ben shouted.
On his way out of the space, Jon grabbed two of the large leather binders he had found in one of the barrels. At the same time Ben pulled mortar and black-trim house paint from the pickup, and the men replaced the broken blocks. Within thirty minutes of patching, painting, and dirt throwing, the wall had regained its camouflaged look.
Later, as the group sat on the mine floor, Jon said, “I heard about the Nazis pulling teeth for gold but never thought it was true, how could they…?”
“They got gold anyway they could find it,” Tom said. “Hard telling how much they took that way.”
“Do you think they put that gold we saw in the barrels into the ingots?” Sam asked.
Ben replied, “Years ago I read a story, that claimed Himmler set up a false identity and bank accounts with the Reichsbank under the fictitious name of Max Heiliger. They would melt down the gold fillings and jewelry taken from those exterminated in the concentration camps, put it into gold bars, and sell it on the international market. They would take the cash and put it into those bogus Heiliger accounts. I remember the name because I had a friend in college named Mack Heiliger, and I thought of him when I read the article. So, in answer to your question, is it possible some of the bars inside that wall contain gold from concentration camp victims? I’d say yes, it’s possible if not likely.”
For several minutes, the four treasure hunters sat in silence on the floor of the Jasper and tried to grasp the golden and dark reality that lay behind the black wall. Each also mentally asked the question, “Now what the hell do we do?”
“The first thing we do is get Jon to a hospital,” Ben said.
Chapter 50
Biltmore Honeymoon Suite—Phoenix—1980
Lester and Lucille were married by a justice of the peace in the recreation room of the Phoenix Men’s Homeless Shelter. Two hundred of Lester’s best friends showed up, some of them sober.
Lucille agreed to the location after Lester agreed to build a shelter equally as nice for homeless women and children. “Sure, I was gettin’ around to that anyway,” Lester told Lucille.
Lester’s best man was J.T., who gave Lester a fancy gold keychain in the false hope that Lester would finally attach the chain to the key to a new Cadillac. But he knew better.
A week before the wedding, Lester had led J.T. to his gold stash in the desert, and the men talked at length about the things Lester wanted to see done with the gold if he were to drop dead in the heat of passion. J.T. laughed but agreed to make sure all those things would be taken care of and even had some ideas of his own that Lester agreed to.
Lester also took J.T. to the Jasper and told him about the gold that he suspected was behind the black wall. “If it really is there, that’s too much for me to handle, even with Juan’s help,” J.T. told Lester. “We best just let that stay put for a spell.”
On their wedding night, Lester and Lucille laid in bed, with smiles on their faces. “I’ll say this, Lester, you’re full of surprises,” Lucille said with genuine contentment in her voice.
“I told ya not to get the python all lathered up.”
“You call him the python?”
“Yeah, but you can call him anything you want.”
“How about my new best friend?”
“Whatever you call him, he’ll answer to it.”
Snuggling into Lester, Lucille said, “That’s good to know.” Then she asked, “Lester, do you really own this hotel?”
“I’m too old to lie about stuff.”
“That’s good to know too. I read most of your journal last night.”
“Yeah? What’d you think?”
“Who else have you shown it to?”
“Just Eric and J.T.”
“Can you trust them?”
“Sure, Eric could have come after the gold years ago and never did. And I had to drag J.T. out to see where my stuff is. He’s already worth lots of money and don’t want to be bothered with it. By the way, ole J.T. will take care of you after I’m gone. You won’t want for nothn’.”
Lucille kissed Lester on his shoulder and said, “You ain’t going anywhere for a long time based on tonight’s happenings.”
“Well, Lucy girl, I’m afraid that ain’t so true.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was feelin’ poorly a few months back and went down to the free clinic. They sent me to a specialist and, well I got the same damn cancer Eric has. Damn liver cancer. Looks like a big ole baseball in there.”
Lucille sat up in bed. “You mean you’re dyin’?”
“Not tonight.”
“When?”
“They didn’t give a day and time.”
“How long?”
“’Bout a year.”
“A year?! Why in the world would you marry me and not tell me you were dyin’?”
“Cause you might not have married me.”
“Lester, that’s dishonest.”
“Well it’s not like we were gonna have some twenty-year marriage anyway. Hell, I’m old, girl. Besides, I wanted to make an honest woman out of you and spend my time with someone I cared for, and someone who would maybe watch over me for a few months.”
“I’d watch over you whether we were married or not. You should have told me, Lester.”
“Maybe so, but loo
k at it this way, when I’m gone, you’ll be the richest woman around these parts and will be able to do any damn thing you want. No more servin’ meatloaf for quarter tips.”
Lucille looked at Lester with tears in her eyes. She put her head on his shoulder and caressed his face. “Does it hurt?”
“Naw, just a little pinch in my back.”
“You know, we should’ve gotten together years ago. All those years we were alone.”
“Can’t worry about all that stuff now, girl. We got to figure out how we handle all that gold still in my bank out in the desert. And then what the hell we do with all that gold behind that wall.”
For the next six months, Lucille and Lester had themselves a time. They lived in the honeymoon suite at the Biltmore, ate good food, drank good wine, and even drove over to the Grand Canyon. “Damn thing’s pretty big,” was all Lester would say when he looked down at the immense canyon floor.
They also made plans on how she would handle the responsibility of Lester’s real estate assets, cash in the bank, gold in the desert, and even more gold behind the wall after he was gone. They decided J.T. would, if need be, fetch the gold just like Lester had done for over thirty-five years, and together they would carry out Lester’s wishes. They made a plan.
After an afternoon where they walked around downtown, said hello to a dozen of Lester’s buddies, and had dinner at Maxine’s, they went back to their suite and watched Wheel of Fortune. Lucille could tell Lester was tired. As she laid next to him on the king-sized bed, Lester turned to her and said, “I think it’s time, girl.”
“Okay, I’ll shut off the TV.”
Weakly, Lester said, “No, I mean…”
“Oh no, I’ll call the doctor.”
“No, don’t do that, honey. Let’s just lay here a spell.”
Lucille put her arm around Lester’s shoulder. “Does it hurt, sweetie?”
“Just a little.”
“You know, I loved you for a long time,” Lucille said.
“Figured so. Like I told ya, I loved you too but was too scared to tell ya.”
“Never thought you was scared of nothin.’”
“Just you, girl.”
“You damn fool.”
“I know, but these have been a real good six months.”
“You promised me a year.”
“I ’spect I was fibbin’ there just a bit.”
Lester looked up at Lucille and saw the tears and hurt on her face.
“I never wanted you to have to see me like this,” Lester said. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Lucille, who had stayed up most of the night concerned about Lester, reached over and felt for him. He wasn’t there. Thinking he was perhaps in the bathroom, she called out for him, but there was no answer. She called the hotel front desk and was told that Lester had left early in the morning and had driven off in his van.
Lucille hung up the phone, sat down on the bed, reached for Lester’s pillow, and held it against her chest.
After a slow early-morning drive through downtown Phoenix, Lester dropped in and said hello to his best friend.
When he saw a frail and gaunt Lester, concern came over J.T.’s. face. “How you feelin’, man?”
“Feel good. Think I might take up golf. Hell, I own a damn golf course.”
“I know you do. Good idea, if you do, I will too.”
“I’ll let you play for free.”
“Want some chicken?” J.T. asked.
“Yeah, I’ll take a leg.”
For several minutes, the men sat in silence as Lester nibbled on his drumstick.
“You remember how to get out to my bank?”
“I remember.”
“Well, don’t forget. And don’t forget my attorney’s name and number; she handles all the real estate and business stuff.”
“I got it, don’t worry, Lester.” J.T. said.
“I know you got it. Ain’t worrin’, just kinda remindin’, that’s all. Well, J.T., guess I better get a move on.”
“C’mon, man, you just got here. Have another leg and a beer.”
“I’d like to, but I need to go somewhere,” Lester said.
“Then I’ll come with ya.”
“Thanks, but I got some business to tend to.”
“Okay then, I know you’re busy. But hey, Lester, remember when you came in here that first time back in ’43 with those little pieces of gold?”
“Yep, I remember.”
“Do you know what I was thinkin’ that first day?”
“Nope, sure don’t.”
“I was thinkin’, that’s a good man there,” J.T. said.
“You was always a lousy judge of character.”
“I know, but I just want you to know…”
“I know, J.T. Feel the same way. Thanks for…well...”
“Yeah, I know, Lester.”
As Lester struggled to rise from his chair, J.T. resisted the urge to help his friend, knowing that pain would be worse for Lester than what he was feeling in his back. Finally standing, Lester said, “Guess I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, see you around, Lester.”
From his office window, through the tears that flowed freely down his face, J.T. could see Lester as he walked slowly to his beat-up van and drove east toward Whiskey Flats.
Chapter 51
Phoenix—2014
A week after finding the gold behind the wall in the Jasper, Ben, Jon, Sam, Tom, and Pax sat around, or under, Ben’s kitchen table with pens, calculators, computers, and a water bowl in front them.
“Jon, you estimated 17,300 bars. At twenty pounds each, that’s 346,000 pounds or 5,536,000 ounces. At today’s price of roughly $1400 an ounce, that’s $7,750,000,000 give or take, and that does not include the gems, silver, and loose gold,” Ben announced without fanfare.
The resulting silence in the room lasted over a minute.
The previously euphoric and stupidly rich Jon was the first to speak. “I don’t want anything to do with it,” he announced, to the surprise of the group.
“Why not?” Ben asked.
“As much as I like money, and I like it a lot, knowing where that gold came from would taint anything I’d buy with it. Besides, I read through those binders last night, and there were the actual names, ages, and addresses of thousands of people in it, plus an itemized list of all the stuff the Nazis had taken from each of them. It made it all the more real. It was depressing as hell.”
“Tom, how about you?” Ben asked.
“I feel the same way. I haven’t slept for a week thinking of what we saw in those barrels. This has been a great adventure, and we found one of the most valuable treasures of all time, but I think we should leave it where it is, and I, at least, need to get back home, find a job, and move on.”
“I can understand how you boys feel. As I said when this all began, I’m too damn old to worry about making more money at this point. I got in this thing for the fun of the hunt. I really didn’t think we’d find anything. But since we did, I don’t think we should just ignore what that amount of money can do if used in the right way. But more importantly, what happens if the wrong people get hold of that gold?” Ben asked.
“You mean like the guys I ran into in the desert last week?”
“Exactly, Tom. You said they all had Nazi tattoos.”
“Yeah, they did. And they also said there were some people who didn’t like the fact we were snooping around the Jasper.”
“So, what are we supposed to do? Go get the gold and turn it in to the government so they can waste it on another war or piss it away on bullshit?” Jon asked.
“I’m not sure anyone is suggesting we turn it over to the government, but I don’t think we want to risk letting it get into the wrong hands eith
er. That amount of gold could do an incredible amount of good or incredible damage in the world. As much as none of us want to benefit from that gold, we have a tiger by the tail here, folks.”
Again, the group of four sat in silence, stumped by the dilemma of too much gold and not enough ideas of what to do with it.
Finally, Sam said, “Let’s give it back.”
Chapter 52
Phoenix—1980
Lester had decided he wanted to make one last trip to his “bank” in the desert and then go back home to Lucille and tell her how much he loved her, until it was time. He wasn’t quite sure why he wanted to make a last trip other than he wanted to make sure all the gold was still there, where it was supposed to be. All eleven hundred bars of it. And he wanted to retrieve one more bar for old time’s sake. He figured he would give it to some stranger when he got back to town and make that person’s day.
He also figured he had one last hike in him. At the same time, he really didn’t want to die in front of Lucille. That would be kind of rude and embarrassing.
Taking the now-familiar route to the rest stop that would be his intermediate destination before his walk into the desert, Lester thought back to that first trip he took with his three buddies and Rolle. He wondered what would have happened if he and his boys hadn’t come across Rolle in the back of the bus station. Maybe his three friends would still be alive. But what would those Nazi guys have done with all that gold by now?
He thought about what the gold he had driven off with that night had meant to all those people he knew in Phoenix. How many people were still alive and healthy because of that gold? How many had gone to college? How many lives had been touched? He thought of Eric. He smiled at his thoughts and memories.
Lester was glad he had stopped by to see old J.T. on his way to the desert. He’d never tell him so, but he loved that big man like a brother. He figured J.T. felt the same way. He regretted he hadn’t stopped by the shelter and said good-bye to his buddies. But hell, that could have taken all day. Or maybe a week. They knew how he felt about them anyway. They were his family.
Lester’s faded blue van pulled into the highway rest area off Route 60 east of Phoenix. He lingered in the idling vehicle for a few minutes. He needed to gather his strength. He knew that once he left the van’s air-conditioned coolness, he would face hours of unrelenting heat and utter exhaustion.
