by Chris Tucker
As the layer of dirt on top of the object was brushed away, it revealed a wooden plank. Mercer’s eyes widened with excitement at the thought of this being the cache they had painstakingly sought after. As more of the dirt was wiped away, it created an outline of a thick wooden crate about ten feet in diameter. He asked the soldier for his shovel, who complied by handing it over, and then he wedged the tip in between the sides of the planks.
With every ounce of force he could muster, he twisted and pried at the boards. He was amazed at the strength of the wooden planks and that they were still intact after the blast they must have endured. After a few twists and turns of the shovel, he heard a loud squeak which signified the cracking of the wood. One of the planks split apart and left an opening big enough to fit a hand into.
He wriggled his hand in through the side and pulled out a piece of its contents. He turned to the men above him who were anxiously awaiting a visual on the article that had been removed. They didn’t have to wait long as the American held up an object which hadn’t seen the light of day in one hundred and fifty five years – a bar made purely of gold.
Vigil and Hunt were equally amazed at the view as everyone else. They embraced each other in a hearty hug. Hunt was unable to hide his emotion.
“You did it! You guys really did it!”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Vigil. “It’s like finding the Holy Grail!”
Mercer took a moment to remember all the people who had lost their lives during the ordeal leading up to this point. He thought of the men and women who were buried by the volcanic eruption, the people in the mass graves, and the people they had come to know, and lose, over recent days. He was relieved it was finally over.
The celebratory hugs continued for a while longer, and then it was on to the business of digging the remainder of the hole around the crates. The rest of the day was spent clearing the area of debris and removing the gold while the soldiers formed a line from the inside of the crater to the top.
The process continued well into the night and throughout the next forty eight hours as the men rotated shifts to do the excavating. Once all the gold was extracted, they transported it to the airport to be sent back stateside. Hunt had called in a favor and requisitioned a C130J Super Hercules aircraft to use as conveyance for the gold. Then, they made arrangements for the trip home themselves.
***
Two days later, while the rest of the NESA team headed to the airport to make preparations for departure, Mercer detoured for one last visit to some newfound friends. The ride gave him time to reflect on the recent discovery of the gold.
The loss of life caused by Vallejos over the years had taken its toll on the surrounding communities. The resolve of the locals during these trying times was now stronger than ever since the vicious dictator was gone and no longer posed a threat to them. Mercer was extremely grateful for the help he had received throughout his time of struggle in recent days and felt one final trip to a local village was necessary.
He arrived at a familiar hut he had first come to know a short while back as the home of Anthony Mendoza. At his request, Jesus Paneria was already waiting outside, sitting on a step and soaking up the warmth of the sun’s rays.
The two new acquaintances shared a warm embrace and a few brief words before Mercer returned to the Jeep to recover a duffel bag in the back seat. Upon arriving back to the stairs of Mendoza’s hut, he placed the bag down and asked Jesus to have a seat.
“We couldn’t have removed all that gold without the assistance of you and your friends,” he stated. “I just want you to know I am extremely grateful for all of your help.”
“It was the least we could do, Mr. Mercer. There has been a great cloud lifted from over our land and we only have you and your employer to thank for that.”
Mercer was appreciative of Jesus’ comment. “I know it’s going to take time to recover from many years of the cartel’s actions, but what’s in this bag should help to get you and your people well on the way to feeling some sense of normalcy.”
With a perplexed look on his face, Jesus looked down at the duffel bag, unsure of what the statement meant exactly. Mercer gave him a nod, assuring him it was okay to look in the mysterious sack.
When he unzipped it, an overwhelming emotion came upon him, as he was suddenly face to face with sixteen of the gold bars that had been retrieved from the jungle a few days earlier.
“Mr. Mercer, you are a very generous man. I do not have the words to express how I feel right now.”
“There is just over one and a half million dollars of United States currency in that bag. I will make sure it gets converted into the proper legal tender, but I want you to take it and distribute it among your people. Use it for crops, housing or whatever needs to be done. Just make sure these people are taken care of. Can you promise me that?”
There was still a look of bewilderment in the eyes of the young man as he took in the moment. He was truly touched by the words and generosity of the American.
“You have my sincerest word, Mr. Mercer. The people of this community are forever in your debt. What will you do now?”
“Me? I’m going to hop on a plane, go back home and reunite with one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on. After that, I’ll probably sleep for a week to recover from all of this.”
Jesus smiled. “I am sure there is no way I could ever repay the favor of what you have done for us. But, I am always at your call should you need a good man in Nicaragua.”
“You are indeed a good man, Jesus. You take care of yourself and these people, and that will be favor enough for me.”
Both men stood up and shared a final embrace. Before departing for the airport, Mercer turned to take one final look at the home of Mendoza. It was a brief friendship he would remember for a lifetime and he was glad to have gotten to know the old man.
After one more final wave to Jesus, he was off and driving down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.
***
As they prepared to take off back to the Pacific Northwest, Hunt was going over some final details with the pilot. Mercer and Vigil were sitting near the back of the jet enjoying a beer when Vigil pulled a tattered shirt from his duffel bag and slid it across the table to his friend.
Mercer had a curious look on his face. “And what is this?”
“Just a little something I picked up from the souvenir shop.”
Mercer unraveled the shirt to reveal what was hidden inside. Somberness came over him as he looked down at the port log which started the whole journey they had recently embarked on. He was touched by the gesture of his friend.
“Pat, I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”
“If there was anyone the old man would want to have the book, it would be you.”
The two friends sat in silence for a few moments, enjoying the memory of Anthony Mendoza. They were so caught up in their recollection that they never even noticed the jet speeding down the runway and lifting off into the clear blue sky.
35
The Emerald City was a welcome sight as the NESA van drove into the outskirts of Seattle. The view from Interstate 5 was one that many residents and visitors witnessed every day, but the view at this moment was made even more spectacular by the appearance of a rainbow arching behind the Space Needle.
After they landed from their long flight, the gold was hauled off under tight security and brought back to NESA headquarters. Mercer, Hunt and Vigil made a stop outside the airport to grab a quick bite to eat and to discuss what provisions would need to be made for the bounty they had returned with.
On the radio was a Soundgarden song which was barely audible over the snoring of Vigil, who was sprawled out in the back seat. Mercer thought about throwing something at him for good humor, but decided that his friend had earned the much needed rest.
Shortly after noon, they pulled into NESA headquarters on the pier and unloaded all their gear and other belongings
. Once indoors, they were greeted by the small staff awaiting their return. Everyone shared a warm embrace after the long ordeal, and as Mercer made his way through the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention, causing him to smile.
“Well, well, well. Look who is back from the dead,” joked Dallas, who walked over to give his friend a hug.
“Damn, it’s good to see you,” said Mercer.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to keep good on your word about getting Pat back to pay that fifty bucks he owes me.”
“You know me, buddy. I couldn’t leave without having a little fun first.”
Dallas handed him a beer and they continued on with small talk as if no one else was even in the room. The reunion lasted for about a half hour before Hunt came down and asked the team to join him upstairs in the meeting room.
The crowd dispersed and everyone went back to work. Mercer and Dallas walked into the conference room to find Vigil sipping on a beer and holding a putting wedge.
“If the Colonel sees you touching his clubs, he’s going to sock you right in the face,” commented Mercer. “Especially after last time.”
“That wasn’t even my fault. It could’ve happened to anybody,” countered Vigil.
“Not your fault? You broke his five hundred dollar driver because you were playing polo using a golf cart.”
Vigil shrugged. “I repeat…It could have happened to anyone.”
Hunt walked into the room at that moment. He took his place at the table and began the informal debriefing about Nicaragua. Before he started though, something caught his eye.
“Pat, I’m going to give you exactly one second to take your meaty claws off my golf club.”
Vigil reluctantly obliged and Hunt resumed.
“I’ve been on the phone with government officials who are going to be coordinating with the locals in Nicaragua to properly clean up the mass graves. Dallas has also been working diligently over the past few days to resolve the gastroenteritis issue in the water supply.”
Dallas took over the conversation. “Basically, what we’re going to do is construct a dam, effectively creating a new course of flow for the river from upstream. This means local residents can get fresh water for their daily needs and the water supply downstream will recuperate rather quickly, removing all traces of the disease in a very short period of time. You guys did an amazing job down there and the locals will reap the benefits for many years to come.”
After he was done talking, Hunt asked, “Sean? Pat? Do either of you have anything to add?”
Mercer answered first, “No, sir. That about sums it up. We can talk about the gold in a few days. It’s been a hell of a week, so if we’re good here, I’m going to take off for a bit.”
Hunt could see the exhaustion in the eyes of his men. After the tribulation they had endured down in Nicaragua, there was no way he was going to keep them in the office any longer than what was necessary. He put down his papers and addressed his two operatives directly.
“I’ll tell ya what. Let’s all take a few days to get everything in order. We can reconvene on Monday morning to discuss where we stand on everything else. Sound good?”
Vigil’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the thought of a few days off to get into a little mischief. “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. C’mon, Sean. You and I can hit up that club on Queen Anne Hill. I’m sure that hot bartender you like will be happy to see you.”
“A few days off sounds wonderful,” replied Mercer. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“Think nothing of it. Just go have a good time and keep him out of jail,” Hunt joked, pointing his thumb in the direction of Vigil.
The men shook hands and said their goodbyes. Hunt and Dallas remained behind to discuss the details of the gold and its fate as Mercer and Vigil departed through the door.
After they chatted for a few minutes, Hunt noticed his putting wedge wasn’t leaning against the wall where Vigil had put it just a few moments earlier. He looked at his golf bag and immediately noticed the empty slot where the putter should have been.
“Son of a bitch! I’m going to kill him!”
***
Mercer was just about to head out the front entrance when Vigil called out to him. Seeing the putter in his friend's hand, he shook his head in disbelief.
“You’ll never learn, will you?”
Vigil responded, “He won’t even notice it’s gone ‘til the morning. I’m in the clear. So, you got anything planned or you wanna go grab a bite and a few beers?”
“I think I’m going to disappear for a few days, partner,” he said as he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “Here ya go. The house is yours for the weekend. Please try not to destroy it in that time.”
Vigil was about to make a snappy comeback to his friend’s remark, but was halted from doing so as a wail rang out through the office.
“Pat!” Hunt cried out.
Vigil cringed. “Well, buddy. That’s my cue. I will see you on Monday. Where are you taking off to anyway?”
Mercer smiled. “I made a promise to a certain someone that I intend to keep.”
Sensing his chance for a quick getaway was dwindling, Vigil said goodbye and then darted out the door to escape the wrath of his employer. Mercer walked out of the NESA office a few seconds later. He headed for his Jeep, which was still parked in the same spot since the day he left for Nicaragua.
He threw it in gear and careened his way through the streets of Seattle until he reached the freeway exit. He took Interstate 5 South and headed for a rendezvous with an old friend.
***
The blue waters of the Pacific Ocean gently rocked back and forth as they were moved about by the slight breeze in the air. The warmth of the sun was shining down as children played in the sand and dogs waded through the shallow waters of the Oregon coastline.
Emily Lundy was admiring the view from the deck on the back of her house while enjoying a glass of wine. Her arm was still in a sling while her collarbone recovered from the gunshot wound.
She had come to terms with everything that had happened during the fateful trip, including the loss of her friend, Tony. Dallas had called to inform her that the team was safe and on their way back home, and she was ready to put everything behind and start picking up the pieces of her life again.
A knock at the front door shook her from gazing at the beach-goers. She stood up, opened the sliding glass door and made the short walk to the front entrance. Opening the front door, she found no one was there. She took a quick glance outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary and thought maybe she was just hearing things.
She did take notice that a dark blue Jeep Wrangler was parked in front of her home. Not recognizing the vehicle and still seeing no one, she closed the door and returned to the back deck.
As she slid the door open, an unexpected visitor alarmed her. About to scream in fear, she gasped and all feeling left her body as she witnessed Sean Mercer sitting before her. He was holding what looked to be like a very nice bottle of red wine and two glasses.
He looked up at the stunning woman standing before him. “I did promise you a drink on the beach, if you recall.”
He spoke as nonchalantly as if they had spent every day of the last two weeks together. He was still mesmerized by her beauty and the sight of her made him realize things were finally getting back to normal.
“Sean,” she said softly as tears began streaming down her cheeks.
He got up to embrace her, being as careful as he could with her injured arm. They shared an endearing glance for a moment and then he pressed his lips against hers.
They spoke no words. Holding one another, they turned and looked out at the Pacific Ocean and the spectacular view that it offered.
Epilogue
NESA Headquarters – Two weeks later
Colonel Hunt was briefing his men about the progress being made in Nicaragua. He informed them of the work being done to cr
eate the dam in order to provide clean water for the locals, as well as the removal and proper burial of the bodies that were found. Widespread sweeps of the area were also being conducted to locate other possible gravesites Vallejos had amassed during his tenure.
“What about the remaining cartel and their plans?” asked Mercer. “Have there been any repercussions of our actions against them?”
“Nothing to report,” replied Hunt. “As far as we can tell, in the short amount of time Vallejos and Esperanza have been disposed of, the area seems to be thriving. The locals are no longer living in fear of the constant threat posed by the cartel, and the remaining faction has no real brains behind it, so the local government has been able to disperse what was left of the crumbling outfit. And that is all thanks to you and Pat.”
Vigil, who was unusually quiet up to this point, asked, “What about the gold, Colonel? How much did it turn out to be?”
“We calculated it at a little over ten thousand pounds of gold bars, with a total worth of about two hundred million dollars.”
“I don’t mean to be the materialistic one of the group here,” continued Vigil, “but how much of that are we actually going to see? I mean, you know, for research funding?”
“You’re as transparent as you are a crappy golfer,” quipped Hunt. “I’ve made arrangements for all of you to receive an extra bonus for your diligent duty and heroism. Sean and I have discussed what would be a fair amount and our government has been gracious enough to allocate the remaining funds to various research groups. We did, however, keep a little for NESA usage also.”
There were smiles throughout the room as thoughts of what the extra money could be used for, both personally and professionally. The daydreaming was quickly interrupted by Hunt, who continued talking.
“Sean has been gracious enough to donate his entire portion into a fund for the family of Tony Morgan, who was unfortunately lost during the turmoil. If anyone else would like to donate, you can see me about that.”
