Sibley's Secret

by Frank Perry

for Hicks’ mysterious shipment, and I don’t want any more.”

  “Be assured, Jim, neither do I.”

  “I have the permission of the people who now own more than two hundred Army shipping boxes that once belonged to a Major Hicks. This owner has had the shipping boxes since 1922 when they were removed from Hicks’ barn. They have everything Hicks had. I don’t think there’s any doubt that these are what the researchers were chasing.” He was stretching the truth about ownership, but that would be cleared up quickly now that the Army didn’t want it. It had been in possession of the Albrechts for decades, farther back than anyone living today would know about.

  Peter leaned forward with his arms on the table, clearly excited. Jim continued, “The whole shipment is huge and the old boxes all look the same. One was opened ninety years ago and was full of German weapons and uniforms. None of the rest have ever been opened. Frankly, the owners don’t want to open the rest. To them, the boxes contain personal effects of men killed in battle, possessions that should go back to their loved ones.”

  Peter shook his head understandingly, “Are you sure all the boxes contain the same things?”

  “There’s no way to know. These were re-used shipping containers for war supplies; they’re only marked with original contents from what little I can tell after all these years. I’ve seen them and they all look the same. They look like wooden shipping crates from the First World War, probably disposable crates. Most of the paint and markings is completely deteriorated, even though they have been stored indoors. They’re very old.”

  “Did you see any with Russian markings?”

  “No, but I believe it could be because the Russians used these boxes to disguise their shipment. There could have been something marking them differently, but we wouldn’t know what to look for. Not all of the remaining writing looks the same, based on the little we can read. These crates would have been sitting empty by the tens of thousands around the warzone.”

  “I see, but you’re sure that this shipment is the one brought back by Mr. Hicks?”

  “That much I do know.”

  Peter sat back, thinking. “How many boxes are there?”

  “We just counted them, there’s two hundred twenty one.”

  “Are they large?”

  Jim stood and estimated the cubic volume with his hands. He also showed some pictures taken on his smartphone of several boxes without any background displayed. He added, “They’re all heavy too, at least a thousand pounds in each.”

  Peter exhaled, “Whew, not easy to store or move.”

  “You got that right.”

  Peter had the composure of a man accustomed to large negotiations. “So, what if I offer to buy the whole lot, unopened?”

  This was exactly what Jim had discussed with the family. “That would be ideal from the owner’s perspective.”

  “Okay, when can I inspect them?”

  This was the problem Jim hadn’t worked out yet. “If I can arrange it, I can take you to them, but there’s got to be tight security and prior agreement. You only see them once before the money gets transferred and none get opened.”

  Peter shrugged, “That seems fair; how much do they want?”

  “I talked it over with the owners, and no one really knows what’s in the boxes or what it’s worth. So, they have a formula. It’s based on the only box ever opened ninety years ago.

  “Back then, one box was opened and everything was sold to a surplus dealer. It was mostly German guns and uniforms. We don’t know precisely how much it went for, but it would be around fifty thousand today.” Jim could see Peter’s mind calculating, “So, figure fifty thousand times the number of boxes, and you get around eleven million.” Jim choked saying the number; he could hardly control his emotions. The family would take less than a million just to be rid of them, but he felt that he had to try.

  Peter just stared for several seconds, then leaned onto the table again without writing any figures. “Jim, I think that’s high. First of all, we don’t know what’s in the boxes; it could all be wagon wheels. Over time, it could all have deteriorated or rusted away. Old World War memorabilia isn’t worth as much today. Are they really looking for that much?”

  Peter knew more about high-stakes negotiation; Jim was completely out of his league. He gripped the bottom of the table before answering, “Peter, you said yourself that the part that you want is valuable. I would think that this isn’t too much to ask.”

  “You’re expecting me to buy a bunch of old shipping boxes without looking inside that might not even have what I want.”

  Jim felt the tension between them rise. “Well, there’s something of value in all the boxes, we just don’t know how much it’s worth, it’s worth something, it’s worth people’s lives.” Pretty lame.

  Peter sat staring at Jim, letting his nerves work. “I’ll tell you what, Jim, what if I offer ten million?”

  Jim’s jaw dropped before he could recover. He didn’t want to overreact and there were some other issues. “I think we could live with that, but the family must agree.” The family would have accepted one tenth of it. “But, I’ve got another problem.” He went on to explain an idea.

  When they concluded, near midnight, Peter said, “I’ll need to get my associates to agree to everything. It’s a lot of money and we’ll need to expand farther into the list of people than I usually go, so it may take a couple days before I can act.”

  Jim said, “Okay, but let’s remember to keep details quiet as much as possible. The owners and the location will remain unknown.”

  “That’s completely understandable.”

  They ended, and Jim was psyched. It was late, but he needed to call her and tell the news. They spoke briefly and she became frenzied from a sound sleep when he mentioned the price. Then he concluded, “There’s some things I’ll have to do here before Peter can move it, I’ll outline the plan tomorrow.”

  He went home, but was unable to sleep.

  In country

  Two days later, the plane landed at Detroit Metropolitan Airport after a brief stop in Montreal. Gregori Jelavich deplaned at the International terminal to clear Customs and Immigration. He entered the country with a passport and 90-day temporary business Visa for Yuri Yelyuk, businessman, one of his recent aliases used when travelling abroad. The three men with him had similar false identities. All identifications were for legitimate Russians who were recently deceased and buried in shallow graves outside Moscow. Jelavich always made sure of having paperwork ready for immediate travel.

  As they drove from the airport to the city, he saw many unoccupied old buildings, most with plywood over windows and doors. Whole city blocks looked condemned. Moscow was thriving by comparison. He was sure the gold was sitting in some forgotten derelict building.

  He rented the entire top floor of a small downtown hotel. He wasn’t familiar with Michigan, but assumed there were no suitable accommodations outside the main city. Karina had said that she was checking a grain storage facility in Jackson County where Hicks had a barn for storage.

  She had been right all along. His call from an associate in Moscow opened the door. His White Russian underworld compatriot had received a request for donations, saying only that a long-lost asset of the monarchy with immense value had been located in the United States. It gave very limited details, only enough to motivate people to give thousands of dollars to “their cause.” The detail that solidified it for Gregor was the location, Michigan. The timing and location gave no doubt; it was Kolchak’s gold. The money would be used to buy the treasure. He also got a name, Peter Mikhailovich.

  He could hardly control his enthusiasm, feeling close to the gold. It was too bad that that idiot, Odd Job, killed her instead of the Professor. He would feel better if she was still part of his team. The Professor was now dead too, so there was no tie-in to Jelavich, only Karina knew about him, until she told Evanoff. He was sure she’d
told Evanoff, that’s why he had to kill him.

  The Professor was dead. The Professor was working only for himself, or was he? Gregori was not going to be paranoid; he would rest and they would drive to the place where Karina died in the morning. There was time.

  Title

  Finally! Something was moving. Her call from the attorney, Fiske, confirmed that the judge had confirmed title to the shipping boxes to the Albrecht family. Kiki and Jason had equal status as Sibley’s children. She called Sibley and told the good news, “Finally, we don’t need to worry about ownership, and Jim says there’s no unsolved cold case from before 1960 or anything involving Hicks. His name never needs to come up in anything we do with the boxes. Jim said that she didn’t need to fly back to Michigan again, but she didn’t want everyone else to handle the logistics from this point. She’d take an unpaid leave from the department in Tranquility and would tap her savings and 401K if necessary to live. She would sleep at Jim’s place.

  He picked her up at the Detroit airport, “Wow, two suitcases this time!” He pulled one, and she pulled the other. He continued, “The trucks come tonight, so it’ll be a long one.”

  She insisted, “I want to be there.”

  “We went through this before, Kiki, I don’t want you or Sibley anywhere around. I can handle it.”

  “Look, Jim, I appreciate the concern, but I used to patrol the streets of Detroit, and