The Emperor's Treasure

by Daniel Leston

  David knew it wasn’t quite this simple.

  Too, it wasn’t something to be risked in the dark.

  “The whole purpose here is to hopefully determine beyond reasonable doubt that it hasn’t malfunctioned. For that we have to let the company specialist rule out such a possibility—no matter how remote even he thinks it may be. I don’t see us having much choice except to give him this opportunity. Who knows? He might find something. It would be damned foolhardy to waste another pass only to then discover the machine needed a minor adjustment. Besides, the danger is too great as it is.”

  He turned to Tim.

  “Speaking of which, I haven’t yet asked, but are you willing to pilot one more run early tomorrow morning between those two buildings?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  They lifted off at 7:28am, just minutes after receiving the expected report from the specialist in Vermont.

  Despite all efforts, the perplexed technician had found nothing to indicate why or how the equipment might have somehow malfunctioned, ending the call by apologizing profusely for what he deemed his failure.

  Though David smiled to hear this, he wasn’t about to tell him this was actually the best possible news he could receive. Dependent on the results of this next run, any hearty congratulations given to L.P. Technologies must be forestalled for a later time. Now having the necessary confirmation he’d sought, he only needed to replicate the same readings.

  Which he knew might prove a tad tricky.

  The rising sun was at their back as they flew low and fast across the barren landscape toward En-Tex Environmental compound. Their goal was to once again make a straight-line pass directly between the two buildings, hopefully catching the company by surprise. Helping matters toward this end was the potential advantage to be had from a fairly steady wind that had developed overnight. Blowing as it was out of the west, it should help obscure the sound of their approach until the last few moments.

  At least, this was the hope.

  Tim knew exactly what was expected of him when the compound came into view. Dropping air speed significantly, he lined the chopper up for his run as David slipped on the headgear and re-checked the electronic control box, assuring himself that everything was functioning properly. After matching the height and speed requirements met the previous day, Tim carefully took the craft in between the two buildings.

  On the upside, no one emerged to watch their passage.

  On the downside, no reaction whatsoever registered on the electronic screen—nor did the earphones produce any sound beyond its normal tone.

  Torres was the first to react to this great disappointment.

  “Damn! So it was all a false reading after all!”

  David hesitated for a long moment before responding, his narrowed eyes sweeping over the empty compound.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he finally said. “Tim, go back and make a second pass. Even slower this time.”

  They did so, getting the same negative results.

  This only strengthened David’s growing suspicion.

  It was far too quiet here. Unlike yesterday afternoon, three of the large building’s overhead doors were now open, nothing visible inside. If the machine was performing as it should—which he now believed—then there was only one logical explanation.

  It was one he didn’t like to contemplate.

  “We’ve been completely outfoxed,” he said over his shoulder to Torres and Pilar. “Whoever was in charge here is obviously very good at what he does. And unfortunately for us, extremely efficient, as well.”

  “You’ve lost me. Meaning what?”

  “Look around, Russ. There’s no sign of life anywhere. The bastards clearly abandoned the place overnight, doubtless removing anything incriminating and everything of value along with them.” He snapped off the machine and shook his head. “Which included all of the gold, I’m afraid. There’s no question it was here yesterday afternoon. Today it’s gone.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Nine hours later, David rode with Torres down the private gravel road leading into En-Tex Environmental’s enclosed facilities. An overlap of high fencing ran outward on both sides for a distance of two hundred yards as they eventually slowed and approached the entrance to their destination.

  The barricade facing them consisted of a wide, double gate secured in the middle by a steel chain. Beyond it—and perhaps another hundred yards farther in—lay the now familiar compound of two buildings, which to all outward signs had been abandoned sometime during the previous night.

  Or so it appeared from the helicopter’s earlier fly-over.

  The actual truth of this supposition still remained to be seen.

  With the DeCaylus Corp plane and all of the borrowed equipment from L.P. Technologies now well into its return flight to Vermont, there remained but one task left for them to accomplish—something far too dangerous to include Pilar’s active participation. She wasn’t happy about being excluded, but David was insistent that she await their return back at the hotel. If what he believed was true, further evidence was needed to bring these bastards to justice.

  One way or another, the perpetrators must pay for Peter’s brutal murder.

  Torres brought the police cruiser to a stop, yet remained seated behind the wheel with a pensive expression on his face.

  David glanced at the younger man’s stern profile, feeling some sympathy for his predicament. As a trained officer of the law, illegally breaking into this site without benefit of a search warrant clearly wasn’t an action the deputy sheriff took lightly. His commitment to doing so still hovered beneath a hundred percent.

  “I’m going out on a limb here, Russ, and guess they probably didn’t leave it unlocked,” said David facetiously, attempting to ease the officer’s visible disquiet over what they were about to do. If the intended humor had any effect, there was no immediate indication.

  Yet Torres eventually heaved a sigh.

  “No, I suppose not,” he finally replied, “—though it sure as hell would’ve simplified things.” His decision now made, he smiled faintly at David for the first time. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right?”

  They got out and popped the trunk.

  Lying on a blanket was a long-handled bolt cutter—plus something that David hadn’t expected to see. It was a holstered pistol, identical to the one on Torres’ hip. Alongside it was a full magazine.

  “If we’re going to do this,” Torres said, “then I figure we better be fully prepared. It’s an extra piece of mine. No telling what we’ll find inside. Can I assume you know how to use this?”

  David nodded, more familiar even than the officer suspected.

  He drew the pistol from its holder. It was a 9mm Glock 19, practically standard issue throughout the world for both the military and law enforcement. He expertly inserted the 15–round clip into the handle, then performed a quick visual inspection of the weapon before returning it into the holster. This done, he attached the latter to his belt.

  “Ready when you are, Russ.”

  Torres retrieved the bolt cutter and closed the trunk.

  Before using it on the chain, however, he halfheartedly pointed at the post-mounted intercom system to his left. “Just a thought, but do you suppose maybe we should first—”

  “Can’t hurt,” said David. “If someone’s home, best we find out now.”

  Torres stepped over and depressed the button. Not unexpected to either of them, there was no response. Likely as not, it was already deactivated on the inside, no longer functioning.

  After severing the chain, they swung the gates open and drove the remaining distance into the compound. Save for the soft crunch of the cruiser’s tires on the packed gravel, all around them was complete silence as they slowly made their way up to the smaller building.

  Somehow this seemed the most logical place to begin their investigation.

  The door was unlocked—which c
ame as no surprise once they stepped inside. It was readily apparent the core had been hurriedly gutted. What did strike David as being vaguely odd, however, was the fact that the power remained on. A flip of a wall switch activated two, overhead sections of lighting.

  Now why would this be? he wondered. Almost like an open invitation for anyone to wander through and explore.

  On the worn tile flooring beneath the fluorescent fixtures were distinct outlines where a desk and a filing cabinet had recently stood, indicating this had definitely served someone as an office of sorts.

  “Take a look,” said Torres, emerging from an interior doorway. “There’s a complete bachelor apartment back in here: furnished bedroom, bathroom, shower—even a full kitchen with appliances. The works. It’s rather Spartan as far as size goes, but very livable.”

  David did a quick walk-through, noting the basic, almost military style, furniture. The rooms drab décor contained nothing beyond merely serviceable items, offering no decipherable clues as to just who the occupant might have been. Yet it could be deduced that he was a cautiously thorough man, for the closet and bureau drawers had been carefully emptied of all personal items. If anything, the faint impression left behind was of someone quite content to live in austerity for as long as necessary.

  But to what end? What was the eventual goal here?

  Time to check out the second building.

  Clad in corrugated sheeting, the structure looked even larger at ground level than it had from the air. With three of its four high bay doors left open, the inside appeared empty as they approached. But they found this wasn’t entirely the case as they walked in and gazed down the length of its concrete floor. David counted two old-style ‘stick’ welding machines along the back wall, plus what resembled a partially completed steel pallet, rectangular in shape and enclosed on all four sides by twenty inch high wire grating. Of even more interest was a relatively new Caterpillar forklift parked on the concrete floor.

  Curious.

  By the tire markings on the floor and the gravel tracks outside, it was fairly obvious that the now open bays had recently housed at least three heavy transport trucks—and probably ‘eighteen-wheelers’ was Torres’ best guess. This by itself raised a rather interesting question.

  He gestured at the forklift.

  “I know what those babies cost. Kind of makes you wondered why they would’ve just up and left it behind.”

  David saw only one logical explanation.

  “If we’re right about their operation,” he said, “then it may be a no-brainer. Maybe it took all three of the trucks to haul away what they’ve been systematically plundering. Perhaps there was simply no space left for anything else.”

  Torres had no other explanation to offer as they walked down to a walled-off section comprising a full quarter of the long building’s total floor space. Inside they found similar living conditions as set-up in the block office.

  In this instance, however, the accommodations were designed for a bare minimum of four people, all sharing a well-stocked kitchen, toilet and shower facilities—even a spacious laundry room housing a double set of heavy-duty washers and dryers. Adding further to this dorm-like setting was a communal room, complete with padded chairs and a wall-mounted flat screen television. Thus combined with the privacy of separate sleeping quarters, it seemingly provided for all the creature comforts of home. Here, too, they saw that all personal items belonging to the former occupants had been scrupulously removed.

  Which left the single big question yet to be answered.

  What lay below?

  Leaving this section, they now crossed over to the north wall. Close at hand to the living quarters was a narrow, block structure with a single, unlocked door. Inside was a shallow landing feeding onto an unlit stairwell that curled downward at a steep angle into the inky dark. With no apparent light switch to be found, Torres said, “It obviously goes to the lower floor. I can get a flashlight from the car.”

  David shook his head.

  “Don’t bother. Look over there behind the forklift.”

  It was a roofless, ten-foot square freight elevator—which appeared to be the main material access up and down to whatever was beneath the building. Once they cautiously stepped onto the flush platform, David tentatively pressed the palm activation switch.

  The elevator immediately began to descend—only to automatically stop mere seconds later onto what they perceived to be a dark, gravel-floored basement. The open top allowed for enough natural light to filter down for their eyes to adjust. Once this occurred, Torres located an electrical panel and threw the main switch.

  Several banks of florescent lights began randomly coming on, making an audible hissing noise as the area was gradually illuminated—and it once again crossed David’s mind that leaving the power on was a puzzling oversight on someone’s part.

  To their right was a second forklift, which he now saw as no surprise. This was indeed a basement of sorts, but clearly one that had been carefully created sometime after the upper building’s initial construction—and probably done this way for reasons of secrecy. Why else would they have gone to such extraordinary lengths and inconvenience if not to conceal their real purpose?

  With the improving light, the focal point of all this digging suddenly became patently obvious. The entire area beneath the upper dormitory facility was completely excavated to a depth of perhaps twenty feet. The ceiling directly above this mini-cavern was shored up with a combination of steel beams and thick wooden posts. The overall volume of material removed from here—if not earth, then something else entirely—had to have been absolutely enormous.

  Certainly enough to fill three empty ‘eighteen-wheelers’ . . .

  Torres wiped perspiration from his chin. “Do—do you think that’s where the treasure was buried?”

  “As sure as I can be, Russ.”

  “But how could they have moved it all out overnight?” He paused. “Unless, of course, it was already—”

  “Exactly. That’s where those welding machines came into play. I figure what we saw on the ground floor was just one of dozens of steel pallets built to hold everything they extracted. My guess is all of this was done over a period of many weeks or months, the filled pallets stored down here for quick removal should an emergency situation develop. That’s why two forklifts were necessary. One to load the elevator at this level, the other to unload it topside.”

  “Were we the cause of their leaving?”

  David believed so.

  “When we sufficiently alarmed them with our low fly-over, they simply loaded up all the pallets and left. They were superbly prepared. It couldn’t have taken them more that five or six hours to accomplish.”

  Frustrated, Torres began approaching the empty pit. When not quite there, he abruptly stopped and looked down at his foot, perplexed by the taught wire now pressed against the toe of his boot.

  “Now what do you suppose—”

  David immediately saw a tiny red light beginning to blink along the near wall—and he understood in that split instant that his instinctive concerns about the power had been valid.

  “It’s a trap!” he cried.

  Twenty odd miles to the east, Marino sat with Hogan in his car in the Clarion’s parking lot. On his laptop computer he’d been patiently watching a live feed from a strategically placed miniature camera overlooking the interior length of the main building. He knew it would only be matter of time before the two men must eventually descend to the lower level.

  When they finally did so, he smiled in anticipation.

  Roughly three minutes later, his patience was rewarded. A huge, muffled explosion visibly rocked the entire building, its powerful shock wave propelling a blast of dust and stone debris up from below through the open elevator shaft. In mere moments the billowing cloud effectively filled the building, obliterating the view from his camera.

  But this was an inconsequential result compared to his great pleasure.

&nbs
p; So much for Manning and the deputy sheriff.

  He closed his laptop and lit a cigarette, thinking the demise of this meddlesome pair had been long overdue. This now left only the fate of the girl to resolve.

  He turned to Hogan.

  “You’re sure she’s still waiting up in Manning’s room?”

  “I’m certain. She’s been there since he and Torres left.”

  “Very good. Then I believe its time we paid a visit.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It was reflexive gagging that finally forced David awake, jerking him up from a black emptiness of indefinite duration. How long he’d been out was unknown. Nor did he immediately care, for he found himself racked by continuous spasms of coughing, his body struggling in an abortive attempt to expel fine dust from his lungs and throat. Making matters worse was the realization that he was sprawled face-up on his back.

  He instinctively lurched onto his side, pushing himself up to his hands and knees. This helped considerably, but it took long moments before the intervals of retching finally began to subside. The physical respite came none too soon, for each of the fitful episodes sent a spreading web of pain through his head—not unlike the most debilitating hangover of anyone’s imagining.

  Though his temples still throbbed, he managed to place his last memories back into proper sequence. He knew that he was presently crouched on a slab of concrete within tight confines, his surroundings so dark he couldn’t see. Too, he now recalled how he’d come to be here, meaning Torres must be very close by. In the mere seconds prior to the explosion, they’d both dashed for the closest possible shelter available to them—that being the block structure housing the narrow stairwell leading down from the ground floor.

  Thankfully, the door wasn’t locked.

  After throwing themselves inside, David had felt the power of the detonation hit just before the metal-clad door was completely closed. The ensuing shock wave slammed it fully shut almost instantaneously. The somewhat diminished concussion that reached within was still powerful enough to throw them both off their feet, but the door—plus the sturdy block walls of the enclosure—had apparently protected them from the worst.