by L. Todd Wood
“Good-bye, my friend.”
Connor hung up the phone and then called his assistant to start making travel arrangements.
Chapter Ten
April 23, 1803
Alexander Hamilton was tired. He had lived a full life. For some reason, he had a foreboding that he might be near the end of that life. He was all right with this feeling. He accepted it.
There was a sadness about him as well. His oldest and beloved son, Phillip, had been killed in a duel, mainly a result of Hamilton’s political conflicts. His older daughter suffered a nervous breakdown because of his son’s death and really never recovered. He missed them both.
Combined with the destruction of his reputation due to the revelations of his affair with Maria Reynolds, these stresses had darkened his life. Of course his relationship with his wife was strained as well. There was no one to confide in anymore. He felt alone.
However, he believed he had accomplished many things, which he had of course. He felt at peace for the first time that he could remember. He just had a few more details to put in order, and then he could accept whatever the future held.
The trip from New York to the Bahamas did not take as long as he had expected, less than two weeks. It was uneventful. The weather and therefore the sea was calm, and the wind was steady. He had actually enjoyed the voyage down the American coast. The open air had done him good. His spirits were lifted somewhat.
Upon arrival into Nassau Harbor, he was greeted by a long oar boat and rowed into town as prearranged. He arrived in the Bahamas anonymously.
He checked in to the main hotel downtown and then was driven by carriage immediately to the law offices of one of the prominent firms in Nassau that had been in existence for some years now. This also was prearranged. He suspected he would feel anxiety performing this chore, but to his delight, he felt only calm.
In his mind, this location was perfect. It was out of his country and in a place where his detractors in the United States would never guess. The British legal system was famous for its rule of law. His secrets would be safe here, even though it was obvious there would eventually be another war between America and Britain. And secrets they were, secrets that people and governments would kill for. They were keys to a treasure beyond belief.
Remarkably, Hamilton had always been a fan of Great Britain and their governmental system. A strong central government was important to him. He thought it necessary for his new country to become the world power that was rightfully hers. Now the British rule of law would help foster the rise of the United States. The irony was remarkable.
It only took a few hours to set up the trust. It was created as a bearer trust, meaning whoever presented the appropriate documents physically to the trustees would be granted access.
He was led into a room and given some privacy.
He had carried these documents on him now for years, and it would be hard to let them go, although it was a relief. If something happened to him now, there would be a mechanism for him to transfer the knowledge to someone of his choosing.
The small, fine, wooden chest given to him had been engraved per his instructions. A little lion glared at him from the top of the polished box. He smiled. It was a nice touch. He thought briefly of his childhood in Nevis. It brought joy to his heart, something he had been missing for some time now. He thought of his friend, the slave girl. Little did he understand at the time how that day on the mountain with her would change the course of history.
His thoughts drifted to the political battles raging in the United States. Hamilton had been in a quandary. What to do with this wealth?
He had despised Adams and worked to defeat him for a second presidential term. Hamilton thought he was too emotional and impulsive to be trusted with power any longer. He also despised Jefferson.
Hamilton was a Federalist. He believed in an economy directed by the government based on manufacturing and guided by the elite to compete on the world stage. Jefferson supported states’ rights and an agrarian economy. He supported the French Revolution. The people knew best for themselves, Jefferson believed, and he feared a strong central government.
Hamilton knew what he had to do. He could not entrust such a large sum of money to someone who did not agree with his theories on how government should be established and run.
So he had to wait. He had to wait until the government changed, when Jefferson and Adams were long gone. Then he could turn over the gold to the U.S. Treasury and rest in peace.
He deposited the documents one last time in the chest and then closed the lid and locked it per the trustee’s instructions. The bearer beneficiary documents he put in a leather pouch and stowed the pouch in his jacket. Then he exited the room, gave the key to the trustee, and made his way back to the hotel.
Now he could let go of the stress; the information was safe and there was a mechanism for succession of his secrets.
He stayed in Nassau until the next ship left for New York, which was several weeks. He barely left his room. He did, however, make several excursions around the island. He always loved to understand the history and culture of places he visited.
The cruise back to New York was uneventful.
July 3, 2017
Nassau, Bahamas
Alex looked nervously in the mirror behind him as he drove. The headlights had disappeared. He relaxed briefly, but only briefly. It had looked menacingly like he was being followed. Now he was the only car on the road.
He was playing a dangerous game.
He pulled off the road violently and drove into a driveway where he could be hidden. The stucco wall surrounding the property shielded him from the street. He was breathing heavily, and he gripped the steering wheel like a steel clamp.
Calm down, he told himself. He relaxed his hands.
He just had to make sure. He waited.
The payoff to his game was obvious. There was money to be gained from the deal with the prime minister, and he wanted money. However, the payoff from his other efforts was on a much grander scale. Alex had an axe to grind, a wrong to right.
His thoughts briefly drifted back to his parents, but he immediately pushed them out of his mind. It only made him angry.
Not now, he told himself. Focus!
There was no one on the road.
This time, they are not following me. Next time maybe I won’t be so lucky, he thought.
He pulled out of his hiding place and continued down the thoroughfare on the way into Nassau.
The thugs working for the prime minister had been making their point. They did not want him withholding the information on the treasure he was seeking. The prime minister did not like to be made out to be a fool. It was becoming obvious to them that Alex was not cooperating fully. They were unsophisticated but effective in their methods. And Alex was an easy target.
The previous morning they had explained their position very effectively by physically threatening him. Two large men caught him walking to his car early in the morning outside of his house on the way to work. They were waiting for him. One had a crowbar and threatened to use it on his face. He was a sitting duck while he remained in the Bahamas.
Alex actually liked his jaw and didn’t want it broken. He unconsciously touched his chin.
However, his other masters were much more long-term oriented. They were the really scary ones. The ones he didn’t want to piss off.
He would play cat and mouse with the natives for a while and earn some money, while he took care of his other obligations.
Nevis
The ride from the airport to Oliver’s house was spectacular, especially for someone who had never been on the island, like Kate.
The small aircraft flew them in from St. Lucia an hour before and carried only twelve people. The flight was quick but bumpy as the wind played its games with the tiny, prop engine plane, or “bugsmasher” as Connor c
alled it. He was happy when they were safe on the ground and were taxiing to the small building.
The runway was carved into the base of the volcano, a long strip only a few meters above the sea. It formed a demarcation between the rolling sea and the towering mountain.
The airport terminal was more like a shack than anything else. Outside the drivers waited and hoped to pick up a paying fare. Stray dogs mingled with the baggage stacked under the overhang beyond the entrance. Tropical vines grew up the side of the structure, their flowers blowing in the breeze as they looked up at the sun. Kate took in the aroma as they waited.
Connor had called ahead for transportation. It was late of course.
The taxi that finally picked them up from the airport was an old Volkswagen van that was held together with paper clips it seemed to Connor. The driver was very friendly and helped store their bags in the rear compartment and then opened the sliding door. Cold beer from the local brewery and bottled water awaited them inside. They were on their way.
They wound around the base of the old volcano and thirty minutes later passed through the capital of Charlestown. The local foliage covered the road overhead in some places while at other times the road was naked against the ocean. The waves bounded up the seawall and threatened to attack the vehicle. Avoiding the potholes and oncoming traffic on the small, semi-paved road seemed more an art than a science.
Soon they reached the capital. The downtown area was bustling with natives, a few tourists and businessmen mingled among them. They wore collared shirts and ties but no jackets.
Although the buildings were decrepit, the town was full of life and commerce. It had been this way for hundreds of years. The ferries were off-loading supplies and passengers at the harbor terminal. The locals hung out on the street corners and wasted time as the laughing, uniformed schoolchildren congregated on the way home. Nothing ever changes here, thought Connor as they drove through the town.
Kate leaned into him in the backseat of the taxi. It had been a long day flying in from New York. They both were tired but the scenery was beautiful. She snuggled up into him and put her head on his shoulder. Connor looked down at her and she smiled. They were happy.
He was scared to enjoy the feeling. He didn’t trust that it would last.
They drove upwards now towards the rim of the dormant volcano, passing the markets on the outskirts of town. Passing the old cemetery, the drive became more hazardous. The vegetation grew thicker, and the streets became narrower and more dangerous. Monkeys flew from tree to tree as they drove higher up the incline. At times there was only space for one vehicle, and they had to pull over to let oncoming traffic pass. Villages came and went as they climbed higher and higher.
Finally, after about forty-five minutes, they reached a level parking area two-thirds up the mountain after many twists and turns. The taxi driver pulled into the small space carved into the rock and stopped the van. Connor and Kate climbed out and turned to look at the view.
“Wow,” she said.
The island rolled down the mountain before them as the lush vegetation covered most everything in a shade of bright green. The contrast of the colors against the deep blue sea was breathtaking. The scene was speckled with homes sticking out of the trees and then turned into a sea of rooftops as the viewer gazed on Charlestown guarding the harbor. St. Kitts rose out of the dark blue ocean beyond, a short ferry ride away. She was a multipeaked island and much more expansive than Nevis. The Eastern Caribbean Central Bank was located there controlling the currency for the Eastern Caribbean region.
“I could get used to this place,” Kate said teasingly as she followed the taxi driver into the house carrying the bags as the housekeeper showed him the way to the main cabana.
Connor strolled out onto the deck and took in the view.
The Asian man had rented the house several days before. He paid cash. There were no questions asked, as he paid three times the usual price for the time period. The tourist trade was operating well below normal, so the owners didn’t balk at the man’s request for privacy; they were just happy to have a renter.
The home had an expansive tile deck jutting out from the mountain. A waist-high stone railing guarded the precipice overlooking the incline down the mountain below. Since the dormant volcano was the only tall structure on the island, the view was unencumbered. The deck teemed with life as the various species of native reptiles scurried and scratched across the open space and along the wall, creating a racket of their own.
To the rear of deck was an open veranda. The light, wooden screens were the only thing that could keep out the elements and were easily closed. The property fit the Asian man’s needs perfectly, because it overlooked the house on the mountain below him and to the left. He spent his first day on the island outfitting that empty house with listening devices in each room and in the phones. The structure was easily broken into, as it had not been rented or occupied in some time. He also set up a sophisticated camera with a high-powered telephoto lens on the deck trained on the object of interest. Then all he had to do was wait.
Now his target had arrived, but he was not alone as he had hoped.
Connor walked out on the expansive stone patio at Oliver’s home, and the man started taking pictures.
December 12, 1805
Nassau, Bahamas
He missed South Carolina. This surprised him. He had always considered the Northeast home.
But there was something about the South. Something he liked. Maybe it was the way the moss hung from the trees, or the way the women talked. Yes, it must be the women, he thought. It was always the women. Anyway, he liked it.
Of course the main thing he missed was Theodosia. His daughter was the most beautiful thing in his life. His wife died early in their marriage, so it was Burr who raised the child. He made her into a prodigy. She was groomed to be elite, above the rest. Fluent in multiple languages and schooled in the cultures of the world, she was a prize for her new husband in South Carolina, the governor. He also desperately loved her.
The capital came into view. The Bahamian capital, Nassau, that is.
The trip down from Georgetown, South Carolina had been rough. The weather was not on his side for the voyage, but he made it. He was here.
And here was the answer to his dreams.
Perhaps it was the fact that his parents had died at an early age. Perhaps it was the multiple frustrations in his life. Washington did not give him the proper recognition during the war. He was denied the presidency and the governorship of New York. Who knew what it was, but Aaron Burr had ambition. It was a driving force burning within him. It drove him to achieve the pinnacle of success. It also drove him to do stupid things.
He reached into his coat to tap the pouch that was hidden inside, just to make sure it was still there. It was. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he folded up his collar to protect himself from the cold wind off the ocean. He hadn’t realized the Bahamas was this cold this time of year.
Now he could make his aspirations, finally, come true. He was so close he could taste it. This money would allow him to fulfill his destiny.
The ship slowly made its way into port.
He boarded at one of the inns along the main thoroughfare. Several years earlier, many loyalist families immigrated to the Bahamas from the United States. They brought their slaves and proceeded to make a life in the islands. The atmosphere of the town was quite nice actually, he thought, almost civilized. He tried to keep a low profile among the English subjects. After all, he had killed many British soldiers in his time.
The next morning he made his way to the law offices described in the documents in the pouch. A lawyer himself, Burr understood the formalities of these arrangements and believed he could make this transaction happen. Besides, it was unlikely that anyone here knew of the events the year be
fore in Weehawken, New Jersey.
He walked into the offices unannounced and asked for the senior partner.
He was led into an ornate boardroom with pilasters lining the walls and bookshelves filled to the ceiling. The partner arrived exactly ten minutes later. Burr introduced himself and produced the trust bearer documents.
Without a moment’s hesitation, the gentleman left the room and returned a short while later bearing a small, wooden chest. A golden little lion was inlaid into the wood at the top of the chest. The partner produced a key and then excused himself and left the room. Burr sat there staring at the lion for a while and then inserted the key and unlocked the chest.
His heart jumped as he saw what was inside─maps, many of them. They told of buried treasure.
Chapter Eleven
Nevis
Connor and Kate sat at an outdoor wrought iron table overlooking a beautiful Caribbean garden. Behind them sat the main house of an old sugar mill plantation, since turned into a wonderfully cozy inn situated above Charlestown on the side of the mountain. The old kettles and boilers encased in limestone dotted the landscape around the main house along with several windmills in the distance. Bougainvillea shrubs and poinsettias as big as trees dominated the hundreds of other flowers and multiple species of colorful vegetation sprinkled throughout the grounds, a very romantic setting. The sun was setting over the ocean.
Here I am with this beautiful woman in this amazing place. I’m a lucky man, thought Connor. I wonder if I am falling in love.
They had just finished dinner and were enjoying a drink in the warm evening. Again Connor was struck by the history here, the birthplace of Alexander Hamilton. He could almost take himself back in time over two hundred years and imagine the view from their location. Probably not so different than it looks now, he thought.
