Lost Voyage (10 page)

16

Esperanza had twelve men with him scouring the area for any signs of the buried ship. The exploration was beginning to look futile as they had been searching for a few hours now with no results. The sun was high above their heads and the men were becoming exhausted from the search. He was also growing tired of walking through the jungle, but knew nothing short of finding the ship would satisfy his employer. He knew he had to carry on, regardless of the circumstances.

Being sent on such a mission infuriated him. He was not a common scavenger who was versed in the ways of finding lost treasures. He was a killer. In all his years of service to the cartel, he had always been tasked with more arduous assignments. This was grunt work for the soldiers, and he resented having to take part in it.

As the hours passed, there was no sign they were any closer to finding the ship. The jungle was thick and the terrain was difficult to traverse. Using a machete to hack his way through the brush, he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. Looking off into the distance, he could see the clouds were once again moving back into the area, offering a glimmer of hope for relief from the blistering sun beating down.

Over the next two hours, the search continued. A light rain had started to fall and the cloud cover was providing a cooler temperature for the men in the dense forest. Esperanza was growing weary and becoming increasingly frustrated with nothing to show for his time but scrapes and cuts from the thickets surrounding them. Hearing one of his men call out, he slowly made his way over to where the voice came from.

When he arrived, he saw five of his men huddled around one another. They were all looking at the same thing. It was a tree stump. At first glance, it just looked like a large branch protruding from the remains of the stump. Upon further inspection, he could see this was no tree branch. Instead, he noticed it was a large wooden plank that had no logical reason for being embedded into a tree in the middle of the jungle.

He ordered his men to carefully extract it. For over twenty five minutes, they meticulously carved through the stump with accurate precision until they were able to pry it free. He walked over and took it from the soldier holding it, examining it like it was a relic from another time. It looked like any other ordinary wooden plank, but he wondered if it could be part of the ship or something else that was on board. Flipping it over to see the other side, he could discern a very faded color of red. The barely visible lettering on the board was hard to read, but it was just clear enough to show the letters
“LYS”.

Remembering the name of the ship from the port log, he let out a sly smile and put it together in his head that this could be part of the hull. He now had proof he could bring to Vallejos, and was assured this would most certainly satisfy him. He told all of the men to remain where they were and gave orders to dig around the stump to uncover any more possible remains. Then, he walked back to his Jeep and drove off in the direction of the compound.

***

As expected, Vallejos was extremely pleased with what his head of security had brought back from the search. “You have done well, Kervin. This proves the ship is buried somewhere out there. Now, we just have to find it.”

Geovany Rojas agreed. “This is a magnificent find. We need to act fast, Andres, as I’m sure we’re not the only ones who know of this.”

“You do not need to inform me of such things, Geovany,” he responded curtly. “I am aware of the situation.”

Rojas meant no disrespect by his comment, but knew his employer was a heated man who felt like he never needed advice on any subject. He sometimes wondered why he was even on the payroll as a consultant if Vallejos never thought he needed advising. It was something that had become common over the years and he knew not to overstep his bounds. It was just an everyday part of working for the cartel.

“Of course, Andres.” He decided agreeing was the easiest way to end the tension. He then continued on with the conversation.

“Imagine the force it took for this plank to be thrust into the base of the tree. The devastation of the blow must have been quite something indeed. If the ship was directly in the path of the blast, it would have been shattered into a million pieces, meaning finding it could be next to impossible.”

“I do not deal in impossibilities. The ship is out there and I will find it.” The firmness in Vallejos’ tone left no room for doubt in the minds of the men standing before him.

“Kervin, I want to assemble a team to excavate. Gather as many of the men as you can. I want everyone out there looking for this ship.”

“Understood,” replied Esperanza.

Vallejos knew he was close to finding the lost treasure and started imagining what he would do with the large cache of gold. There would be nothing out of his reach with that amount of money. He dismissed Esperanza to attend to his duties and asked Rojas to stay behind.

“Geovany, I want you to start looking into NESA and just exactly what it is that they do. This is not some scientific research team. If Mercer was right in assuming his employer would come looking for him, I want to know exactly what I should be preparing for. While you’re at it, I want complete background information on our two guests. Report to me at once when you find out more.”

Dismissing his consultant, he stood there for a moment before deciding on going to pay a visit to his two prisoners. He made his way down the stairs through the long corridor and down the staircase to the dungeon. Upon opening the door, he was greeted by a soldier who stood at attention when he identified his superior.

Without acknowledging the soldier, he strolled down the hallway to the cell. When he reached it, he could see Vigil was lying down facing the wall. Mercer, however, was standing right in front of the bars, as if welcoming his captor. There was nothing inviting about the look on his face, however.

“And to what do I owe this great pleasure?” he asked sarcastically.

Vallejos knew he now had the upper hand in every aspect of the game being played. He replied just as sarcastically when he responded.

“I come baring good news. I have found this ship you seem to know nothing about.”

Mercer tried to conceal the curious look on his face. “Oh really? And what exactly did you find?”

Vallejos didn’t feel the need to discuss how little he actually did find. “The only thing you need to know is that I will live out my days as a very wealthy man. You and your friend do not share that same luxury.”

There was a smug look on his face that Mercer found sickening. “You are the most despicable person I’ve ever met. You care nothing for anyone but yourself. Enjoy living out the remainder of your days as a wealthy man. You don’t have many left.”

Vallejos laughed out loud. “Save yourself the embarrassment of making empty threats you cannot follow through with. In a short matter of time, you will find that your time on this earth has come to an end.”

“If you had any balls, you would just kill us yourself right now,” barked Mercer.

“Where is the fun in that? Killing you down here with no one to witness it is hardly what I would call making an impression. No, I intend to make your deaths a public spectacle for all to see. At first light, in front of my entire Army, you will die by my hand for all to enjoy.”

He waited a few seconds before speaking again in order to give his previous statement time to sink in. “Take the time to make peace with your God, Mr. Mercer, because tomorrow you and your friend will meet your maker.”

He turned to walk away, expecting to hear a response, but instead, there was complete silence in the hallway.

It was less than a minute before he was through the door and out of sight. Vigil, who had overheard the entire conversation, finally rolled over and looked at his partner.

“I guess now would be as good a time as any to check out of this roach motel.”

Mercer knew the time to make a move would need to be soon. He had made up his mind when it would happen.

“We go first thing in the morning right after guard change.”

17

Donning a Seattle Mariners baseball cap over his ruffled auburn hair, his cloudy grey eyes scanned the lobby of the hotel he had just stepped into. Wearing a pink polo shirt with light beige pants, he looked like an American tourist cliché right down to a tee. To anyone who glanced at him, he just looked like a little old man who was a long way from home. The only thing he had in his possession was a set of golf clubs in a bag that displayed the name
Callaway
.

Colonel Hunt always brought his clubs with him no matter where he went in hopes to hit the greens every chance he got. However, with no golf course within a hundred miles from his current location, he wasn’t surprised to be getting the looks he was from other people in the lobby. With the clerk at the desk engaged in conversation with other guests, he decided it was time to put his plan into motion.

Bending over to pick up his clubs, he put the strap over his shoulder and stood up to reposition himself. Placing his hand on one side of the bag, he gave a firm push to swing it around his backside – a push that was intentionally too strong. The bag spun swung around, seemingly sending him spiraling out of control until he slipped and fell by the wayside. It created a scene big enough to catch the attention of everyone in the lobby.

The clerk left his post at the desk to rush to the aid of the fallen old man, where a crowd was gathering to see the spectacle.

“Please, give him some room,” said the clerk. “Are you okay, sir? Are you hurt?”

Hunt looked up with a dazed look in his eyes, pretending to be unsure of where he was. “Wha…what happened?”

“You had a fairly nasty fall. Just lay here for a minute. Are you hurt in any way?”

Still looking confused, he responded, “I…I think I pulled something in my back. I’m in quite some pain. Would you mind helping me up to my room?”

Playing the part of gracious host, the clerk replied, “Of course, sir. What room are you staying in?”

Pausing to respond, he continued his dazed look as if trying to remember what room he was in. He had gotten the room number from Dallas, but wanted to play the part of an injured and confused old man. After a few seconds of silence, he finally answered.

“Two twenty four.”

The clerk, who was a good six inches taller than the injured man, helped him up slowly. He was fairly skinny, but Hunt noticed he had a great amount of strength for his lanky body. Another hotel employee had arrived to help with the golf clubs and they made their way up the stairs slowly as Hunt let out a few moans of pain to be more convincing in his charade.

When they reached the corridor, the man with the golf clubs took a chair from the hallway and placed it next to the door of the room. After placing the bag down against the wall, the clerk told him he could take it the rest of the way. He lowered the old man into the chair and asked him for his room key so he could open the door for him.

Fumbling through his pockets, Hunt pulled out a few coins and some pieces of paper. Baffled, he stated, “Oh, that’s right, I gave my key to my son. He told me he would be here when I got back, but he should be back shortly. Can you just let me in so I can lie down on the bed? My back is really starting to tighten up.”

“I’ll have to go down to the desk and get a key. Can I get your name, sir?”

“Of course you can, sonny. It’s Jonathan Mercer.”

“Okay, Mr. Mercer. I’ll be back in just a minute. Please stay still until I get back so you don’t injure yourself further.”

“You’re a fine young man. Thank you.” Hunt sat and moaned softly as he watched the clerk walk down the hallway and disappear around the corner.

As soon as the young man was out of sight, he hopped up from the chair and stretched his limbs to ensure that his accidental fall hadn’t actually bruised anything. He had taken harder falls than that in the past, and had stronger bones than most men half his age, so he wasn’t overly worried. But, better safe than sorry, he thought. After a quick check of all outer extremities, he sat back down in the chair and once again took to the part of a fragile old man. A few moments later, the clerk returned.

“Mr. Mercer, are you still doing okay?”

“I’ll be much better when I’m in a comfortable bed and can get off my feet.”

“There’s no record of you being on the register for the room, sir. It’s not a big deal, but I need to see some form of identification to let you into the room. It is strictly hotel policy and I apologize for having to ask, considering the circumstance.”

Knowing he couldn’t provide an accurate form of ID, he simply played along. “Of course. Let me just get my wallet.”

As he flipped open the wallet, he looked at his license with the name
Alan Hunt
sticking out like a sore thumb. He found a picture of him and Mercer at a charity golf event. They were holding a trophy that displayed
First Place Winners
of the tournament.

Figuring he was playing a senile old man anyway, he thought he might as well keep the charade going. He pulled the picture out of the wallet and showed it to the clerk.

“Ah, this here is my boy, Sean. He loves golf almost as much as I do. We took first place in a father/son tourney. There were over fifty teams that day and we beat ‘em all.”

Acting interested, the clerk politely looked at the picture and then responded, “Very nice, sir. If I could just see your ID, I can let you into your room so you can rest.”

The old man kept on rambling as if the clerk's words went in one ear and out the other. “He’s always been into sports. From an early age, he wanted to be a baseball player. As he grew older, though, he became more interested in contact sports and wanted to play professional football. Kids want to be everything when they’re young and they think it’s so easy to get there.”

“Sounds like a great son you have there, sir. If I could just see your….”

“Do you have kids?” Hunt interrupted.

“No, sir. My wife and I would like to at some point, but not at this time.”

“Kids are amazing and they will change your life forever. Be sure you and your pretty little lady are ready for the task. Although, you never know when you’re ready and then they just show up.”

Sensing the old man would just keep on with his incessant ramblings, the clerk realized he was no closer to seeing an ID than when he first asked for it. He put the key in the lock and opened the door.

“Here you go, sir. Would you like some help to your bed?”

Gracious for the clerk's assistance, Hunt answered, “I think I’ll be okay from here. If you would just put my clubs next to the table, I can get there the rest of the way on my own. You have been most courteous and I’m grateful for all your help.” He gave the young man a generous tip and thanked him once more before watching him walk out the door.

When the clerk reached the desk, the hotel manager asked him where he had been.

“I was assisting Mr. Mercer. He took a fall in the lobby and I helped him to his room. The old man wouldn’t shut up.”

“Old man?” questioned the manager.

The manager remembered the Americans checking in and nothing about either man stuck out as them being old.

“He wasn’t on the register at sign in,” the clerk responded. “But, he said he’s the father of Sean Mercer.”

The manager suddenly had a look of bewilderment on his face. The clerk could see this and asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Everything is fine.”

He left the clerk to his position at the front desk and went into his office and picked up the phone. When a familiar voice on the other end answered, the manager spoke.

“Geovany, I have some new information. It seems that someone claiming to be Sean Mercer’s father has just checked in.”