by Hep Aldridge
“I’m not,” he replied, “I’m prepared!”
The confidence in his voice had a positive effect on the overall atmosphere on deck. As I smiled, I replied, “Good to know,” and sat back in my chair and began to relax a little myself. Wild Bill had come from below and was in the wheelhouse. At 8:45 a.m., he stuck his head out and said, “Master Chief, I’ve got them on the radar. Two vessels headed our way.”
Gus stood up, took the Bushnells out of their case, and began scanning the horizon south and west of our position. In a minute, he said, “Got ’em—a Coast Guard vessel and a cruiser, probably 15 minutes out.” He handed me the binoculars.
“Damn,” I said, “They sent out the cutter.” The Shrike was a coastal patrol boat, an 87-foot Marine Protector class vessel based at Port Canaveral.
Gus chuckled and said, “Guess these boys mean business.”
“Guess so,” Doc replied as he looked off into the distance.
The other boat turned out to be a 50-foot Sea Ray. On board was a representative from the state, a lawyer, and four others that I guessed were back-up for the two suits. Ten minutes after we spotted them, we were hailed by the Coast Guard, identifying themselves and informing us we would be boarded. Wild Bill responded in the affirmative and said he would relay that information to the captain.
Gus looked at me and said, “Showtime,” and grinned.
The cutter heaved to about 75 yards away. The cruiser dropped anchor 20 yards out. They both put inflatables in the water, and soon four Guardsmen were headed our way, followed by four men from the cruiser. We had put out the boarding ladder and were standing by. The Guardsmen came on board, led by a Lieutenant Junior Grade and two others, all armed; Gus greeted them as the vessel captain. The reps from the state quickly followed them. Both inflatables and their operators had moved away from the Falcon and were standing off about 20 feet, engines idling. They had obviously come loaded for bear as they began throwing paperwork on the table, saying this was for violation of that law, and this was for a violation of some other. The coupe de gras was a cease-and-desist order for all operations at the site, along with a writ for seizure of property, our boat, gear, and anything we had recovered from the wreck site.
Dave had listened patiently as the state reps, almost frothing at the mouth in their fervor, presented their case. When they had finished, he began verbally dissecting everything they had presented.
My attention was drawn away from the discussion around the table by two black dots in the air moving toward us, easy to spot in the cloudless sky. As they got closer, I could see two more dots directly below what I had identified as two approaching helicopters. What the hell, I thought. My mouth dropped open when I realized that what was suspended below the choppers were two RHIB’s (rigid hull inflatable boats) hanging on a tether. The sound of their approach had now gotten the attention of everyone on deck as heads turned in their direction. On cue, the choppers slowly descended until the boats rested on the surface, and the connecting tethers were released by men who had been on board during the flight. In less than 30 seconds from hitting the water, the boats had released and were heading full-speed toward us. Their approach was impressive; there was no noise from engines, and their black color scheme matched that of the helicopters that had delivered them. There were no discernable markings on either boats or choppers. As they approached, they split up, and one moved between the Sea Ray and us while the other headed for our boarding ladder. The boats looked to be about 27 feet in length, and there were six men on board each of the boats. All were dressed in black fatigues with black tactical gear and armed. I recognized the guns mounted on the boats just forward of the helm; they were M-134, six-barrel mini-guns. These were assault boats with fully armed assault teams that had just been dropped into the party!
Everyone was staring as the boat pulled up next to the ladder and the man in charge said in a loud voice, “Captain, request permission to come aboard.”
Gus replied, “Permission granted.” As the man boarded, the subdued patch with a rank of Lieutenant Colonel became visible, and the Guardsmen stood to attention as the Lieutenant snapped a formal salute.
The colonel returned it and said, “As you were, Lieutenant,” and the Guardsmen went to parade rest. The colonel then turned to Gus, extended his hand, and said, “Captain Falconeti?”
“That’s right, Colonel,” Gus replied and accepted his handshake.
“And Dr. Burnett,” he said as he turned to me with another extended hand, which I accepted.
“Colonel James Worthington, gentlemen.” His deep basso voice carried a tone of command and maybe just a little of, “This is someone you don’t want to mess with.”
Colonel Worthington stood about 6’3”, had salt and pepper hair, and a tanned face that bore the lines of rugged experience. Maybe late 40s or early 50s, he exuded professionalism, and his all-business attitude underscored a true leader. Now, what in the hell is this all about, I thought, as the colonel turned back to the Coast Guard lieutenant and said, “Lieutenant, your work here is done. I think it’s time for you to return to your ship.” It wasn’t stated as an order or suggestion, just a matter of fact.
The lieutenant began to protest, “But, sir, I have my orders and am here to help these officials prosecute their…” He was stopped in mid-sentence by the colonel’s raised hand.
“Son, I suggest you contact your captain immediately,” he said as he looked at his watch. “I believe you will find your orders have changed.” Now, that came across as an order, and the Guardsman keyed his radio and called the Shrike. We didn’t hear the response since he was wearing an earpiece, but I watched as his face blanched and his body became ramrod straight.
After a minute or so, he replied in a very formal response, “Yes, sir.”
He turned to one of his men and nodded. The Guardsman gave a loud whistle and the hand motion for the inflatable. As the boat came alongside, he turned to the colonel, saluted very smartly, and said, “My apologies, sir.”
The colonel returned his salute, and with that, they left the Falcon. The suits were standing there dumbfounded and began sputtering and protesting as the inflatable receded in the distance.
“We have legal documents and a cease-and-desist order, and you can’t just tell them to leave like that.”
Now, Worthington’s voice took on a new, more menacing tone. “Mister, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I can damn sure do that, and I am giving you the same order; you have one minute to get off this boat.” He reached in his BDU jacket, pulled out a piece of paper, and shoved it into the lawyer’s chest. “This vessel, these men, and this site are now under the jurisdiction of Homeland Security. Your papers are no longer valid, and you now have 30 seconds to get off this boat.”
The state suit now stepped forward with an arrogant air about him and said, “We are state officials, serving legal documents to these men.” The colonel looked at his watch and said, “You now have 15 seconds.”
“Or what?” the official said, still in his arrogant defensive mode.
Worthington went toe-to-toe with him and, in a low growl, said, “Or you will be swimming back to your vessel,” emphasizing each word with two fingers jabbing into the man’s chest, moving him back a step each time. The suit was now backed up against the gunwale. He opened his mouth to protest again, and with one mighty, two-fingered jab, the colonel sent him over the side. He stepped forward, looking down at the man sputtering in the water, and said, “Time’s up.”
He turned to the two remaining men and said, “Well?”
Their boat had already moved into position as its operator was helping his comrade out of the water. The remaining two headed for the ladder and scurried down into the boat like rats leaving a sinking ship. As they pulled away, the colonel turned to us, grinning, and said, “Well, that was fun!”
No one had said a word; we just stood there, some with mouths agape, some staring in disbelief, and some grinning—all waitin
g to see what happened next.
The colonel took in the scene and said, “Fitz sends his regards,” and laughed. Now, we all began smiling. The cutter had started pulling away, and the Sea Ray was getting underway. “I’m sure there are going to be some very unhappy people when word gets back to whoever dreamed up this stunt.”
“So, Fitz sent you all over here to scare these guys off?” I asked.
“Oh, no, this is official DOD business,” he said as he handed me another document. This one was from the Dept. of Defense/Homeland Security, giving the colonel orders to take control of the situation at the site and secure it until further notice. Our work should continue without outside interference or disruption of any kind. He was instructed to work with Dr. Burnett to ensure things went smoothly.
I let out a low whistle, “So, this was all legit, I mean a real operation.”
“Yes, it was,” the colonel said, “But I will say I haven’t had this much fun following orders in quite a while. We will also be providing security for your boats and crews,” motioning to the Lisa B and turning to look at Gus.
“So, I guess we don’t have to worry about those pissants coming back anytime soon,” Gus said, nodding toward the departing cruiser.
“No, they shouldn’t be a problem. Not to say we won’t have issues to deal with in the future, but for now, we should be fine.”
“And what about the Coast Guard? Did we piss them off with this incident?”
“Not at all; I just had to stall a bit to ensure the captain of the cutter got his official change of orders from higher up before I cut the lieutenant loose. They should be fine with it; no toes got stepped on there.”
“Good to know,” I said, “They’ve been nothing but accommodating in all our dealings with them. I wouldn’t want to tarnish our relationship in any way.”
“You’ll be fine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to bring my men aboard and go through some introductions and set up the protocols for how this is going to work.”
“Not at all, bring them in,” Gus said.
Chapter Three
We were left alone while we were at sea but repeatedly harassed when we returned to port. Yes, the papers got served, most were disregarded out of hand, but the court summons couldn’t be taken lightly. So, here I was, cooling my heels in a courtroom while my two legal eagles did their thing, and quite well, I might add. My mind was on my desire to be back in Ecuador when my phone vibrated, and I saw the call was from Gus. I nodded to Lawrence, who nodded back and quietly made my way out of the courtroom to the hallway.
“Hey, Gus,” I said, “What’s up? No trouble, I hope.”
“No, no problems, but there has been a development I think you need to know about. Have you got your sat phone with you?”
“Yeah, I do,” I replied.
“Good, give me a call on it; we need to talk.”
With that, the line went dead. Now, that got my attention as I headed outside to make the call. Our sat phones were equipped with the latest in encryption technology, so if Gus wanted to talk to me on it, that meant something was afoot, and he didn’t want any snoopers. I found a bench outside with no one around, took a seat, and hit speed dial. After a few seconds, I heard the connection complete and then Gus’s voice.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Looks like we have finally made our way into the captain’s cabin.”
“And…?” I said.
“Remember when Doc was telling us about the 1715 fleet transporting the dowry for the king’s bride-to-be? It was reported to be so large that multiple ships had to carry it.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, we found two chests in the debris in the cabin, and I think they are part of it. We are bringing them aboard the Falcon now.”
“So, they were intact… did you open them?”
“Yes, they were mostly intact, and yes, we opened one. How do you think I knew to give you a call? You need to get out here as soon as you can.”
“Roger that, I’ll contact you when I’m on the water. See you in a couple of hours,” and terminated the call.
Chapter Four
A week later…
The drone of the jet engine helped drown out the cacophony of the past few months. It was good to be heading back down to Ecuador. The layers of craziness that we had been wrapped up in were finally starting to peel away. The discovery and recovery of the galleon treasure and its ensuing legal entanglements were mind-boggling. However, I did feel that we had left things somewhat under control. Our legal team was working full-speed, keeping the wolves at bay, at least for the time being. Nils, Tony, and Gus and his crew were making steady progress on our recovery efforts, and the discovery of part of the queen’s dowry added another dimension to our find, but we kept that find to ourselves. More legal wrangling with the state and international entities ensued. But I needed to put that behind me for now. The search for the library demanded my full attention.
I leaned back, took a sip of my scotch, and contemplated our next move once we arrived in Cuenca. We had followed our usual routine, notifying Sean of our arrival and the need to have the “Beast” ready, as well as securing our block of rooms at the Hotel Condor. I had also called Uncle Harold and Reggie, letting them know we were on our way down. Luckily, they reported there were no problems. All quiet on the “Southern Front” as it were. Very good news. I finished my drink and checked out the team. Joe and Dimitri were engaged in quiet conversation, and it looked like O’Reilly was sleeping as Doc was intently reviewing some documents. Good, I thought and relaxed a little more; maybe I could catch some Z’s before we landed. I was awakened by the captain’s voice saying we would be landing in 20 minutes. The flight attendant had collected my empty glass and was making final rounds as I roused myself from my slumber, feeling rather refreshed.
Our trips through customs and to the hotel were uneventful. As we entered the lobby, we were greeted by a smiling front desk clerk and Dominic, the hotel owner, who came out from behind the desk and greeted us like old friends with hugs, handshakes, and a huge smile.
“Dr. Burnett, it is so good to see you again and a real pleasure to have a person of your esteemed reputation staying with us.”
Uh-oh, I thought, they’ve heard about the galleon treasure. Sure enough, I was right as he went on.
“It is our honor to have you and your team of treasure hunters staying here once again.”
“Thanks, Dom,” I said, “good to be back.”
Dom, as we had started calling him some time ago, was always cordial and attentive, but this time, he was downright effusive. He motioned to the bellman on duty and told him to take our bags to our rooms as we signed in.
“If there is anything you need, anything at all, do not hesitate to contact me,” he said as he handed us our keys and moved back behind the desk. We all thanked him as we headed to the elevator. Thirty minutes later, Dimitri and I grabbed a cab and headed to Sean’s to pick up the Beast. As we turned the corner onto Sean’s street, the first thing we noticed was how much cleaner everything looked. Not that it was a real mess before, but things were just cleaner. Some of the buildings that had been closed had fresh paint and new signs hanging out front.
This was an old industrial area with closed businesses up and down the street. As we approached Sean’s, I saw signs for a new leather shop, a Panama hat factory, and a furniture/woodworking store. There was even a sign for an electrical repair center next to Sean’s—and Sean’s, Wow. A fresh coat of paint on the entire building, new garage doors and windows, and a sign painted on the building saying, “Sean’s Automotive Training Center.” As we pulled up out front, Dimitri said, “Place doesn’t look the same; in fact, it looks like this whole area has been revitalized.”
“No kidding, it’s amazing what a little capital can accomplish.”
The Suburban was sitting there waiting for us. When we walked in the front doors, Dimitri let out a low whistle, “Man, this place has ha
d a full make-over.” It had, indeed, new paint, lighting, four new automotive lifts, a front-end alignment rack, and a paint booth in the far corner. There were new workstations with toolboxes set up and people busily working everywhere. At the entrance, there was a counter like you would see at any American car dealership service center. A young lady and boy were behind it. As we approached, she hung up the phone and smiled, “Dr. Burnett, so glad to see you again.” At that point, the young man turned around, and we recognized Eduardo, who immediately broke into a huge grin, came running around the counter, and grabbed me in a bear hug.
“Senor Colt, Senor Dimitri, it is so good to see you again; welcome back.”
Dimitri got his hug as the young lady keyed a microphone on the counter and said over the sound system in the building, “Senor Sean, come to the service desk, please.”
I realized two things, Eduardo had had a growth spurt since we last saw him, and he and the young lady were both wearing uniforms—neatly pressed with nametags on them and titles. Eduardo was Service Manager, and the young lady was Assistant Service Manager. As we were finishing our greetings, Sean appeared at the counter with a huge grin and hearty handshake.
“Hey, guys, welcome back,” he said, “it’s good to see you again; it’s been a while.”
“Yep,” I said, “good to be back. And wow, has this place changed.”