by Mark Donahue
Tom cut the nylon rope. Moving closer to the edge of the pit, he listened for the equipment to hit bottom. He heard nothing.
On the computer there was nothing on the screen for several seconds as the camera and lights descended into blackness.
Suddenly, a shotgun blast reverberated throughout the cavern.
Chapter 46
Phoenix—1943—1979
Lester evolved into a creature of habit. He developed routines from which he seldom varied. He ate at the same places and visited the library at the same time each day, where he would make entries in his journal. He would walk down near the public park he had funded and watch the kids run through the sprinklers. He’d buy some clothes at Sears and leave them around town in places his friends could find them.
He would spend the first three weeks of each month determining what needed to be done in and around Phoenix, and spend the last week of the month making it happen. To fund his adventures, he would drive his van out toward Whiskey Flats, park it in a rest area, and walk miles in the sand and rocks to retrieve his funding source. But as the price of gold exploded from $36.50 an ounce in 1943, to $489 by the end of 1979, Lester’s desert treks became far less frequent or necessary. A gold bar worth just over $11,000 in 1943 was worth over $147,000 by 1979. Even with inflation, Lester’s buried gold continued to soar in value, which he reminded J.T. of every chance he got, usually over fried chicken, apple pie, and beer.
“Did you know with the gold prices up so much since the war, the gold still in the ground after all the money I’ve spent, is worth ’bout five times more than all the bars in ’43?”
“You’re a damn conglomerate, ain’t you?”
“Yep. Been buyin’ up land and buildings for the last thirty years. Got so damn much money comin’ in I haven’t needed to get a bar in months.”
“Well, it sure as hell won’t rust on ya’.”
“J.T., after all these years how come you never asked me where the gold was?”
“Cuz, I don’t give a shit.”
“Well, maybe someday I’ll show you where it is.”
“Remember that ‘I don’t give a shit’ part?”
“I know, but if I was to die in bed with some young chippie…”
“Shit, seventy is young to you, ’sides, you’re too mean to die.”
“I’m serious, J.T. You’re the only one I can trust.”
“Look, Lester, I’ll do anything you want. Just tell me when.”
The needs in Phoenix were varied. It could be someone needing an operation, a school that needed books, a hospital that needed new equipment, a shelter that needed new beds or more food, or just a friend who needed some clothes. The fun part for Lester was to make things happen without anyone knowing it was him. He would devise elaborate ruses whereby there was a need, and then bingo, that need was met.
Of course, he had to trust some people in order to do some of the work, including an attorney, but they were sworn to secrecy and told if they wanted his help later, they had better keep their traps shut. One of Lester’s biggest projects was to donate money to build a three-hundred-bed shelter in downtown Phoenix near the bus station.
Lester was in the audience with several of his buddies during the dedication of the building that featured a modern cafeteria, lending library, showers, air conditioning, TVs, and interior walls for privacy. There were hundreds of brand-new clean towels and even clothing for men who needed it. Most importantly, Lester set up a trust fund to pay for the utilities, medical supplies, and salaries for the staff. At the dedication of the building, a local minister addressed the crowd as Lester dozed off.
“Today we are proud to be able to officially open this three-hundred-bed shelter to help those among us in need. We are eternally grateful to a fellow citizen who has generously and anonymously donated the funds to allow his and our dream to become a reality today and into the future.”
Nudged awake by one of his friends after the speech, Lester rose with the rest of the men and began to leave. Another friend had an opinion. “I ain’t never stayin’ in no damn shelter.”
“I don’t know, looks pretty nice to me,” another friend noted.
“How ’bout you, Lester? You gonna use that shelter? Or you gonna stay in that fleabag joint you live in?”
“I’ll move to the shelter if you boys do.”
“They gonna have that cable TV thing I’ve heard about?”
“I have a feeling they will,” Lester said. “They surely will.”
As the crowd dispersed, the minister came up to Lester, whispered in his ear, and then hugged him. Looking around and embarrassed, Lester nodded to the minister and caught up to his friends to discuss new rooming arrangements.
Later that afternoon, Lester, as usual, walked five blocks to his favorite diner called Maxine’s. As he waited for the light to turn green at the corner of McDowell and North 19th Avenue, a white Buick Electra 225 drove slowly past him. The driver of the Buick looked at Lester and then parked on the street a block away. In his rearview mirror, the driver of the Buick watched Lester enter a little diner across the street. After he exited the car, the handsome older man, who wore an expensive linen suit and sunglasses, leaned against the Buick’s front fender and gazed at Maxine’s.
When he entered the diner, Lester went directly to “his booth” at the back near the kitchen. Lucille, his favorite waitress, was of an age that you really couldn’t tell how old she was, and she sure as hell wouldn’t say. Some would call her a faded beauty, but Lester just liked the fact she was friendly, gave him “trouble,” and always had a big smile every time she saw him. She also had really big tits that she wore proudly and with distinction, which Lester also admired.
Handing Lester a copy of the Phoenix Times left by a previous customer, Lucille said, “You’re late.”
“Had a meeting.”
“You’re never late.”
“I was today.”
“I had to go hide the meatloaf so you’d have some.”
“Is it Tuesday?”
“You forgettin’ the days now? Damn, you’re gettin’ old.”
“Not too old to ring your bell, young lady.”
“You’ve been threaten’ to turn me every which way but loose for twenty years now, Lester. I’ll bet that old thing of yours don’t even work no more.”
“Careful now, if I turned the python loose on you, you’d drop all those other boys you got.”
“Lester, they ain’t no other boys. You want cherry or peach pie for dessert?”
“I’m rich. I’ll take both.”
“How do you stay so skinny?”
“Countin’ all my money.”
“That why you wear that same damn plaid shirt all the time?”
“Just careful with my cash, darling. That’s why I’m rich.”
Lucille smiled and walked away, but as she did, she had a warning for Lester.
“Don’t you be lookin’ where you shouldn’t now, old man.”
Lester smiled and continued to look at Lucille’s butt.
As Lester read the paper, the man from the Buick entered the diner and sat next to the window at a small table. He scanned the menu but glanced up several times to look at Lester.
Not having noticed the man noticing him, Lester finished his meatloaf dinner, including two pieces of pie, left Lucille her usual five-dollar tip, and was about to leave when the well-dressed man approached Lester and stood next to his booth.
“Lester, may I join you?”
As he looked up at the tall, slender well-dressed man that stood next to his booth, Lester immediately recognized who it was. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Hello, my friend.”
“Sit on down here, Eric.”
Eric slid into the booth across from Lester and was finally face-to-face with the man
he had diligently been searching for over three decades.
“It has been a very long time, my friend-” Eric said.
“Did it all really happen?”
“Sometimes I wonder. But the nightmares are vivid at times. I still see the faces,” Eric said.
“I know. Every time I go out toward the Jasper, I think of my buddies from that first day and all the stuff that happened.”
“You look well, Lester.”
“For an old fart, I guess. You look healthy and rich, Eric.”
“The years have been kind to me and my family.”
“So what the hell brings you to Phoenix?”
“You do, Lester.”
“Me?”
“I had a private detective try to track you down years ago, but for the longest time he had no luck. Finally, he found a filing for an apartment building you bought but didn’t believe it was you based on where you lived. To his amazement. his research then discovered that you’re worth over twenty-five million dollars.”
“Closer to fifty, not includin’ the rest of the gold.”
“You have done very well, my friend.”
“I’m hangin’ on. You lookin’ for some cash, Eric?”
“No, I’m not. Like I said, I too have done well. The detective said you have donated much to the people of this city but have done so quietly.”
“If people think you got lots of money, they treat you different-like. More fun to do things that surprise people.”
“I understand, Lester.”
“Eric, one thing I was always curious about was what happened after I left that night?”
“There was more death. I was the only one that survived.”
“How about all that gold?”
“You don’t know?” Eric asked.
“How would I know?”
“I thought you would have returned to the mine and…”
“Never wanted to set a foot in that damn mine again.” Lester said.
“Nor did I.” Eric agreed.
“So what the hell happened to all that gold?” Lester repeated.
“I don’t know. There is always the possibility it’s still there.”
“Good Lord, I figured you came back and got the gold years ago.” Lester said.
“After you left the mine, I dealt with the remaining trucks and Rolle…”
“Rolle? You mean that crazy sonovabitch wasn’t dead?”
“No, but that is a story for another time. After I left the mine with one thousand bars of gold, I made it back to Cincinnati, got into business with my uncle, and raised a family. I tried to forget what had happened, but the nightmares…”
“You mean you took just a thousand bars for yourself?”
“Yes, and I have donated most of the proceeds to Jewish charities. I know it’s not enough but…”
“No, that was a real good thing you did, Eric.”
“Like you, I prefer to do things quietly.”
“That means between us we took about twenty-seven hundred bars but accordin’ to Rolle, there were over twenty-thousand bars, and some barrels full of stuff. What happened to all that?”
“Like I said…I don’t know.”
“You said you came to Phoenix to see me, how come?” Lester asked.
“I had assumed you had eventually gone back to the Jasper and figured out a way to take the gold. I wanted to see you again and commend you on what you had done with it. But hearing now that you didn’t retrieve the gold creates a bigger question. If the gold is still there, what do we do with it?”
“I’m sure too damn old to do much of anything, but you’re right, it’s time somethin’s done with it.”
“I am afraid I will not be much help however. Another reason I wanted to see you again is I’m dying. My liver cancer has spread and…”
“Damn, Eric, I’m real, real sorry. You’re still a young man. How much time ya’ got?”
“Six months. But I feel healthy. I still jog each morning although my doctor said that will soon end.”
“So what do we do, Eric, I mean about the gold”?
“The first thing we need to do is determine if the gold is still in the mine.”
“Can you walk a few miles?” Lester asked.
“Yes.”
The next morning Eric and Lester parked the Buick in a rest area off Route 60 and walked into the desert. Lester toted his army surplus backpack while Eric wore a sweat suit and tennis shoes.
“No roads to the Jasper?”
“Before we go to the Jasper, I want to show you somethin’ first. It ain’t far.”
After forty minutes of walking, the men approached a large cluster of Stonehenge-type rocks adjacent to several large cacti.
“This is it,” Lester announced proudly.
“Is what?”
“My bank.”
Lester moved to an indistinct area of loose sand and gravel, moved away some sage brush and got down on all fours. He reached into the sand and pulled out a twenty-pound ingot, and simultaneously displayed a big smile on his face.
“You mean you keep your gold out here in the open like this?” Eric asked, incredulous.
“Well it ain’t exactly out in the open, but I couldn’t think of a better spot for it.”
“What if someone followed you?”
“That’s why I walk out here. Easier to see if anybody’s around.”
“You mean you carry each bar from here back to the car?”
“Yep, made about 500 trips so far. Used to go more often but with gold prices goin’ up and…”
“Dear Lord, that means you’ve moved over…”
“Five tons, about 160,000 thousand ounces, damn near forty million dollars.”
“But how can you walk all that way with a twenty-pound ingot?”
“Oh, it ain’t that hard. Besides keeps me mean and lean.”
“How many bars are left?”
“Over 1100.”
As Eric tried to calculate the numbers, Lester beat him to it.
“At today’s prices there’s about a 150 million dollars here in the ground, give or take. Want some?”
“Oh, my God! No, Lester, like I said…I don’t need…”
“I know it’s kind of crazy to hide it out here, but fetchin’ it a bar at a time over the years worked. People never suspected nothin’.”
“But what if you had died?”
“I have a diary back at the shelter that, they keep in a safe for me with a map in it, and instructions on who to give it to if I kick over.”
“Smart idea.”
“Yep. But you know what? I think gold prices is goin’ higher. Wouldn’t surprise me none if gold is at $1,000 an ounce someday. They ain’t makin’ no more of it. You ready to head up to the Jasper?”
After they walked back to the Buick, the men drove north to the Jasper. The closer they got to the place that had occupied their nightmares for nearly four decades, the quieter they became. When they pulled up in front of the cavern, two coyotes slinked passed the Buick and disappeared into the rocks.
Seeing Eric’s face, Lester said, “Hell, Eric, we don’t have to go in that place. It really don’t matter if the rest of the gold is in there or not. If it’s there. we’re too old to get it. And if it ain’t, it’s gone forever anyway.”
“I need to at least find out if the place it was hidden has been discovered.”
“How will you know?”
“If the spot is how I left it that last night, the gold is there. If it has been returned to its original state, then someone has discovered the gold.”
After Lester and Eric exited the Buick, they leaned against the front bumper of the car and talked. They also saw a rusted sign that said Arizona Mining LTD. No Trespassing.
Pointing to the sign, Lester said, “I heard about that mining outfit. They came here right after the war. Said they was gonna start mining again, but nothin’ ever happened. In fact, I was wonderin’ at the time if you was part of that group?”
“I never heard of that company. Do you think it was a ruse to gain access to the mine and to try to find the gold?”
“Don’t know, but I wondered that too,” Lester said.
“I did some research after the war about the twenty-four men who drove the trucks and delivered the gold here to the Jasper. Five died in the mine. I knew many of the remaining nineteen men and contacted all their families after the war,”. Eric said.
“Any of them still alive?”
Thirteen of the men eventually returned home. But by 1955, each was dead.”
“They were still young men.”
“Many were killed in accidents. Several became mysteriously ill and died. Two shot themselves,” Eric said.
“Do you think they were all murdered?”
“Without question.”
“What about the six that didn’t return to Germany?” Lester asked.
One died in a plane crash, but the other five, according to their families, never returned to Germany. They all remained in this country, raised families, and became very successful.”
“You know where they live now?”
“It appears one is in South America and the rest in California.” Eric said.
“Did any of the drivers who went back to Germany ever mention the gold they had delivered to the Jasper?”
“Constantly. In fact, I think that’s why they were killed. They’d get drunk and talk about all the gold they delivered years before. Most folks thought it was just war stories the men made up. But I think some people believed them,” Eric said.
“You think that Odessa outfit I’ve heard about all these years killed those men to keep them quiet?”
“The existence of Odessa has never been confirmed. But if it did exist at one time, it was led by the very men within the German government who arranged to have the gold moved to this country. But most of those men did not survive the war or spent decades in prison.”
“If Odessa didn’t kill those thirteen boys who delivered the gold, who did?” Lester asked.