The Thackery Journal

by John Holt

  “Naturally, for such a large sum, I would expect something in return. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Naturally,” replied Franklin. “I never doubted it for a moment. But why are you doing this Seńor Alvarez? Presumably you are expecting the South to win this war and then you would receive certain favors. Correct?”

  Alvarez smiled and shook his head. “The South to win the war, I don’t think so, no, not at all. In fact I expect quite the opposite.” He paused and took a drink. “The South is losing rather badly I’m afraid. I know it, and I am sure that you know it. We only need look at what has happened with Sherman in Atlanta. The town burnt to the ground, the Confederacy routed. No General the war is lost, and cannot last much longer, a few months only, six at the most.”

  “Then why?” asked the General puzzled.

  “Why? You ask why? Money of course,” Alvarez replied, a broad grin on his face. “What other reason could there be?”

  General Franklin was about to make a comment when there was a loud noise down at street level. Music could be heard, and singing.

  “It is a religious procession, nothing more,” Alvarez explained. “They occur quite frequently here.”

  Franklin stood up and went to the window. He looked down at the street. A life size statue of the Virgin Mary was being carried on a wagon bedecked with flowers. In front were a number of priests blessing the crowds as they moved forward sprinkling holy water, the crowds responding by making the sign of the cross. An altar boy, walking at the head of the procession, was holding the incense burner, swinging it from side to side. Behind the wagon came a group of children all dressed in white, all holding flowers, and singing. Behind them came the town’s people all dressed in their Sunday best.

  “It is the day of Our Lady de la Flores. It is a very important day for the people, and comes at the time of the wine harvest,” Alvarez continued as he joined Franklin at the window. “People come from miles around to be part of it. The procession will slowly make its way to the little church. You see it, there at the end of the street. Then there will be a mass, and a thanksgiving for the harvest. Later there will be a big party, with much to eat, and of course the wine to drink. There will be much singing and dancing. The whole town will be there, and the celebrating will go on late into the night. It is a pity you cannot stay longer to witness the festivities.”

  The General looked away from the window, and made his way back to his seat. “I’m not what you might call a very religious man. I don’t need that,” he said with contempt, pointing to the window. “I suppose I’ve seen too much of war to get too excited over a chalk statue covered with flowers.”

  “Oh it is much more than that, General,” Alvarez replied. “To these people their religion is their life.”

  “Maybe so,” said the General. “Fortunately for me I don’t need such things.” He paused once again, glancing back at the window. “Now you were saying something about money I believe.”

  “So I was,” replied Alvarez, rubbing his beard. “So I was.”

  “I’m puzzled Seńor,” said the General. “I understood that it is I who was to receive payment and not you. So I really don’t understand.”

  “General, it really is quite simple,” Alvarez started to explain. “The South needs money to continue this fruitless war, correct. Your President Mr. Davis is not yet ready to capitulate. But you know that the war is lost and yet you wish to continue, to battle on. Why I cannot imagine. But it is not for me to say. It is your wish to continue. I am merely giving you the means of obtaining money for that to happen.” He paused for a moment, and took a drink. “As I said I am prepared to place three hundred thousand dollars in gold bullion at your disposal. More than enough to buy weapons to prolong the struggle, I would imagine.”

  “Go on, I’m listening,” replied Franklin.

  “All that I desire is my share,” Alvarez continued.

  “Your share?” repeated Franklin. “I still don’t follow you.”

  “General, you aren’t trying,” Alvarez replied. “I am merely looking for my share. My cut I believe is how you say it in America. Shall we say fifty thousand dollars? I think that would be fair and reasonable don’t you?”

  “Fifty thousand,” the General repeated. “I’m still puzzled.”

  “A mere trifle, a small token for making the arrangements, shall we say. A small reward,” said Alvarez. “Once you have the gold, all you need do is deposit fifty thousand dollars into my bank in San Francisco. I will give you the details.”

  The General turned to look back towards the window. Fifty thousand dollars was a lot of money, and far more than those people down in the street would see in their combined lifetimes. He turned back to face Alvarez. “And suppose, for the sake of further discussion, we chose not to pay you. What then?”

  “That would be most unfortunate,” replied Alvarez. “In that event I would be forced to tell my friends in the North that a large quantity of Mexican gold had been stolen by Confederate forces and was almost certainly going to be used to buy weapons.” He paused for a moment. “Weapons that were coming from the French Navy, expected in St. Lawrence Bay on the twenty-ninth of the month if I am not mistaken.”

  The General looked surprised. “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “Let us just say that I have my sources,” Alvarez replied.

  The General smiled. “I’m impressed Seńor. But I cannot believe that such action would be sanctioned by your Emperor.”

  Now it was Alvarez who smiled. “I am obliged to tell you that my Emperor has no knowledge of the transaction as I have outlined. He knows nothing about the gold bullion, and certainly he knows nothing about my own little arrangement. That is purely between the two of us.”

  The General took a deep breath. “Are you seriously telling me that this whole discussion is all unofficial?”

  “I think the less official it is the better don’t you,” replied Alvarez. “It will be our secret, the less people who know about it the better.”

  Certainly Alvarez was correct, the less people who knew about this entire conversation, the better. “I’m listening Seńor,” said the General.

  “General, I know that all that you actually require is two hundred thousand dollars,” Alvarez continued. “I am prepared to make three hundred thousand dollars available. And all that I require is fifty thousand is that too much to ask. You may feel entitled to the remaining fifty thousand yourself.”

  This was totally unexpected and Franklin was far from content with the situation. Nonetheless he had to admit that the South needed that gold bullion. The extra fifty thousand would certainly not be wasted. “I couldn’t do that Seńor,” he replied.

  “No matter, it was just a thought,” replied Alvarez. “Is there anything else we need discuss?”

  “I am still puzzled,” replied Franklin. “If this plan is not officially sanctioned how am I to take delivery of the gold?”

  “You steal it, General,” Alvarez replied quite simply.

  “I steal it, but that’s not possible, what about the security, and the guards,” said the General. “It would be impossible.”

  The Mexican shook his head. “Nothing is impossible, General. Not if you have the will, and certain help shall we say.”

  The General was becoming more and more puzzled. “Certain help?” he repeated. “What kind of help?”

  “Perhaps someone at the Depository,” Alvarez replied.

  The General nodded. “I see,” he replied. “That would make a difference certainly.”

  “Naturally there must be no hint of any possible complicity by my government, you understand,” Alvarez continued. “It is important that the North know nothing about our little arrangement.”

  “I understand that completely,” said the General. “But if it is meant to appear to be a robbery some people might get hurt.”

  “Ah yes, an unfortunate circumstance,” said Alvarez. “Nonetheless it must appear to be a robbery, so it is
a necessary evil. I think that is a term you Americans would say. But I have a plan to limit the problem. As I suggested I will have someone at the Santa Ana Depository. He will be fully aware of our plan, and he will ensure that there is no unpleasantness.”

  The General was still far from satisfied. “But what if anything does go wrong?” he asked.

  “It can happen I suppose, regrettably,” replied Alvarez.

  “So what happens then?”

  “Then it goes wrong, we live with it.”

  “As you say, then it goes wrong,” Franklin replied. “I will make the necessary arrangements for the twenty-third.”

  “Good. And the other small matter we discussed?”

  “It will be as you say.”

  “Excellent. I am very pleased to hear that,” replied Alvarez. “And have you given any further thought to the other fifty thousand?”

  It was certainly very tempting Franklin had to admit. A small reward for his services perhaps, compensation for the risks he was taking, a gift from a grateful Nation. He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Enter” called Alvarez.

  The door opened, and the hotel manager came in. “Seńores please forgive me for this intrusion,” he said bowing.

  “Yes. Yes, what is it?” said Alvarez.

  “The General’s train, your eminence,” replied the manager. “It is ready to leave.”

  “Ah, yes, it is later than I thought. Thank you Seńor Garcia.” Alvarez looked at the General and smiled. “Time to go I’m afraid.”

  “Indeed it is, but we have concluded our business, and there is nothing more to be discussed.”

  “Have a safe journey back, General,” Alvarez said. “Here is to a successful conclusion to our arrangement.”

  The General took one last look around and then left the room.

  * * *

  As the General left the building he could hear the church bells calling people to mass. He stood and watched as the people passed by hurrying towards the church. He looked across at the church, and then said a silent prayer to himself, a silent prayer that nothing would go wrong.

  There was a loud shrill whistle from the locomotive waiting at the depot in the opposite direction. He turned and hurried towards the train.

  * * *

  Chapter Sixteen

  Santa Ana Gold Depository

  Santa Ana is a small settlement lying some twelve miles from the Texas border. It is nothing more than a collection of small adobes, a cantina, the church, and an old general store. Recently the stage depot had been built to the side of the store. Behind the depot was the livery stable. Although still a small town, it had grown considerably in the last few years. There was now a land registry, a bank, and an assay office. Including a number of nearby ranches the population had grown to two hundred and thirty seven.

  The Gold Depository at Santa Ana is a large brick building that was constructed in the early part of 1810. It was originally a prison, meant to keep people in. For the last sixteen years, since 1848, it has been a high security storehouse, and meant to keep people out. It was then that the first gold deposits were found high in the Sierra Mantra.

  The Depository is located about three miles from the actual town out in the semi desert area close to the foothills of the Sierra Mantra. The main building houses the gold reserves of the Republic of Mexico, reserves which includes the vast quantities of gold taken from the Mayan and Inca empires.

  During the day sixteen people worked at the Depository, refining the raw gold deposits brought in by the local prospectors, and turning it into pure gold ingots. Each ingot was approximately eight inches long, two inches wide, and one and a half inches high. Each ingot was worth approximately one thousand American dollars. The ingots were stored in timber crates, which held twenty ingots each.

  On this particular day the vaults contained two hundred and thirty seven crates.

  * * *

  Captain Robert Dixon had received his orders directly from General Franklin, a few days earlier. He was to take a detachment of men to the small border town of Burgos, just a few miles inside Mexico. There he would be met by two men. He would then be taken to the outskirts of Santa Ana eight miles to the south-west. There he would take up a position in the woods close to the Depository, and wait for an arranged signal.

  “Arrangements have been made for you to take delivery of a quantity of gold bullion, Captain, a rather large quantity,” the General explained. “People will be waiting for you at the Depository and they will help you to load the gold.”

  “How much are we talking about, sir?” Dixon asked.

  “Three hundred thousand dollars,” replied the General. “That’s fifteen crates I believe.”

  “And it will be there just waiting for me to come along and collect,” said the Captain puzzled.

  “That is correct, Captain,” replied the General.

  “I’m not sure that I understand …” the Captain started to say.

  “All you need understand, Captain, is that the gold will be there waiting for you,” the General interrupted. “You will just have to accept what I say.”

  “But why …”

  “Captain, I cannot explain further,” said the General interrupting once again. “Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” replied the Captain, far from satisfied, but knowing that further questioning would be futile.

  “As I said, the gold will be there waiting for you. All you need do is deliver the consignment to the rail depot at Roundwood. Your friend Jacob Thackery will be waiting for you there on the twenty-ninth.”

  Dixon had not seen his friend since the battle of Shiloh, almost three years earlier. He had long thought that his friend was dead. “It will be good to see him again, sir,” he said.

  “One thing more, Captain,” said the General.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Despite how it appears, this operation is to look exactly like a well planned and well executed robbery,” said the general. “Do you understand?”

  If the truth were known Dixon did not understand. In fact he was deeply puzzled. “A robbery?” repeated the Captain. “But I thought you said that the gold would be waiting for me, and I merely had to collect it?”

  “Correct, Captain. I did say that. Nonetheless, it must look like a robbery,” the General replied. “Clear?”

  No it wasn’t clear, not at all, far from it. But it was clear that no further explanation would be forthcoming. “Yes sir, understood,” Dixon replied.

  “And uniforms are not to be worn,” the General added.

  “No uniforms,” repeated Dixon, even more puzzled.

  “That’s right, Captain. Civilian clothes only,” replied the General. “This is to look like a robbery remember, and we certainly don’t want the Confederate Army being blamed for it do we?”

  Dixon nodded in agreement. “No sir, we don’t.”

  * * *

  It was early morning by the time that Dixon and his men arrived at Burgos. The town was just beginning to wake up. Leaving his men just outside the town, Dixon had made his way to the back of the livery table, where two men waited as arranged.

  “Captain Dixon?” one of the men asked. “I am Miguel, and this is Juan. We are your guides.”

  “I’m Dixon. So what’s the plan?”

  “We need to be very careful Seńor,” Miguel explained, carefully looking around. He moved closer to Dixon. “The Federales, the police, they patrol looking I don’t know what for, maybe they hear things.”

  “And the French soldiers they are everywhere,” added Juan. “They are in control Seńor.”

  “Are they at the Depository?” asked Dixon.

  Miguel looked at his companion. Juan shook his head. “We don’t think so, not yet,” replied Miguel. “I have heard nothing, but we must still be careful.”

  “Where are the rest of your men?” Juan asked.

  “They are in a canyon a mile outside of town,” Di
xon replied.

  “That is good,” replied Miguel. “I know the place. You go back to them, and keep out of sight. We will join you later. It will take maybe three hours to reach Santa Ana. So we leave at ten o’clock tonight.”

  * * *

  Felipe Sanchez was one of three guards on duty that night. He was in charge, and was determined to impress his bosses. He had started his shift just before ten o’clock, and was looking forward to a coffee break in a little while. One more patrol and then he could take a well earned rest. Of course if Hosea had been there he could have had a break a lot sooner, but Hosea wasn’t there. Hosea had gone sick. Felipe shook his head, Hosea wasn’t sick. He was probably just lying drunk somewhere that would be nearer the truth.

  Whatever the reason Hosea would not be on duty tonight, so like it or not he would have to go on patrol alone. The sooner he went, the sooner it would be finished, and the sooner he would get his break. He strapped on his holster, took out the revolver, and spun the chamber. Satisfied that it was in order he replaced the gun into the holster. He then picked up an oil lantern, trimmed the wick, and lit it, and then hurried out.

  It was raining heavy and it was cold. He wrapped his coat tightly around his body, trying to keep warm. Over in the west lightning streaks lit the sky, and there was a rumble of thunder. He shivered and hurried on his way. He had been patrolling the grounds ever since the Depository had opened, all those years ago. There had never been the slightest hint of trouble. Was it all necessary? Or was it just a big waste of time? At least he was getting paid for it, so why should he worry.

  It was getting colder, and there was no let up in the rain. Felipe hurried on his way. The sooner this patrol was over the better. Then he could get back into the heat. A few minutes later he reached the main gate. Not much further now and the patrol would be completed. Then he thought that he saw something in the corner of his eye. A flashing light or maybe it was just the lightning, he couldn’t be sure. There it was again, it was a light, there in the woods. Someone was holding a lantern, and swaying it from side to side.

  Were they signaling? Who was it? And who were they contacting. He turned around and looked back at the Depository. Then he heard the sound of approaching riders. Wagon wheels turning, the rattle of the chained harnessing and horse’s hooves. He listened for a few more moments, and then called out to the other guards.