Laura nodded, appreciating the ingenuity. She flipped over the medallion. “And this side?”
The old man pulled a large coin from his pocket, placing it on the anvil. “I use this to size it.” He grabbed a piece of tin from the pile, placing it over the coin, then hammered down on it several times with the mallet. The pliable metal quickly took the shape of the coin, the hammer soon tossed aside, tinsnips cutting around the circular indentation. He handed it over, shoving the coin in his pocket. “Careful, it’s still sharp.”
Laura flipped it over, everyone gathering around, Acton exchanging an excited grin with his wife. There was no doubt. It matched her medallion exactly.
And the photos from the Smithsonian’s staff website.
He gestured to Bongani’s pocket. “May I see the coin?”
Bongani shrugged, handing it over. Acton held it up to a shaft of light piercing the old roof overhead. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
Gorman’s eyes were wide. “I think so!”
Acton looked at the others, his heart pounding. “My God, could we have just found the missing Kruger Gold?”
19
Outside Belfast, South African Republic
May 3rd, 1900
It was suffocating, and it was definitely disgraceful, the shame of it overwhelming. Voorneveld was tempted to shove the corpse of his friend and commanding officer off him, and confront the British soldiers picking through the bodies of his men, searching for prisoners. Yet he resisted.
On any other day, he would have gone down fighting.
Though not today.
Today he had to somehow survive.
His men had fought bravely, but they were overwhelmingly outnumbered, yet despite that, he was certain they had taken four or five of the enemy for every one of them. They could have surrendered, they could have survived, but they all knew the secret they possessed had to be preserved, or their nation’s future would be lost.
In the final moments of the battle, he had hidden under his friend, hoping to survive the encounter so he could return to Pretoria and inform Command of where the gold was hidden. He was willing to die—it was something he didn’t fear—yet no one but he knew where the gold was hidden beyond a simple though loyal farmer, who could die tomorrow should the British suspect anything.
“There’s two more over here.”
He took a deep breath, preparing for what was to come, trying to relax every muscle in his body as he lay on his stomach, face in the dirt, praying they wouldn’t pay him any mind. His pistol was tucked under him, gripped in his hand and ready to fire, though not at the British scum, its bullet reserved for himself, there no way he would be taken alive, no way he’d be forced to give up the country’s most important secret.
He felt his friend’s body roll off his back, slapping unceremoniously on the ground beside him.
“Bloody hell, this one’s head is almost gone.”
“Check the other one. I don’t see a wound.”
He was grabbed by the shoulder and flipped over, but he didn’t move a muscle, the blood and dirt he had smeared over his face hopefully enough to disguise the fact he was probably turning red from holding his breath.
“Hey, look, he’s still holding his gun.”
“Take it.”
He heard the soldier moving, then exhaled with a grunt as what must have been a knee shoved into his stomach.
“Bloody hell, he’s alive!”
The pressure was relieved as the soldier jumped back, Voorneveld opening his eyes, several guns pointed directly at him.
“Don’t shoot him, we need prisoners otherwise we’ll never find where they hid it.”
And at that moment Voorneveld realized his suspicions had been right all along. They had been betrayed. By whom, it didn’t matter, though the fact it had happened was now obvious.
And his duty was clear.
He glared at the British officer, then a sense of calm swept over him. He smiled, eliciting confusion from his would-be captors. He whipped the gun from his chest and pressed it against his temple.
“For my home.”
20
Erasmus Farm
Outside Belfast, South Africa
Present Day
Acton held up the coin. “Are there more of these?”
Bongani shrugged. “Don’t know.” His eyes narrowed. “You said Kruger Gold. I’ve heard of that. Is it valuable?”
Acton smiled. “In the right hands.”
“You mean yours.”
“Frankly, yes. We’re teachers, not treasure hunters. If you help us, I’ll personally make sure you’re rewarded.” Acton tilted his head toward Florence. “You’ll be able to take care of your family. Forever.”
Bongani’s eyes widened.
“Where did you find it?” asked Laura, Acton sensing she was trying to hide her excitement. And failing miserably.
“On the farm.”
Everyone exchanged glances. Acton held out an arm, pointing toward the door. “Show us where!”
Bongani shook his head. “I have to fix the tractor first. It’s more important.”
“But—”
He peeled off his shirt and tossed it back on the bench. “If I don’t get it working, then we have to do everything by hand. Many sore backs.” He gestured for them to leave. “Don’t worry, when my work is over, I’ll show you. It’s not going anywhere. A few more hours won’t change that.”
Acton suppressed his frustration, forcing a smile. He bowed slightly. “You’re right of course. Your job must come first.” He motioned for the others to leave. “We’ll leave you to your work.”
Bongani grunted, diving under the tractor once again, Florence appearing aghast at what had happened, her eyes conveying her apologies to Acton and Laura. Laura put an arm around her as they left the barn.
“I’m so sorry. Once he starts working on something, he never wants to stop.”
Laura squeezed the young woman’s shoulders. “It’s okay, we’re patient people. And your father is right. His job must come first. How about we go have that lemonade?”
“Oh, I, umm, shouldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Hello!” called Marius from the veranda that graced the entire front of the farmhouse, his wife appearing with a tray containing a large pitcher and several glasses. Acton waved at him with a smile, turning back to Florence, understanding exactly why she wouldn’t want to sit with her father’s boss.
“Would you like Sipho to take you home, or back to your store?”
She nodded, though turned away slightly, clearly ashamed to ask for any favors. Acton looked at Sipho who smiled eagerly.
“Mr. Professor, sir, I can drop her off, then if I may, might I take the opportunity to visit my brother? He lives near here and I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
Acton smiled as they reached the veranda, the problem solved. “Absolutely. Drop her off wherever she wants, visit your brother, then come pick us up.” He turned to the farmer. “That is, of course, if you don’t mind.”
The old farmer brushed off the suggestion he might. “Of course! You can keep us company. Like I said, we rarely get visitors.”
Sipho grinned, heading quickly for the Toyota with Florence as those that remained took seats on the veranda, Acton giving everyone a slight look to make sure they understood nothing was to be said.
It was unnecessary.
Introductions were made once again for the benefit of Marius’ wife, Rina, then lemonade was poured, thirsts quenched, Acton letting out a satisfied sigh after his first large gulp. “Delicious.”
Rina beamed. “Thank you. Old family recipe.” She put down her glass. “So you’re all professors?”
Angeline shook her head. “I’m not, but the rest of them are.” She smiled. “Can’t say I ever took enough of a liking to school to stay any longer than I had to.” She took a sip. “I met Gorman when I was seventeen, and we’ve been together ever since. I stayed home to raise our five
children.”
“Five! That’s a handful!”
Angeline agreed with a contented smile. “Definitely.” She glanced at the large house then at Rina. “Do you have children?”
Rina frowned, her husband reaching out and taking her hand. “I…”
“We weren’t able to have children,” finished Marius.
Angeline was aghast. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Nonsense!” cried Marius. “How could you have known? And it’s a perfectly reasonable question. Besides, we have lots of nieces and nephews that we’re close to, and they bring their children around now, so we get to spoil them.”
“That’s good.” Acton put his already half-empty glass down. “Family is important.” He reached out and squeezed Laura’s hand. “We can’t have children either.”
“You poor dear.” Rina patted Laura on the arm. “Don’t you worry, you’ll get used to the idea and find other ways to fill your life.”
Laura’s eyes glistened and she nodded, saying nothing. Acton squeezed her hand tighter, both still getting used to the idea that they’d never have children of their own. But Rina was right, there were other ways to fill their lives, and for now, it was their careers and the students that came with that.
They’d be fine.
It would just take time.
Gorman apparently sensed a need to change the subject. He held up his glass. “This is excellent. You can tell you have a practiced hand.”
Rina smiled. “Thank you. More?”
Gorman nodded, Rina quickly refilling his glass. He pointed at a tin sign over the front door, Acton turning, noticing it for the first time. “Swart. That sounds familiar. Where do I know it from?”
Marius smiled. “It depends on how well you know your Boer War.”
Acton’s eyebrows leaped as he leaned forward. “We’re all professors of archaeology and history here. I think you just got our attention.”
Marius laughed. “Well, let me tell you a story.”
21
Outside Belfast, South African Republic
May 3rd, 1900
Boet Swart climbed down from his horse at the end of the long dirt road that led to his farm, the crossroads now a horror. Should he ever need to picture what Hades must be, he was now privy to the imagery, a repulsive sight he had little doubt he’d ever forget.
He eyed the horizon warily, no one in sight, as he quickly checked the faces of the fallen commandos, his chest tightening as he recognized those who had arrived at his farm earlier in the day. He paused as he spotted the young veldkornet leading the small team that had buried the state’s gold on his property. He removed his hat, placing it over his heart as he said a silent prayer for the man’s soul, it clear he had taken his own life.
Forgive him, Lord, for he did it not for selfish reasons, but for the greater good.
He climbed back on his horse, wondering what he should do, it evident no one in Pretoria knew where the gold was now hidden, the secret entrusted to his family only hours before, taking on a critical new nature.
A horse whinnied in the distance and he spun in his saddle, cursing as half a dozen British soldiers cleared the rise. He turned his horse, urging it back toward the farm, hoping he hadn’t been seen, but a frantic glance over his shoulder had his heart pounding, they clearly in pursuit. As he jumped the short fence at the front of the property, he shouted to the workers in the fields to run. Confused, their questions were all answered when they spotted the British. Screams erupted and the dozens of innocent souls dropped their implements, rushing in the opposite direction, his daughters and wife running into the farmhouse as he arrived. They emerged moments later, all armed, his eldest, Mitzi, tossing him a rifle as he smacked his horse’s hindquarters, sending it toward the barn.
He turned to his family. “Inside, now!”
They obeyed, the door closing behind them as he turned to face the arriving British, his gun held casually at his side, available to him with a quick pop of his forearm.
“Lower your weapon!”
Swart glanced down at it. “It is lowered.”
The officer in charge, too young for such an honor in Swart’s opinion, glared at him as all six horses lined up neatly. “You dare defy an officer of the British Empire?”
“I’m not defying anyone. I’m on my farm, my property. How may I assist you?”
“Why did you run?”
Swart shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?”
“Where do your loyalties lie?” The question was asked as if there was only one correct answer.
“To God.”
“Not your Queen?”
“As far as I’m aware, the South African Republic has no queen.”
A sneer emerged on the soldier’s face. “So you acknowledge you are a combatant, an enemy of the Empire.”
Swart shook his head, raising his forearm slightly. “I said no such thing. I am a farmer, a husband, and a father. I take no sides in this battle between your queen and Oom Paul Kruger. When this is all finished with, and you have won, or he has won, my farm will remain. Should I be left alone until then, I will reap what I sow, sell it to the highest bidder, and continue on with my life, never having fired a shot in a war that does not concern me.”
The officer keyed off something he said, rising in his saddle and turning toward the fields filled with crops ready to harvest. He sat back down. “Burn it.”
Smiles spread across the soldiers’ faces as Swart stepped forward. “No! You can’t! I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“You’re Boer scum who aimed a weapon at Her Majesty’s forces. You’re lucky I don’t have you all lined up and shot!”
A torch was lit then used to light several others as Swart slowly backed away, his forearm rising a little more.
“I suggest you get your family out of your house while you can.”
Swart turned his back on the soldiers, his eyes sweeping from left to right across the veranda, spotting the shadow of his wife standing to the side of one of the windows, his daughters at the others.
And knew what he had to do.
He had to protect his family’s future, like those brave commandos had protected their nation’s.
He spun, firing his rifle, blasting the smug officer off his perch, then tossed it aside as he pulled the revolver from his belt. The windows on either side burst open, the brave women of his family opening fire on the remaining soldiers, the British dropping within seconds, only one avoiding a hit in the initial volley. He spun his horse around and urged it forward as a rifle was tossed through the window to Swart who caught it, taking careful aim.
He fired.
And the last of those who would have destroyed all his family had worked for generations to create, fell to the lead of his rifle.
Swart strode from the veranda, his wife and daughters stepping through the door, and checked for survivors. The officer moaned and Swart stood beside him, aiming his pistol at the man’s head.
“You’ll pay for this.”
Swart frowned. “I already have. With my soul.” He squeezed the trigger.
Sealing his fate.
22
Erasmus Farm
Outside Belfast, South Africa
Present Day
Marius pointed to the end of the long drive. “A famous battle, at least among the locals and treasure hunters, took place at the end of that road.”
Acton played only slightly dumb. “Treasure hunters? As in Kruger’s Gold?”
Marius’ head bobbed, apparently impressed. “Exactly. I see you know your history.”
Acton grinned. “I know my Lethal Weapon movies.”
Marius stared at him, puzzled for a moment, before he made the connection, tossing his head back and delivering a robust belly laugh. “Yes, yes, of course. Lethal Weapon Two was a good laugh.”
“Where’s the pool?” said Rina in her best Mel Gibson voice.
“No pool. This house is built on stilts!”
Everyone laughed, Acton making a mental note to have a Lethal Weapon marathon when they got back home, and toss in Get the Gringo for good measure.
Marius calmed himself, taking a sip of his lemonade. “But, as a good historian, you should know that those were Krugerrands, which are different than the Kruger Gold.”
Acton nodded. “Yes, of course. Krugerrands were minted starting in the sixties, weren’t they? Named after Paul Kruger, but not related to the gold actually ordered moved by him during the Second Boer War.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re saying that something happened here on this farm, something related to the missing Kruger Gold?”
Marius beamed as if he were responsible for the entire event. “Yes! The rumor is that the gold came through here, but they were ambushed.” He pointed to the road. “Down there, at the crossroads. Some escaped, buried the gold, then returned to help their comrades. They all died, so no one knew where they had buried it.”
Acton knew the story of how the gold had been lost, and also realized it was in this general vicinity, as in knowing that the Battle of Gettysburg took place in Pennsylvania. He had no idea they were a mile from the battle. “Very interesting.”
“Bah, that’s nothing. Here’s the interesting part. My grandmother, on her deathbed, said something to my father that I will never forget. She said that the stories of the buried gold were true, and that it had been buried here, on this very farm.”
Acton’s heart raced and he resisted the urge to share the excitement with the others lest their real reason for being there be revealed. “I assume your father looked.”
Marius shook his head. “No, it was the ramblings of an old woman whose faculties had long since left her. She also claimed they moved the gold after she killed some British soldiers during the war. She said they buried the bodies in the same hole where the gold had been.” He sighed. “I hope they find a cure for dementia one of these days. No one should have to go like that.” He patted his wife’s leg. “I’ve told Rina to shoot me if I ever get that way.”
Wages of Sin (A James Acton Thriller, #17) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 5