by G. R. Cody
“Thanks John,” Eve said sincerely, even though she was not thrilled with getting back on another plane so soon.
“You must be exhausted, Eve,” John said in a softer voice. “I tell you what. I’ll have the section chief set you up in a hotel tonight and tomorrow and get you on a flight for Thursday morning to Helena. That way you can take some time to shop, and get some rest before you head out. It will probably take a day or so for him to get everything set up and for me to coordinate with my contact in Montana. Does that sound okay?”
“Sure,” Eve said. “Thanks, I appreciate it. This last week has been hell.”
“Welcome to the FBI, Miss Pemberton,” John said. “Regretting all those comments about being stuck in some stogy old basement in London 24/7? Careful what you wish for. I’ll have the section chief come get you and square you away with the clothes and hotel, and he and I will coordinate your travel itinerary and have it delivered to the hotel. And by the way, where is your sidearm?”
“I couldn’t travel with it to the States,” Eve answered, “so I left it at my apartment in Marylebone.”
“Well, I can’t have you getting on a plane with a firearm and expect to keep eyes off you,” John said, “So I’ll see what I can do about getting you one when you land in Helena. Details will be in the agenda that the section chief will send over to your hotel. Good to see how you handled things, Eve. I’m impressed. Good luck, Eve.”
The screen went black, and Eve closed the laptop. She waited for a moment until the section chief and Agent Jergenson came in, gave her a new iPhone and a corporate AMEX card and directions to his tailor, who he said he would contact after she left, and gave her the address to the InterContinental Hotel which he said was just down the street, and told her to expect the itinerary and ID to be delivered to the hotel by around noon the next day.
Then, Agent Jergenson walked Eve back downstairs to an awaiting cab.
Suddenly, Eve remembered the Woody.
“Agent Jergenson…” Eve said before she got into the cab.
“Call me Cathy,” she interrupted, smiling and handed her a business card.
“Can you make sure that the Jeep over there…” Eve said, pointing across the parking lot and dug into her camera bag and extracted the keys, handing them over to Cathy, “…gets back to its owner, Mrs. Witherspoon? She is up the coast in Stienhatchee, Florida. Her address should be in the glove box on the registration, but if not, please call me and let me know and I’ll get the address for you. And please have them check the oil about halfway there.”
“Of course,” Cathy replied, smiling, “Now, get some rest. I hear you have a long flight to look forward to.”
“Yes, thanks,” Eve said as she climbed into the cab, put her camera bag in the seat next to her, and shut the door. Eve closed her eyes, and within ten minutes, she was being awakened by her door being opened by a porter at the InterContinental Hotel.
CHAPTER 16
“Felix?” the gruff voice exclaimed into his ear. “It’s been ages! How is retirement treating you?”
“You won’t believe it, Stuart,” Felix responded to his old friend from his Midshipman days, “I’ve taken up golf.”
“Your right!” Colonel Stuart Garrsion said with unbridled disbelief, “I don’t believe it!”
“Your one to talk, Professor,” Felix chided him on the ten years Stuart had taught naval strategy at West Point.
“Too true, Felix. Too true,” Stuart supplicated in a long breath, “But what else is an old war horse supposed to do in this age of drones and intellectual warfare. So, what’s an old friend doing calling me and rousing me from grading midterms.”
“Well, Stuart,” Felix began, “I’m actually working with Treasury on a small consulting project. They have asked me to audit security at the mints. It shouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours tomorrow morning, and I was hoping you would be free to meet and catch up a bit.”
“Absolutely, Felix. I’d love to,” Colonel Garrision responded. “In fact, speaking of golf, the West Point course is next to the mint. If you brought your clubs, I could get us on for an afternoon round, then have an early supper in the clubhouse?”
“That would be great, Stuart,” Felix responded, who was glancing at the Google Maps image of the West Point Mint and the adjoining golf course on his laptop. “I’ll be arriving in West Point this evening. What time?”
“I’ll get us a tee time around 12:30,” the Colonel said. “So, say noon?”
“Look forward to it, Stuart. See you tomorrow, and bring some pocket change.”
Felix heard Colonel Garrison chuckle slightly as he disconnected the phone line. Felix looked again at the two dozen or so text messages from Arthur that were still unopened in his inbox. He estimated he had about 36 more hours before he would have to let Arthur know something, but he needed to not only give himself time to arrive in New York, but he felt he needed to let the trail to Eve grow a bit colder. Arthur’s actions over the past few days had only served to obfuscate what Arthur’s intentions were, and on whose behalf he was acting.
It would still be about 15 minutes before his flight out of Tallahassee, so he Googled sporting supply stores near Newark. He’d need a full set of clubs, clothes and shoes. He found a PGA Tour Superstore on the way up just outside Paramus.
Felix had been on the phone earlier in the morning with Treasury, and it seemed as if his fears that he had been identified and linked with the shootings at Hartsfield were misplaced. He reported that he was on to a lead in West Point, but otherwise he was vague in his report, but promised a full briefing once he had interviewed Mint officials there. And he mentioned nothing about his roundtrip to Puerto Rico and Florida. Since MI6 had coordinated the travel to Puerto Rico, he had no reason to suspect that Treasury would have any knowledge of his travels.
Confident that his cover was still intact, Felix purchased a ticket to Newark and scheduled for a rental car once he arrived for the roughly one and a half hour drive to West Point. Felix closed his laptop and put it back into his carrying case. He found a vendor where he could get a Red Bull, and by the time he had arrived at the gate, boarding had begun. If things went smoothly, he would be in West Point by seven that evening.
The next morning, Felix woke up early. He called for the hotel valet to deliver his suit, shirt and shoes that he had left the evening before to be cleaned and pressed, and packed the small travel bag he had purchased in the hotel gift shop with his golfing clothes. Once showered, Felix saw that the valet had left his suit in the front closet. Once dressed, Felix called for his rental car to be brought around and for his bag and new golf clubs to be fetched.
Felix arrived at the West Point Mint just after 9:30AM, and he was escorted to the U.S. Mint Police offices, where he was introduced to Captain Douglas Roundtree. Captain Roundtree seemed be hiding his inconvenience at a surprise inspection of his facility’s security after such a brief period of time since the last very unconvincingly, but after about 30 minutes of waiting for Felix’s credentials to clear, Captain Roundtree led Felix on a tour of the facility.
Captain Roundtree showed Felix to their secure shipping and receiving area, then to the subterranean vaults, where Felix pretended to make notes and asked questions that would not further exacerbate Captain Roundtree’s mood. After that, Captain Roundtree led Felix to the smelting area, where Felix saw several large smelting vats.
“So, I understand that this mint is exclusively used for gold, is that correct?” Felix inquired of Captain Roundtree.
“Everything we produce is gold, yes,” Captain Roundtree explained. “Gold commemoratives, bullion for the Treasury reserves and the like. And we also mint medals, like the Medal of Honor. But we deal in other metals as well as part of the process.”
“What do you mean,” Felix asked.
“Well, as I’m sure you know,” Captain Roundtree said a bit proudly, showing off his knowledge, “Not all coins are wholly comprised of one metal. Many, like pen
nies and quarters, are mostly a cheaper metal, like nickel or brass, and are plated with a thin coat of the more valuable metal. In more recent years, if you made a penny out of pure copper, it would cost you about 3 ½ cents just to buy the copper, let alone the cost of labor, shipping, etc.
“Granted, gold bullion and gold eagles are pure gold,” he said, as they walked across the smelting floor, which was deserted and inactive. “But things like the medals are plated. We plated all of the medals for the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta and Lake Placid back in 1980. We have a plating area as well, through here.”
Captain Roundtree led Felix through a door which opened up into another similar area the size of a large warehouse with slick, cement floors. About half a dozen large above ground metal pools towered about twenty feet in the air, and Felix followed Captain Roundtree up a metal staircase along the wall of the room to a catwalk that led to the tops of each of the pools. As they reached the top of the staircase, Felix could see that they were all full of liquid that looked like Kool Ade, some purple, some dark blue and some ruby red, all of which were gently being stirred from inside the bottom of the pools.
“Each one of these pools contains gold in an aqueous solution,” Captain Roundtree explained. “When we have coins or metals that are to be plated, they come here and depending on the nature of the base metal, they are plated in the appropriate vat.”
“Why the different colors?” Felix asked.
“In order to maintain the gold in an ionized state and the gold molecules apart from one another in the water solution,” Captain Roundtree explained, “an additive is added that binds itself to the gold molecules, coating them, so that they are not attracted to proximate gold molecules. The color of the solutions is determined by the size of the gold molecule clumps that are separated, and the size is determined by the additive introduced. Some base metals are best with some solutions, others with others.
“When coins in their base metal state are ready, they are introduced to the appropriate solution in one half of the vat,” Captain Roundtree continued. “Then, two ionized poles are introduced to the solution, which separates the gold molecules from the additives. The pole that is introduced to the side with the coins or metals attracts the gold molecules, and thus the coins are plated with gold molecules.”
“Fascinating!” Felix said. “That looks like a lot of solution.”
“Well, it’s not as much gold as you would think,” Captain Roundtree commented, “But we keep it in its aqueous solution form because we lose a small amount of gold every time we deionize it.”
Captain Roundtree led Felix down the stairs and they retraced their steps back to Captain Roundtree’s office. Felix assured Captain Roundtree that his report would be very favorable, and Captain Roundtree led Felix back to the entrance. As Felix shook hands with Captain Roundtree and turned to leave, Felix turned back.
“Captain Roundtree,” Felix said, “Just one more question.”
“”Yes?” the Captain asked.
“Just curious,” Felix said, “Do you ever transport gold in molten state?”
“No. Not really possible,” Captain Roundtree said with a little chuckle, “In order to keep it in its molten state, it would have to maintain very high temperatures during the transport. Even if we could transport it in, say, a highly heated truck, the DOT would never let us on the roads. Could you imagine if a truck like that were to have an accident?”
“I suppose that was a silly question,” Felix said, laughing. “Thanks for your time, Captain. I better get moving. I have a flight out to the Denver Mint this evening.”
Felix walked out of the Mint building to the parking lot, and glanced left to the far end, where he counted the twenty three water transport semi-trucks he had noticed when he arrived. Then he glanced down at his watch. He only had 15 minutes before he was to meet Stuart at the golf course.
Felix drove his car around the corner to the golf course pro shop. A caddy gathered his golf bag from the truck, and a porter took his keys. Felix grabbed his overnight bag, and Stuart was in the pro shop awaiting his arrival.
“Felix, how have you been,” Colonel Garrison exclaimed, hugging Felix and clapping him on the back, “Glad you called me. I needed a day outside.”
Felix was also glad to get some exercise in. He had forgotten how exhausting being cramped up in planes and sleeping in a different bed every night was. The weather was perfect and the temperature had to be in the low 70s.
Felix’s mind, however, was still on alert. Although the tour inside the Mint hadn’t yielded anything suspicious, the presence of so many liquid hauling trucks had garnered his attention. For the four hours he and Stuart golfed, he didn’t see any of them move, or anyone go to them. However, he had learned from his caddy when Stuart was retrieving lost balls that their presence seemed to be new. His caddy had been at the West Point golf course for over ten years, and until a few months ago, he had only ever seen armored trucks coming in and going out. He also relayed that he had never seen them move. They would be there for a time, and then the next morning they would be gone and would return days later.
Felix wondered whether his hunch was right, that the stolen gold had been shipped here, melted down, reduced to an aqueous solution, and then shipped out in these semis. If he was right, and based on the levels of solution that he had witnessed inside the Mint, he supposed that a shipment was close at hand out of the Mint. He also guessed that they were filling the semis under cover of night.
Once they had completed their round, Felix and Stuart sat at dinner on the patio of the golf club. Felix had selected the table, as it looked out over the ninth green and, just beyond, he could see the Mint. After reminiscing about shared experiences, the state of politics and getting older, some luck struck. It was late evening and he and Stuart were finishing an after dinner drink, and Felix saw three vans enter into the Mint parking lot and saddle up near the semis. A handful of men meandered out of the vans, and eventually all of them climbed into the cab of each of the semis.
“Well, Felix,” Stuart said, “I am off. Duty calls. I still have many papers to grade.”
Felix and Stuart rose, and Felix said, “Stuart, it was great seeing you, and thanks for the round. I am enjoying the weather, and I don’t have anywhere to be. Would it be okay if I stayed a bit longer?”
“Absolutely, and have a glass of wine or dessert if you like,” the Colonel said. “I’ll just tell the waiter to add it to my tab. Let’s try to do this again, and with less time in between.”
With that, they hugged, and Colonel Garrison made his exit. Felix sat back down and kept his eye on the semis. By this time, about half of them had left the Mint loading dock and were idling at the entrance, evidently awaiting the remainder to leave together. The sun was just about to set, and Felix ordered a cup of coffee, which he estimated he would have just enough time to finish before he would need to get in his car to follow them, wherever it was they were headed.
CHAPTER 17
Eve had only been waiting for about fifteen minutes when she heard the rumbling of an old truck engine. The sun was very bright outside the terminal; Eve put on her sunglasses. She could feel the thin in the air in her lungs due to the altitude, and it was a bit cool. The flat terrain was disconcerting to Eve, and she felt slightly dizzy. She was used to seeing trees or buildings on all sides, not a clear view of the horizon. She realized now why this was called Big Sky Country. She sat on a bench with her bag at the passenger loading and unloading area. As she waited, she thought about how much her life had changed in the past five years.
Eve had kept her training straight out of college with the FBI a secret from everyone, even her father. She had been recruited while in college, and when she was tested, she was the highest scorer from her university. She had been placed at CNC so that she was on the front lines of information gathering, and her permanent assignment in London was supposed to be the position where she proved her worth, which she did with John Switzer quick
ly after her arrival in London. As a new recruit, she was expected to handle those cases that no one else wanted, the problem cases. But Eve dedicated herself to them, and made significant progress on most all of them, garnering her John’s respect.
“Hi,” the man held out a calloused hand, and Eve shook it, “My name is William Cobell. You can call me Billy. John asked me to pick you up. Can I help you with those?”
Eve’s eyes popped open and viewed Billy. He was about her height, very fit and muscular, and his red skin was dark and wrinkled, but he couldn’t have been more than 40. He wore jean overalls and a camouflage shirt, and his thick, black hair was tied into a long ponytail. Eve allowed Billy to take her suitcase.
Billy opened the door of a light blue Ford pickup truck which looked older than she was. Eve stepped up into the cab with her camera bag while Billy threw her suitcase into the back.