by Jay Heavner
After what seemed an eternity, he heard the voice on the cell phone ask, “Mr. Kenney, are you there?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m here,” he replied, shaking.
“That’s good,” the voice replied. “I was beginning to believe I lost you.”
Tom asked, “Why are you calling me?”
“As I said, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Several things, several things. You interest me, Mr. Kenney.” And with enthusiasm, the voice repeated, “You interest me. The gold, Mr. Kenney, the gold, Braddock’s Gold. The information on its location is in your head, and I want it, the gold that is, not your head.” Tom knew it would come back to that. Somewhere, it was buried deep in his mind, but the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that had troubled him since his days as a soldier in Vietnam had it locked away, hidden.
“I don’t know where it is,” said Tom.
“I believe you,” replied the voice, “but it is in your head nevertheless.”
“If I knew where it was, I would tell you.”
The voice replied, “Yes, I believe you would, and someday you will reveal the treasure to me.”
“Do you intend to hurt me again or kill me for that information?”
There was a slight pause, and then the voice spoke. “No, I believe you would have told me earlier when you thought I was going to end your life. I had to be sure. No, I will not hurt you.”
“Nor any member of my family?”
“I want the gold, nothing more. I will not hurt your family. There is enough suffering in this world.” Tom was relieved and surprised at the last part of the voice’s statement.
“Can I trust you? Tom asked.
“I let you live, didn’t I? Give me the information I need, and I will do no harm to you or your loved ones. As I said, Mr. Kenney, you interest me. One more question before we part. When you were losing consciousness, I thought I heard you whisper the words, ‘free at last.’ Is that what you said? What did you mean by ‘free at last’?”
Tom thought back to that moment. “Free at last?” Yes, he remembered. He thought he was dying. He would miss Joann and her daughter, he had come to love her like his own, and his sons also. But no one can choose the moment when they will die. He would be free from the pains of this world, the PTSD and the pain in his heart from his first wife Sarah’s death and his son’s suicide. He would be free. First, he would see Jesus waiting for him, and then he would be reunited with his family forever.
“Mr. Kenney, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here,” he said calmly. “You see, I’m a follower of Jesus Christ, a Christian. While I fear dying, I have no fear of death. There’s a better place waiting for me.” There was a pause from the other side of the phone.
“As I said, Mr. Kenney, you interest me. I will be in touch. And do not attempt to trace this call or any others from me. It is not possible, but if you do, I will know, and I will be disappointed. It’s not good to disappoint me. Goodbye, Mr. Kenney. Have a nice day.”
There was a short pause, and then the voice of the Benefactor continued, “Oh, I believe you need to feed your little maimed dog. He appears hungry.”
Tom heard the line disconnect with a click. Another cold chill went up his spine bigger than the first two. How did he know about the dog that was with him, “maimed” and “hungry?” Three-legged Tripod was definitely “maimed.” He could have acquired this information without too much difficulty, but how did he know the dog was with him now and that he was hungry? Was he being watched at this minute?
Carefully Tom looked around. To his west, Dans Rock on the Allegheny Front in Maryland rose a thousand feet above him, but it was 12 to 15 miles away. A person would have to have a very powerful telescope to see him from there. To the south, Tom could barely see a car going up Knobley Mountain on WV Route 956. It might be possible to see him from there, but he doubted it. To the north toward Cumberland, Maryland were several forested peaks of Knobley Mountain, but Tom could see no one. Towards the east on the horizon, about 15 miles away was Middle Ridge, but Tom wondered if anyone could see him from there. He doubted that, too. Close to him in the same direction was the mountain shaped like a dinosaur’s back known as Patterson Creek Ridge. It rose gently in the middle of its ten-mile length to a point appearing slightly higher than his present position. Though it was only four miles away as the crow flies, Tom felt it unlikely someone was watching him from there.
Lastly, he looked up, there were several contrails from jet planes that had passed, and he saw nor heard any small planes around, even though the Cumberland Municipal Airport was close, about 8 miles away. He scanned the sky thoroughly but saw only some crows. Could this “Benefactor” be watching him from a satellite? Tom thought. It was doubtful. He, if it was a he, would have to be a terribly powerful person. Perhaps that last line in the telephone conversation had just been meant to rattle him. If it was, the Benefactor had succeeded. Tom wondered to himself. It seemed unlikely he was being watched, but still, he wondered. Just who was he dealing with?
Chapter 3
A gentle breeze had begun to blow from the west. The leaves in their autumn colors turned and twisted in the wind. The dog at Tom’s feet stirred in his sleep. A gunshot rang out close. It came from the small valley, commonly called a hollow or “holler” in the Appalachian region. The dog rose with a start, looked in the direction of the sound, and growled. Tom spoke to the dog firmly, but with little volume. “Tripod, Quiet! Be still.” The dog whined once and became quiet.
Tom wondered who else was on his mountain and armed at that. Could it be this man, the Benefactor, or one of his underlings? With care, Tom crept behind a large rock, and his dog followed. Tom stealthily looked over the top of the rock in the direction of the shot. Through brush and brambles, a figure approached. As the person moved nearer, a flash of reflected sunlight came from the rifle barrel. Slowly, the figure came into view. It was Joann. Besides the gun, she carried a backpack.
Gently he called to her, “Jo?” She looked around. “Jo?” he called again, “Over here.” She turned her head toward the call and saw him.
“Hi, handsome. Ready for some lunch?”
“I’m starving. Why do you have the .22 rifle?”
“Tom, you said there was a bear up here.”
“You didn’t plan on killing him with that small thing?”
She replied, “No, just scare him if necessary.”
“Did you shoot at one?”
“No, I saw that groundhog that’s been eating my garden. He won’t bother us again. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason.”
“Tom, I know when you’re holding back.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you after we eat, okay?”
“Okay, let’s eat.”
Joann looked at Tom with some anticipation as they ate. “So, what’ve you been keeping me in suspense about?”
After a slight pause, Tom replied, “He called me.”
“Who?”
“The person who calls himself The Benefactor. He called me on my cell phone shortly after you called.”
“Oh, Tom, what did he want?”
“He said he wanted to talk.”
“To talk?” she said. “He called to talk?”
“Yeah, to talk. He wants the gold, Braddock’s gold. The answer’s in my head. He knows it. I know it, but I just can’t remember. I told him I’d tell him if and when I ever remember. And the funny thing is, he said he believed me. I asked him if he was threatening me or my family--he said “no” and even funnier was what came next. He said, “There’s enough suffering in this world.”
“Tom, that’s weird. Do you really think you can trust him?”
“That’s the strange part. I believe he was being honest with me. Not so sure on the trust part.” Joann listened intensely. Tom continued. “There’s more. He said I interested him.”
“You interest him? What did he mean by that?”
“I do
n’t know, but I’m sure I’ll hear from him again. Here was a pause between them. Tom looked at Joann, and their eyes met. “There’s more,” he said.
“More?” she asked.
“Yes, more. He reminded me of something I said as I lost consciousness when they were injecting me with the stuff they said would kill me. I was able to tell him of my faith in Jesus, how He’s my Lord and Savior, and he listened.” Joann was silent. She looked intensely at Tom. “There’s more,” he said.
“More? Still more?”
“Yes, I think he may be watching us right now.”
“What?”
“I don’t know how, maybe a satellite, maybe on a high hill or mountain around here.”
“What makes you think he’s watching us?”
“He said my little maimed dog looked hungry and I should feed him. How did he know about Tripod?”
“Tom, that’s creepy. I’ve got goosebumps on my arms.” She looked around in all four directions, both near and far. Joann shifted uneasily, “Anything more?”
“No, nothing more. I don’t know what to do but wait. The ball’s in his court. I’m sure he’ll make the next move. I’m fairly certain it’ll be a call, but it’ll be on his timing and at his convenience, not mine.”
Joann remained silent. She had taken all this in and was slowly digesting the information. With some apprehension, she asked, “So what are your plans for today?”
After a slight pause, Tom replied, “I believe I want to stay right here on my mountain and think. I need time to think.”
Joann looked at Tom. “Okay,” she said, “if that’s what you need to do, do it. I know you. You’ll ruminate on this and make it work out.” She paused. “Are you concerned about being watched?”
“Only a little. If he is watching me, he’ll get bored really quick. I need to stay here and think.”
“Well, I think I’m going to head for the house. You do your best thinking alone, and I have Saturday chores to do.” She stood, put the backpack on, carefully picked up the small rifle, put the strap over her head, and positioned it across her chest. Tom rose, drew close and kissed her on the lips.
“I love you,” he said.
“And I love you, too. When you get done thinking, come on down to the house. See you then. Take care.” She started through the old, overgrown field toward the primitive farm lane going down the mountain to home.
Tom’s eyes followed her as she grew smaller and then disappeared. He looked down at the three-legged dog and said, “Well, it’s just you and me left now Tripod. Don’t you want to go with Momma?” The dog wagged his tail and gave a little doggie smile. He grunted a little “wolf” call from his throat and laid down in the grass next to Tom. “So, it’ll be just you and me.” Tom bent over and petted the dog on his head. “Good dog. Seems like you know what I need.”
Tom sat down on an old log. There was much to think about. How had his life gotten to this point? What had made him what he was today? Where would it go from here? Of this, he was sure whether he realized it or not, God was there looking out for him. He had much to ponder.
Chapter 4
It was a beautiful, sunny day in the nation’s capital, Washington, D. C., autumn of 1973. The Vice President of the United States looked smugly out the window at Blair House and thought how he was driving the liberal media crazy. He’d become a household word for vehemently denouncing the news broadcasters as biased and unelected elitists. Their virtual monopoly needed more regulation. The Silent Majority was demanding it, and he had big plans. When the president finished his second term, he’d be a shoo-in for his party’s nomination for President. Who would have ever thought he, the son of immigrants with a long and agonizing ethnic name, could rise this far and fast? He loved to tear into the liberal media’s “masochistic compulsions,” he said destroyed the nation’s strength. His political star would rise all the way to the top.
The red phone on his desk rang. That phone never rang unless it was very important, but who could it be? He picked up the receiver and said glibly, “This is the Vice President of the United States. Whom am I speaking to?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vice President,” said the cold and robot-like mechanical voice. “We need to talk now.”
The Vice President’s mouth dropped open. “How did you get this number? You shouldn’t be calling me here. What do you want?”
“First, the good news. Congratulations on your success driving the pompous press insane. It needed to be said. They are entirely too full of themselves and their own importance.”
The Vice President’s gruff expression melted into a self-satisfied smile.
The mechanical voice on the other end continued, “But we have a problem, and you created it. I am very disappointed in you after all I have done for you over the years. And you know, I do not take disappointment well.”
“I told you. We can’t be talking here. This line’s monitored.”
“Today, I know it is not, and we have much to discuss concerning your future.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I won’t have it.”
“You will listen and shut up. I made you, but you became greedy, and that is not a good thing. You were just a struggling want-to-be politician going nowhere when I found you in Baltimore. Remember all the favors I provided over the years? The money? The insider advice? The endorsements in the papers when no one knew who you were? Who do you think orchestrated the split in the rival party so you could win your first election? Who do you think was the unseen hand which guided your path from mayor to county executives and later governor? Who do you think made certain you came to the attention of the national delegates at the party’s conventions and then became the Vice Presidential candidate? I was very pleased with you until I found you became greedy.”
“Now see here, you have no right,” but he was cut off.
“I said, be quiet, Ted. You became greedy. I know skimming and kickbacks are a regular part of the political environment, but instead of getting wealthy a little at a time and running under the radar, you were not careful. You disappoint me. I know such activity is a common practice in Maryland, but there is an unusual problem. Your second-in-command kept verbatim records of your meetings.You may not have seen this as shakedowns, but as just going back to get support from those your administration benefited. The U. S. Attorney in Maryland has been investigating the contributions, and your second-in-command gave him these records with the understanding he will not be indicted as a reward for his cooperation. What do you say to all this, Ted?”
He reacted with aggressive defense and dug in his heels. “I will not resign if I am indicted!”
“Ted, as I see it, you have three choices. Number 1, you can go down fighting like Custer, but there won’t be any national parks or towns named for you after you are gone. You will be lucky to get a sewage lagoon with your name on it. Number 2, I have arranged a fix. You could plead nolo contendere, no contest, to the charges, and pay back taxes. If you do this and it is my recommendation that you do, you will receive a suspended sentence and a $10,000 fine. Oh, and you must resign as Vice President.”
“I’m not liking this at all, none of it,” the Vice President.
The voice continued, “With Number 2, you will remain free and be able to have time with your children and grandchildren. Do you want them to visit you in prison, even one that looks like a country club?” He paused for effect. “Or Number 3. I know you keep a .32 caliber revolver in the desk where you sit. You could put the barrel in your mouth and end it all. What do you say? I believe number 2 would be your best option, but the choice is up to you. Just remember, none of this will ever come back to me. If any, and I mean the least little bit, points back to me, you will regret not taking the proper choice, but it is your choice, so choose wisely.”
“You’ve always had a way with words. I don’t like any of the three choices, but I guess, as they say, I’m between a rock and a hard place. I need to think about this. Can I have t
ill tomorrow?”
“Certainly, a decision such as this should not be done hastily. You have till tomorrow, but I ask one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Assuming you don’t take number 3 when we hang up, I want to be the first to know. This would be a great scoop for the newspapers and TV networks I own. Again, I recommend number 2. You will be able to escape with some of your honor intact. Think about it and pick wisely. You and your family’s future depend upon it.”
A chill went down the Vice President’s back. He might fight it out if it was just his neck, but he thought he detected a veiled threat from the other man. “Alright, I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“You see, I am a reasonable man, as are you. I will contact you tomorrow, and you will give me your answer. It has been a pleasure speaking with you today. Do enjoy the rest of it.”
The line went dead, and the Vice President sat alone in his plush, official office. Somehow it now felt bare and cold. He had three choices; there were no more, and he had till tomorrow. He knew the decision the other man wanted him to take, and he knew it was not wise to disappoint The Voice. It was just not healthy.
Chapter 5
Tom sat on the porch after a hard day of work. The last few days were especially tough. After one of his drivers quit at the end of a shift, Tom was back on a route until they had a replacement. He could not blame the young man too much. Jerry desired to go into the Army. When an opening in the field he wanted came up, it was now or never, and he jumped at the opportunity. Tom knew he would have done the same. Many a young person in this area used the military as their ticket out, but it left the company in a bind being a driver short, so Tom had to step in and pick up the slack. His arms and back ached. Bottled water was heavy and hard work. At times like this, he wished he was in the potato chip business instead, but he wasn’t.
Overall, he had done well. Though he may not get rich, the bills were paid, and slowly but steadily, a healthy surplus was building up. His bottled water business prospered. “God,” he prayed, “never let me get to the point where I keep wanting more and more just for the sake of having more and more. Help me to remember it all comes from You.