“Sand is made of silicate. It’s the prime ingredient of beach sand.”
“And?”
“Under the right circumstances it gets into wood and literally petrifies it. Silicate is probably what has preserved the wood.”
The lady was a fount of knowledge.
After five boxes we huddled together, high-fiving and slapping each other on the back. The two drivers must have thought we were crazy.
“Guys, here’s my new idea.”
Her original idea had been a winner, so we were eager to hear the latest.
“Let’s have Hank fill in the holes with fresh sand. I’m simply going to tell Diego that we had to push the sculpture back one night. Something came up and we need another evening.”
I pointed to the truck, loaded now with five identical wood containers, metal banding strapping the lids on tight. “But we’ve already got five of them in the truck. Why not go for-”
Softly, she said. “We’re not sure what’s in those boxes. And we can’t be sure until we get to a more private location. We’re taking them to this warehouse that I rent and we’ll see if we’re on the right track.”
The evening air had cooled, and Em shivered. I put my arm around her, and looked at James.
“Sure. Maybe we’ve pushed our luck enough for one night.”
No one had bothered us. No one had come to watch the two sculptors at their task. Thank God.
“Then it’s agreed? We’ve gotten this far, let’s not tempt fate.”
Everyone nodded their heads as our two drivers stood off to the side.
“If we have success,”-even in the dark I could see the gleam in Maria’s eye-“we will ask to come back tomorrow night. I don’t think your banker will argue about spending the money for one more evening of digging.”
“Damn,” James whispered. “This is so much worse than waiting for Christmas.”
James, Em, and I headed for our box truck. Maria got into the dump truck to give the driver directions and to make sure that he followed them. Right now we couldn’t trust anyone.
Our guy with the backhoe smoothed the old and new sand from our pile into the craters we’d created.
“They were heavy.” James kept his eyes on the road, following Maria and the wooden crates. “I tried just lifting a corner of one. I’d bet on two hundred pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we’ve struck gold.”
Em grabbed my thigh and squeezed. “I think there’s one heck of a chance. I mean, it was just too perfect.”
“We should have loaded them all.” I wished we’d taken that risk.
“Skip,” she nudged me, “if there’s something else in those crates, the remains of someone’s pet, or god forbid a small child, we’d have had to bring all ten caskets back and rebury them.”
“Yeah. Well-”
“Dude, we’re gonna be rich. I can feel it this time.”
I felt it too. There was electricity in the air. Everything pointed to our really having found the mother lode.
“We’re buying a new truck, partner.”
“Agreed.”
“And quitting those horseshit jobs we’ve got.”
“Amen.”
“And you’re going to buy me some expensive jewelry, and not those crappy sea-creature jewels. Got it?” Em punched my shoulder.
I got it.
“We’ll buy a fleet of trucks, Skip. Start that rent-a-truck business we talked about.”
“How about your restaurant on South Beach?”
“That, too. It’s going to be a party place.”
“Em, James, there might not be any gold in those boxes.”
We all three laughed.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
We’d driven about four miles south when the dump truck’s turn signal flashed right. James slowed down and turned off onto a crushed-shell road. The half moon was brilliant in the black sky as we followed the narrow path for two hundred feet, then saw a row of metal huts. A dim spotlight hung from the main building of the complex. The truck in front stopped, so we braked and stepped out of the vehicle.
I can truthfully say this was the most exciting, exhilarating time in my young life. I had never felt such a mixture of anticipation, fear, and confusion. Even Em, who was used to money, used to developing big projects, was shaking. We were about to discover what our treasure was.
“How are we going to unload?”
I shrugged my shoulders as Maria Sanko came around the side of the main building, riding a bright yellow forklift.
“Question answered, son.” James grinned. We’d made a wise choice in finally confiding in her.
We worked getting the boxes off the truck, then sent the dump truck driver on his way. I did have thoughts that he might come back. If he suspected there was a big score, what was to stop him? But he waved and left the little storage facility, pulling back onto the highway.
In the yellow light, the four of us stared at the five crates lying an equal distance from each other on the ground. I’d never seen a prettier sight. There was a moment of silence, then my cell phone rang.
“Damn.”
“Who is it?”
I didn’t recognize the number.
“Well, answer it.” Em was staring at me.
“Hello.”
“Skip Moore?”
“Yes.”
“This is Mary Trueblood.”
I let out a long sigh of relief.
“What have you found out?” Lots of tension in her voice.
“We’re just getting ready to open the first five crates.”
“Five? Not ten?”
“I’ll fill you in later.”
Maria produced a pair of tin snips and started working on the first crate. Four corroded metal bands wrapped around the boxes and she cut each one. They were thin from the years of exposure and separated easily.
“Mrs. T., we’re getting ready to open the first crate.”
She was silent, probably praying. Forty-four million dollars in precious metal. I couldn’t fathom that kind of wealth.
James and Em walked over and pulled on the lid. It wouldn’t budge.
“Here, look.” Maria pointed to the edge of the lid. “It’s nailed shut.”
“Whoever packed this wasn’t taking any chances.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Now what do we do?”
“Take this wrecking bar,” she picked up a crowbar from the ground, “and pry it open.”
“What else do you have in your bag of tricks?” James asked.
“Hey, I’m here to help you guys.”
“And you’re here for one hundred thousand dollars.”
“That, too.”
“It’ll be just a minute, Mrs. Trueblood. We’re working on getting the top off. Do you want me to call you back?”
