Treasure Sleuth Page 6

  "Do you want to come in?" she asked in an affectionate voice.

  "I should probably head back…," his voice trailing off.

  "There's a sofa if you want to stay over. It's late and I'm sure there are some blankets."

  "There's a spare quilt in one of the bed drawers. I've stayed before when I was working with Gene on projects."

  "Well, we're working on one now. So stay." Mark pushed the red button on the center console shutting off the engine.

  "I have something that will earn my trust with you. What if I put up some of the money?" Mark asked.

  "You don't need to earn my trust. I already trust you."

  "Well, we're going to need money for the deposit which has to be paid within twenty four hours of the auction ending."

  "Mark, that's ten percent. Where would we find that amount of money so fast?"

  "I have an idea. But I might need your help tomorrow getting it," Mark said.

  "Are we going to rob a bank?" Abby asked playfully.

  Mark turned to face her squarely and spoke in a hushed tone. "No, we're going to hold up a train, bandit style. You can ride a horse, right?"

  Abby smiled and said, "Well you wear the right boots for it, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a cowboy hat too!"

  "Enough about my boots lady! It's not in a bank. Well, not a traditional bank. But it might be useful to have your eyes and ears while I get it."

  "It is your money though? Tell me, we were just joking then, right?"

  "Yes, it's my money. Well, it's not money as such, but it does belong to me. It should be fairly quick and easy though. It just means we have to pop the other side of Exeter towards Tiverton."

  "To get your secret stash?"

  "Yep. My stash."

  "Let me guess... in the hollow of a tree?"

  "Nope. In a graveyard."

  10

  The Secret Stash

  Abby woke early again, her body clock still not fully adjusted. She took the urn off the dressing room table and crept out of the cottage, making her way over the drive to the lighthouse.

  Fumbling around at the back of the closet, her fingers found the hook and with her face pressed against her Grandpa's smelly waders she pulled up the hook releasing the hidden door. Walking along the tunnel by herself should have felt unsettling. Maybe it was because she knew Grandpa had spent so much time down here, or maybe because Grandpa was with her now, it all seemed so familiar. She turned her key and stepped into the Amber Room. It took her a moment to find the light switch and she flinched as she turned it on, forgetting it automatically turns off the tunnel light.

  Placing Grandpa's urn on the shelf next to Grandma made her smile.

  "There you go Grandpa," she spoke out loud. "You two are together again."

  She pulled out his leather office chair and sat at his desk. Leaning back and twirling around to take in the room, she looked up at the photo of Grandpa on the shelf and asked out loud, "So what's Mark like Grandpa? He seems as crazy as you. Drives as fast as you, and he's taking me to a graveyard today to get some money. What is it with you guys and all these secrets? I suppose then you wouldn't be as interesting as you are," she answered winking at the photo.

  Looking through her Grandpa's files and folders, Abby felt like a spy. Boxes on the bottom shelf contained various dossiers, all organized alphabetically. The dossiers on ancient artifacts read like a missing persons report, only it was for missing treasures. Like the forty thousand gold coins hidden by the French in a cave in Scotland, not yet found. A hoard of gold bracelets buried by a wealthy family during a war. The family was killed and the bracelets remain buried, worth an estimated eight hundred thousand dollars. The burial hoard of Kubrat, Khan of 'Great Bulgaria'. Part of the hoard was found when a boy playing by the river fell into the hole where treasure was buried. Estimated value, one and half million dollars.

  Abby continued to flick through each file, her curiosity growing with every turn of her fingers. A file contained notes to the whereabouts of a royal treasure worth over fifty million dollars. Pawned to Jewish bankers who died in the Black Plague, the clues point to a house in a small town. Another file contained information on a British Expedition to locate a multi- million dollar hoard of gold, silver and jewelry stolen by pirates and buried on an island.

  Abby sat back in the chair and just stared at all the files and dossiers. It was more organized and detailed than her entire team back home tracking down lost heirs. Leaning back in the chair she looked up at the urns and the photo and asked, "Where did you get all this Intel Grandpa, who are you finding all this out for?" She remained looking at him after she spoke, as if waiting for an answer. When all of a sudden, she got one.

  "Different clients," the voice came.

  Startled, Abby swiveled around on the chair to the door where the sound of the voice came from. It was Mark.

  "Shit Mark, you scared me," she gasped.

  "Sorry, didn't mean to."

  "How long have you been standing there?"

  "Only a few moments. I got a text from Lyons. The auctioneers will take the coin and list it for their next auction in a couple of weeks' time."

  "Why do I sense a 'but' coming?" asked Abby.

  "But...," Mark said nodding. "But they only estimate it at one hundred and fifty thousand pounds."

  "That's not enough Mark. What about your secret stash?"

  "It's about ninety thousand, so we'll still be short."

  "How long will it take to get your stash?"

  "There are two things we need to do. First, we need to get the stash. That will be simple and quick. Then I need to convert it into money which should be about ninety grand give or take a few depending on the current market."

  "Depending on the current market? What is it we're getting here exactly?"

  "Gold. Small bars about two inches long and one inch wide."

  "How many?"

  "Twenty two."

  "And that's worth ninety grand?"

  "Yep. They're about four thousand pounds each. Depending on market value. And we need to get going so I can trade them in and get the cash in my account."

  ***

  Mark and Abby drove out to Underexe, a tiny Devon village five miles north of Exeter.

  "You'll like this place," Mark said. "The countryside scenery is stunning with the green rolling hills and various woodlands. And there's a big river that runs right around the church. It really is a nice area."

  "And popular?" Abby asked.

  "No, it's a hidden gem. It's a small stone church with only a single room and it sits in isolation, hidden from view by fields and hedges. There was a manor house that stood nearby but this has long since turned to ruins and disappeared leaving the church in a lonely, eerie position. There are a few farm houses nearby, but they are out of site and won't be of any bother to us."

  Mark turned off the main route leading from Exeter to Tiverton down a typical Devonshire lane. High hedges on one side, houses on the other. The road only wide enough for one vehicle at a time. Mark pulled up and parked along a dusty farm track, careful to leave enough room for a tractor to pass. He got out and opened the trunk revealing three different sized cases. Opening one displayed a range of cutting tools, knifes and spades of various sizes. He pulled out a scratched black folded army spade and slid it into a worn looking canvas bag. He clipped this to his belt and put on a green jacket concealing the canvas bag.

  "Okay," Mark said closing the trunk. "This will only take a minute. The church is towards the end of this track."

  "Take my hand," Abby suggested as they began walking. "It will look more natural like a couple taking a country walk."

  Mark did as she suggested, giving her a smile as he held her hand. Just then Mark heard a multi-tone bleep of a text coming through. He pulled out his phone.

  "It's from Lyons. Someone wants the coin. Bloody hell, they are offering two hundred thousand."

  "That's fifty thousand more than the estimate. What do we
do? Shall we take it?"

  "Let's see how bad they want it," Mark said as he reply texted Mr. Lyons asking him to turn it down.

  The deeper they got down the track, the more concerned Mark became at the level of noise he could hear. He started to slow his pace, listening intently as took the next few steps.

  "What is it?" Abby asked.

  "I don't know," Mark replied, "It's normally quieter than this."

  "Could it be a tractor ploughing the fields?" Abby asked as they walked past a huge open barn by the side of the track.

  "They don't plough the fields in this part," Mark explained. "These fields are normally pasture for cows to graze. The fields for ploughing are half a mile back near the main road."

  A rumble came from behind and Mark turned in time to see a large cement mixer pass the entrance gate and start on down the track in their direction. Mark pulled Abby into the barn area and out of the way as the cement truck blew a cloud of dust up in its wake. Mark watched with growing concern as the brake lights disappeared into a right turn.

  "Shit," Mark muttered in a defeated tone. "He's heading down the track we need to take. I have a bad feeling about this."

  Still holding hands, Mark and Abby continued down the single farm track until they reached the next track, leading off on the right, dust still in the air from the cement truck. There was no sign of the truck, just a dust cloud falling between the hedge rows. After two hundred yards Mark let go of Abby's hand and climbed onto a field gate.

  "Shit, shit, shit."

  "What is it?" Abby asked looking up at him. Mark held out his hand. "Come up and take a look." Abby climbed up the metal bars of the gate and leaned into Mark for support.

  "They're building bloody houses right next to the chapel," Mark said looking out across the fields. "Is nowhere sacred ground anymore?"

  Several brick framed structures now stood on the fields between the last farmhouse and the chapel. Builders were busy at all corners, carpenters were in the roof struts and the cement mixer that just passed them was reversing into position.

  "You're stash is buried in that graveyard?" Abby asked pointing to the wall circling the chapel. Several men in florescent jackets and yellow hard hats were sitting along the wall eating and joking around.

  Mark just nodded, his eyes scattering over the site taking in as many details as he could.

  "Just the other side of the wall, is a grave with an iron edging fence about knee high. In the middle is buried a heavy bag with twenty two pieces of gold inside."

  "You actually buried your stash over someone's grave?"

  "Well it seemed like a good idea at the time. Your Grandpa encouraged me to put my savings into gold saying it always rose above inflation. And having it in metal form was more secure than the banks, I mean look at what happened in Iceland and Cyprus, he was right."

  "Yes Mark, but why bury it all out here and not keep it at your house?"

  "A few reasons. Firstly, I was keeping it at my house. I hid chunks behind light switches, in the attic, a few bits in the garden and I even bought some cat litter just so I could hide some in there. But once I got over ten pieces it became hard to remember where I'd hidden it all, and I couldn't exactly write it down, else it would be like having your own treasure map."

  Abby laughed.

  "Secondly, when word got around some of the clubs that I used to belong to, I knew my house would never be safe. I've known of other metal detectorists getting burgled and their gold coins stolen. So I put them here. All of them."

  "Haven't you heard not to put all your eggs into one basket?"

  "Well I always preferred Mark Twain's version - 'put all your eggs into one basket... and watch that basket!"

  "Did you need so many eggs? Couldn't you have swapped them for one bigger bar?"

  "Yeah I would have but I wasn't planning on keeping them for long. I was saving up for a car."

  "Wouldn't be a blue car by any chance?"

  "Might have been."

  Abby smiled. "Were you really going to give up your dream Lamborghini to help me buy my Grandpa's lighthouse?"

  "Well I figured owning half a share of a lighthouse wouldn't be so bad, especially if we made use of some of Gene's research. Then maybe I could afford a brand new Lamborghini Aventador one day."

  "A half share?"

  "Sure. Anyway, doesn't look like I'm going to be buying a half share in anything, not a Lambo or a lighthouse."

  "What are we going to do?"

  "Well, we have two options. We could come back in a year when they have finished the houses..."

  "Or?"

  "Or, you could take your top off and run across the field and distract them while I jump over the wall and get digging."

  Abby laughed and hit Mark on the arm. "C'mon, seriously."

  "Or, we come back tonight when these monkeys have gone home and it's dark."

  "Tonight?"

  "Yes, if the auction is on Friday, then I only have tomorrow to drive up to the dealer and cash in my bricks. "

  Without any notice Mark reached over and put his hand behind Abby's head pulling her into him, kissing her passionately on the lips. She tried pulling away but his hold was too strong. Feeling overwhelmed she gave in and kissed him back, losing herself in the moment and nearly losing her balance from the gate.

  "Excuse me!" a voice bellowed out.

  Mark let go of his hold and they both turned around to see a foreman standing there looking up at them.

  "Sorry to breakup your canoodling," said the foreman. "We got a digger that needs to get in this field."

  Abby look embarrassed and jumped down from the gate. "So sorry Sir, we were just..."

  "Here, watch yourself darling," he said as an excavator barged it's way along the track scraping the hedgerows.

  "We'll be on our way," Mark shouted back above the diesel chug of the excavator. The foreman nodded and waved giving a friendly smile.

  "What was that about?" Abby demanded to know.

  "Sorry it was just a spur of the moment thing. I saw him walking up in the corner of my eye and thought we'd look more innocent if we were, you know...," Mark wondered if she wasn't happy. "I hope it didn't make you angry."

  "Why would it make me angry?" Abby asked playfully. "Actually, it wasn't that bad."

  As they approached the car, Mark unclipped the spade and threw it into the trunk. "Oh really? It wasn't bad?" Mark asked trying to keep his cool as he opened her door. "What would it take to make it good?"

  Before she had chance to reply Mark's phone interrupted with its multi-tone alert.

  "What's the response?" Abby asked.

  "It's another offer. Two hundred and fifty."

  "Wow, they've come back with another fifty?"

  "No, this is a new offer, from a new bidder! This is good. This is really good."

  Mark replied back to Mr. Lyon's text simply saying, "That's great news you know what to do. See how far you can push."

  Mark pressed the car's flashing red starter button and the engine roared into life. Pulling out into the lane, he suggested they get some lunch in Exeter before heading back to the lighthouse to plan their nighttime raid.

  11

  The Sahara Find

  As the sleek black Jaguar rumbled through the quietness of Hope Cove, Abby looked down on the glistening flat calm sea and fresh yellow sands.

  "You know, there's something I've been itching to do since you told me about Grandpa finding all those rings," she said.

  "Oh yeah?" Mark enquired.

  "I want to have a go detecting on that beach. I want to know what it feels like."

  "What what feels like?"

  "You know, finding something that has been lost."

  "Well, we have a few hours to kill so let's go together and I'll show you what to do."

  Mark was carefully leaning the metal detector up against the outside wall of the lighthouse when Abby stepped out of the cottage. Mark lost his concentration and the long handled s
and scoop made a loud clang as the metal crashed to the floor. For the first time Mark look flustered. Abby was wearing a bright white bikini under a black lace dress. "You look amazing," he said as he held up an underwater machine.

  "Thank you," she said smiling.

  "You may be a tad under dressed for our climate," Mark said. "It's not quite summer yet."

  "Are you complaining?"

  "No, not at all. Hey, as long as you're warm enough it's perfectly fine with me!" Mark said flirtatiously.

  "Is that for me?" Abby asked.

  "I selected the underwater one but I wasn't expecting you to actually go in the water."

  "I will if you will," she said seductively.

  Mark was wearing blue shorts with a white short sleeved buttoned shirt. Not the most ideal for underwater searching, but then again, not as bad as his usual jeans and t-shirt.

  Walking down the lifeboat slipway Mark was scanning the few tourists on the sands. Hope Cove's main appeal was its location, hidden away from the normal tourist routes. The beach is always fairly empty compared to the hustle and bustle of main beaches. This means the finds are more scarce, but normally of a better quality.

  "So how does this work?" asked Abby.

  "Most machines send one signal into the ground to detect metal. A middle frequency is an ok all-rounder but they can miss thin metal like necklaces or deep finds like heavy rings. Plus, the salt water from the sea can give false signals. This is a multi-frequency machine which means it sends loads of different readings into the ground simultaneously and can detect the really thin stuff, and the really deep stuff at the same time, while ignoring junk and getting no false signals."

  "This sounds complicated. How does it do that?"

  "I have no idea, it is too complicated for me," Mark smiled. "There are just these four knobs and three of them are already set, so your discrimination is ready. All you need to do is turn this and it's on, then use the same control to adjust the volume."

  "What's discrimination?"

  "There is a lot of metal under beaches. The problem is thin aluminum like drink cans and pull tabs and silver foil give the same readings as gold and silver so you can't discriminate against those. But we can discriminate against nails and rusty bits of crap that have been washed up from a million different places over the years. Don't worry about all that. It's a complicated machine but the only thing you need to focus on are two sounds. A low pitched grumble means the signal is most likely iron so ignore that. A high pitched squeal like a dolphin talking is a good signal so we dig it up."