Curious Minds

  “I loved gold. Not money. Gold. I loved its history and its luster and its pure chemical makeup. I loved the stories of buried treasure, real or imagined. ‘The Gold-Bug’ by Poe. Treasure Island by Stevenson. The Sign of Four by Conan Doyle. And the real ones. The money pit in Oak Island. The Beale ciphers in Virginia. Mosby’s treasure. I never thought of finding them. I just loved that they were out there, so tantalizingly close and yet so far.

  “And Yvette, she was a goldbug like me. So when I went to talk to her, we at least had that in common. We could trade stories of treasures and treasure hunting. In fact, she once gave me a replica of the gold bug from the story. It was quite beautiful. You should see it.”

  “We have,” said Emerson.

  “You’ve been to my home?”

  “Yes.”

  “How was my wife?”

  “Coping. She’s thinking about selling the house.”

  “Is she?” Günter was silent for a beat. “Is my boat still there?”

  “It was at the dock when we visited last week,” Emerson said.

  “That’s good,” Günter said. “I love that boat.”

  “What was Yvette’s wild story?” Riley asked.

  “Oh. Yes. It was the Germans that started it. When they began to talk about repatriating their gold.”

  “Why did they want to do that?”

  Günter shrugged. “It was their gold, and I guess they just wanted to see it.”

  “Precisely,” Emerson said. “One should be able to see one’s gold.”

  “In fact, a lot of nations have started talking about getting their gold back,” Günter said. “Switzerland. The Netherlands. Venezuela moved its gold to Brazil. Think of it. Venezuela thought Brazil was a safer place to store their gold than America.

  “Maybe that was what started it. Plan 79. That crazy idea my brothers had. Maybe it started way before that.” Günter removed a gold coin from his pocket and showed it to Emerson and Riley. “My brothers have been minting these for years. From the stolen gold.”

  Riley took it from Günter and held it in her hand. “Why coins? Isn’t it easier just to keep the gold in bars?” She handed the coin to Emerson.

  Emerson examined the coin closely. “You can’t very well go to the grocery store and pay for a loaf of bread with a thirty-pound gold bar. The coins are meant to be used as currency.”

  “Why does it have an image of Lord Voldemort dressed up like Julius Caesar on it?” Riley asked.

  Günter looked a little embarrassed. “It’s difficult to see in the dark but my father’s face is engraved on this coin.”

  “And,” Emerson continued, “Caesar was the first of the Roman emperors. The man responsible for ending five hundred years of democracy in the Roman civilization.”

  Günter nodded. “I guess. My father never had much respect for democracy. Always said it was nothing more than mob rule. Anyway, I just discovered the coins by accident. My brothers never bothered to tell me about them or what they were intended for. It kind of hurt. They’ve excluded me from the family for my entire life.”

  Emerson returned the coin to Günter. “Well, every form of currency needs a name. All the good ones, like Drachmas and Dinars are already taken so let’s call them Grunwalds.”

  Günter looked appalled. “That sounds ridiculous. It makes them sound like some sort of funny money you’d get at Disney World to pay for souveneirs.”

  “Well, your brothers should have thought of that before they put a picture of Lord Voldemort on the coins,” Emerson said. “Really, they have nobody to blame but themselves.”

  “So, you began stealing coins?” Riley asked Günter.

  “Yeah. They were kept in a vault in the D.C. office. I took just a couple at first. When no one said anything, I took more. I filled my briefcase with them. I guess I liked the idea of stealing from my brothers. I guess it was my way of getting back at them for all the times they’d slighted me over the years.

  “I had to hide them somewhere, for safekeeping. In the beginning I put them in plaster statues of Saint Nicholas and buried them in my yard.”

  “For Christmas?” Riley asked.

  “Hardly,” Günter said with a sad smile. “Saint Nicholas is also the patron saint of thieves.”

  “Of repentant thieves,” Emerson said.

  “I guess I didn’t read the fine print.”

  “Your wife said the gardener found some of them. She was in the process of exhuming one from a flower bed when we went to visit her.”

  “I mostly buried them in the flower beds because it was easier digging. Not a lot of them. Maybe ten or twelve. It never occurred to me that at some point a bush would get replaced. When the first one got dug up I tried to find the others, but I was like a squirrel burying nuts. I couldn’t remember where I put the stupid things. I even went over the yard with a metal detector one night but obviously didn’t find all of them.”

  “What about the rest of the gold?” Riley asked Günter.

  “Underwater,” Günter said, putting the coin back in his pocket. “It was fun stealing from my brothers and hiding the…Grunwalds. It stopped being fun when two executives from Blane-Grunwald were tasked with calming the Germans down. Lawrence Tatum and Daniel Ferguson.”

  “Those are the two men who committed suicide last month,” Emerson said.

  Günter nodded, grim-faced. “The Germans were insisting on repatriating their gold. Not only that, but they were insisting that it not be recast. Gold has a fingerprint. By using a battery of techniques to look at the relative amounts of impurities, including platinum, palladium, lead, thallium, and bismuth, it’s possible to tell one horde of gold from another. But once it is melted down and recast, the print is erased.

  “The Germans not only wanted the same amount of bullion they had deposited back in the 1950s, they wanted that precise gold.

  “To the U.S., this seemed like an unreasonable demand. We dragged our feet. We returned only a paltry amount of gold. Tatum and Ferguson tried to persuade the Germans that everything was fine, that the gold would be returned to them eventually. Unfortunately for Tatum and Ferguson, they requested a visit to the Federal Reserve so they could personally assure the Germans that all was well.

  “Two weeks later, they both ‘jumped’ out of the windows of office buildings, one in London, the other in Tokyo. That was when my friend Yvette got involved.

  “She was in Munich, on another matter, when she heard about the suicides. She knew that the Germans were unhappy, but like everyone else, she thought Germans were always unhappy. She didn’t believe in conspiracies. Not at first. Then she began to investigate.

  “By the time she came back to Washington, she was a full-fledged convert. And like any convert, she wanted to spread the word. The Federal Reserve was being looted, she said. And it may have been going on for the last twenty years.

  “Everyone was used to tuning Yvette out, so nobody paid any attention. I was given instructions to listen to her calmly and shut her up. To humor her. So I did. I even went to New York, to the Fed, just to show her she was wrong.

  “Sadly, she was right. She was right about everything. The gold was being stolen and replaced by tungsten bars. On a massive scale. I found out about Plan 79.”

  “Why ‘79’?” Riley asked.

  “The nucleus of the gold atom has seventy-nine protons and seventy-nine neutrons. It must have seemed like a good code name for the operation. A plot by a cadre of nefarious central bankers working with the Federal Reserve, hoping to corner the gold market and control the world’s finances.

  “I rushed back to Washington to tell my brothers what I’d discovered. I even brought fake gold bars with me, as evidence. I thought they’d be shocked. I thought I’d have a hard time convincing them of the truth. Instead, they listened very calmly. And then they congratulated me on figuring it out. Werner laughed. Hans said it took me long enough. And Manny just patted me on the head.

  “Then I told them I knew about th
e coins. That got their attention. And I told them that I’d stolen forty million dollars’ worth. They really sat up and took notice then. Six hundred thousand, my ass!”

  “What did they say when you told them?” Emerson asked.

  “What could they say? I had the gold. I either kept quiet or talked. And if I tried to talk, I knew they’d shut me up. Permanently. But I didn’t need to tell anyone. I knew the secret. I was like the hero of ‘The Gold-Bug,’ who’d figured out the key to the treasure. It was a glorious feeling. That was enough for me.”

  “So what went wrong?” Riley asked.

  “Yvette went wrong. She couldn’t let it go. I told her to walk away, but she wouldn’t listen. We both knew where they were sending the gold. They were sending it to a place where no one could look for it. Where secrecy was paramount. Where the crazies had built up another myth entirely. Groom Lake. Area 51. When Yvette suddenly disappeared, I knew she’d gone to Groom Lake to snoop around, so I went after her.”

  “Why?” Riley asked.

  “Another good question without a good answer. I was afraid she’d screw everything up. I was afraid she’d find the gold and blow the whistle on all of us and finally someone would believe her. It wasn’t like I was innocent in all this. I had millions in bootlegged gold coins hidden away. Anyway, I thought I might be able to find her in time and persuade her to abandon the hunt.”

  “And?”

  “I found her but it was too late. At least it was too late for her.” He looked over at the salt flat. “There’s a whole network of caves underneath the salt flats. People think extraterrestrial spaceships and alien bodies are hidden down there. I wish they were right.”

  “You’ve been in there?” Emerson asked.

  “Yes. It’s incredible. There’s more gold than you can possibly imagine. God, I’m sick of the stuff.”

  “But no alien corpses,” Riley said.

  “No. Just Yvette’s. With her head smashed in. When I saw her I couldn’t believe it. It was horrible. It had just happened. And I was almost next. Rollo was there with his scalpel. He came after me and I panicked. I grabbed a gold bar and threw it at him and caught him on the side of his head. I don’t know how I managed to hit him. I was so scared, my vision was blurred. He staggered back and I hit him with another bar. Square in the forehead. Right between his eyes. I turned and ran and I’ve been running ever since.”

  “This place is a fortress,” Riley said. “How did you and Yvette get in?”

  “She told me she had an access pass. I think it was bogus but it got her in.”

  “And you?”

  “I’d done some research online. I’d studied satellite photos of the area and I’d eavesdropped on Werner and heard him talking about tunnels. I knew about the mining operation. Lead and silver were discovered in the southern part of the Groom Range in 1864. There are still entrances into those tunnels. I made a good guess based on my eavesdropping and chose the tunnel that led me to the gold. It turns out that security is high aboveground but lacking below. Some of the tunnels are randomly patrolled, and some not at all. There are cameras in the area close to the gold stash but they look rusted out. I’m not sure they’re maintained. Although Rollo did know Yvette was in the gold vault. And he also knew I was there. So some of the security cameras must be functioning.”

  “I’m beat,” Günter said. “Has anyone got food?”

  Emerson pulled granola bars out of his duffel bag and passed them around.

  “How have you been eating?” Riley asked Günter. “Where do you stay?”

  “I’ve been hiding out in an abandoned cabin not far from one of the mine entrances. For whatever reason, the guards don’t seem to patrol that patch of the Tikaboo Valley. I have to be careful, but I can pretty much come and go without being seen. I have some money stashed away but it’s not going to last forever.”

  “I saw you at Fletcher’s Cove,” Riley said.

  “I was trying to help Maxine. She’d had an affair with Werner but he kicked her to the curb when she turned thirty. If that wasn’t bad enough, he demoted her and gave her to me. The whole office knew. It was humiliating for her. I think she lived to get even. In the end, she didn’t live at all.

  “When I realized I had to disappear, I gave her a bar of gold to hide. And not just any bar of gold. It happens to have a serial number that identifies it as belonging to the German government.”

  “That bar’s worth about half a million dollars,” Riley said. “You trusted her not to just disappear with it?”

  Günter smiled. “The one in my safe was a counterfeit and worth a hundred times more, at least to my brothers. It happens to have the same serial number as the German bar I gave Maxine.”

  Riley shook her head. “If it was ever discovered, it could implicate the Grunwalds.”

  “Bingo. I told Maxine she should get hold of the bar in my safe and turn both bars over to the press if anything bad should happen to me.”

  “Like death?” Riley said.

  “Yes. Like death. Unfortunately, Maxine didn’t wait for news of my death. She got into my safe and switched the two bars. Then she went to Fletcher’s Cove and showed it to Werner. She was trying to broker her own deal. To get some measure of revenge. She didn’t know what she was getting into. If only I could have reached her in time to stop her.”

  “How did you know she had the fake bar?” Riley asked.

  “We would talk once a week. Just a short conversation keeping me informed. She told me she was going to get the bar and blackmail Werner. I told her not to do that, but she wouldn’t listen. It was the last conversation we had. She wouldn’t answer my calls after that so I returned to D.C. to try to stop her. I didn’t dare go to her house but I suspected she would attempt the transfer at the cove. Werner went fishing there every Wednesday. It was a safe way to meet with his brothers and other partners in crime. Needless to say, I didn’t succeed in making contact with Maxine.”

  “And then you came back here?”

  “I can’t explain it. I feel safe here. It’s like I’m hiding in plain sight. Or maybe I’m waiting for Werner to visit his gold and I’ll sneak in and choke him while he sleeps.”

  Riley cut her eyes to him. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No,” Günter said. “I’m quite serious. I would like to kill Werner.”

  “Okay then,” Riley said. “Good to know.”

  “I’d like to see the gold and get a sample,” Emerson said to Günter.

  “The nearest tunnel entrance is over an hour’s walk from here,” Günter said. “Ordinarily I couldn’t do it in the dark but I can find my way if I use your goggles.”

  “How did you know we would be here?” Emerson asked Günter.

  “I didn’t,” Günter said. “I come here when I want to spy on the airfield. I saw the landing lights go on a couple hours ago so I hiked over. Seeing Miss Moon standing there was a shock.”

  “I heard a plane fly in when I was halfway up the mountain,” Riley said.

  “I got here just after it landed,” Günter said. “I was too late to see the passengers disembark, but I’ve seen Hans fly into Groom Lake in a similar plane.”

  “Does he come here often?”

  “Almost never,” Günter said.

  —

  Riley was walking on autopilot. The day had been too long. She was wearing the wrong shoes and she was thirsty. She wanted a mojito.

  “How much farther do we have to go?” she asked.

  “Not much farther,” Günter said.

  “I heard that three hours ago.”

  “We’ve only been walking for two hours,” Emerson told her.

  “So we should be there, right?” Riley said. “Remember how this magical tunnel entrance was over an hour away?”

  “It’s slower going in the dark,” Günter said.

  “What happens when we find the tunnel?” Riley asked. “Is it attached to a Ritz-Carlton?”

  “It’s just a tunnel,” Günt
er said. “We need to find a big creosote bush. I wouldn’t have a problem in daylight or even bright moonlight, but everything looks weird with these goggles.”

  “There are creosote bushes all over the place,” Emerson said. “And bushes that aren’t creosote bushes look like creosote bushes in the dark.”

  “This is a big one,” Günter said. “And it has a hole mostly hidden under its branches. Don’t step in the hole.”

  Riley and Emerson fanned out and combed the scrub.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right area?” Riley asked.

  “More or less,” Günter said.

  “Found it,” Emerson said. “How stable is the ground around this?”

  “Very stable. It’s actually the beginning of a cavern.”

  Emerson found a stone, dropped it into the hole, and counted. “I calculate that the floor of the cavern is thirty-six feet below us.”

  Riley peered down into the hole. “How do you figure?”

  “Physics. All you need is a rock, a stopwatch, and a simple equation derived from Newton’s Laws of Motion.”

  “So how fast is the rock going when it hits the ground?” Riley asked.

  “Its terminal velocity is about twenty-five miles per hour,” Emerson said.

  Riley took a step back. She didn’t like the idea of disappearing down the hole and reaching terminal velocity. It sounded…terminal.

  Emerson turned to Günter. “You’ve used this entrance?”

  “Not exactly. I accidentally dropped a flashlight into it trying to see the bottom. I decided it was inaccessible and went back to using my original tunnel entrance. Two days later I found the flashlight while I was exploring underground. If you can get down there it’s a shortcut to the gold repository. Otherwise we need to keep walking. There’s an easier entrance about five miles from here.”

  Riley looked at the hole in the ground. “Thirty-six feet is a long way down.”

  “Fortunately this duffel I’ve been carrying not only contains emergency cash and granola bars but also emergency rappelling equipment,” Emerson said.

  “You expected you’d have to rappel?” Riley asked.