Authors: Chris Tucker
Lost Voyage (20 page)
35
The Emerald City was a welcome sight as the NESA van drove into the outskirts of Seattle. The view from Interstate 5 was one that many residents and visitors witnessed every day, but the view at this moment was made even more spectacular by the appearance of a rainbow arching behind the Space Needle.
After they landed from their long flight, the gold was hauled off under tight security and brought back to NESA headquarters. Mercer, Hunt and Vigil made a stop outside the airport to grab a quick bite to eat and to discuss what provisions would need to be made for the bounty they had returned with.
On the radio was a Soundgarden song which was barely audible over the snoring of Vigil, who was sprawled out in the back seat. Mercer thought about throwing something at him for good humor, but decided that his friend had earned the much needed rest.
Shortly after noon, they pulled into NESA headquarters on the pier and unloaded all their gear and other belongings. Once indoors, they were greeted by the small staff awaiting their return. Everyone shared a warm embrace after the long ordeal, and as Mercer made his way through the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention, causing him to smile.
“Well, well, well. Look who is back from the dead,” joked Dallas, who walked over to give his friend a hug.
“Damn, it’s good to see you,” said Mercer.
“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to keep good on your word about getting Pat back to pay that fifty bucks he owes me.”
“You know me, buddy. I couldn’t leave without having a little fun first.”
Dallas handed him a beer and they continued on with small talk as if no one else was even in the room. The reunion lasted for about a half hour before Hunt came down and asked the team to join him upstairs in the meeting room.
The crowd dispersed and everyone went back to work. Mercer and Dallas walked into the conference room to find Vigil sipping on a beer and holding a putting wedge.
“If the Colonel sees you touching his clubs, he’s going to sock you right in the face,” commented Mercer. “Especially after last time.”
“That wasn’t even my fault. It could’ve happened to anybody,” countered Vigil.
“Not your fault? You broke his five hundred dollar driver because you were playing polo using a golf cart.”
Vigil shrugged. “I repeat…It could have happened to anyone.”
Hunt walked into the room at that moment. He took his place at the table and began the informal debriefing about Nicaragua. Before he started though, something caught his eye.
“Pat, I’m going to give you exactly one second to take your meaty claws off my golf club.”
Vigil reluctantly obliged and Hunt resumed.
“I’ve been on the phone with government officials who are going to be coordinating with the locals in Nicaragua to properly clean up the mass graves. Dallas has also been working diligently over the past few days to resolve the gastroenteritis issue in the water supply.”
Dallas took over the conversation. “Basically, what we’re going to do is construct a dam, effectively creating a new course of flow for the river from upstream. This means local residents can get fresh water for their daily needs and the water supply downstream will recuperate rather quickly, removing all traces of the disease in a very short period of time. You guys did an amazing job down there and the locals will reap the benefits for many years to come.”
After he was done talking, Hunt asked, “Sean? Pat? Do either of you have anything to add?”
Mercer answered first, “No, sir. That about sums it up. We can talk about the gold in a few days. It’s been a hell of a week, so if we’re good here, I’m going to take off for a bit.”
Hunt could see the exhaustion in the eyes of his men. After the tribulation they had endured down in Nicaragua, there was no way he was going to keep them in the office any longer than what was necessary. He put down his papers and addressed his two operatives directly.
“I’ll tell ya what. Let’s all take a few days to get everything in order. We can reconvene on Monday morning to discuss where we stand on everything else. Sound good?”
Vigil’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the thought of a few days off to get into a little mischief. “I think that sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. C’mon, Sean. You and I can hit up that club on Queen Anne Hill. I’m sure that hot bartender you like will be happy to see you.”
“A few days off sounds wonderful,” replied Mercer. “Thank you, Colonel.”
“Think nothing of it. Just go have a good time and keep him out of jail,” Hunt joked, pointing his thumb in the direction of Vigil.
The men shook hands and said their goodbyes. Hunt and Dallas remained behind to discuss the details of the gold and its fate as Mercer and Vigil departed through the door.
After they chatted for a few minutes, Hunt noticed his putting wedge wasn’t leaning against the wall where Vigil had put it just a few moments earlier. He looked at his golf bag and immediately noticed the empty slot where the putter should have been.
“Son of a bitch! I’m going to kill him!”
***
Mercer was just about to head out the front entrance when Vigil called out to him. Seeing the putter in his friend's hand, he shook his head in disbelief.
“You’ll never learn, will you?”
Vigil responded, “He won’t even notice it’s gone ‘til the morning. I’m in the clear. So, you got anything planned or you wanna go grab a bite and a few beers?”
“I think I’m going to disappear for a few days, partner,” he said as he pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “Here ya go. The house is yours for the weekend. Please try not to destroy it in that time.”
Vigil was about to make a snappy comeback to his friend’s remark, but was halted from doing so as a wail rang out through the office.
“Pat!” Hunt cried out.
Vigil cringed. “Well, buddy. That’s my cue. I will see you on Monday. Where are you taking off to anyway?”
Mercer smiled. “I made a promise to a certain someone that I intend to keep.”
Sensing his chance for a quick getaway was dwindling, Vigil said goodbye and then darted out the door to escape the wrath of his employer. Mercer walked out of the NESA office a few seconds later. He headed for his Jeep, which was still parked in the same spot since the day he left for Nicaragua.
He threw it in gear and careened his way through the streets of Seattle until he reached the freeway exit. He took Interstate 5 South and headed for a rendezvous with an old friend.
***
The blue waters of the Pacific Ocean gently rocked back and forth as they were moved about by the slight breeze in the air. The warmth of the sun was shining down as children played in the sand and dogs waded through the shallow waters of the Oregon coastline.
Emily Lundy was admiring the view from the deck on the back of her house while enjoying a glass of wine. Her arm was still in a sling while her collarbone recovered from the gunshot wound.
She had come to terms with everything that had happened during the fateful trip, including the loss of her friend, Tony. Dallas had called to inform her that the team was safe and on their way back home, and she was ready to put everything behind and start picking up the pieces of her life again.
A knock at the front door shook her from gazing at the beach-goers. She stood up, opened the sliding glass door and made the short walk to the front entrance. Opening the front door, she found no one was there. She took a quick glance outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary and thought maybe she was just hearing things.
She did take notice that a dark blue Jeep Wrangler was parked in front of her home. Not recognizing the vehicle and still seeing no one, she closed the door and returned to the back deck.
As she slid the door open, an unexpected visitor alarmed her. About to scream in fear, she gasped and all feeling left her body as she witnessed Sean Mercer sitting before her. He was holding what looked to be like a very nice bottle of red wine and two glasses.
He looked up at the stunning woman standing before him. “I did promise you a drink on the beach, if you recall.”
He spoke as nonchalantly as if they had spent every day of the last two weeks together. He was still mesmerized by her beauty and the sight of her made him realize things were finally getting back to normal.
“Sean,” she said softly as tears began streaming down her cheeks.
He got up to embrace her, being as careful as he could with her injured arm. They shared an endearing glance for a moment and then he pressed his lips against hers.
They spoke no words. Holding one another, they turned and looked out at the Pacific Ocean and the spectacular view that it offered.
Epilogue
NESA Headquarters – Two weeks later
Colonel Hunt was briefing his men about the progress being made in Nicaragua. He informed them of the work being done to create the dam in order to provide clean water for the locals, as well as the removal and proper burial of the bodies that were found. Widespread sweeps of the area were also being conducted to locate other possible gravesites Vallejos had amassed during his tenure.
“What about the remaining cartel and their plans?” asked Mercer. “Have there been any repercussions of our actions against them?”
“Nothing to report,” replied Hunt. “As far as we can tell, in the short amount of time Vallejos and Esperanza have been disposed of, the area seems to be thriving. The locals are no longer living in fear of the constant threat posed by the cartel, and the remaining faction has no real brains behind it, so the local government has been able to disperse what was left of the crumbling outfit. And that is all thanks to you and Pat.”
Vigil, who was unusually quiet up to this point, asked, “What about the gold, Colonel? How much did it turn out to be?”
“We calculated it at a little over ten thousand pounds of gold bars, with a total worth of about two hundred million dollars.”
“I don’t mean to be the materialistic one of the group here,” continued Vigil, “but how much of that are we actually going to see? I mean, you know, for research funding?”
“You’re as transparent as you are a crappy golfer,” quipped Hunt. “I’ve made arrangements for all of you to receive an extra bonus for your diligent duty and heroism. Sean and I have discussed what would be a fair amount and our government has been gracious enough to allocate the remaining funds to various research groups. We did, however, keep a little for NESA usage also.”
There were smiles throughout the room as thoughts of what the extra money could be used for, both personally and professionally. The daydreaming was quickly interrupted by Hunt, who continued talking.
“Sean has been gracious enough to donate his entire portion into a fund for the family of Tony Morgan, who was unfortunately lost during the turmoil. If anyone else would like to donate, you can see me about that.”
Mercer spoke up at this point. “If there’s nothing else to add to this matter, we have other pressing issues to discuss. The Colonel and I have been reviewing data about an old abandoned nuclear testing facility in Colorado. This is something we need to get involved in right away. We can be ready to deploy by the end of the week.”
Vigil looked across the table at his partner and soundly proclaimed, “I’m in. I hear they have great golfing in Colorado. Colonel, can I borrow your clubs?”
A menacing glare from Hunt informed him that he would indeed not be borrowing his boss’ clubs.
Mercer waited for the two to end their friendly staring contest before continuing.
“Ok, then. We leave Friday.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Chris Tucker grew up in New England and has lived throughout the country. From an early age, he acquired a love for reading and always wanted to write a novel of his own.
That opportunity came when he was living in Hawaii and he decided to start writing what would become his first novel – Lost Voyage.
After his son was born, the writing was put on hold and it would be more than a decade before the book would finally be published. It was a long road to finish up that first novel, but it is something he is extremely proud to share with his readers. He has since begun writing a short story zombie series as well, entitled “5280 Diaries”.
When not writing, Chris spends his time raising his son, coaching youth soccer, playing guitar, and hiking through the Rocky Mountains.
He currently resides in Denver, Colorado.
To contact Chris, you can visit or email:
