Time Never Waits Pt 13

The room was a basement. About 40 feet square. It was lined with stone. There were oak racks all through it. They were filled with wine. European wines. I walked through, checking the labels on the bottles and wood crates. They were dated from the 1920's to 1940.

Interesting.

That just reinforced my idea that he had been a member of the Nazi Party. Not only had he smuggled gold out, but entire wine collections, as well. Then I spotted the wooden crates leaning up against the wall.

I took one of the smaller ones and put it on the elevator. Then went back to my inventory. Cases of 25 year old Scotch whiskey bottled in 1915 to 1940. Dozens of cases carefully stacked. Cases of wines and cognacs. Boxes of Cuban cigars packed in humidors.

I was dumbfounded. Who the fuck was this man? I thought of the logistics and contacts it took to get this stuff here. Wines from France, Italy, Germany and Spain. Whiskey from Scotland. The cigars would have been the easiest to smuggle. The date on them was, like the wines and cognac, from the 1920's to 1940.

I headed back out, exiting the elevator, carrying the artwork. I went and got a hammer and small pry bar, went back and carefully opened the crate. I pulled out the painting.

Da Vinci.

Of course it was. I carefully replaced it and went back down. I opened others. More Da Vinci's, Rembrandt's, fuck, what, fifty in total. Five of them by Da Vinci?

There was an estimated 30,000 priceless works of art still missing from that era. Fifty of them were right at my feet. I replaced everything. Then looked around. This room was priceless.

Now, the sixty four dollar question. What the fuck do I do with it. I can't risk a bunch of government thugs running around the place. Those double digit IQ idiots would fuck up more in ten minutes than I could fix in ten years.

No, I need a plan. The wine is easy. Stock it in my lodge and sell it by the drink. I know some of this wine will go for $20,000 a bottle on the other side. Some of the earlier vintages will bring much more per bottle, and I had cases of some of this stuff.

I'll fully inventory it. Then auction a few bottles. See what happens. The paintings are another story. Those require special handling processes. Validation and authentication. Transportation. Auctioning.

I went back to my desk, grabbing a few of the earliest vintages on the way. I sat down and got a cork puller and opened the first bottle. A French burgandy from 1923. I sniffed it, not sure what to expect. It was perfect. The floral overtones with underlying earth and aged leather notes, among other, more complex characters. I set it aside to allow it to breath. Then hit the intercom.

"Ginger to the office."

Carol was gone for the day.

Ginger came in,

"Grab a couple of wine glasses of the bar."

She brought them over. I poured and sat the bottle down. She was staring at it confused. I slid the glass over to her and picked mine up. I swirled and sniffed it. It was beginning to blossom with the oxygenation. She did the same. The swirled it more to further aerate it. Then she sipped it. Her expression went straight to surprise and almost orgasmic in nature. She picked up the bottle and studied it carefully.

"Where did this come from?"

"France, in 1923."

She rolled her eyes,

"I can see that. But, where did you get it?"

I nodded, gesturing with my head,

"Down there."

She sipped more, then set here glass down and looked at the other two bottles. Italian red from 1925 and a Spanish Rioja from 1929.

"You have a cellar of stuff like this?"

"Yep, along with 25 year old Scotch, vintage Cuban cigars, oh, and fifty paintings."

She stared at me open mouthed.

"Come on, I'll show you."

We took the elevator down. When we stepped off, Ginger stared around, in shock.

"Oh my god..." she uttered breathlessly.

She started walking around, taking stock.

She spotted something I missed. She started fiddling around with the wall and we heard a click and a door about three feet square, covered with a matching stone veneer swung open on massive hinges. Behind it was a big wall safe.

Ok, that would account for the extra combination in the notebook in the desk drawer.

I went up and got it and a flashlight. Then headed back down. I entered it and the door opened. The safe was an obvious custom model. Much deeper than the average wall safe. I carefully extracted the contents and sat them carefully on a wooden table against the wall. Then started inventorying everything.

There were some photographs of a young SS officer with Hitler. Signed by Hitler.

Interesting. I wondered

If that was the old man? Then a cased set of matching highly engraved Lugers with two digit serial numbers. 00012 and 00013. The case contained a presentation letter signed by Adolph Hitler. Next was a pristine Hitler Youth knife with scabbard. It also was engraved and in a walnut case containing a presentation letter signed by Adolph Hitler. There were walnut boxes containing various medals, including an Iron Cross. There were award letters along with photographs showing the young officer being presented the medals by Hitler. All signed.

Then came the leather bound round tube cases. Each containing a carefully rolled up map and hand written documents with descriptions and grid coordinates. Others contained technical drawings and blueprints of what appeared to be some sort of round disc shaped craft. Along with highly detailed plans, diagrams, and blueprints of what was depicted by the title to be anti-gravity propulsion systems.

This shit was getting stranger by the second.

The next one I unrolled sent chills of terror through me.

It was a highly detailed set of plans and schematics as well as blueprints for something I was very familiar with due to my studies.

Nuclear, or atomic bomb.

Ok, this shit just got very fucking real, very fucking fast.

The Nazi's had actully developed fucking UFO and atomic bomb shit. This was too much to deal with. I went back to the flying craft. The supporting documents stated that the schematics had came from reverse engineering of aircraft recovered from crash sites.

I carefully rolled everything back up and placed it all back in the safe except for the maps. We closed and locked the safe and took the maps back up with us.

Back at the desk, I studied the supporting documents of the U.S. maps. They were detailing the maps as showing the location of high grade gold ore. The rest were maps of gold mines in Argentina, Brazil, and Venezuela.

Ok, I need a drink. And food. I hit the intercom.

"I need a ribeye and baked tater, please."

I looked at Ginger. She nodded her head.

"Make that two."

She got up and made us a drink. I put the wine back in the vault.

I needed time to process this shit. It was obvious the old man was some SS officer of note and was held in high esteem by Hitler himself.

When the allies closed in, he'd gathered everything up and put it on a ship and split the scene. Shit was always in total chaos as war comes to an end. The winners just want to go home. The losers trying to find a home to go to. He eventually wound up here. After that, for some reason we'll never know, he held on to everything.

My guess would be he was too hot a ticket item to expose himself like that, trying to move this stuff. Especially the fucking alien technology and the nuclear shit. I imagine he'd meant to educate his children about it but wound up kicking the bucket early and never got the chance to on his own timeline.

Any way it played out, it was mine to deal with now and I didn't have a fucking clue what to do with it.

I should go down there and shred and burn all those schematics and these maps. They scared the shit out of me.

At the same time, they fascinated me beyond all reason. I drained my drink. Ginger, seeing I was in deep thought mode, replenished it and remained quiet. I drank it down, followed by another one.

The alcohol slowed my brain down from Full Tilt Boogie Barn Storming mode I used when solving highly complex quantum equations. That wasn't worth a shit when you needed to compartmentalize and prioritize.

Ok, first the maps. I'd need to research the real estate. Who owned it? Had it been developed?

I unrolled the maps and studied them closely. Something about the Arizona and Colorado maps disturbed me. Nagging at the outer fringes of my subconscious mind..

I rolled everything up and dialed Margie's mobile phone. She answered right away.

"What's up boss?"

"Where are you?"

"We're on the way out to the ranch. Be there in about thirty or so. Got some more deeds and updates."

"Ok, see you in a few."

Our food showed up and we ate it in silence. The wood fired beef and spicey, creamy baked tater hitting the spot just right.

I got up and went out to the barn. Inside was bustling activity. The guards had got the hang of ammo production and were pumping out a thousand rounds per minute. The machining line was ready to roll.

I went to the lake and drove around. They had installed spincast fish feeders. Fish were jumping, looking lively.

To the lodge. It was complete and ready to go. All we needed were high paying customers occupying it.

I went back to the office and found Dave and Margie in the office sipping coffee.

"Hey boss!"

I sat down and pulled out the maps I selected the US maps and handed them to Margie.

"Find out what you can about these properties."

She carefully unrolled them and looked them over. She got out her notebook and flipped through it. Locating what she was looking for.

"You own all these properties. They were among my buys."

There were three Colorado maps and two Arizona maps. The Colorado ranches were loaded in areas with high grade gold ore deposits. Both Arizona ranches were gold.

Fuck me. Ok. Now what?

Margie pulled out a big pile of papers and handed them to me. They were deeds to land. Lots of it.

"How much I own now?"

"About two and a half million acres of farm and ranch land. Another half a million in desert suitable for solar farms."

Excellent.

"Nobody has caught onto our little deal getting the Federal Reserve to fund your purchases, but it's only a matter of time."

"Ok, stop buying land. I've got enough for now."

I looked at the maps and got an idea. If they were valuable enough to map and secure, they must be some real daisies.

"Margie, when you were buying the properties, was there any evidence or indication of mining?"

She thought back.

"No, none that I could recall."

"Mineral rights?"

She referred back to her book and looked up the properties.

"Yes, one hundred percent on all acreage."

"Ok, Dave, your new job is to get these properties set up to begin gold mining operations. I don't need to say i want ore being processed last week."

He got up and started making calls.

"Margie, I need you to look into the South American properties. Have any mines been developed on them."

"Yes sir."

She copied information down from the maps and went to work.

I picked my own phone up and called Mark. When he answered,

"Where we at on getting the material and equipment moved from Amarillo?"

"It should be there. If not, expect it at any time. I've got twenty three truck loads headed your way."

"Ok, hang on. Ginger, what's the deal with your buddy in Dallas and the 150 hands.?"

"Shit, right, I told them to wait until you called."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"I was very clear about needing them right now. Get them here!"

"Ok, I will, damn..."

"Mark, can you leave someone in charge and get back here?"

"Um, yeah, no problem. I'm on the way."

I hung up and Ginger made a call.

"It's Ginger. Y'all get your asses down here now. I know. I fucked up. I'm sorry. You still want the job? Ok, see you in a little bit. Bring everybody. We'll cover gas. Steal a fucking bus if need be."

She looked over at me,

"Look, I'm sorry, I just wasn't sure if you still wanted them or not."

"Anything that keeps my progress moving forward, I want that. The only reason I don't have the number of skilled employees that I need and want is due to the logistics in finding and hiring them. I'm not personally making the time to interview hundreds of people. I've hired employment agencies, but they don't specialize in skilled tradesmen."

"Well, let me handle that end of it."

She picked up the phone and made a call. I tuned her out and started itemizing priorities. That land on the maps, the odds were astronomically against me buying it out of sheer chance. Yet, if you do something enough times, odds are that eventually coincidences will inevitably happen. But, as of this moment, I've devoted all the time I'm going to on it. I'm just going to capitalize on the opportunity it presented.

I thought back to those maps. I got them out again. Something about them was 'off', so to speak. My subconscious brain was working overtime. Memory. Memories. The past. History. Arizona. Colorado.

There! That's it!

I got up and went to the bookshelves and started examining them. There it was. The Trail Of The Conquistadors. I got it out and started flipping through it. Ok, here we go.The maps showing the historical routes they followed.

I compared them, and their trail led right through what would become these ranches. The Colorado ranches all bordered each other. The Arizona ranches, too. I looked through the print, examining the published data. Nothing about gold had been reported. It made sense. The Spaniards had been exploring the vast area. They came across gold in streams, or outcroppings. Something. They made maps, not revealing the presence of the gold to their command structure. Hoping to go back later.

Then, all this time later, these maps wind up in the hands of a Nazi SS officer turned cattle rancher in the area of a historic German settlement in the foothills of the Texas Hill Country.

Any man with the contacts and resources to smuggle all this loot halfway across the world, then move it all again to this point here and build the infrastructure to safeguard it, would have no trouble locating such information in the course of his work.

Ok, so there's that.

Now, how to move this stuff in the markets as quietly as possible. The potential buyers were by default, wealthy. Not run of the mill crooks like the idiots that came after the gold. Somehow, they knew about it. Made sense. You don't move that much wealth without someone knowing about it.

This shitshow started with the discovery of those mining company stocks. The entities in South America suddenly picked up the trail again when they reappeared on the scene. They tried for a Two For One special. Get the stocks to the company they controlled and the rich gold mines they represented. Then get the gold held by the old man their German ancestors told them about.

Which led to the South American maps. Those regions were off the beaten trail. But, developing them would certainly be worth the expenditure. Gold mines down there were typically always rich in high grade lodes. Tens, if not hundreds, of billions in wealth.

I'm not interested in fucking around down there. Too much political instability. No, I'll keep my operations here at home where I can control it.

The wealthy buyers had just as much interest in keeping any transactions off the radar of official channels. Start making waves where millions and billions are involved, and you attract the bureaucratic parasites. Then they start lining up, looking for their 'Fair Share."

They're like those around you, always rejecting you, or whatever. Then you hit the Mega Million lottery. Then everybody shows up.

I rolled the maps up and stashed them in the vault. Then headed out.

Ginger cut off her conversation,

"Hang on." Then looked at me. "Where you going?"

"To the barn. Need to check some things out."

"Wait." then back to her call."Ok, you know what I need. Get it done. You'll be paid well on that commission structure."

She got up and followed me out. We went through. The basement was now four times its original size with an access ramp in place of the stairs. I went to my bedroom and turned on my computer then started searching and accessing websites. The sound of construction was droning on. I got an idea on how much the wines were worth. Recalling the inventory, he'd only saved the best of the best vintages. Sure to bring top prices now.

I sent emails describing a sampling of what I had asking if there was any interest in a purchase agreement. Next, gold buyer. I sent a feeler out on their website. I was looking at another one when I received a call.

"I'd like to speak to Travis Miller, please."

"Speaking."

"I understand you have a large quantity of gold to sell?"

"Yes I do."

"Excellent, we specialize in large quantities. How many ounces are you offering?"

"460,800."

He was silent a long moment.

"Four hundred and sixty thousand eight hundred ounces?"

"Yes sir. 24 karat in 1,152 400 ounce bars."

"Where did you aquire it?"

"Do you want to buy it? If so, the price is $800,000,000."

"I was referencing as to where you aquired it."

"I'm asking if you want to buy it."

"If it indeed is legitimate gold, I am very interested. But, not if it's stolen."

"Have you read any articles, or received any notifications? You don't steal this much gold and not have every law enforcement agency in the free world looking for it. Last call, do you want it or not?"

"I'll need to see a sample. If you'll send it to..."

"Thank you for your time."

I hung up. This shit is not working out. I needed a different approach. The phone rang. I answered it. It was the gold guy.

"Sir, please, bear with me. Would it be possible to send a representative there to inspect and verify it?"

"Yep. Send him to my ranch."

I gave him the address.

"We have representatives in San Antonio. He can be there within the hour. What terms are you looking for? Our policy is thirty days net after we take possession."

"Ok, well, my policy is you show up with $800,000,000 in cash and you load it up and take it with you. No exceptions. Now, do you want it or not?"

"I'll need to contact the managing partners."

"Well, ok, but, I'll be looking for other buyers in the mean time. Whoever shows up first with cash money takes it home."

I hung up. Fuck, I'm tired of dealing with idiots that think they have the power to control any given situation. Either show up ready to do business or stay home.

I went outside. The walls were up, the roof was on. Men were working on various aspects of the building. Soon, the house would be completely ripped out, leaving only the big concrete structure. Secure and away from prying eyes. They'd covered the portal with a tarp during the revamping of the basement.

They were forming a wall three feet out from the portal as they did on the other side. It will have side by side security vault doors. I knew it wouldn't keep people out indefinitely, but it would slow them down long enough so they could be dealt with.

I went down the drive and looked across the road. On a whim, I walked over and went inside. They were eating supper. It smelled like sex in there. Everybody stood up when I came in,

"Y'all go ahead and eat. Sit back down."

Alice got up and went to the counter. She was dressed only in a silk gown and I couldn't keep myself from staring at her pendulous tits swaying over her chest as she walked.

She handed me a stack of papers and sat back down, her gown slipping open, exposing her heavy tits.

I looked at them. More copies of deeds, notarized signatures and stamped as filed in my name at the court house. Four more sections. So, fourteen sections here now. Plus the hundred acres.

I bid everybody goodnight and walked out. Pat came running to me.