As he had stared at the burning wreckage, it was obvious the gold was gone.
There was no way to recover it. The van had been purchased by Khoury. Ritter had no legal connection to it. In fact, there was no obvious connection of any kind. It was impossible for him to make any claim for the anonymous smoldering, melted metal on the street in front of him. Also, there would be awkward questions about the charred body with the gun found in the incinerated van. For all they had been through, now there was an overwhelming sense of loss. Heartbreak. Ritter’s gold was not to be. It would become the unclaimed property of the Swiss gnomes.
They had dragged themselves back to the hotel, Michelle limping badly. She refused to see a doctor. Tearfully, she explained what had happened. Her sobs were almost uncontrollable as she talked about the note. Torn between a sense of duty and her feelings for Ritter, she had momentarily made a dreadful choice. She was blocked by Thompson from going back up to the room to destroy the note. In turn, Ritter could only feel relief. He had not lost her. He held her tightly until she finally calmed. A near disaster had been avoided.
They spent the rest of the day struggling with an immense sense of depression and exhaustion, both fiscal and mental. They could only appreciate they were alive and with each other. Ritter was now contemplating what he would do next. What about Michelle? Her CIA connection had shocked him. How could he have missed that? But he also was impressed. She was a serious human being. And something he never thought he would find. Someone to spend his life with.
Rummaging through his bag to check his passport, he recognized something he had not thought about. He suddenly shouted. “Michelle, look. Look at this!”
Dozing on the bed, Michelle opened her eyes and raised her head. Ritter was waving a piece of paper he had pulled from the bag.
She glanced at him. In a drowsy voice, she asked, “What’s that?”
“Look what’s here. The key to the gold.”
She looked puzzled. She didn’t understand. In her mind, the treasure was gone. What was this about?
Ritter was now jumping around, waving the paper. “How could I have forgotten this? How bloody stupid!”
Michelle sat up and, swinging her legs around, was sitting on the edge of the bed.
He handed it to her. She looked at the paper. With an explosive yelp, she leapt to her feet. They both started laughing, uncontrollably, tears flowing on both their faces. They hugged, consumed in an exhilarating emotional moment. They looked at the paper again. Yes, how could they have forgotten?
It was the customs declaration from Brindisi that perfectly accounted for the amount of gold that would be found in the wreckage. It had Ritter’s name and passport number on it as well as the license plate number of the van. There would also be the remains of one of the boxes with the British Army markings. And now he would have a powerful arm of the U.S. government as a partner. They also wanted the gold.
* * *
Michelle and Ritter stepped out into the bright May sunlight. It was a beautiful spring morning in Washington. Summer was almost upon them. The comforting smell of fresh flowers enhanced the moment. The scent of cherry blossoms, already forgotten, had been replaced by rhododendrons and dogwoods. The lovely sounds of chirping mockingbirds were mixed with distant traffic noises and a plane that had just lifted off from Dulles International Airport.
After several weeks of meetings with various officials and government people, their lives had changed forever.
Indeed, there had been tough questions about the identity of the burned body in the van with the gun. But with the assistance of the man from the U.S. consulate, everything had been smoothed over. The CIA had ways of explaining away dead bodies.
Ritter and Michelle had then left Geneva, flying to Washington, where Michelle resigned from the Company.
“I never thought I would ever visit the CIA,” said Ritter. “And I certainly never thought I would be partnered with them.”
He glanced back at the impressive building before they headed to their car.
“They bargained pretty hard, but I’m glad for a 25 per cent cut. Actually, it’s a greater percentage than I’ve gotten in a lot of other hunts. And it was close to the original one third we had been working for. So I can’t complain.”
“Brian, he was just a bureaucrat doing his job,” said Michelle. “It was an open file that needed to be closed. And it was time for me to resign and get on with my life.” She chuckled. “With you.”
Nothing stirred Brian Ritter more than Michelle’s laughter. It was a marvelous, joyful, often mischievous sound that affected him in a way that nothing else could. He found himself staring at her. Her limp was almost gone. How had this happened? A visit to a library at the right moment. That’s all it took.
Days later, they were in the Florida Keys, where her sister lived in a large oceanfront property. The salty breeze caressed their bodies, relaxing their souls. But it didn’t take long for Nelson to show up, trying to draw Ritter into another treasure hunt.
“They say it’s one of the most valuable seventeenth century wrecks ever. And it’s located just off Key West. My friend Mel says he knows more or less where it is. He can help us find it. And there would be no digging on a cold, rainy, and inhospitable rocky mountain in the dark. What do you say?”
Ritter smiled. Michelle shrugged. Another day, another treasure? What could possibly go wrong?