"Though wisdom cannot be gotten for gold, still less can it be gotten
without it." Samuel Butler
Chapter 3:
All That Glitters
The soft wind kissed at Mulder's face, a brief respite from the hellish heat. The breeze smelled of the salty ocean, whispering to all that would listen of distant shores and desert islands.
As they walked from the fiery parking lot towards the creaking wooden dock, Sheriff Blake questioned Mulder on his experience with "odd" cases.
"So, Agent Mulder, do you and the lovely *Agent Scully*," Blake put a special emphasis on 'Agent Scully', "Come across on cases of this unusual nature often?"
Mulder looked at Blake through his sunglasses. Blake couldn't read Mulder's reaction.
"Sheriff, there are far more cases out there of an 'unusual nature' than you would probably believe."
"Agent Mulder, I like to keep an open mind to everything that's out there. At least down here you have to be able to keep an open mind. But something like this, its just not quite what you would expect. Its doesn't even seem scientifically possible."
"You'd be surprised how often the impossible becomes possible. People tend to label what they can't really understand as 'impossible'."
Mulder would've gone on, but they had arrived at the marina's main office. He asked for the slip of Sampson's salvage vessel, and they were given directions. The dock creaked in protest as they strolled over to the boat. They stopped just before the crisp white vessel, a shining new testament to modern man's conquest of the sea.
A young man with dark black hair was hosing down the deck.
"Excuse me," Mulder spoke out, "I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI. This is Sheriff Easton. We would like to ask you a few questions about the death of Don Sampson."
The man turned off the hose and jumped from the boat to the bobbing dock.
"Sam Franklin," the man said, offering his hand to Mulder, then Blake, "I'd be glad to help. Don was a good guy and a hard worker. He really inspired me and the other divers here."
"Can you think of any folks who would want to harm Mr. Sampson?" Blake asked.
"Not really."
"How's that?"
"Well he had rivals, most people in the salvage industry make them. But they're more likely to just sabotage your boat then to actually go and kill you."
"Would you mind making a list of your closest competitors?"
"No problem. Let me just go back to the pilot house."
As Sam jumped back onto the vessel, Mulder called out, "Mind if we take a look around?"
"Go ahead," Sam replied over his shoulder.
Blake and Mulder hopped onto the boat after Sam. But they landed on the crest of a small wave, and both tumbled to the deck. They lay staring at the cerulean blue sky for an instant, the sounds of gulls and waves echoing in their ears. But just as quickly the men sheepishly got up and straightened themselves out.
"Let's pretend that didn't happen," Mulder said.
They both split up and went about through the different cabins. Mulder didn't know what he was looking for, but he felt he would know it when he saw it. He wandered through the different cabins. Mulder eventually found himself in the recovery room. He eyed the eclectic mix of artifacts that sat in the chemical baths and on the tables. Most of the objects were colored mute silver or pale copper. Mulder started looking through the drawers in the table at the room's center. He tried the bottommost right- side drawer, but it only replied by not budging.
"Need some help, Agent Mulder?"
It was Blake.
"I couldn't find anything on this boat that seemed real suspicious."
Mulder looked up from the drawer, "I don't think I'll need help."
He pulled out his lock-picking kit and got to work on the drawer's lock.
"You didn't see this, right?" Mulder called to Blake over his shoulder.
"See what?"
After jostling for a few moments with the lock, Mulder won and the drawer revealed its contents: papers. Mulder looked through them.
"What's there?" asked Blake.
"Looks like translations of archival documents from Spain. This isn't-"
Mulder stopped.
"There's something else in here."
The soft glint of something else in the recesses of the drawer caught Mulder's eye. He reached in and felt some rough objects. Mulder pulled them out. He opened his hand and was greeted by a handful of gold nails. They appeared rough from their long sojourn under the sea. But they still held that twinkling allure that has driven men to conquer continents. Blake looked surprised.
"Christ."
-----------------------
The Australian called the Home Office on one of the main street's payphones.
"I wasn't notified the South Africans would be here."
"That should not be a complication. The rock must still be acquired," the Voice replied.
"There's no problem. He has been taken care of. But who else has been sent?"
"The Canadians, the Kiwis, the Chinese. We also believe the Russians are on their way," the Voice replied, "So time is of the essence."
"The Kiwis even?"
"Listen," the Voice sternly said, "the Home Office will not tolerate failure on an issue of this importance. We have just learned the Americans have put the FBI on this already. They do not know the full circumstances yet. Perhaps you could use them to your advantage. Just get the rock."
The line went dead. The Australian hung up. *Bloody damn rock*.
-----------------------
"I have no idea where he got those."
Sam eyed the pile of gold nails warily, as if they had appeared magically, out of thin air.
"I would've known if we discovered anything unusual like this."
Blake scratched his head, "How's that?"
"I'm the chief diver, so all discoveries go through me. Plus, nails from the wreck would almost certainly be iron. Gold was rarer back then than it is today, and would you ever use gold to nail some wood together?"
"Nope, don't think I would."
Mulder was absorbed in the archival documents. He looked up.
"What's this in here about the demotion of Captain Ibarra? He seemed to have been demoted for a shipwreck that wasn't his fault."
Sam thought, then replied, "Well I didn't really go through the archives, but I think Ibarra was demoted in relation with the loss of an extremely valuable private cargo. It was from Francisco Pizarro directly to the King of Spain. That's actually why we first started looking for this wreck. We thought the admiral's cabin would hold this cargo. But all we found from there was a small chest."
Sam indicated to the chest that sat on a table. Mulder walked over to examine it.
"Are these always coated with lead?"
"Lead? No, that's unusual."
Sam walked over to take a look.
"You know, as a matter of fact, Don had been looking at this chest very carefully just a week or so ago."
Mulder exchanged a glance with Blake. Blake walked over.
"Look at this," Mulder pointed out.
The box's inside was smooth lead, lead being impervious to the ocean's fury. But along one corner were some flakes. Dark black, well cooked looking flakes. Flakes that looked suspiciously like the ones from the box in the motel room.
In Mulder's mind, a candle had been lit to the darkness of the case.
----------------------- -----------------------
Cerulean blue- cerulean blue- cerulean blue- cerulean blue- whoops! Sorry, I just got stuck imagining calm, soothing cerulean blue. Anyhoo, I just got back from a fun-filled day at the horse track and I need to go mope about my losses, so ciao
-This writer
Chapter 3:
All That Glitters
The soft wind kissed at Mulder's face, a brief respite from the hellish heat. The breeze smelled of the salty ocean, whispering to all that would listen of distant shores and desert islands.
As they walked from the fiery parking lot towards the creaking wooden dock, Sheriff Blake questioned Mulder on his experience with "odd" cases.
"So, Agent Mulder, do you and the lovely *Agent Scully*," Blake put a special emphasis on 'Agent Scully', "Come across on cases of this unusual nature often?"
Mulder looked at Blake through his sunglasses. Blake couldn't read Mulder's reaction.
"Sheriff, there are far more cases out there of an 'unusual nature' than you would probably believe."
"Agent Mulder, I like to keep an open mind to everything that's out there. At least down here you have to be able to keep an open mind. But something like this, its just not quite what you would expect. Its doesn't even seem scientifically possible."
"You'd be surprised how often the impossible becomes possible. People tend to label what they can't really understand as 'impossible'."
Mulder would've gone on, but they had arrived at the marina's main office. He asked for the slip of Sampson's salvage vessel, and they were given directions. The dock creaked in protest as they strolled over to the boat. They stopped just before the crisp white vessel, a shining new testament to modern man's conquest of the sea.
A young man with dark black hair was hosing down the deck.
"Excuse me," Mulder spoke out, "I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI. This is Sheriff Easton. We would like to ask you a few questions about the death of Don Sampson."
The man turned off the hose and jumped from the boat to the bobbing dock.
"Sam Franklin," the man said, offering his hand to Mulder, then Blake, "I'd be glad to help. Don was a good guy and a hard worker. He really inspired me and the other divers here."
"Can you think of any folks who would want to harm Mr. Sampson?" Blake asked.
"Not really."
"How's that?"
"Well he had rivals, most people in the salvage industry make them. But they're more likely to just sabotage your boat then to actually go and kill you."
"Would you mind making a list of your closest competitors?"
"No problem. Let me just go back to the pilot house."
As Sam jumped back onto the vessel, Mulder called out, "Mind if we take a look around?"
"Go ahead," Sam replied over his shoulder.
Blake and Mulder hopped onto the boat after Sam. But they landed on the crest of a small wave, and both tumbled to the deck. They lay staring at the cerulean blue sky for an instant, the sounds of gulls and waves echoing in their ears. But just as quickly the men sheepishly got up and straightened themselves out.
"Let's pretend that didn't happen," Mulder said.
They both split up and went about through the different cabins. Mulder didn't know what he was looking for, but he felt he would know it when he saw it. He wandered through the different cabins. Mulder eventually found himself in the recovery room. He eyed the eclectic mix of artifacts that sat in the chemical baths and on the tables. Most of the objects were colored mute silver or pale copper. Mulder started looking through the drawers in the table at the room's center. He tried the bottommost right- side drawer, but it only replied by not budging.
"Need some help, Agent Mulder?"
It was Blake.
"I couldn't find anything on this boat that seemed real suspicious."
Mulder looked up from the drawer, "I don't think I'll need help."
He pulled out his lock-picking kit and got to work on the drawer's lock.
"You didn't see this, right?" Mulder called to Blake over his shoulder.
"See what?"
After jostling for a few moments with the lock, Mulder won and the drawer revealed its contents: papers. Mulder looked through them.
"What's there?" asked Blake.
"Looks like translations of archival documents from Spain. This isn't-"
Mulder stopped.
"There's something else in here."
The soft glint of something else in the recesses of the drawer caught Mulder's eye. He reached in and felt some rough objects. Mulder pulled them out. He opened his hand and was greeted by a handful of gold nails. They appeared rough from their long sojourn under the sea. But they still held that twinkling allure that has driven men to conquer continents. Blake looked surprised.
"Christ."
-----------------------
The Australian called the Home Office on one of the main street's payphones.
"I wasn't notified the South Africans would be here."
"That should not be a complication. The rock must still be acquired," the Voice replied.
"There's no problem. He has been taken care of. But who else has been sent?"
"The Canadians, the Kiwis, the Chinese. We also believe the Russians are on their way," the Voice replied, "So time is of the essence."
"The Kiwis even?"
"Listen," the Voice sternly said, "the Home Office will not tolerate failure on an issue of this importance. We have just learned the Americans have put the FBI on this already. They do not know the full circumstances yet. Perhaps you could use them to your advantage. Just get the rock."
The line went dead. The Australian hung up. *Bloody damn rock*.
-----------------------
"I have no idea where he got those."
Sam eyed the pile of gold nails warily, as if they had appeared magically, out of thin air.
"I would've known if we discovered anything unusual like this."
Blake scratched his head, "How's that?"
"I'm the chief diver, so all discoveries go through me. Plus, nails from the wreck would almost certainly be iron. Gold was rarer back then than it is today, and would you ever use gold to nail some wood together?"
"Nope, don't think I would."
Mulder was absorbed in the archival documents. He looked up.
"What's this in here about the demotion of Captain Ibarra? He seemed to have been demoted for a shipwreck that wasn't his fault."
Sam thought, then replied, "Well I didn't really go through the archives, but I think Ibarra was demoted in relation with the loss of an extremely valuable private cargo. It was from Francisco Pizarro directly to the King of Spain. That's actually why we first started looking for this wreck. We thought the admiral's cabin would hold this cargo. But all we found from there was a small chest."
Sam indicated to the chest that sat on a table. Mulder walked over to examine it.
"Are these always coated with lead?"
"Lead? No, that's unusual."
Sam walked over to take a look.
"You know, as a matter of fact, Don had been looking at this chest very carefully just a week or so ago."
Mulder exchanged a glance with Blake. Blake walked over.
"Look at this," Mulder pointed out.
The box's inside was smooth lead, lead being impervious to the ocean's fury. But along one corner were some flakes. Dark black, well cooked looking flakes. Flakes that looked suspiciously like the ones from the box in the motel room.
In Mulder's mind, a candle had been lit to the darkness of the case.
----------------------- -----------------------
Cerulean blue- cerulean blue- cerulean blue- cerulean blue- whoops! Sorry, I just got stuck imagining calm, soothing cerulean blue. Anyhoo, I just got back from a fun-filled day at the horse track and I need to go mope about my losses, so ciao
-This writer
