Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

office. They were quiet, and the ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to become increasingly louder as the wait continued.

Eventually Ben sat down. He fidgeted in the chair for a while and then leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He turned to look at Ana and said, “This waiting is killing me.”

She nodded in agreement and glanced at Paris, who expressed her own frustration with a loud sigh. Before another word was spoken her mobile rang. It was Hugh, confirming his arrival and that a meeting was going forward, the results of which would depend on what she would find out from whoever contacted her. Paris sat back in her chair, a look of relief on her face. Just then there was a tapping at the door.

“Come in,” Paris answered, turning to see who would appear.

Lyle Brett opened it slightly and stuck his head through. Next came his hand, which was holding a rather thick manila envelope. “This came to me by mistake. It’s addressed to you.” He waved it around a little and continued, “My oh my, it’s quite thick.”

Paris got up, walked to the door and took it from him. She thanked her colleague and put her hand on the doorknob to close it, but he stood firm in the doorway and said, “There’s something else. I want to let you know that I won’t be in the office for a few days—maybe a week.” He waited for questions, but no one asked why, so he offered the information. “I decided to take a little vacation— not sure where— just need a bit of relaxation.”

She thought that his timing was bad and typical of his lack of concern for fellow employees. She dreaded the fact that with the promotion offered, she would be his superior and responsible for his job performance. Considering her increased workload, she asked, “Will there be someone covering your duties while you’re gone?”

“The director said he would try to find someone, but at this point I can’t confirm that.”

Paris hid the annoyance she felt at the realization that she would probably be doing his work as well as her own, but she said nothing—just wished him well and shut the door quickly, causing him to jump out of the way. She returned to the desk, broke the seal on the envelope, and allowed the contents to slide out. The first page looked like a transport manifest. She sat down slowly as she perused what was written. Both Ben and Ana sat forward on the edge of their chairs, waiting for Paris to say something.

She finally looked up and said, “This is the information on an exhibit that’s coming in, supposedly within the next few days.” She paused, trying to sort her thoughts. “I knew very little about this, but when the director asked me to fill in as head of department, he did say that I’d have my hands full very soon. I didn’t make the connection.”

“What’s the exhibit?” Ben asked.

“Let me read the rest of the document.” After a few minutes she looked up again, her expression both concerned and surprised. “I’ve already received the preliminary information on this exhibit. It’s extremely valuable. It’s part of a collection of gold doubloons from a Spanish ship sunk by an English warship off the coast of Portugal in the 1800’s. It was recently salvaged, and after ongoing litigation with the American treasure hunters who salvaged it, the Spanish government has retained ownership. It had originally been on view in Madrid, but the Spanish government is allowing a portion of the treasure to be a traveling exhibit. The whole of what was salvaged is said to be worth something like 350 million Euros. The value of this portion isn’t stated, but it’s probably a small portion of the total.”

“Still a lot of money. Where is it coming from? Portugal maybe?” Ben asked. Ana had nothing to say, but her mouth hung slightly open at the contemplation of such wealth.

“The previous information I received said the portion coming here is presently in Cartagena, Spain. The fact that it’s being moved has been kept quiet—no media coverage. There are instructions not to talk about it until it’s in place—here—under lock and key.”

Ben shook his head. “Even if a treasure that size could be stolen, there’s nothing a thief could do with it. Even a half-million in gold doubloons is rather high profile.”

Ana chimed in, “If they found someone who would melt it down, it would soon just be a lot of gold bars. Not sure how or if they could be traced.”

“I wonder how pure the gold is. I don’t know anything about gold bars, or the karats or how the purity is measured.” Ben paused, obviously thinking. “I also wonder if the value is linked to the historical value, or just to the actual weight and purity of the gold.”

Paris answered, “I don’t have an answer for that, nor do I know where to find out. I imagine someone must have that information.” She continued to peruse the document before continuing. “I had thought it would be sent across the channel by ship—off-loaded at Calais and the rest of the way either by truck or train. Let me see what it says about that.” She read further, turning over page after page. “Well, it says that transport will be by plane, landing at either Gatwick or Heathrow— to be determined. From that point an unmarked armored truck from a security company will be used. I haven’t come across the company name yet.” She looked up and said, “Evidently the plans weren’t complete when the paperwork was handed over to me.”

Ben looked confused, and asked, “So who’s in charge of getting it here, then placing it under lock and key?”

Paris looked first at Ben, then at Ana. “Looks like I am. Seems it’s up to me to book the transport—unless there’s a name somewhere in the …” She turned the pages quickly, scanning