Chapter 74
We eluted the Swiss boarder guards and made our way back to France with the help of a human smuggler I have worked with on several occasions. Our journey from the French coastline to Kent England was aboard a fishing boat called Titanic. The skipper was a sea baring Frenchman that stank of boos and dead fish. The turbulent current of the channel smashed again the hull of the little fishing boat as it traversed the English cannel towards the white cliffs of Dover.
The raging sea and stormy winds pelted us with rain as the skipper maneuver his small boat towards England. The town of Dover, England was a welcome site to my throbbing head and weak stomach.
The last leg of our journey to Kent was achieved by another acquaintance I forged years ago as a human trafficker. The mode of choice was a gasoline truck converted to store up to six people. Fortunately for Al and I, this trip was only for two. The three hour ride to Kent was one of the most miserable trips I have ever taken. Our arrival in Kent went inconspicuous as Mr Kandinsky pushed my wheelchair into the village pub. British food has never been a great friend to me, but the hot food, cold beer and a warm bed soothed my tormented soul.
The bright light of dawns crept over the horizon and signaled the start of first day of May in the small town of Kent. Today was the day that I would finally visit my old friend Sam Tucker. It’s been forty years since I saw my old friend. I wondered if Sam would ever remember me?" After a hearty breakfast of egg, banger and mash, my friend Albert Kandinsky and I made our way to the outskirts of town and the home of Sam Tucker.
The stone-cobble street of Kent were twisted and torn as we made our way to an old hay thatch house with a broken white fence. The name on the door said McFadden. The farmhouse has been in the McFadden family for one hundred years. After her father’s death, the dilapidated old farm was finally passed to Sam Tucker’s wife, Barbara.
The two story home was near a decrypted old barn. Wild geese have taken over the shambled stalls that use to house the milking cows. The only thing left of the once thriving farm was the large metal wheel of an old tractor that leans against a dead apple tree.
A strong southern breeze blew back my thinning hair as Albert escorted me to the front door. The door was adorned with a large brass knocker that was old and tarnished. The thunderous sound of the knocker echoed throughout the house. For a moment, I thought the old bastard had gone and died before we had the chance to meet again. The last time I heard, Sam Tucker was dying of cancer.
The years after the war were desolate for Mr. and Mrs. Tucker. Mrs Tucker was a beautiful full figured cow girl when she first met Sam. The love between them was undeniable. Sam and Barbra were married the day after they meet in London. The couple was happily married for forty years, but childless. The couple wasted many lonely days and nights wishing for a child that never came. The death of his wife, weighed heavily on Mr. Tucker’s soul.
A delightful woman dressed in a pristine white uniform answered the door, smiled and said, “May I help you?”
“Good afternoon, my fare madden, my name is Ken from London. We have traveled a great distance to see our friend Sam Tucker,” I lied.
A cheerful smile adorned the women’s face as she said, “My name is Janet, I am Mr. Tucker’s nurse. Mr. Tucker is resting comfortable right now, but I know it would make his heart good to see old friends.”
The delightful full figured woman with a triple chin, large DD breast and emerald green eyes cheerfully escorted us to a bedroom. “How, may I ask, do you know Mr. Tucker?” Janet uttered.
“Oh, we go way back my child, long before you were even born, back during the last Great War.”
The midday sun finally started to pierce through the gray clouds of England. The weak and dilapidated floorboards creak as Mr. Kandinsky pushed my wheelchair towards a back bedroom.
Janet paused as she peeked inside Mr. Tucker’s bedroom and whispered, “Sir, you have visitors.” The nurse smiled and crept into Sam Tucker’s bedroom.
Janet politely opened the door and allowed us into the bedroom. Streaks of bright sunlight pierced through the shades in the otherwise bleak and drab bedroom. Sam’s old brass bed was adorned with four worn wooden pillars and a torn canapé.
An air compressor machine was connected to an oxygen mask that covered the old man’s face. A heart monitoring machine was connected to Mr. Tucker’s arm and chest. I rolled up closer to Sam's bed as he slowly woke from a nap.
Albert loomed in the shadow of the doorway as Janet and I slowly approached Sam from either side of the bed.
Janet’s smiled and said, “Mr. Tucker, sir friends of yours are here for a visit.” Janet smiled as she helped the aging man sit-up and fluffed his pillow.
Wrinkles and age spots replaced Sam’s once youthful body. His long flowing brown hair has faded to a dull white. His strong muscular build, that once drove all the ladies crazy, has dwindled down to skin and bones. Sam's blue eyes that once blaze with confidence was now perplexed and sad.
Sam didn’t quite recognize my face at first as he looked deep into my eyes. A flash of recognition rapidity spread across his leathery face. The long gray hairs on Sam’s neck suddenly stood on end as his heart rate quickly accelerated.
The heart monitor machine began beating rapidly. I could finally see Sam’s wrinkled face as the nurse helped Mr. Tucker take off the mask.
Sam tried to speak, but his words are soft and inaudible. Janet leaned in and finally heard the word, “run.”
Terror and desperation swiftly rushed through Janet’s mind like a raging bull running through a china shop. Janet struggled in vain as she foolishly tried to escape Kandinsky's gasp. Her big green eyes protrude from there sockets and her chubby legs frantically thrashed as Mr. Kandinsky tighten his grip around her neck. Her adorable face cringed in pain as Mr. Kandinsky violently shattered Janet’s neck with his own bare hands.
Devastated and helpless, Sam Tucker watched as Janet’s body crumbled to the floor with a loud thump. The heart monitor steady beeped faster and faster as Sam Tucker’s heart exploded in his chest.
“Remember me?” I boast as fear and desperation smoldered in Sam’s heart. I cast my brown eyes down on my former friend as tears trickle down his wrinkled face. My thoughts quickly dash back to memories of happier days with my friend Sam Tucker. I cherished the friendship I once had with Sam until he conspired against me.
“You know why I am here; where is the treasure?”
Sam gasped for oxygen as I squeezed his tubes. His decaying body thrust about the brass bed as I watch him slowly suffer and die.
“Not yet,” I yelled as I released the tube. “Tell me who has the treasure?”
Sam Tucker’s eyes flinched as he tried to speak. I carefully lower my head to Sam's quivering mouth as he whispered in hollow voice, “Jeff Anderson.”
I clutched Sam’s tubes as a vindictive grin spread across my face. As I watch Sam's body twitched in pain as whisper, “Don’t lie to me old friend, I already saw your friend Jeff Anderson and he told me the priest had the treasure, but the senator lied to me. I murdered the senator and the priest for their sins. Now tell me were the treasure is before you meet you old friends in hell.” I relinquish my hold on the tubes as Sam Tucker gasps for air.
“I don’t know,” Sam Tucker begged. “For some reason I didn’t believe you Sam.” I squeeze the tubes again till finally Sam pointed a trembling bony finger across the room. I turn to see a dresser covered in dust and scattered with junk.
“What are you pointing at Sam?”
“The picture,” Sam whispered in anguish. Curiously, I roll my wheelchair to the far end of the room towards a six drawer dresser filled with worn and tattered cloth. As I poked around aimlessly, I found a brass picture frame. I pick up the picture frame and dust of an inch of accumulated dust. To my surprise, it was a picture of young Sam Tucker and his youthful and beautiful bride dressed in her wedding gown. I quickly roll back to Sam’s side with the cherished wedding picture. Sam gratefully embraced the brass picture frame as tears stream down his face.
I turned to see Albert Kandinsky still standing over the dead nurse’s body, unemotional as a rock.
“Okay, Sam tell me where the treasure is and I will let you live.”
Sam’s fragile fingers open the brass frame and flip off the picture to show a key.
I snatch the bright shiny copper-colored key. “What is this?”
“Donald Walker and I to smuggled the treasure to New Mexico and deposit the treasure into a safe deposit box. This key will open the box,” Sam whispered.
I inspect the key. Stamped letters on the key read, “Property of first federal bank New Mexico.”A joyful smile crossed my face as I marvel at the prospect of finally finding the treasure.
“Okay, Sam, you kept up your part of the bargain. I will leave you in peace, just like you left me in peace forty years ago.”
I hastily turned and wheeled myself towards the door. I stop at the doorway and deliberated Sam Tucker’s future. I realize I didn’t give Sam Tucker the proper goodbye that he deserved. I turn my wheelchair around and quickly roll myself back to Mr. Tucker’s bedside. I look deeply into my friend’s eyes and whispered, “I am going to leave you like you left me forty years ago Sam.” I hastily rip the tubes from Sam Tucker’s body. Waves of pain rush through Sam’s body as a mischievous look crossed my face. Sam eyes glazed at me as he gasped his last breath and died.