Chapter 90
The weather-beaten trailer home was just a few miles down from the bank on route 66. A dust-covered road lead to the mobile home. As Albert helped me into my wheelchair, I cast my brown eyes upon the Walker’s household. The dilapidated mobil home had several broken windows covered with cardboard and a broken TV antenna. Cat urine and grease filled the air as Albert knocked on the front door. A delightful young woman answered the door. Unabashed, the young lady spoke with a high pitch southern voice, “How may I help you good sir?
“We are friends of your father Donald--” Anguish and trepidation quickly spread across the young child’s face as she yelled, “Run pa.”
Suspicious, Albert pushed aside the girl and lunged into the one room mobile home. Rage infested Albert’s soul as he saw an old man open a sliding glass door and run away from the house. Mayhem erupted as Albert pulled out his Glock pistol and chased after the old man. The young women screamed, brandish a steak knife and ran towards me. I pulled out my Lugar and pointed at her head. The young women halted her advance and dropped the steak knife. A bitter look quickly shrouded her beautiful face as she regrettable took a seat on the couch.
The old man was trying to unlock a shed in the backyard as Albert jumped on him. Albert scuffled with the old man then dragged him back into the mobil home and pushed him onto a chair.
I cast my eyes upon an old man. He had long straggly bear, dark menacing eyes and yellow teeth. A WWII airborne paratrooper pin adorned old man’s faded pair of blue overalls.
“Your were in the the eighty-six Airborne platoon commanded by Jefferson Anderson?”
A stubborn and defiant look crept over the old man’s face as he uttered, “Who are you and what do you want?” The old man gasped as he tried to escape Albert’s tight grip around his neck.
A mesmerizing look crept over me as I admire the old man’s daughter. The young women was graced with a pair of deep blue eyes, a cute button size noise and long blond hair. A tattoo reading “God loves you” adorned left arm and a simple cotton dress covered her deep dark tanned skin. An unsuspected smile crossed my face as I pondered how much Jane reminded me of my own child.
“I just visited your friend Sam Tucker in England. He told me that you helped him deposit a very valuable treasure into a safe deposit box at the first national bank.”
A suspicious look masked the old man’s face as he uttered. “What are you the FBI?”
“Your friend Sam Tucker gave me the key to that safe deposit box, but I just found out that the box was empty.”
A tear tricked down the old man face as he stared into his daughter’s ocean blue eyes. Vindication lingered in his heart as he remained defiantly. The stubborned look on the old man’s face indicated to me that he was going to be uncooperative.
Viciousness swilled in Albert’s heart as he Violently straggled the old man.
“No, the daughter pleaded as he lugged at Albert. Jane violently kicked, and punched Albert until I blasted a hole through the wall of the mobil home with my pistol. Tears cascaded down the young women’s beautiful face as she sat back in her chair.
Bereavement and dread engulfed the mobile home as I uttered, “We don't want to hurt you or your daughter Mr Walker, just tell me where the treasure is and I’l let you and your daughter live.”
The old man’s brown eye gazed at me with hate and bitterness.
“I really don't want to do this, but you leave little choice.” I grab Jane by her long blonde hair and pushed my luger pistol toward her head. “You have three-seconds to tell me what I want to know or I will splatter her brains over the mobile home.”
Rage festered in the old man’s face as I cocked back the handle of my gun.
“I can’t tell you, but I can show were it is,” the old man uttered.
The daughter screamed, “ No father, don't tell him anything.”
“Mr. Walker I am growing inpatient.” “Jane go get the map,” the father insisted.
A forbidding look concealed the child face as she defiantly screamed, “No.”
“Go ahead child, we will be all right.” The daughter reluctantly walked to the kitchen and pulled out a ripped pieces of parchment paper. Scornful looked lingered in the daughter’s eyes as she tossed the paper towards me. As she sat back on the coach, I unfolded the piece of parchment and revealed a map. “What is this?” I stammered.
“It’s a map of the Carlsbad cavern. I was as a tour guide there many years ago. I stole the treasure out of the safe deposit box and buried it in the cave.”
A gleam of fulfillment lingered in my soul as I cast my eyes on the map. I threw the map towards the old man and said, “Take us there now.”