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Rated: 13+ · Novel · Action/Adventure · #1636458
Action/Adventure - A genre mix like National Treasure and Indiana Jones
April 25, 2012 – Berchtesgaden - Treff Alpenhotel Kronprinz



As soon as they pulled into the parking area, Monday spotted Chester leaning on one of the second story balconies. The man had not changed since their last get together several years earlier, and they hadn’t worked as a team for over eleven years.

Chester was a little over six feet tall, about Monday’s height, and well built, with strong bulging muscles and a crop of rusty brown hair peppered with gray strands. He was in his early forties but had the physique of someone ten years younger. As Monday’s executive officer, Chester always displayed a cool and collective aura even in some very sticky and dangerous situations. Not one to go off the deep end, he always measured twice and cut once. Unlike Monday, Chester made a career of the Army and retired recently as a Lieutenant Colonel. He had not yet decided on a second career but often stated that he had put his twenty in, and it was his wife Barbara’s turn to put her twenty in. Barbara had other thoughts about that, which she could only express into four letter words.

“Come on up, Cowboy!” Chester yelled, holding up a mug full of steaming coffee. The man was addicted to the stuff and drank about twenty cups a day. “And bring that ugly old Kraut and beautiful little lady up with you! Room right next to yours!”

“Ugly mein arse!” Henri yelled back, flipping a finger at Chester. “You’re nothing but an overblown retired has been.” Henri and Chester were very fond of each other. Daria shook her head and muttered something that sounded like kinder.

As they entered Chester’s room, the four other ex-Team members were standing at rigid attention. From left to right stood Kenny “The Scout” Carney, Graydon “Bones” Zanyk, Charlie “Weps” Lanier, and Mike “The Geek” Grace. Each one was wearing a paper helmet and an improvised nametag with Bastard Army printed on it. Cool Bastards was the unofficial name of the Special Forces A-Team they once belonged to.

“Very cute.” Monday glanced at their grinning faces. “I was worried for a while that you guys had gone serious on me. Happy to see you’re still the same bunch of bumbling idiots I once loved.”

“Give us a kiss Cowboy,” Carney said. “We’ve missed our mother hen too!” Carney was tall and slim and also retired from the Army as a Master Sergeant. Like Chester and the rest of them he was sporting a lot of silver at the temples but Monday could tell he was still in great shape. As an Army Scout, he was the best. Carney could track a fart through a swamp at the blink of an eye. He also knew how to spot traps in all kinds of terrain from improvised explosive devices to trip wires and pungi stakes. His handle on the team had been Scout.

Like Monday, Graydon Zanyk got out of the Army after ten years and went to medical school. He was a successful MD and general practitioner but still had a lingering need for the danger he was often exposed too as part of the Team. As the team’s medic, Bones knew more about their bodies than they did. Monday noticed that he was hiding a glass of whiskey behind him, he was very partial to Jack Daniels straight up.

“For medicinal purposes Cowboy,” Bones said with a grin.

Next to Bones stood Charlie Lanier, a tall slim and serious minded man who was the youngest on the team, topping out at thirty-five. He had been released from the Army under a medical discharge. He said an IED in Iraq had disagreed with him but he also insisted that the metal plate in his skull only made him a better man. Charlie was known as Weps, a short nickname for weapons. He was a small arms expert and could break down and put back together any rifle or pistol ever made by any country. He could also describe their nomenclature and firing characteristics. In addition, he was well-versed in demolitions and was sniper qualified. Monday noticed that he had painted a goatee on his chin with a magic marker. This was obviously an attempt at oddball humor for which Weps was famous. The team clown.

Last in line was Mike Grace. Mike left the Army and became a very wealthy man in the computer industry. He had been the team’s communication’s expert but the word expert could never do him justice. He was an absolute genius on anything electronic and often had the men’s heads spinning with his highly technical jargon. That’s why the Team dubbed him The Geek, of which he was duly proud.

After introductions all around, Chester took Monday and Henri across the hall to another room.

“Don’t want to wake up the sleeping babies,” he chuckled as he opened the door. Lying on a large queen sized bed was a small array of weapons.

There were six Heckler and Koch MP7 assault rifles. The name MP7 comes from the German "Maschinenpistole 7." It is the rifle of choice for most Special Forces around the world. There were also half a dozen SIG-Sauer P-226 pistols. The 226 is the king of the SIG-Sauer line, which many experts regard as the most wonderful of all the recent crop of "wonder-nines." Basically, the P-226 is the P-220 modified to accept a double-column magazine holding 15 rounds of 9mm Parabellum ammunition. Several 110 round drums were also laid out on the bed. Last, but best of all was a Barrett M107 .50-caliber sniper rifle. A powerful rifle that could certainly reach out and touch someone.

“I see Major Reinhardt took good care of you,” Henri remarked, smiling at the pile of deadly weapons. One call from Henri to a friend in the German Special Forces was all it took.

“We have official German military documents noting that we are here for reserve training with Major Reinhardt’s unit,” Chester stated, “ Also stamped approval from the Bundespolizei to carry the weapons outside military areas.”

“Let’s get the team together in my room,” Monday stated. “Daria has provided us with a puzzle to solve and if we figure it out, twenty tons of pure gold is up for grabs.”

Chester sucked in wind and let out a lingering whistle at the news.

“Unfortunately, most of it will go to the German Government,” Monday continued. “That’s Daria’s demand for letting us in on the hunt. However, there will be an official finder’s fee of five percent of the official value of the gold, which still amounts to quite a sum. Daria is willing to split it in whatever way it takes in order to find the gold.”

“I’ll say,” Chester whispered. “Five percent of twenty tons of gold is still a lot of money.”

“More than you or your kids can spend in a lifetime,” Monday stated.

“You don’t know Barbara!” Chester rolled his eyes.

The team gathered in one room and started going over the clues in the documents together. A few hours later they still had not solved the mystery.

“I need to go to my apartment and change clothes and freshen up.” Daria stood and arched her back. “Perhaps you can solve the riddle before I get back?”

“Let me drive you.” Monday stood up to retrieve his sport coat.

“I need the walk and the fresh air,” she returned. “It’s not very far at all and I do need to stop at the market and pick up a few items. I have a feeling we’ll be heading for Bad Tölz and I need to make arrangements with my landlord to take care of my birds, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum.”

“Sounds like some people I know.” Henri gave her a crooked smile.

Monday looked across the small table at Chester who shrugged his beefy shoulders in a nonchalant manner. He worried about Daria being by herself but he also didn’t want to upset her by showing her his concern. He knew the representative of the Cultural Ministry was somewhere out there with the shady looking attorney, and they had the original copy of the documents, but neither had shown any sign of hostility, at least not yet. And, until they proved otherwise, he had to assume they were also seeking the gold through avenues and resources of their own. He decided to at least escort her to the hotel lobby.

© Copyright 2010 Oldwarrior (oldwarrior at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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