Lost Loot of Lima Read online

  “It’s definitely late 18th century” he exclaimed, trying to make out details of the coin. Kyle was less prone to emotional reactions to such things than Jenny, who was unable to contain her excitement.

  Jenny made sweeping motions in the water with her arms so that she could get closer to Kyle. He handed the coin to her and she held it up, turning it over carefully in her hands, trying to contain her excitement. “Oh! Kyle,” she said. “Do you think there could be more?” She spat out a mouthful of salt water. “You’re right, it is late 18th century – Peruvian in fact. My God!” She exclaimed elatedly. “Do you realise that this could be part of the ‘Lost Loot of Lima’?” Although Kyle had come to the area for diving, it was Jenny who had studied pirate treasures and had apprised Kyle of the legends surrounding buried treasure in and around Cocos Island.

  “I don’t think you should start to pee tiny bubbles yet,” said Kyle, diffusing Jenny’s enthusiasm a little. “First of all, we find out exactly what this is we have found, I would like you to clean this coin up when we get back and you can check it against one of your catalogues. We can probably get an early start tomorrow and see if there is any more, provided the weather holds, and we can set up an exploratory grid around the area we found the coin.”

  Kyle scanned the surface for the boat and located it approximately 150 feet away, between them and the island. The gleaming white hull of the 60-foot Hatteras shimmered even under the overcast sky and the red dive flag with white diagonal stripe hung limp on the masthead. To his right loomed Manuelita Island, its vertical cliffs plunging into the sea. Wherever the angle of inclination was less than 90 degrees, tufts of grass and bushy, mangrove-like trees clung to the lava face, their long roots dangling in the air like stringy hair. Every piece of vegetation, it seemed, held a bird, either a brown or red-footed booby, a downy booby chick, or a snow-white fairy tern. Just to the south, Cocos Island reared overhead, a mountain shrouded in cushiony clouds. Through the light rain sweeping horizontally across Weston Bay and into their faces, they could see perhaps half a mile inland before the ubiquitous green gave way to a soft, obscuring white. Closer in, veils of streaky clouds revealed a downpour, while on the island's periphery, waterfalls spilt down cliffs many stories high. Cocos has but three ingredients: green plants, grey stone, and clear water.

  He thumbed a signal to Jenny and donned his facemask, cleared his regulator, deflated his BC and sank below the surface. They both proceeded underwater in the direction of the boat. Kyle reached the slowly rolling boat first and grabbed for the ladder attached to the swim platform. The rain was much heavier now and the wind had started to pick up, although they were in the lee of the island, which accounted for the relatively calm water. Removing one fin at a time he tossed them on to the swim platform. Grabbing the ladder with both hands and locating the bottom rung with his right foot he hauled himself up onto the platform. Removing his tanks and weight belt he looked back at Jenny who had now inflated her BC and was holding up one of her fins for him to take. As he grabbed the fin, a second one appeared in Jenny's other hand and he tossed them both into the boat. Kyle offered his hand to Jenny as she negotiated the moving ladder.

  "Where's the coin?" Kyle asked, betraying a little apprehension.

  "Don't worry!" Jenny chided with a smile on her face "I put it in the pocket of my BC" she said, reaching for it. "Here it is!” holding it up to show him. “I'll go ahead and start the boat while you stow away all the gear. Once we get going, I'll make us a couple of nice cool drinks. I'm sure you must be thirsty after breathing all that dry air."

  "You bet!" He said as she disappeared into the cabin to access the lower station – the rain was now quite heavy.

  She switched on the port engine and punched the start button. The engine burst into life with a low rumble and she mimicked the process for the starboard engine. Kyle folded the ladder and fastened it in place on the swim platform, and secured the tanks in the tank racks. He then moved to the bow to retrieve the anchor using the electric windlass while Jenny alternately engaged the port and starboard drives to manoeuvre the boat.

  "Got it!" Kyle shouted as the anchor broke the surface. He stowed the anchor and moved aft. He made his way around the superstructure and entered the cabin. "You may as well pilot her in," he said to Jenny. "I'll fix the drinks. What would you like?"

  "Just a soft drink - Diet Coke would be fine, thanks." She replied.

  "Take her over to the marker buoy so we can pick it up and get a reading on the location. We don't want anyone else nosing around here until we can register our claim with the authorities." Kyle raised his voice above the increasing rumble of the diesels.

  §

  The next day, they did in fact get an early start at continuing the search, as sleeping was impossible. It was cool enough that night that they didn’t have to run the generator for the air-conditioning. They talked most of the night about plans for their exploration and how they were going to map the area. Jenny had cleaned the coin and checked it against the catalogues, verifying that it was in fact from Peru and could have been part of the stolen cache from Lima in 1821. The rain had ceased during the night and the morning sky was crimson as the rising sun bathed the few clouds remaining in its fiery glow. Kyle fired up the generator to charge the batteries and provide power for the toaster and coffee maker. Breakfast was a hurried toast, with juice and coffee that Jenny prepared while Kyle attended to the equipment and refilled the tanks. By 7:00 a.m. they were back at the site of the find and dropped anchor in the calm and amazingly transparent turquoise-blue waters. Gear was checked and supplies were placed in the netted bag. The vacuum unit was started and the hose unreeled and placed in the water. Although their intention was not to hunt for treasure, it was prudent of them to stock the boat with the necessary equipment in case they were fortunate. They intended to mark out the area with string placed in a grid pattern measuring 300 feet square, divided up into 100 squares of 30 feet. Along one side of the grid, the ten sections were tagged alphabetically from ‘A’ to ‘J’, and the other side tagged numerically from ‘1’ to ‘10’. In this way, any find could be logged exactly as to where it was located. The location of the original find was approximately in the centre at grid reference ‘D/E-4/5’.

  Most of the area was flat sand with little coral at an average depth of 50 feet. Kyle’s calculations determined that they should not exceed a bottom time of more than 45 minutes without decompression procedures. They started their search in ‘D/E-4/5’ and while Kyle examined the small outcrops of coral, Jenny proceeded to ‘vacuum’ the sand through the filtered nozzle at the end of the hose. When they had completed the square, finding nothing, it had taken them 26 minutes, so they proceeded to ‘D/E-5/6’. When their 45 minutes were up, they marked the spot where they had left off and returned to the boat. Kyle started the compressor and connected the tanks while Jenny prepared drinks. They rested for an hour before starting back down.

  They made six dives and covered ten grids when they called it quits for the day. In the process, they discovered six more coins, similar to the one found originally. It was clear that this was a treasure site and that more would be found. Their plan was to cover the squares in a ‘nautilus’ pattern, spiralling out from the starting square which meant they were in grid ‘C/D-6/7’ when they finished. Tempted to stay in the location overnight, they decided against it because they would be vulnerable to any inclement weather, plus, they did not want to draw any undue interest from passing boats.

  They headed back to Wafer Bay and dropped anchor for the night. Kyle refilled the dive tanks while Jenny busied herself in the galley preparing supper. It was warm that evening and Jenny watched Kyle through the glass doors as he wrestled with the heavy tanks. Sweat glistened on his bronze back in the twilight and the sight of him in only his swimsuit stirred her. As fantasies started to build in her head, she removed what little clothing she had on and walked to the door, pressed her breasts against the glass and waited for Kyle to turn around. Kyle placed the last tank in the rack, secured it, and turned to face the erotic scene before him. Beaming from ear to ear, he slowly approached the door and placed his hands on the two flat circles formed by the breasts and pressed his mouth against the glass. She mimicked the movement and met his mouth with hers, forming a circle of condensation on the cool glass. She backed away from the door and slid it back, standing completely naked in the opening. Kyle’s hands were still poised in the position of her breasts and he stepped through the doorway and cupped them, meeting her lips with his.

  “You taste salty, you old salty dog,” Jenny chided.

  “Not so much of the -,” Kyle tried to say ‘old’, but his open mouth was smothered by Jenny’s, her tongue thrust inside to entwine his.

  She placed her arms around his strong shoulders and pressed into him as he manipulated her erect nipples between his fingers. She could feel his masculinity slowly responding and their breathing became staccato as their hands began caressing each other. She worked her hands down his back and slid them inside the only area of his body covered by clothing. She placed a hand on each buttock and slowly squeezed, all the time swaying her hips to massage his now fully erect manhood. Moving slightly to one side, she slid her left hand around to his front and found the object of her desire. Kyle gasped involuntarily as she touched his most sensitive spot and very slowly moved her open hand up and down its length. With the other hand, she reached for the swimsuit and proceeded to remove the obstruction. As she slowly eased the swimsuit down, she lowered her body, placing kisses on his neck, chest, and stomach. Her left hand was now enclosed around him as she continued to move it up and down. As he stepped out of the trunks, she placed both hands on him and took him into her mouth.

  §

  The
next day they proceeded with their search from where they had left off. Much of the area was rock, which was encrusted with coral where it was not covered with sand. Interestingly, most treasure, or solid objects, will sink to bedrock over time, due to the ever-changing currents manipulating the sand or silt. This is what makes it impractical in many cases to retrieve treasure even when it is located, because the cost of excavating tons of sand exceeds the value of the treasure. The surface bedrock in this case was welcome, as it meant that any treasure would not have sunk too deep to extract. The relatively shallow water also made it possible to use a suction pump to remove the surface sand, revealing what lay beneath.

  After completing three more search squares they came upon a coral outcrop, which Kyle proceeded to investigate. Hovering over the formation he was drawn to the odd shape formed by the array of Elkhorn and Staghorn coral, interspersed with several sea anemone and Brain coral. What was interesting was that the more he looked at the coral, it appeared to take on the shape of a human form. Breaking the golden rule of scuba divers, he started to break the coral growths away from the form and, taking his tool and a small mallet, chipped away at the encrusted object. Piece by piece the growth fell away and revealed a shiny yellow surface below. By this time, Jenny had taken notice of Kyle’s interest and joined him. Her eyes widened when she saw what was beneath the coral, and joined in to help remove the encrustation. Jenny soon realised what they had found and became dizzy with excitement as she frantically chipped away. Gathering her composure, she turned and tapped Kyle on the shoulder. When he turned to face her she gave the sign to surface to which he acknowledged, and they slowly ascended.

  Breaking the surface, Jenny removed her regulator and facemask after inflating her BC.

  “Do you realise what we have found?” she asked excitedly as Kyle removed his facemask and regulator.

  “I know the damned thing is huge and made of gold. It appears to be some kind of statue, and it has jewels encrusted all over it.” He responded.

  Jenny related the legend of the “Lost Loot of Lima” and the reports of the life-size statue of the Virgin Mary. “Oh! My God! Oh! My God! I’m sure this is what we’ve found,” she said incredulously.

  “What the hell do we do now?” He said, spitting out a mouthful of seawater. “It must weigh a ton and it’s still embedded in the coral.”

  Jenny had previously explained that they would have to report any find to the Costa Rican authorities, because it’s in their jurisdiction. Their ruling is that 50% of the value of discovered treasure goes to them, based on an assessed value. “Oh! Kyle, this is absolutely amazing. I know we can’t keep it, but just to find it is incredible. Even half the value of this statue will keep us comfortable for a while. It must be worth millions, although its true historic value probably cannot be determined. Chances are, though, that the Peruvian authorities will try to claim ownership, citing that the property was stolen.” She sighed. “These things traditionally end up in long, drawn out law suits.”

  Kyle said, “We don’t have anything that can winch this thing up, and even if we did, we have nowhere to stow it. I jokingly said it must weigh a ton, and I’m probably not far off.”

  “We can report our find at the ranger station at Wafer Bay.” Jenny responded. “Once we register our claim, we can arrange for some lifting equipment to bring it to the surface. According to maritime law, you can claim a wreck once you bring something from the wreck to the surface. I think the same rule will apply in this case. The coins we found will qualify for the claim.”

  “Let’s get back to the boat and to the ranger station.” Said Kyle. “I’m anxious to get our claim in before anyone else stumbles on it. We have the site staked out and the statue is now exposed. There are several other dive boats in the area and it won’t be long before someone sees what’s going on.”

  They submerged and started a quick pace back to the boat. Kyle clambered up the ladder, removed his gear and helped Jenny on to the boat. He quickly stowed the tanks while Jenny put away the rest of the gear. Scaling the ladder to the fly bridge, two rungs at a time, he launched himself at the controls and started the powerful diesels. Looking back to see that Jenny was holding on, he gunned the throttles and the nose of the Hatteras rose majestically into the air as the sea at the stern erupted into a boil. The craft was propelled forward and quickly reached planing speed as Kyle pointed the bow towards Wafer Bay. As they rounded the point at the entrance to the bay the Ranger Station came into view. It consisted of a large wooden dock that protruded into the bay 300 feet; able to handle the supply ships that infrequently brought food, supplies and relief rangers. The Station itself consisted of a small “office” attached to a two-bedroom residence sitting on large wood pylons. A veranda surrounded the wood-frame structure, clad with aluminium siding, which was topped with a thatched roof. Just to one side and behind the office was a small dormitory. Close by, a large metal-clad, pre-engineered storage facility housed the various machinery and paraphernalia needed on the island. Beside it was a hut that housed fuel supplies and a small generator was located several yards into the bush behind. From the rear of the storage enclosure, a narrow path led to a series of wooden steps that scaled the hillside to a lookout tower. As they approached, a lone figure appeared on the veranda.

  THREE

  Kars, Canada – August 1999

  Kyle! It’s seven O’clock!” Casey shouted up the stairs. ”You’ll be late if you don’t get a move on.”

  Even though it was Saturday, Kyle had to go into the office and had arranged to meet with his partner at eight. They had stayed up late Friday night entertaining close friends, with whom they were planning a winter vacation. They had all the brochures from the travel companies and cruise lines, but couldn’t decide whether to book an all-inclusive resort in Mexico or a coastal Spain cruise. They had it narrowed down to one of the new hotels on the Cancun strip or a cruise with Holland-America’s inaugural sailing along the coast of Spain, visiting Gibraltar and Morocco along the way. Kyle and Casey were leaning towards the cruise, but Jim and Alice preferred the Cancun trip, because Alice was always seasick when travelling on water. “I get sick on the Lombardy Ferry,” she would always say, referring to a small ferry crossing the Rideau River for all of half a mile! Of course, the drinks flowed well into the early hours of the morning and now it was payback time.

  Kyle’s head felt like his brain had outgrown his skull as the alcohol-induced dehydration caused the fluids in the cranial cavity to diminish, reducing the buffer that the fluid provides for the brain. The same dryness was evident at the back of his throat. He sat on the edge of the bed rubbing his forehead, forcing himself to start the morning routine of shaving, brushing his teeth, showering and dressing for work. He could smell the welcome aroma of fresh coffee and bacon emanating from downstairs, although the sourness in his stomach doused his usual appetite for a hearty breakfast.

  “OK!” He shouted back, then cradled his head again as a jarring pain shot through it. Better not to shout, he told himself. Seven O’clock! He did not feel like rushing and there was no way he would make it to the office by eight. He would call his partner later and postpone it to whenever he gets there.

  He got up from the bed and shuffled to the bathroom, vowing again to limit his alcohol intake on such social occasions, knowing full well that when the next occasion happened, he would enjoy the warm glow the intoxicating liquid gave him. The only time he restricted his alcohol intake was when he had to drive, remembering the one time he was aware that he was intoxicated but drove his car home anyway, only to narrowly miss a roadside police check. He vowed after that never to drive if he felt the same fuzziness and blurred vision. The electric razor’s whirr was more annoying than usual, as was the electric toothbrush. The hot water from the shower stung his face, but felt soothing over his body. He carefully washed his hair so as not to shake his aching head unnecessarily, then finished his set routine for cleansing his body. Interestingly, he found that if he did not follow the same routine, he would likely forget to wash something. Feeling more awake and considerably more refreshed he toweled himself dry and proceeded to select an appropriate suit, and then a matching shirt, tie and socks. He completed the dress by combing his ruffled hair and infusing it with a small amount of hair gel, then went downstairs to join the rest of the family. The pungent smell of fried bacon met his nostrils as he entered the kitchen.