Montezuma's Gold

Chapter 1

Peter Logan already regretted doing the exchange; he was hot, dusty and tired. For three hours he had followed Professor John Snap’s instructions, written on white three-by-five index cards. This was only the second day of their five-day travel agenda and the whole process was boring. On top of that, he had sixteen freshmen pretending to listen to everything he had to say while one of the two seniors, Jan Kit, wanted to correct everything he said. Professor Snap’s graduate assistant, Bill Kneed, was also tagging along.

Professor Logan, Professor Snap spelled his name as Moctezuma, not Montezuma!

"Your are quite correct Jan, but because they’re both pronounced the same, the second spelling has become the acceptable norm. If you held up both spellings to most people they would be able to tell you something about the man in the second spelling but not the first.

"Look I know you’re all disappointed that Professor Snap was unable to make the trip as planned, and I know he could have conducted this field trip infinitely better than I’m doing. The Aztec empire was his specialty and he loved taking his students on these field trips, both for his enjoyment and for the knowledge each of you would pick up for your later studies.

"Look at it this way, there are 21 students sitting in my summer geology class wondering what a professor of history is doing teaching an advanced geology class for seniors and graduate students. I’m sure, like you Jan, that a few of them are shaking their heads with some of the things he is saying. But maybe we all need to step back and look at the situation with our hearts.

"Professor Snap wants to be at his wife’s bedside every minute he can in the next few weeks. The cancer started spreading rapidly through her body the last several months. Nothing was helping her. Just before we left, John told me at the airport that he felt she would be gone in two or three weeks.

"We have three and half more days to explore the city of Tenochtitian. I think what we will do from this point forward is to just enjoy ourselves and not try and take everything in at once. Here’s what I would like to do; I would like Bill Kneed to answer any questions you have that I might stumble over. Bill has been here five years in a row so I know he can help out. He’s already said he would be glad to help. With that I would like for you to explore on your own or with a friend until four every day. At four we will meet at the steps of the human sacrifice alter and discuss the day. When we’re through, everyone can be on his own until the next day. Is that all right with everyone, or would you rather we all stuck together?

"That’s what I thought. Now let me finish this last little bit of information and then everyone can scatter.

From this slight elevation you can look down and see most of the buildings in Tenochtitian just a little over a mile away. Imagine Hernando Cortez riding in to meet Montezuma sitting there on his Gold throne. You think maybe the Spanish soldiers were salivating a little when they saw all that gold; that was why they had endured the risky passage to the New World and the long marches through jungles and swamps to come to Mexico. Keep that in mind as you walk among the ruins. Class dismissed.

Bill stayed around a few minutes talking to Professor Logan and they slowly descended the dirt trail into the valley, all the other students elsewhere by now, nowhere to be seen. Logan chuckled a little when Bill commented that the students sure picked up energy fast after they were dismissed.

You go ahead Bill, I think I will sit down by that big rock over there and rest my back for a while. I’ll see you at four. With that Bill turned left and started down the trail while Peter Logan eased his backside down against the large boulder. The boulder was warm and it felt good against his tired back. He was not accustomed to so much hiking: seven hours yesterday and three or four already this morning.

As Peter eased down against the rock his right foot slipped on the loose gravel and he had to jam his heel hard into the dirt to stop from falling on his butt. Just what you need, he thought, a broken bone on the second day of the trip, the students would love that.

Peter sat reflecting about the exchange. It really wasn’t that bad, he thought; John was desperate to stay close to his wife for the last few weeks of her life and Peter got out in the sunshine for a change. It’s just that he wasn’t used to so much walking, especially in this heat. In July the weather in Mexico was hot and hotter. John and his wife Doris were longtime friends, she had been an excellent cook and would often, on a moment’s notice, call up Peter and tell him to change his plans for the night. She would decide to make some great new dish and John and Peter were to be the guinea pigs.

Peter kicked the loose stones and gravel as he thought back to the wonderful dinners she cooked up. John used to tell his wife both he and Peter loved being guinea pigs; anytime she needed them, all she had to do was call the pigs like farmers did and they would come running.

While pushing with his toe, Peter felt a small loose stone fall in between his shoe and sock. Reaching down, he tried to get his finger around the stone but only succeeded in pushing it further down to his toes. Grunting, Peter leaned down and untied his shoe to get the stone out. He pulled his shoe off and hit the bottom of the shoe with the heel of his hand, watching as the small stone dropped out and rolled a few inches, finally coming to a stop against a shiny piece of metal. As Peter put his shoe back on and began tying it, he looked at the metal object. Even out here, he thought, shaking his head; the metal looked like a silver pull-tab from a beer can.

Testing his shoe to make sure no other stone had slid inside, Peter rose, stretched his back, and decided to explore the large temple John said he had to see. All the painted figures and writings on the temple walls were fascinating to John, but Peter didn’t know a hill of beans about the writings. He also knew if he came back at the end of the week and told John he never made it to the temple, John would give him that I’m sorry for you look. So, he might as well get it over with.

Peter glanced down one more time at the shiny silver pull tab before starting off. As he did so, the light caught the pull tab at a different angle and instead of looking silver the pull-tab looked golden. Peter looked at the pull tab a few seconds, trying to remember what beer he had ever consumed that had a golden pull tab. He could think of none, so he knelt on one knee and tried to pick it up. It would not budge, and as he was closer to it now, he saw it wasn’t a pull-tab at all. It looked like a woman’s fake gold fingernail.

Peter tried picking the gold fingernail from the earth with no luck. Finally, he got down on both knees and eyeballed the object. Looking around, he found a small stick about two inches long; using the stick he poked around the fingernail until he dislodged enough dirt to see that the fingernail was attached to something else. Peter leaned down until his mouth was a couple of inches from the fingernail, then he spat on the gold fingernail.

From his shirt pocket, Peter pulled out a napkin he used to wipe the dust off of his sunglasses. Doubling the napkin, he placed it on top of the gold fingernail and in a slow motion made wider and wider circles until he had a spot the size of a half- dollar exposed. When he moved his shoulders the sunlight poured down on the half-dollar spot and shot a dazzling streak of gold to the back of his eyes. Gold!

Until then, Peter had thought it was just a cheap piece of silver or gold paint. But that idea vanished the second he eyed the half-dollar circle; he knew this was real gold. Then like any other person would do, his head shot up and he looked around to see if anyone was around. He knew enough to know that whatever this gold piece was, the Mexican authorities would claim it.

Peter looked around one more time before sitting down with the gold piece between his knees. Peter reached in his pant pocket and withdrew the small nail clippers he always carried. Opening the file part, Peter eased his hand down between his knees and began to dig around the object, doing it slowly so that if anyone came by or was watching him, he would look like someone just sitting and looking at the ruins from a distance. Every few seconds, he would use his other hand to wipe away the accumulated dust and dirt.

In three minutes of digging slowly, Peter had exposed the object that came with the fingernail. It was a complete hand and it was attached to something else—what looked like an arm. Sweat was pouring off Peter’s face. The more he exposed, the faster his heart beat. In ten minutes he could see the golden arm and part of a shoulder. It was all gold.

This is taking to long, Peter thought as he looked around, trying to find something else to dig with.

Then it dawned on him and he felt like a stupid fool. His fanny pack was around his waist, the same kind everyone in the group had gotten yesterday morning just before they left their hotel room. Professor Snap had arranged for the fanny packs to be used Thursday afternoon at a prearranged dig for amateurs.

Peter lifted his head and put his hands on his back behind him to stretch muscles that were beginning to hurt from ten minutes of bending over his impromptu dig. At the same time, he looked around to see if anyone was walking on any of the trails close to him. There was a group about one hundred yards away looking down towards the ruins; Peter couldn’t remember if the group had passed him before or was coming towards him since he had been so intent on his digging. How many more people in the last ten minutes had walked past him? His unawareness had to stop; he needed to clear his mind and pay attention to everything around him.

Unzipping his fanny pack, Peter looked inside and found what he remembered was in there. When he picked up the fanny pack he had not paid any attention to the contents but felt sure he knew most of what would be inside. He had been right; there was a small pick that looked like an ice pick, gloves, a small bottle of water, rope, a few other miscellaneous items, and the hand spade for which he was looking.

With his knees and legs covering the object, Peter pulled the spade from the front of the fanny pack and slid the spade down between his legs. Looking around to be sure no one was watching what he was doing, he started digging around the arm and shoulder of the gold object. Every few seconds, Peter stopped and casually looked around to see if the same people were still around.

Digging with the spade, Peter knew in a few minutes he was digging