CHPATER TWELVE
A Contemporary Interlude
Copyright 2004, All Rights Reserved
Lucinda and her husband, Sergio, a Tennis coach at U.C.L.A., made a remarkably delightful couple. Their charming Italian style apartment in a Westwood high-rise glowed a handsome shade of ocher. They’d made dinner with Sean and Alexis a regular thing—a throwback to Lucinda’s parent’s way. She recalled many memories of her mother and father dining regularly with their closest friends. In some ways, her insistence on the four of them gathering every few weeks helped her survive the death of her mother who died of throat cancer some six months ago.
Alexis had strengthened her relationship with Lucinda as she consoled her friend through that incredibly trying time. Her friendship with Lucinda was important to her. She didn’t get along with women very well but something about Lucinda reassured her. Alexis suspected it had something to do with the way she fed her bird—so composed and tranquil. The two had become fast friends, despite the fact that Alexis was Lucinda’s boss.
Sean and Sergio had become quite chummy as well: Sergio, who had just celebrated his thirty-ninth birthday, had taken on a fascination with Sean’s Ship-In-A-Bottle collection and Sean enjoyed playing Tennis with Sergio every now and then for he had few (if any) friends who were into sports or the outdoor activity. Sergio filled this role for Sean flawlessly.
Lucinda had concocted some Ahi Tuna Chille Rellenos for the foursome and was serving it up at the table. Sergio served up another round of their favorite libation—an apple liqueur mixed with Vodka. Alexis, as usual, kept on about the amazing Victor Caro oil paintings that Lucinda plastered the living room with. Caro was a preeminent Peruvian graphic artist who had made the remote landscapes of the Andean mountains known to the world in an exquisite fashion. Lucinda’s mother was an amateur artist and her passion for art history influenced her daughter greatly.
“So,” provoked Sergio, “What’s this pirate stuff you’re doing?”
“What? How did you know about that?” inquired Sean.
“What do you mean ‘How did I know about that’? Lucinda.” Sergio shot back.
“Yeah,” asked Lucinda, “What is all this stuff you guys are doing?”
“It’s mostly Sean’s thing. Remember I told you about that old guy who ripped off his family documents?” Alexis replied.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“It started there,” Alexis turned to Sean, “How creepy is that, though? I swear, Sean, the other night, in the Library, I got goose bumps ten times.” said Alexis.
“I know, it’s almost a form of entertainment for me now,” Sean said calmly. “After we hit that dead end, I kind of started realizing how obsessed I’d become with it all.”
“What dead end? Will you guys fill us in? Don’t be like my dad,” Sergio insisted.
“Well, see, the whole thing is like this: About three hundred years ago, this guy named Kidd, who I’m somehow related to by way of my father’s family, was found guilty of murder. Yeah. He killed one of his sailors. So they were going to hang him. But just before they do, he tells the British Admiralty that he’d hidden a treasure that, he claimed, was worth about £90,000. Remember, were’ talking about three hundred years ago. He said he’d give the treasure to the government if they’d let him live. They don’t buy it and he gets hung. But nobody ever found out whether the treasure he was talking about was real or not. If it was, it’s probably still buried,” explained Sean.
“Wow, he was hung?” asked a bemused Lucinda. Alexis giggled. Amazing how quickly one can revert…
“Nobody’s found it, huh? So are you two looking for it? Seriously?” asked Sergio.
“Sort of,” said Alexis. “We think the guy who stole Sean’s documents, his name’s Anthony Hawke…actually we don’t know what his name is. We think he’s looking for it.”
“Man,” inserted Sergio, “that’s pretty extraordinary. So this is why you missed our game Sunday.”
“That and this presentation I’m working on with Alexis,” said Sean.
“Oh, did you get that message about Professor Bromberg?” asked Lucinda.
“Sure did,” she turned to Sean, “He can’t make it tomorrow. We’re going ahead with the presentation anyway. He insisted,” said Alexis.
“What would the treasure be worth today?’ asked Sergio. After a somewhat drawn out pause, Sean quickly said “Depending on what it was, anywhere from two to five hundred thousand dollars.”
They all stopped—Alexis swallowed her bite. How did he figure on that?
“Okay. That’s billion with a ‘B’, right?” inquired Sergio. Sean nodded. “So what about this ‘dead-end’ thing?” continued Sergio.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t really a dead end. We just lost the trail. We figure this Hawke guy was probably after the treasure Kidd claimed he’d hidden so that’s the angle we took in trying to track him down. Kidd was arrested in a way that made it impossible for him to communicate with the outside world,” explained Sean. “From the time he was arrested to the time he was executed…there was just no way for him to…he didn’t see anybody, he was cut off from the outside world in this hell hole prison called Newgate. He couldn’t have told anybody he trusted where the treasure was. Constables read everything he wrote and sent out. He was kept under close watch the entire time because it was a highly publicized arrest…” he sighed. “The government was using him to make an example, if you know what I mean.”
Sean and Alexis continued to explain the full story, with some detail. The conversation became very lively. Both Sergio and Lucinda had taken on a substantial interest.
“So we’re trying to figure out…were trying to figure out, I should say. We’ve kind of stopped…,” Alexis attempted to cinch the exposition.
“Yeah,” said Sean. They continued munching. Alexis chimed in with “Honey, this stuff is out of this world.”
“Thank you, brasita,” smiled Lucinda. Then, almost as if he didn’t hear a word anyone was saying, Sean continued, “It’s just this guy went all out to fool me: He wrote a forged check and made up an entire back-story…I got swindled,” he snickered and then added, “It feels horrible, you know. I been bamboozled!”
“Maybe he thought you’d figure it out eventually,” offered Sergio.
Sean continued his think-a-loud, which made Alexis wonder where he was going with all of this elaboration, “Whoever he was, he probably thought the documents, and I’m pretty sure they’re the genuine article, these documents must have something to do with the treasure Kidd offered as a plea bargain, right? I mean I think we can all see that. But how could it have gotten out? These papers were actually traced to his wife, Sara Oort. How would she have gotten it? And then…it’s all just too far-fetched. I don’t know, maybe I’m just too hung up on the details.” He paused and, after a moment, glanced at Alexis. There was an awkward break filled with the clinging sound of their silverware.
The four sat in silence for, what seemed, at least a minute and contemplated the situation. The conversation continued to focus on the “who-dun-it” tip: Lucinda was predominantly keyed up.
“And he probably had someone else deliver it. That’s what I was thinking too. Probably to his wife,” Lucinda softly added.
Sean and Alexis stopped eating. After a beat, Alexis continued, “He wouldn’t trust a prison inmate. I don’t think he would. And besides, why wouldn’t the inmate go get the treasure himself? Newgate housed the scum de la crème.”
“What if he paid a guard? Or what if he disguised it. Don’t you two watch the movies?” asked Lucinda.
“In the form of a letter.” Whispered Sean.
“Exactly! Or a picture,” Lucinda continued, “My mother was telling me about this Russian photographer who was imprisoned by the old Communists who made him write letters back to his family claiming that everything was just peachy keen in the jolly place they were interrogating him and the Communists were treating him like a king. But the photographer had set up this predetermined system with his family: He would include a picture of himself in every message home. If he was wearing a hat in the picture, it meant the letter was a pack of lies and he was in danger. If he wasn’t wearing it but holding his hat, it meant he was all right…or something like that. The KGB eventually figured it out and shot him in the head.”
“That’s why Hawke wanted those papers,” Alexis wondered aloud, “He must’ve figured that the location of the treasure would be somewhere in those letters,” announced Alexis who was suddenly drawn back into the hunt. Sean was in a world all his own. “But all of the letters were dated before Kidd was captured,” Alexis continued.
“Remember the two you showed me a few nights ago in the library?” asked Sean. “You know: Those two love letters that seemed identical but one of them didn’t have a date on it? Remember?”
“Holy holy. That’s right,” Alexis recalled.
“So do we get a kick down if you guys find it now?” asked Sergio. The four laughed; Alexis noticed a catch in Sean’s laughter. They continued with Lucinda’s delicate meal.
“So what if he does find it?” asked Lucinda, “Can’t you prove that it belongs to your family?”
Sean explained that the laws of salvage had just been changed—both in England and the States. In olden times, any cache found typically ended up becoming the material goods of the King. This was because of the law of Treasure Trove, which dated back to at least Richard the Lionheart (1189-1199 AD), and was based on even earlier medieval laws. A treasure trove was the name given to found wealth such as cash or coin, gold, silver, plate, or bullion, discovered by accident, which has been concealed or obscured in the earth or other private place, so long as its owner is not known. Should the proprietor be found it must be restored to him; and in case of not finding him, the goods belong to the sovereign. In the later case, by the general law, when the cache was found by the landlord of the soil, he was measured as entitled to it by the twofold designation of controller and finder; when found on another’s land, one-half belonged to the owner of the domain, and the other to the finder; when found on communal property, it belonged one-half to the municipal coffers, and the other to the finder. This includes not only gold and silver, but also everything that may constitute riches, such as vases, urns, statues, etc…
The new Treasure Law recompensed the finders of treasure as well as strove to look after the legacy of the culture that the treasure belonged to. Over the centuries, the old law of Treasure Trove had turned out to be unbelievably problematic: If a treasure were found, there would frequently be an across-the-board investigation to reach a concord in deciding to whom the found treasure belonged. At an inquiry, countless effects affecting the result of a case had to be well thought-out, together with whether a treasure had been misplaced or consciously buried; who owned the land-lot it was found in or on; was it found on a beach amid low and high water marks, and even what variety of trees were found budding in close proximity.
The new Treasure Act cut down matters significantly: Items found which are over 300 years old and contain more than 10% of gold or silver may be affirmed to be ‘treasure’. Scores of objects are examined by scientists and analyzed, using a method called X-ray fluorescence, to find out whether they hold adequate gold or silver for them to qualify.
“Wow. You’ve become quite the expert,” complimented Lucinda. Sergio accidentally dropped his fork.
Sean continued to explain that of the likely half a million odds and ends found each year in Europe alone, most are converted into the assets of the government and are saved for the people. They’re displayed in museums in the region of the country they were found in. If this happens, the finders will, as a rule, be satisfied with the absolute market evaluation of the treasure.
Loads of items are returned to the finders after they have been documented and confirmed. A few objects turn out to be exceedingly remarkable outside of their precious metal content. Frequently, the archaeological information related with them is of a far superior value than the objects themselves.
The Roman classification took into account similar elements under the term pecunia; but the thing found must have had a saleable worth. Very old tombs would not be measured a treasure, for example. The material must have been secreted or hidden away in the terrain; and no one must be able to lay rightful claim to it. Furthermore, it must be found by complete accident and not as a result of a hunt or a search.
The admiralty law of the United States has long acknowledged that the rule of salvage rewards the voluntary salvor for the successful salvage of life or chattels imperiled at sea. In order to have a legal aver for having rendered rescue services, the salvor is obliged to prove that the material goods saved were in danger, that the services were freely rendered, and that he was successful in the saving of the goods (in part or entirely).
A salvor gains the right to seize the property but not the right of ownership. Sean placed particular emphasis on the following: The salvor holds the rescued property for the benefit of the legitimate proprietor. But if the law of “finds” pertains, then the finder acquires ownership and rights to the property. In the case of a legal find, the court wont set a price because, by legal definition, a finder takes title to property found—free and clear of every other claim. The rule of thumb is “finders keepers losers weepers”.
The drive home was quiet. Alexis grappled with whether or not she should inquire about what her husband was thinking: She had a good idea. “I think Sergio’s hot on you,” he finally uttered.
“That’s funny because I think Lucinda’s hot on you,” she answered. He stared at the road ahead and she to the side. “So what’s going on?” she broke.
“I think I’m going to go,” said Sean.
Alexis felt a sudden rush coursing through her, “Go where?”
“England. I think I’m going to take a week for myself and go off on a little vacation. What better place to do it in? I think…yeah, I’ll check out Gloucester Isle. It seemed like a nice little coastal community. I’ll work out this Kidd nonsense once and for all and we can than move on. You know?” he said with certain ease.
“You can’t just up and go to England, Sean,” she argued, “First of all, to book a flight to Europe overnight is going to cost a pretty penny. Secondly, we’ve got the grant money proposal tomorrow. Look, honey, if it’s about Sergio…”
“Are you kidding?” he smirked. “No, sweetness, it’s not about Sergio. That’s a totally natural thing. He’s a good guy. I don’t think he’s going to do anything about it. No, this is about me needing to see this thing through. Just a week, baby, what do you say? I go to the south of England, snoop around a bit. I need some alone time; you need some alone time. The chances of Hawke even turning up are slim to none and you know it. But at least this way, I’ll get a chance to clear my head; and who knows…” he paused, “maybe write a bit. I’ve been thinking about writing.”
Alexis didn’t respond. Her father taught her not to respond immediately whenever she was emotional. Since her youth, she persistently held a compulsive tendency to lash out when she felt defenseless. It had taken her a substantial period to learn to be in command of this proclivity. There was so much going on.
“Fine. If that’s what you think you need to do, great,” she remarked, “I just want to make sure you’re not taking your eye off of the ball.”
“I knew you’d say something like that. Alexis, there’s a very real adolescent that lives inside of me. God knows you’ve pointed him out to me in many instances. I’ve been doing everything I can ever since I was a kid to get rid of it. And I did. Really. I achieved more in my life by the time I was twenty-three than most of my classmates will throughout their lives. And I’m sorry to sound all uppity. It is what it is. This whole pursuit has to do with—exactly that. It’s about taking my eye off the ball; a certain ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing’ if you know what I mean. I admit, I am pissed about the rip off. But it’s more about playing this game. As silly as it may seem. When I come back next week, we’ll call the police or the FBI—yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s a Federal matter—or whoever I need to and I’ll let the professionals figure this all out. But for now, I need to try. I can’t explain it beyond that,” said Sean.
The lucidity he was demonstrating, even though it may prove to be ill begotten, was shocking to Alexis. He spoke with a clear tone. He really wanted to do this. What did he want to prove? A private investigator would be much better suited to look into the matter of Dr. Hawke and the stolen Kidd documents. No, he was getting the jitters, she thought: Maybe it was the law school jitters or perhaps the “Holy smokes, I’m married and trapped” jitters. In any case, Alexis kept her mouth shut and realized that, if she wanted her husband to one day be everything he could be, she’d have to make him feel comfortable with taking chances— be they self-indulgent or calculated.
They agreed: They’d work the presentation tomorrow, she’d drop him off at LAX after the “show”. He booked a flight on the Internet that night at his place. Alexis stayed over.
“You know what?” she asked.
“What’s up?” asked Sean as he packed a medium-sized suitcase his mother had given him when he first moved out of the house.
“How do you feel about me moving in here while you’re gone?” Alexis questioned with a sweet yet shilly-shallying expression.
Sean was surprisingly elated by the proposition. He defaulted to her taste in just about everything anyway. What a great way to finally bring their lives together—while he was gone! They laughed; they hugged. She rolled into a litany of ideas and what she’s been thinking about doing with the place. He was glad to be married to a woman who was so supportive and strong enough to be able to see the light at the end of this tunnel. The little voice inside Sean suspected all of this to be a goose chase but goose chase or otherwise, it was something he was inexplicably drawn to. But here was a bonus: They were finally going to move in with one another. This marriage was about to leap into what they both wanted down inside.
“Will you make sure to call me?” asked Alexis. After a stunningly passionate and long-lasting kiss, Sean smiled. With his dimpled grin, he said, “Yes, baby. I love you. I’ll call you the moment I land.”
He never did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chapters
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 & 22, 23, 24, 25, Epilogue
A Contemporary Interlude
Copyright 2004, All Rights Reserved
Lucinda and her husband, Sergio, a Tennis coach at U.C.L.A., made a remarkably delightful couple. Their charming Italian style apartment in a Westwood high-rise glowed a handsome shade of ocher. They’d made dinner with Sean and Alexis a regular thing—a throwback to Lucinda’s parent’s way. She recalled many memories of her mother and father dining regularly with their closest friends. In some ways, her insistence on the four of them gathering every few weeks helped her survive the death of her mother who died of throat cancer some six months ago.
Alexis had strengthened her relationship with Lucinda as she consoled her friend through that incredibly trying time. Her friendship with Lucinda was important to her. She didn’t get along with women very well but something about Lucinda reassured her. Alexis suspected it had something to do with the way she fed her bird—so composed and tranquil. The two had become fast friends, despite the fact that Alexis was Lucinda’s boss.
Sean and Sergio had become quite chummy as well: Sergio, who had just celebrated his thirty-ninth birthday, had taken on a fascination with Sean’s Ship-In-A-Bottle collection and Sean enjoyed playing Tennis with Sergio every now and then for he had few (if any) friends who were into sports or the outdoor activity. Sergio filled this role for Sean flawlessly.
Lucinda had concocted some Ahi Tuna Chille Rellenos for the foursome and was serving it up at the table. Sergio served up another round of their favorite libation—an apple liqueur mixed with Vodka. Alexis, as usual, kept on about the amazing Victor Caro oil paintings that Lucinda plastered the living room with. Caro was a preeminent Peruvian graphic artist who had made the remote landscapes of the Andean mountains known to the world in an exquisite fashion. Lucinda’s mother was an amateur artist and her passion for art history influenced her daughter greatly.
“So,” provoked Sergio, “What’s this pirate stuff you’re doing?”
“What? How did you know about that?” inquired Sean.
“What do you mean ‘How did I know about that’? Lucinda.” Sergio shot back.
“Yeah,” asked Lucinda, “What is all this stuff you guys are doing?”
“It’s mostly Sean’s thing. Remember I told you about that old guy who ripped off his family documents?” Alexis replied.
“Yeah, yeah…”
“It started there,” Alexis turned to Sean, “How creepy is that, though? I swear, Sean, the other night, in the Library, I got goose bumps ten times.” said Alexis.
“I know, it’s almost a form of entertainment for me now,” Sean said calmly. “After we hit that dead end, I kind of started realizing how obsessed I’d become with it all.”
“What dead end? Will you guys fill us in? Don’t be like my dad,” Sergio insisted.
“Well, see, the whole thing is like this: About three hundred years ago, this guy named Kidd, who I’m somehow related to by way of my father’s family, was found guilty of murder. Yeah. He killed one of his sailors. So they were going to hang him. But just before they do, he tells the British Admiralty that he’d hidden a treasure that, he claimed, was worth about £90,000. Remember, were’ talking about three hundred years ago. He said he’d give the treasure to the government if they’d let him live. They don’t buy it and he gets hung. But nobody ever found out whether the treasure he was talking about was real or not. If it was, it’s probably still buried,” explained Sean.
“Wow, he was hung?” asked a bemused Lucinda. Alexis giggled. Amazing how quickly one can revert…
“Nobody’s found it, huh? So are you two looking for it? Seriously?” asked Sergio.
“Sort of,” said Alexis. “We think the guy who stole Sean’s documents, his name’s Anthony Hawke…actually we don’t know what his name is. We think he’s looking for it.”
“Man,” inserted Sergio, “that’s pretty extraordinary. So this is why you missed our game Sunday.”
“That and this presentation I’m working on with Alexis,” said Sean.
“Oh, did you get that message about Professor Bromberg?” asked Lucinda.
“Sure did,” she turned to Sean, “He can’t make it tomorrow. We’re going ahead with the presentation anyway. He insisted,” said Alexis.
“What would the treasure be worth today?’ asked Sergio. After a somewhat drawn out pause, Sean quickly said “Depending on what it was, anywhere from two to five hundred thousand dollars.”
They all stopped—Alexis swallowed her bite. How did he figure on that?
“Okay. That’s billion with a ‘B’, right?” inquired Sergio. Sean nodded. “So what about this ‘dead-end’ thing?” continued Sergio.
“I don’t know. It wasn’t really a dead end. We just lost the trail. We figure this Hawke guy was probably after the treasure Kidd claimed he’d hidden so that’s the angle we took in trying to track him down. Kidd was arrested in a way that made it impossible for him to communicate with the outside world,” explained Sean. “From the time he was arrested to the time he was executed…there was just no way for him to…he didn’t see anybody, he was cut off from the outside world in this hell hole prison called Newgate. He couldn’t have told anybody he trusted where the treasure was. Constables read everything he wrote and sent out. He was kept under close watch the entire time because it was a highly publicized arrest…” he sighed. “The government was using him to make an example, if you know what I mean.”
Sean and Alexis continued to explain the full story, with some detail. The conversation became very lively. Both Sergio and Lucinda had taken on a substantial interest.
“So we’re trying to figure out…were trying to figure out, I should say. We’ve kind of stopped…,” Alexis attempted to cinch the exposition.
“Yeah,” said Sean. They continued munching. Alexis chimed in with “Honey, this stuff is out of this world.”
“Thank you, brasita,” smiled Lucinda. Then, almost as if he didn’t hear a word anyone was saying, Sean continued, “It’s just this guy went all out to fool me: He wrote a forged check and made up an entire back-story…I got swindled,” he snickered and then added, “It feels horrible, you know. I been bamboozled!”
“Maybe he thought you’d figure it out eventually,” offered Sergio.
Sean continued his think-a-loud, which made Alexis wonder where he was going with all of this elaboration, “Whoever he was, he probably thought the documents, and I’m pretty sure they’re the genuine article, these documents must have something to do with the treasure Kidd offered as a plea bargain, right? I mean I think we can all see that. But how could it have gotten out? These papers were actually traced to his wife, Sara Oort. How would she have gotten it? And then…it’s all just too far-fetched. I don’t know, maybe I’m just too hung up on the details.” He paused and, after a moment, glanced at Alexis. There was an awkward break filled with the clinging sound of their silverware.
The four sat in silence for, what seemed, at least a minute and contemplated the situation. The conversation continued to focus on the “who-dun-it” tip: Lucinda was predominantly keyed up.
“And he probably had someone else deliver it. That’s what I was thinking too. Probably to his wife,” Lucinda softly added.
Sean and Alexis stopped eating. After a beat, Alexis continued, “He wouldn’t trust a prison inmate. I don’t think he would. And besides, why wouldn’t the inmate go get the treasure himself? Newgate housed the scum de la crème.”
“What if he paid a guard? Or what if he disguised it. Don’t you two watch the movies?” asked Lucinda.
“In the form of a letter.” Whispered Sean.
“Exactly! Or a picture,” Lucinda continued, “My mother was telling me about this Russian photographer who was imprisoned by the old Communists who made him write letters back to his family claiming that everything was just peachy keen in the jolly place they were interrogating him and the Communists were treating him like a king. But the photographer had set up this predetermined system with his family: He would include a picture of himself in every message home. If he was wearing a hat in the picture, it meant the letter was a pack of lies and he was in danger. If he wasn’t wearing it but holding his hat, it meant he was all right…or something like that. The KGB eventually figured it out and shot him in the head.”
“That’s why Hawke wanted those papers,” Alexis wondered aloud, “He must’ve figured that the location of the treasure would be somewhere in those letters,” announced Alexis who was suddenly drawn back into the hunt. Sean was in a world all his own. “But all of the letters were dated before Kidd was captured,” Alexis continued.
“Remember the two you showed me a few nights ago in the library?” asked Sean. “You know: Those two love letters that seemed identical but one of them didn’t have a date on it? Remember?”
“Holy holy. That’s right,” Alexis recalled.
“So do we get a kick down if you guys find it now?” asked Sergio. The four laughed; Alexis noticed a catch in Sean’s laughter. They continued with Lucinda’s delicate meal.
“So what if he does find it?” asked Lucinda, “Can’t you prove that it belongs to your family?”
Sean explained that the laws of salvage had just been changed—both in England and the States. In olden times, any cache found typically ended up becoming the material goods of the King. This was because of the law of Treasure Trove, which dated back to at least Richard the Lionheart (1189-1199 AD), and was based on even earlier medieval laws. A treasure trove was the name given to found wealth such as cash or coin, gold, silver, plate, or bullion, discovered by accident, which has been concealed or obscured in the earth or other private place, so long as its owner is not known. Should the proprietor be found it must be restored to him; and in case of not finding him, the goods belong to the sovereign. In the later case, by the general law, when the cache was found by the landlord of the soil, he was measured as entitled to it by the twofold designation of controller and finder; when found on another’s land, one-half belonged to the owner of the domain, and the other to the finder; when found on communal property, it belonged one-half to the municipal coffers, and the other to the finder. This includes not only gold and silver, but also everything that may constitute riches, such as vases, urns, statues, etc…
The new Treasure Law recompensed the finders of treasure as well as strove to look after the legacy of the culture that the treasure belonged to. Over the centuries, the old law of Treasure Trove had turned out to be unbelievably problematic: If a treasure were found, there would frequently be an across-the-board investigation to reach a concord in deciding to whom the found treasure belonged. At an inquiry, countless effects affecting the result of a case had to be well thought-out, together with whether a treasure had been misplaced or consciously buried; who owned the land-lot it was found in or on; was it found on a beach amid low and high water marks, and even what variety of trees were found budding in close proximity.
The new Treasure Act cut down matters significantly: Items found which are over 300 years old and contain more than 10% of gold or silver may be affirmed to be ‘treasure’. Scores of objects are examined by scientists and analyzed, using a method called X-ray fluorescence, to find out whether they hold adequate gold or silver for them to qualify.
“Wow. You’ve become quite the expert,” complimented Lucinda. Sergio accidentally dropped his fork.
Sean continued to explain that of the likely half a million odds and ends found each year in Europe alone, most are converted into the assets of the government and are saved for the people. They’re displayed in museums in the region of the country they were found in. If this happens, the finders will, as a rule, be satisfied with the absolute market evaluation of the treasure.
Loads of items are returned to the finders after they have been documented and confirmed. A few objects turn out to be exceedingly remarkable outside of their precious metal content. Frequently, the archaeological information related with them is of a far superior value than the objects themselves.
The Roman classification took into account similar elements under the term pecunia; but the thing found must have had a saleable worth. Very old tombs would not be measured a treasure, for example. The material must have been secreted or hidden away in the terrain; and no one must be able to lay rightful claim to it. Furthermore, it must be found by complete accident and not as a result of a hunt or a search.
The admiralty law of the United States has long acknowledged that the rule of salvage rewards the voluntary salvor for the successful salvage of life or chattels imperiled at sea. In order to have a legal aver for having rendered rescue services, the salvor is obliged to prove that the material goods saved were in danger, that the services were freely rendered, and that he was successful in the saving of the goods (in part or entirely).
A salvor gains the right to seize the property but not the right of ownership. Sean placed particular emphasis on the following: The salvor holds the rescued property for the benefit of the legitimate proprietor. But if the law of “finds” pertains, then the finder acquires ownership and rights to the property. In the case of a legal find, the court wont set a price because, by legal definition, a finder takes title to property found—free and clear of every other claim. The rule of thumb is “finders keepers losers weepers”.
The drive home was quiet. Alexis grappled with whether or not she should inquire about what her husband was thinking: She had a good idea. “I think Sergio’s hot on you,” he finally uttered.
“That’s funny because I think Lucinda’s hot on you,” she answered. He stared at the road ahead and she to the side. “So what’s going on?” she broke.
“I think I’m going to go,” said Sean.
Alexis felt a sudden rush coursing through her, “Go where?”
“England. I think I’m going to take a week for myself and go off on a little vacation. What better place to do it in? I think…yeah, I’ll check out Gloucester Isle. It seemed like a nice little coastal community. I’ll work out this Kidd nonsense once and for all and we can than move on. You know?” he said with certain ease.
“You can’t just up and go to England, Sean,” she argued, “First of all, to book a flight to Europe overnight is going to cost a pretty penny. Secondly, we’ve got the grant money proposal tomorrow. Look, honey, if it’s about Sergio…”
“Are you kidding?” he smirked. “No, sweetness, it’s not about Sergio. That’s a totally natural thing. He’s a good guy. I don’t think he’s going to do anything about it. No, this is about me needing to see this thing through. Just a week, baby, what do you say? I go to the south of England, snoop around a bit. I need some alone time; you need some alone time. The chances of Hawke even turning up are slim to none and you know it. But at least this way, I’ll get a chance to clear my head; and who knows…” he paused, “maybe write a bit. I’ve been thinking about writing.”
Alexis didn’t respond. Her father taught her not to respond immediately whenever she was emotional. Since her youth, she persistently held a compulsive tendency to lash out when she felt defenseless. It had taken her a substantial period to learn to be in command of this proclivity. There was so much going on.
“Fine. If that’s what you think you need to do, great,” she remarked, “I just want to make sure you’re not taking your eye off of the ball.”
“I knew you’d say something like that. Alexis, there’s a very real adolescent that lives inside of me. God knows you’ve pointed him out to me in many instances. I’ve been doing everything I can ever since I was a kid to get rid of it. And I did. Really. I achieved more in my life by the time I was twenty-three than most of my classmates will throughout their lives. And I’m sorry to sound all uppity. It is what it is. This whole pursuit has to do with—exactly that. It’s about taking my eye off the ball; a certain ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing’ if you know what I mean. I admit, I am pissed about the rip off. But it’s more about playing this game. As silly as it may seem. When I come back next week, we’ll call the police or the FBI—yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s a Federal matter—or whoever I need to and I’ll let the professionals figure this all out. But for now, I need to try. I can’t explain it beyond that,” said Sean.
The lucidity he was demonstrating, even though it may prove to be ill begotten, was shocking to Alexis. He spoke with a clear tone. He really wanted to do this. What did he want to prove? A private investigator would be much better suited to look into the matter of Dr. Hawke and the stolen Kidd documents. No, he was getting the jitters, she thought: Maybe it was the law school jitters or perhaps the “Holy smokes, I’m married and trapped” jitters. In any case, Alexis kept her mouth shut and realized that, if she wanted her husband to one day be everything he could be, she’d have to make him feel comfortable with taking chances— be they self-indulgent or calculated.
They agreed: They’d work the presentation tomorrow, she’d drop him off at LAX after the “show”. He booked a flight on the Internet that night at his place. Alexis stayed over.
“You know what?” she asked.
“What’s up?” asked Sean as he packed a medium-sized suitcase his mother had given him when he first moved out of the house.
“How do you feel about me moving in here while you’re gone?” Alexis questioned with a sweet yet shilly-shallying expression.
Sean was surprisingly elated by the proposition. He defaulted to her taste in just about everything anyway. What a great way to finally bring their lives together—while he was gone! They laughed; they hugged. She rolled into a litany of ideas and what she’s been thinking about doing with the place. He was glad to be married to a woman who was so supportive and strong enough to be able to see the light at the end of this tunnel. The little voice inside Sean suspected all of this to be a goose chase but goose chase or otherwise, it was something he was inexplicably drawn to. But here was a bonus: They were finally going to move in with one another. This marriage was about to leap into what they both wanted down inside.
“Will you make sure to call me?” asked Alexis. After a stunningly passionate and long-lasting kiss, Sean smiled. With his dimpled grin, he said, “Yes, baby. I love you. I’ll call you the moment I land.”
He never did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Chapters
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21 & 22, 23, 24, 25, Epilogue
posted by Emil Ahangarzadeh | 9:17 PM
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