Part 2 - Part 03

Before going to the safe I decided to go to the washroom because my bladder was about to burst and I had had a long drink of water to wash down the sugar I had consumed while eating the cookies.

When I got back I took my piece of paper and went straight to the safe. I got down on my knees and began to turn the knob. I went through the sequence and tried to open the safe but it wouldn’t open. I tried again and nothing. This reminded me of the time when I was in grade seven and was given a locker and a lock in school. I had a

hell of a time unlocking the lock but eventually I did it. I wasn’t discouraged then and I wasn’t discouraged now.

The third time it opened. I have no idea what I had done wrong the first two times. Perhaps the tumblers were stuck? I don’t know.

While attempting to open the safe I was surprised that Peter James chose such a complicated method to disguise the safe’s combination. Had I not been familiar with the hexadecimal numbers or the ASCII coding I would have never been able to open it. Well, as fate would have it, I did open it and now the question was, what was in it and how was it going to help me adjust to my new life as Peter James?

Peter James Returns

The safe had three shelves that were neatly organized. On the top shelf was Peter James’s diary with a piece of paper taped to it which had the words “Please read this” written on it.

On the middle shelf there was a pile of cash in Canadian bills, some diamonds and some gold coins as well as a pistol and a box of ammunition.

On the bottom shelf there were all kinds of papers ranging from a passport to bank cheques and a bank account book.

It was getting late and I was feeling tired and hungry but there was nothing quick and convenient to eat so I decided to head on back to my room and go to sleep. I locked the safe as a precaution and hid the combination in a secure place.

I got up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t sleep. I’d become used to the long days of Ostikon and the change was wreaking havoc with my system. I had no watch so I couldn’t tell what time it was.

I grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and decided to make a list of what I needed. Number one on my list was a watch. I needed food, fruit, vegetables, bread, etc. So I began to write things down. It was a long list so I wondered if I had enough money in my pocket.

My stomach was growling, disturbing the dead silence in my room so I decided to go to the kitchen and fry another four eggs. I had only bought a dozen so I decided to add eggs to the list. I looked at the list and was sure I would need more money.

After I ate the eggs I went back to the safe and took some money from the pile of twenty dollar bills. I pulled out ten to fifteen bills. I didn’t bother to count it. I looked at the diary and the note on it drew my attention. Why would Peter James want me to read his diary? Perhaps it wasn’t a diary even though the word “DIARY” was written on the front.

I pulled off the taped note and tossed it into the empty waste basket. At the bottom of the wastebasket lay a crumpled up Rothman’s cigarette package. I opened the diary and began to read. The first entry was dated some ten years ago when he made first contact with the space people in Algeria. He explained how he had accidentally discovered their shuttle and laboratory while prospecting for diamonds inside a dormant volcano and realized they weren’t from earth. He also explained how he had been helpful to them and convinced them not to “do away” with him. He volunteered to move to Canada and was given a new start. He also explained how he had gotten the diamonds, gold and Canadian money. He said that he had no permit for his pistol which he had purchased on the black market in Algeria.

There was a lot of stuff after that in which he explained how he was brought to British Columbia and dumped in the mountains and how he had accidentally discovered this abandoned, secret World War II military base.

The next thing that caught my attention was a sketch he had made of the base’s layout. It would appear that with all the searching I had done I had only found half of the buildings. But with his help I was later able to find everything which, at first glance, didn’t appear to be relevant to my life of solitude and loneliness. There were pages and pages of handwritten information in the diary and I had the impression that it hadn’t been written for me or someone else. It was something that Peter James felt he needed to do. But why had he put the note “Please read this” on the diary. Was it for him perhaps? What was happening to him? My lack of sleep had cut down my attention span and I found I couldn’t read for too long. I could read but I could not retain what I was reading.

I put the diary back on the safe and looked at the piles of paper on the bottom shelf. I flicked at it with my hand and saw the edge of a large photograph. I pulled it out. It was a photograph of a man who looked to be in his early forties. I flipped it and there was a name and date “Peter James 1967”. “YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME?” I heard myself yell out loud. How was I going to pass for a man in his fifties when I was only twenty five?

I grabbed the cloth bag with the gold coins and dumped it on top of the safe. There were twenty gold coins with writing that was unfamiliar to me. They looked very old and probably belonged in a museum. In the bottom of the pouch were two large rings and a gold watch. It was very thin and had a wrist chain which appeared to be made of pure gold. It too looked old. I grabbed the picture again and looked more carefully. Peter James was wearing both rings, one on each hand on the middle finger as well as the gold watch on his left wrist. That’s good to know, I thought.

I looked at the watch closely and began to wind it. It started working. That’s one item off my list I figured. I didn’t want to wear the rings because I felt uncomfortable, also the gold rings could turn me into a target for a mugger. The watch I could hide under the sleeve of my shirt.

I put everything back into the safe and locked it. I then opened the big door and started the truck with the first crank. The battery was good and held its charge. I drove down the same road and parked in the same spot. I looked up and noticed the grocery store wasn’t open. I looked around and saw a restaurant. It was open so I went inside and sat down in a corner seat. A young lady with a big smile came over. Before she had a chance to ask I said, “Just a coffee please.”

I watched her walk away and go inside the kitchen. I noticed there was an electric clock on top of the far wall. The time was 7:15 a.m. I set my watch.

She was back with my coffee in less that a minute. The black coffee was in a porcelain cup sitting on a saucer and on the side of the saucer was a small spoon, a creamer and two packets of sugar.

“Thank you. I’m just going to have a coffee. How much is it and can I pay you now?” I asked.

She smiled and said, “Twenty-five cents.”

I gave her a dollar since I didn’t have anything smaller and said, “Keep the change.”

She gave me a big smile and said, “Thank you sir, thank you very much, you are my first customer today and I know this is going to be a great day. May I ask your name?”

“My name is Peter James.”

After that I felt a bit uncomfortable. I drank the coffee fast and left the restaurant.

I went to the grocery store and looked at the hours. Then I realized that I didn’t know what the date was. In any case the store was open seven days a week from 8:00 a.m. every day. I had a little over half an hour to kill before the store opened.

I looked around the parking lot and noticed that there were a couple of newspaper boxes on the sidewalk. I went over and looked at them. I had no change to buy one but I could clearly see “Thursday September 27, 1976” through the glass display. I had only been away from June 11, 1976 to September 25, 1976 but I felt like I had been away for a lifetime.

I went back to the truck and tried to spend the remainder of my time thinking about my tragedy or my great adventure depending on how you want to look at it. Sitting in the quiet I could hear the watch ticking and watched the second hand moving second by second, minute by minute. As I stared at the watch I began to realize the predicament I was in. I pulled my fake driver’s license out of my pocket and looked at it more carefully. It was a simple piece of paper issued by the province of British Columbia which had the name Peter James, a post office box for an address, type of vehicles I could drive, that I was a male and born December 24, 1931. I knew I was going to have problems with that date so I decided to bend and crease the driver’s license along the 3 in 1931 and used my black pen to make it look like a 5. I hope this works, I thought.

By the time I was done messing with my driver’s license the store had already opened.

I went in, got a cart and started looking. A young man came over and asked me if I needed help and then whispered please say yes because my boss is going to send me outside to pick garbage.

“Can you please help me out. I’m new here and don’t know where things are,” I said out loud,

He looked at his boss and the boss gave him the signal to help me.

I gave him the list and asked him if he could read my handwriting.

“We have everything you’ve written here except for the watch,” he said.

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “Take your time I have all day.”

He took my cart and decided to move around from place to place in the store filling my order according to the list from top to bottom. When we were done he escorted me to the cash register counter and packed all my stuff in paper bags. After I had paid the cashier he took the groceries out to my truck and thanked me for saving him from having to collect garbage. I looked through my money and the smallest bill I could find was a five dollar bill. I pulled it out and gave it to him. First he said that I didn’t have to do that but then took the money and said, “Thank you man, that’s half a day’s worth of work for me.” He then asked “What’s your name man?”

“My name is Peter James.”

He walked away happy. I got into my truck and drove back to the base.

After I put everything away I made myself a “shopska” salad with tomatoes and cucumbers, a bit of finely diced peppers and onion and a lot of feta cheese sprinkled over it along with some pepper and olive oil. The only thing that was missing was rakia to go with it.

I had a sudden attack of loneliness. I wished Delche and Ori were here so that I could share it with them.

After I ate the salad I went back to the garage, opened the door, started the truck and drove off into town. I kept driving until I found a liquor store. I went inside and looked for rakia. The closest I could find was a Serbian brand of rakia which was twice the price of whiskey. I decided it was too expensive and instead I picked up a bottle of bourbon, whiskey, vodka and rum. When I had paid for them I found out that they had cost me more than my entire groceries.

When I got back to the base I went to the kitchen and fried a couple of steaks, cut them into little pieces and put them on a plate, just like we used to do in Delche’s restaurant. I opened the whiskey bottle and poured myself a drink. Drinking alone was not the same as drinking with Delche and Ori. The more I drank the more I thought of them. I needed to sit down so I went to the lower level lounge and put my plate, bottle and glass on the side table and lay down on a bench. Getting drunk didn’t help me escape my loneliness and depression. The harder I tried to reconcile things the messier they became. I felt like I was stepping backwards while trying to climb a steep hill and was about to lose my balance and tumble down. It was a terrible feeling and I couldn’t shake it off. I was missing my friends… terribly.

I don’t know how long I lay there and must have fallen asleep. When I woke up I was as stiff as a board and had a terrible headache.

I looked out the big windows. It was pitch black outside and it looked like it was pouring rain. I took my stuff and went to the kitchen. I put the leftover meat in the fridge and the whisky in the cupboard. I rinsed the glass and drank some water. I drank some more. The water hitting my stomach gave me a sick feeling. I was about to vomit but the feeling slowly passed. I looked at my watch; it was twenty minutes past midnight.

I turned off the lights and went back to the bench. There was dead silence inside. There was a flash of lightening which lit the entire lounge. Seconds later I heard thunder. It was muffled and echoed many times. The mountains around the base created the echoes, I thought. The base was underground or, I should say, under an

artificial hill made of thick layers of rocks and rubble. I heard a large motor start in the distance and felt a draft of air on my face. I realized it was warm inside and the air was fresh because the heating and cooling systems were running all year round. It wasn’t like the room I was in during my first night back which had no ventilation.

I wanted to go back to the garage office and continue reading the diary but it was pouring rain and I had to go outside. By the time I got into the office I was soaking wet. There had to be a better way to get around inside rather than go outside.

The first thing I did when I got to the office was go to the back room and change my clothes. I emptied my pockets and put my stuff on the table. I couldn’t believe how many things I was carrying in my pockets. Did I need to carry all that stuff? I didn’t think so.

After I lay my wet pants and shirt on Peter’s bed I got another checkered shirt and a beige pair of pants from the closet and put them on. I then opened the safe, got the diary out and flipped the pages to the sketch of the building. Number 5 on the sketch described a door between the stage and the garage which I didn’t know existed. But according to the description it could be opened with key 5. Number 6 on the sketch was a door that led to the firing range which could be opened with key 6. “There’s a firing range?” I heard myself say.

I took the keys off the desk and went straight for door 5. I found it in the far right hand corner of the garage. I unlocked and opened it. It led directly into the corner of the stage. I left it open and went for door 6 which was behind the tank. I unlocked it too and opened it. It led to a long hallway. On my right was the firing range and on my left was a hall that led to a dark tunnel. On the left side of the hall was a room. The door had no lock. Inside the room were many shelves with complete military uniforms lying on them. There were a variety of sizes of pants, shirts, coats, long-sleeved undershirts, long underwear, sweaters, socks, blankets, boots, shoes...

I turned off the lights in the room, closed the door and decided to follow the dark tunnel. A few steps into the tunnel I found a light switch and turned it on. A whole row of lights came on. The tunnel

was straight and about 250 metres long. A few steps away from the switch was a staircase leading down. I went down and found a light switch at the bottom of the stairs. I turned it on. There was another tunnel under the tunnel above. On my right there was a long cement deck and on the left was a long, narrow pool of water about a couple of metres deep leading to the outside on the far side. I could see fish swimming in the clear water, small and big fish; small to the left of the iron bars that divided the pool and big to the right leading to the outside.

I turned off the lights and went back up the stairs and followed the long tunnel. When I got to the end of the tunnel I took a sharp right turn and went for another 200 metres. As I turned the corner I could hear water running and the humming of a motor. When I got to the end I saw an underground river divided into two channels by a concrete divide and emptying into two huge, vertically mounted pipes running down into the ground. In the middle of the two pipes there was a concrete divide on which sat a couple of generators. I assumed these were the generators that provided electricity for the base. In front of the generators was a panel on which there was a switch. The handle pointed to “Generator 1” on the left. I assumed generator 1 was online and generator 2 was the backup. On a shelf under the panel was a manual. It was covered in dust. I was sure it was the operating manual for the generators. I would look at it another time. The water running down the pipes was very loud.

I walked back along the tunnel. When I got to the firing range I noticed the back wall was lined with three plates of lead, each about a couple of centimetres wide. They were full of little holes. About 30 cm in front of the wall sat six large half metre wide round targets about a metre apart and a metre and a half off the floor.

The last cabinet behind the military tank was marked “Rifles”. I opened it and looked inside. Off hand it looked like there were about sixty WW II rifles nicely stacked, sitting upright next to one another in multiple rows. Underneath them on the bottom shelf were many green metal, square boxes. I opened the lid of one. It was full of shiny brass bullets that looked like fingers. There were hundreds of them in rows mounted on metal brackets. Each bracket held five bullets. I took out a bracket and dislodged one bullet. I then pulled a

rifle out of the rack. I was familiar with the rifle and with the bullets. The partisans had used them during the Greek Civil War in my native Macedonia. I checked out the barrel and found that it was clean. As I loaded the bullet into the rifle barrel I felt excited and my heart began to beat hard and fast. I decided not to fire it, and a good thing too because I had no earplugs and firing a loud rifle indoors could have blown my eardrums.

I took the bullet out and put both the gun and bullet back where I had found them.

I then took a tour around the various places inside the buildings and unlocked all the inside doors. There was no point in keeping them locked or carrying all those keys around in my pockets. When I went back to the office I placed all the items I had inside a drawer and only took with me the key to the outside doors, my driver’s license, my truck key and the post office box key.

I looked outside. It was still dark. I figured now would be a good time to go to the post office box and get my mail. I found the address on the pad in the desk and looked up the street on the map. It was in the same plaza as the grocery store. I drove there and parked near the post office. There was no one there. The front door was open. I walked in and found an entire roomful of post boxes along three walls. Some were small and mine, number 106, was much larger. I opened it and a whole pile of envelopes slid out and fell on the floor. I grabbed a large handful, took them out to the truck and dumped them on the passenger seat. I did the same two more times until I had gotten all the mail into my truck. I locked the mailbox. It was still dark and there was no one in the plaza and not a single car in the parking lot when I left.

It was starting to get light outside when I arrived at the base. I parked the truck inside the garage. I grabbed the waste basket from the office and put all the mail in it and took it in. I sat at the desk and began to sort it out. I dumped all the junk mail on the floor and sorted the rest. I placed all the mail from the bank in one pile, the mail from the car insurance company on another and so on. There were letters from Peter’s lawyer, accountant, and so on.

After I sorted out the mail I dumped the junk mail in the waste basket and went to the kitchen to make breakfast because it was going to take a long time to sift through five years worth of letters, bills, bank statements, etc.

I came back after I had eaten breakfast and, one by one, I opened all the envelopes and went through their contents. I found the latest issue of Peter’s driver’s license, car insurance and a sticker for his vehicle ownership permit. I also found all of Peter’s bank statements, income tax returns and property tax payments for the past five years. The property under which the military base was buried was designated a wilderness. Before the base was built the site was a rock quarry filled with water. The buildings were built above the water table and covered with large rocks and loose gravel and now they looked like a large mound.

One other thing I noticed was that the lawyer’s fees and accountant’s fees were getting progressively more expensive with every year and the bank account was going to run out soon if I didn’t add more money to it. So, I figured it was time for me to pay a visit to Agnes, the bank lady, and deposit some cash. But before I could do that I needed to know more about Agnes and Peter James: a lot more than what my handlers had told me back on the ship.

I stuffed the empty envelopes in the waste basket and went to the fireplace in the moldy room and set them on fire. After all the papers were burnt I went back to the office, opened the safe, took the diary out and put the papers I wanted to keep on the top shelf.

I grabbed Peter’s big photograph and looked at it again. I had doubts that anyone would believe that I was him. I had no idea why my handlers on the ship thought I could pass as him. And more importantly how had he “disappeared”. Had someone killed him or had he gone into hiding? I was hoping there would be something in his diary that would explain things.

As I tossed the picture back on the bottom shelf of the safe I noticed a black strip in the corner looking like the edge of a thick ruler. I pulled it up. It was a wallet. It was wedged behind the pile of papers. It was thin and except for the small photograph of a woman about

his age in it, it was empty. There was nothing written on the back of the photograph to indicate the date it was taken or who she was. Since I didn’t have a wallet of my own I figured I could use it. I put my papers and money in it and stuffed it into my back, right hand pocket.

I was about to grab the entire pile of papers and sift through them but decided against it. There were too many papers to go through before lunch.

I pulled out Peter’s passport and looked at it. It was Algerian which didn’t interest me at the moment. I tossed it back and locked the safe.

I picked up the diary and went to the kitchen to make some lunch. I looked through the cupboards and found a small coffee pot. I made coffee to go with my lunch. I decided to have two fried hamburgers garnished with a slice of tomato and onion. After I ate my lunch I began to read the diary from where I’d left off. I found nothing about Agnes. In fact there wasn’t much about anything except for Peter’s daily experiences in this isolated part of British Columbia and how he had found and purchased the rock quarry and managed to convince the province to turn it into a nature preserve. It was interesting reading but I had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

I decided to wing it and take my chances going to the bank and meeting Agnes, that is, if she still worked in the bank.

After I had my coffee I went to the safe and grabbed a handful of bills from each pile. I counted them and wrote down the number of bills of each denomination. I had picked up $7,860 in total. I picked up the bankbook, got into my truck and drove to town.

Meeting Agnes the bank teller

I had seen the bank before, it was in the same plaza as the grocery store. I parked my truck close to it and looked inside from the large window. There were three customers inside. I decided to wait until everyone was gone. I tried hard to remember what Agnes looked like from the picture my handlers had shown me but couldn’t remember. All I remembered was that she looked old. Another customer showed up. Now there were four people in the bank. I decided to go in. There were four tellers, all women, only one was old. I went and stood in line. One of the customers on the far right counter left. The teller behind the counter looked at me and said, “Next.”

“I’ll wait for Agnes,” I said and pointed to the leftmost counter. The teller shook her head and looked away.

A little later two more customers came in and lined up behind me. I waved them by. By the time Agnes was finished with her customer all the customers had left. I kept getting looks from the tellers who now were free. Finally the old lady waved me in.

As I began to walk towards the counter I said, “Hello Agnes.” She looked up. She was wearing thick glasses. The other three tellers also looked.

“Who are you again?” she asked.

“It’s Peter,” I said.

“Peter who?”

“Peter James.”

“You’re not Peter James!”

“Is this the guy that dated your daughter?” asked one of the tellers.

“No silly, he was a different Peter James. Our Peter was an older man,” she said, looked at me and asked. “What can I do for you Mr. James?”

I fumbled through my pockets pulled out the cash and the bankbook and dumped them on the counter. Everyone was looking at me.

“What do you want me to do with that?” asked Agnes.

I let out a nervous laugh and said, “Ah, deposit it please.”

Agnes looked at me and asked, “Do you have any identification?”

I fumbled through my wallet and pulled out my creased driver’s license and asked, “Is this okay?”

“It will do,” she said as she looked at it. “We have your card in here somewhere, let me find it.” She then went to the back, pulled out a cabinet drawer and came back with a card. She looked at the driver’s license and said, “You were born which year?”

“I was born in 1951,” I said.

She made an adjustment to the card and put it away. She then counted the money, updated my account book and gave it to me.

Just as I was about to walk away she yelled, “You forgot your receipt!”

I turned around, took the paper, thanked her and left. I could hear whispers and giggles as I walked away.

I was about to toss the deposit receipt in the garbage outside the bank when I saw some handwriting on it. It said “Come and see me at 7 pm” and there was an address and a telephone number.

I spent the next several hours on edge wondering why Agnes would want to see me in her home. Well, I assumed the address she had given me was from her home. The comment the other teller made about Peter James dating her daughter made me nervous. What did

she know about Peter James? Why did Peter James give my handlers Agnes’s name as my bank contact? Obviously Agnes knew I wasn’t Peter James. Agnes, I believe, changed the year of my birth on the bank card from 1931 to 1951 to hide something, but what? Something wasn’t right.

I looked up her street on the map. It was walking distance from the plaza where she worked. I took the bottle of bourbon I had bought the other day and put it in a paper bag. I thought it would be a nice gesture to bring her something. Wine would have been better but I didn’t have any.

I arrived early and decided to park my truck in the plaza parking lot to pass the time. The place was dead. Most stores closed at 6 p.m. except for the restaurant. I went in for a quick coffee. I looked around but the young lady who had served me wasn’t there. An older and slightly plump woman came over and brought my coffee.

“It’s Peter James, right?” she asked. “My daughter couldn’t get over the tip you gave her the other day. The coffee is on the house.”

I said thank you, smiled, drank the coffee fast and went back to the truck.

A few minutes later I drove off and went to look for Agnes’s address. I looked at my watch as I pulled into her driveway. It was two minutes to seven, close enough I thought.

I took the bottle which I had wrapped in a paper bag and went to the front door. I rang the bell. A younger woman came to the door. I recognized her. She was the woman from the little picture in my wallet.

“Don’t just stand there. Invite him in,” Agnes said from inside the house. I recognized her voice.

She kept looking at me as she escorted me to the kitchen where Agnes was cooking something that smelled delicious. I handed the woman the bottle. She took it out of the bag and said, “Look mom, your favourite. He brought you a bottle of bourbon.”

Agnes didn’t say anything. I was getting nervous.

A moment later she said, “So, you are the new Peter James, eh?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that so I didn’t say anything.

To ease the tension her daughter asked me if I wanted something to drink and then said, “You are staying for dinner, okay?”

I looked at Agnes and she shook her head “yes”.

“What did you mean when you said that I was the new Peter James?” I asked.

“Son, we have a lot to talk about so please let me finish preparing the food first and I will tell you everything I know… And, by the way, this is my daughter Olivia.”

Olivia smiled, shook my hand and said, “You look nothing like him.”

I didn’t know what to say so I kept quiet while Agnes served the food.

“Also, thank you for the bottle of bourbon. Did they tell you about that too?”

“No,” I said. “No one told me anything. I got the bourbon myself…”

“Well, what did they tell you?” she asked.

I didn’t know these women and was not prepared to reveal anything until I found out more about them.

“You seem to know a lot about me but I know nothing about you,” I said and smiled.

Olivia smiled back at me and said, “We don’t know anything about you. All we know is that you took my husband’s name and showed up in town pretending to be him.”

“Why did you refer to me as ‘the new Peter James’? Who was the old Peter James and why do you think I’ve taken his name?”

Agnes looked at me and said, “All I can tell you is that Peter James came to me in the bank one day and asked me to help him open an account. He seemed like a lost soul so I invited him here for a meal and a nice chat. He immediately hit it off with my daughter and about a year later they got married. She wanted children and I wanted grandchildren but he said no and kept making excuses. Finally one day my daughter had had enough and pressed him to tell her why. He came up with this bizarre story about which she can tell you more, which we didn’t believe. After that he began to lose his memory and had to write things down to remind him what to do; even the simplest things. Then, one day, poof he vanished. And five years later, when we thought we had closure, here you are pretending to be him.”

“Wow!” I said.

“That’s all you have to say? I helped you out today. I could have turned you in to the authorities you know? So stop dancing around and tell us who you really are and what’s your game!”

“Mom, stop it! I’ll tell him everything I know first and if he doesn’t cooperate then you can turn him in!” said Olivia and began to tell her side of the story.

“When I first met him I knew he wasn’t from around here. He spoke English with a slight accent, British, Australian, I couldn’t tell. When I asked him where he was from originally he said he was from Algeria. He didn’t tell me from where in Algeria. He said he was a prospector in gold and diamonds. One day he even showed me some. He was a mess when we first met him. He looked like a hobo. We asked him to stay with us for a while until he found his own place. I even helped him look for a job but he didn’t want to work. He was very grateful for what we did for him and was always polite.

I was his only friend in town so we spent a lot of time together. We got very close.

But, as I got to know him more I could feel that he was hiding something. I also knew he wasn’t happy about what he was hiding and often left when I pressed him for answers. He used to disappear for days. Then, after he bought that desolate property up there near the river, he used to go there and spend a lot of time alone. I have no idea what he ate or where he slept. One time I went looking for him and found him fishing in the quarry. He had caught two fair sized fish. He had no barbeque or open fire pit and when I forced him to tell me what he was going to do with the fish he wouldn’t tell me. I stormed out of the place and drove myself home. He followed me with that truck, the same one you’re driving, and brought the fish here. He said he was catching them for us but I knew he was lying. I got mad and yelled at him. I accused him of seeing another woman, even though I knew he wasn’t seeing anyone. It’s a small town and we all know what’s going on. He got very upset and asked me what I wanted from him. I told him I wanted him to marry me. He got upset and left. A couple of days later he came back and said he wanted to marry me. My mother told me not to do it but I didn’t listen. I loved him, you know. I still do, so I ignored my mother’s advice and we got married. We had a small private wedding.

I convinced him to stay here with us but he felt confined. He wasn’t very happy but we managed. I had to go to work while he stayed at home. I know he had money. He sold some of the gold and diamonds he had brought with him, probably on the black market because I know he didn’t have the papers to prove that they were his. Anyway I didn’t care about that. All I cared about was us. And then there were the annoying rumours people were spreading about us. Everyone in town thought I supported him instead of him supporting me like the way it should be. He asked me to quit working. “If that bothers you so much then why not just stop working and we can live off my savings.”

I said no.

We lived like this for a few years.

One day we visited one of my friends. She was married two years after us and had a baby. I held the little boy in my arms and couldn’t put him down. My friend noticed and asked why we didn’t have children of our own. I didn’t know what to say. I told her that someday we would. I was getting older and almost past child bearing age. This bothered me a lot and when Peter asked me what was wrong I told him. I told him I wanted to have a child. He immediately said no, it wasn’t possible. I began to cry and wanted to know why. I was ready to jump out of the truck and kill myself. He slammed the brakes and said no. I told him I just wanted him to tell me why. He said he would.

The next day we drove up to the quarry and sat on the rocks. He told me some ridiculous story about him being brought there by aliens because he had discovered their secrets and crap like that. I asked him if they were Mexicans and he laughed. He actually said they were from outer space. When I heard that I freaked and ran. I told him that that was one of the lamest excuses I had ever heard. I told him that if he didn’t like me I could understand… but to tell me that? What did he think? I was born yesterday? I was that stupid?

After he brought me home I told him that I didn’t want to see him again until he was ready to tell me the truth. I was so upset I told mom and my friends.

About a week later a detective or private investigator came over to our house looking for him. I figured his past was finally catching up with him. I was so mad I told the detective everything. The detective didn’t tell me why he was looking for him or comment on the bizarre story.

A few days later when I calmed down I went to the quarry to look for him. He wasn’t there. Weeks later he was in town but when I went to see him he didn’t recognize me. I told him who I was and he believed me. But then he told me the aliens were after him and were attempting to erase his memory. When I heard him say that I told him that we were through. It was over between us. I never wanted to see him again. I guess after that he left town and never came back.”

“That’s quite a story,” I said.

“Isn’t it?” replied Olivia sarcastically.

“And here you are five years later and twenty years younger,” Agnes said to me.

“Yeah, aliens,” I said and laughed thinking to myself I’d better come up with a good story or my goose would be cooked one way or another.

“Well? What do you have to say?” asked Agnes.

“The food was great, thank you. But, after what I heard, I could use a drink and so could Olivia,” I said and gently took Olivia’s hand, kissed it and said. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s it!” yelled Agnes.

“Mom!? Take it easy!” Olivia pleaded.

“Your mother is right, she has suffered a lot because of Peter James and deserves to know everything.”

“Well, I never met Peter James in person but know of him. I found out about him from his acquaintances and from the police. I was told that he was dead but they didn’t tell me how he died. I suspect he was killed for his gold and diamonds which were never found. I came here to look for them. He confessed to someone that he had hidden them up in the quarry but no one believed him. I do. I also found out that he loved Olivia very much but was afraid his enemies would come after her and Agnes. That’s why he had to keep a low profile. He was afraid that if he had a child his enemies would use the child to get to him. There is no doubt he had a shady past that involved violent characters. That’s about all I know. And oh, I bought Peter’s wallet from one of his acquaintances. I wanted it for his driver’s license. That’s where I found Olivia’s picture. I needed his license to assume his identity,” I said, took out the wallet and gave the picture in it to Olivia.

Olivia opened her mouth wide and held her face with her hands while staring at the picture. Seeing her own picture in my wallet became very real for her.

I could see Agnes was getting angry as Olivia began to cry.

“I’m very sorry for causing you grief,” I said. “I never meant to hurt anyone. And if there is any way I can make it up to you please let me know. Please don’t get the authorities involved it all this. And to be honest with you, it’s not about the loot either. If I ever do find it I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you at all.”

“I don’t want his money, I…” declared Olivia before she was interrupted by her mother who said.

“You must be in big trouble to be willing to go that far.”

“Yes ma’am I am and I will do anything to avoid the authorities.”

“What mother? You want his money now?!” snapped Olivia.

“Why not!? I’m 67 years old and I’m still working. How is it going to hurt if I take his money? And look at you, you’re his widow. That money belongs to you… It is legally yours.”

“Ladies please, I give you my word if I find his stuff I will bring it here and we can share it. You decide what you want. I am close to finding it. I just have to turn over enough rocks in the quarry and if Peter James truly had what his acquaintances told me he had, I will find it.”

Agnes opened the bottle of bourbon and poured us each a shot. She picked up her shot, gulped it down in one gulp and said, “I miss this stuff; I can’t afford it anymore. I am piss poor and the bank is trying to force me to retire and here is my daughter, his wife, telling me we don’t need his money,” paused and said, “son, you get us that loot and we’ll forget about the authorities.”

Olivia and I sipped our drinks slowly while Agnes poured herself a second and a third.

“Thank you for the meal. I’d better get going,” I said.

Olivia grabbed my hand and said, “I enjoyed our visit today please come back again.”

I stood up, put my wallet in my pocket and left. Olivia walked me to the door.

After I got into my truck and drove off I wondered if they had bought my story. I concluded they hadn’t so I decided to follow through with giving them the loot.

Four days later, on a Saturday morning, I went into town to a payphone and called the number Agnes had given me. Olivia answered. She was thrilled to hear my voice and invited me to come and see her.

“Don’t you want to know why I’m calling? I asked.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “We just want to see you. Can you come today?”

“Is Agnes okay with it?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, Agnes is okay with it,” she replied.

“Okay. See you in a couple of hours then.”

When I got back to the base I went down to the kitchen and debated which bottle to take with me as a gift; rum or vodka. I decided rum.

I looked around for a bag to put it in but I couldn’t find one. I found a small canvas pouch which had probably been used by the army people on the base. It was old and moldy so I tossed it in the trash. I decided this was a good opportunity to take the gold, diamonds and some cash to Agnes and Olivia.

I went to the safe and grabbed the gold, diamonds and a pile of cash. I estimated I took out over ten thousand dollars. If I told them I had

found this stuff under a rock then how was I going to explain their pristine condition? I went to the kitchen, took the canvas bag from the garbage and put everything into it. If asked I was going to say it was sealed in a plastic bag which I had thrown out. If they believed me fine, if not who cares, I thought.

I arrived ten minutes early. Olivia was at the door waiting for me. When I arrived she gave me a big kiss on the mouth. I found that very strange considering she was almost old enough to be my mother.

“Don’t mind my daughter, she gets carried away sometimes. She had a hard life and deserves some happiness. I see you brought me another one of my favourite drinks. Thank you. We did some baking today hoping you would come and see us. I’m glad you’re here,” said Agnes.

Olivia grabbed me by the hand and sat me down at the kitchen table. “Smell that? It’s homemade cherry pie, Peter’s favourite.”

Agnes snapped at her and said, “Olivia, behave yourself, he is not your Peter.”

I kissed her hand and said, “I’m happy to see you too. I have some good news for you.”

“And what is that?” asked Agnes.

“I found Peter’s loot.”

“I don’t believe you!” replied Agnes.

I opened the rotting pouch and pulled out the diamonds, the gold and the cash.

“What are you trying to pull?” Agnes asked.

“Mom, wait mom. This is Peter’s stuff. He showed it to me. This is his stuff. There are twenty gold coins, two rings and a gold watch in the pouch,” she said.

Agnes grabbed the little bag and dumped everything out. She counted the coins. There were twenty. “Everything is here except for the gold watch.”

I raised my sleeve, showed them the watch and said, “I’m keeping the watch, everything else is yours.”

“The diamonds too?” asked Olivia.

“Yes, the diamonds, the cash, everything… It’s all yours,” I said. “The watch is my finder’s fee. I’m keeping it. As his wife, everything else is rightfully yours.”

Olivia came over and asked me to stand up and gave me a big hug. Agnes looked at me and said, “Son, I underestimated you, I figured you for a scoundrel but I was wrong. I just don’t know how to thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said and jokingly added. “Well, you can adopt me as your grandson and call me Peter James Jr.”

They both cracked up laughing.

“When you decide to cash in the gold and diamonds you’ll have to find a broker on the black market who won’t ask questions,” I said.