As soon as I stepped inside I felt the hot moldy air hit me. ‘I can’t believe I am doing this’ I said to myself. My palms were sweating as was the small of my back. I proceeded farther in looking for any barrels that had v45 on them. Suddenly my eyes came upon a barrel. I looked at the side. It read v45. Triumph. I reached inside and my hand came in contact with a smooth, and plastic something. I pulled it out and it appeared to be a rolled up canvas wrapped in plastic. Yes! I carefully placed my prize into the sack. Now to get out of here.

I figured that I was probably ten minutes in. Suddenly, out of the blue came a rumbling like I had never heard. The warehouse began to shake and shudder. I heard the distinct sound of a wrecking ball moving into place. Suddenly a beam from ceiling came down and nearly sliced my back. I soon began to hear a hissing sound. I realized all too soon that it was the oxygen tank. Well, how bad could it be. I was about to find out how bad.

Without the tanks of oxygen I was literally a fish out of water. The ammonia mixed with a hint of moldy must, hit me hard. I started to stumble around, trying desperately to keep from breathing in the bad air. My efforts claimed to be born in futility, for as soon as I opened my mouth, I breathed in air that burned my lungs. I closed my mouth and tried to run but my legs felt like they were Jello.

Have you ever had those dreams that when you try to run, you can’t? That is what happened to me. I tried to run but as I ran I felt my body relax and fall to the ground. The ground came up to meet me as I saw my world go into a spinning frenzy.

Suddenly I saw a pair of tan work boots coming my way. Yes! Rescue.

If you are ever about to die in a building from asphyxiation and someone comes along, don’t stop, don’t hesitate, just keep on dying. (Bing Crosby to Danny Kaye in ‘White Christmas’.)  If you are looking at me with a dumb expression on your face, don’t worry. Let me explain.

My ‘rescuer’ didn’t plan on rescuing me at all. As soon as he got to my prone body the person kicked the oxygen hose away from my mouth, depleting me of much needed air. As I lay there floundering, the figure rolled my body over to see if I was still alive. The person's face was covered in a tinted gas masked. He reached down and grabbed the sack. His words to me before he left were this.

¨Good bye, Private Idiot! ¨ his voice was definitely masculine and sounded German yet it was muffled under the mask.

I did the only possible thing in that moment. I prayed to God for a deliverer. Then I blacked out.
 

I woke up to a bucket full of cool crisp water. I opened my eyes to see Pete, Paul and three other men in grubby clothes like Paul.

¨Where am I?¨ I asked, not knowing where the heck I was. I looked up only to see Pete, kneeling next to me, trying to get to my level.

“Dude, like, what the heck just happened?” I looked at Pete and stared at him with the same expression that he wore.

“I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve got the painting one moment and the next moment, I’m dying. Who ordered the wrecking ball and who was that in the building?”

“Easy, James. Settle down and speak English. I just came from the wrecking ball. The operator was nowhere near when the ball moved into place. Did you say that there was another man with you? Can you give me an ID?” asked Pete.

“I couldn’t see his face under a mask, but I would say that he stood six-five, and German. The last thing he said before trying to kill me, was ‘goodbye private idiot’. He knew that I was in there. You would never be able to ID me from under that mask.”

As I finished up, a grubby worker ran up to us.

“Hey boss, I found something behind the site. Here. It looks like a rolled up piece of canvas. It matches the description that you gave me.

“How cliche.” mumbled Pete from under his breath.

Paul took the canvas gently from the workers hands and attempted to unroll only to have the canvas crumble and tear. I gasped as he swore.

Things had gone from bad to worse.

Since I was in no position to drive home safely, Pete agreed to drive me home in his car. He would have the impoundment officer drop Mystery off later, free of charge.

Being the nervous wreck I was, Pete walked me to my bed, laid me down and went to check out my apartment, fearing that there had been another break in.

After he checked out the place, he got some Alka Seltzer and water, had me drink it and sat down.

“You know old buddy, over the past forty-eight hours, there have more attempts on your life than there have ever been on any one officer on the NYPD Force. Who you making enemies with?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’m doing my job right.” I replied, drowsy and in no mood to talk.

I could tell that Pete was about to say something, when a CRASH! sounded through the apartment. Something had been flung through the front office window. I could hear the sound of a Harley riding off.

Pete rolled me off the bed and threw his 185 pound frame on top of me. Man he’s gotten heavy.

After thirty seconds, he got up and carefully, almost fearfully, went to the front, where the crash had come from.

After what seemed like an eternity, he came back holding a rock in his right hand and a piece of paper in his left. He read the typed note aloud.

“Dear Meddling Detective. You are a Nuisance and a Pest. However, you have already demonstrated great skill in your field. I am willing to negotiate a deal with you for a price. If you agree, then meet under the Brooklyn Bridge at 10:00 p.m.. If you fail to comply with my orders or if you bring the police, you and your friends will be shot. Choose wisely - X

“You have to go, James. I’ll help you as much as I can, but I can’t get the NYPD involved.

“Pete, are you for real right now?” I asked, shocked that one of my closest buddies would desert me.

“James, think about this rationally. I know that you're tired but think. If this whacko means business, which I think he does, You're better off not involving us.”

“Come on dude. We’ve got to get ready.”

Four hours later, I was sitting in the NYPD Armory. My mind in a daze, I equipped myself with only the bare essentials. One combat blade, one Glock 1406 and black urban combat boots that would go with my khaki assault fatigues and black sweater.

Three hours later, at 8:45 p.m, I was called into the city commissioners office. Commissioner Jose Alvatraz greeted me with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

“Sit down Jim. Now, as you know, you are among the best detectives ever to walk the streets of New York City. I have placed units in your hands and they have always come back. JIm, I cannot risk the lives of my entire police force on some Yahoo’s sick idea of a joke. I never have and I never will. I have never known a more dedicated man in all my years as Chief Commissioner. I’d like to pray for you before you leave.”

I nodded in approval as Commissioner Alvatraz got up, moved behind me and placed his broad hands on my shoulders.

“Dear God, in Heaven. You know the hearts of all men and you can judge them better than any earthly judge or jury. Lord, whatever happens tonight, Lord may your hand rest on James. Give him the knowledge that you are there watching over him. We also pray that James may be a testimony to whoever shows tonight. Give him your peace, for only you know his heart. Lord, in your holy and precious name, Amen.”

I looked up to see Alvatraz crying. I finally understood. For the past eight years, he had been a father to me and I a son. He felt as if he may never see me again.

Quietly and solemnly, Commissioner Alvatraz and I made our way to the unmarked Chevrolet Impala that would take me to the Bridge. The whole way, Alvatraz and I prayed.

When we arrived at the Bridge, Alvatraz grabbed my hand and said

“Son, come back.” and with a face of determination, I got out of the car and watched as it sped down the street and disappeared around the corner.

As I walked down the steep embankment to the farthest part underneath the Brooklyn Bridge. I was shaking worse than a tree in the wind. All I wanted was to go home, but I had to do this.

No longer was this about a painting. This was about the lives of all the men on the New York City Police Department.

There I was in the cold March evening, as I made my way under the bridge.

As I got to the middle of the under side of the bridge, I leaned up against the graffitied concrete wall and check my watch. 9:55. I am five minutes early. I sat down and did the only thing that I could. I prayed.

As my watch read 10:00, I looked up and hoped to see a sign of anyone. I stood up and began pacing. All of a sudden I froze. My body stiffened and my blood ran cold. As my body hit the ground, I realized one thing. I had been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

When I came to, I was in what appeared to be a very ritzy apartment. By the look and glamor of the apartment, I had to guess that I was on the West side of Manhattan.

As my blurry vision adjusted, in walks a tall man in a gray suit. He was a well built man with shoulder length blonde hair that had just been slicked back. The most surprising feature was his monocle.

He addressed me before I could speak.

“Hello, James.  I am sorry for the harsh treatment on your way in, but it was the best that we could do. I am Johannes Schreiber. Art collector. Now I believe I summoned you here to make a deal, so please come.”

Mr. Schriber motioned for me to sit at oak table with a neat trim of what appeared to be jade. As I sat down, I began my questioning.

“Mr. Schriber,”

“Oh please, call me Johannes. Would you like some tea?” I was surprised by his cordiality, but more so I was alert.

“No thank you sir. If you are an art collector, why did you A) almost kill me at the warehouse, B) Throw the rock and message through my window and C) kidnap me?”

“My dear, dear James. You misunderstand me. My intervention did not start merely at the warehouse. It started the day before. Infact, I had your every move planned out. From the moment you were called, to where you are now. From you being mugged behind the Art Museum to your house being trashed all the way to now. And why? Because I want to make you an offer.”

“ What kind of an art collector are you? ” I knew enough that this man was dangerous.

“What’s the offer?” I asked, bravely, not trying to show the fear in my voice.

“I guess I lied. I am not a collector. I am a smuggler. I have rings all around the world at my disposal. My offer is simple. You help me and I will let you go. If you refuse to help me I will not only shoot you, but I will bring misery upon every person whom you ever loved.”

“Go on.” My mouth was dry as I said these words.

“As you saw this morning, the painting that you were looking for crumbled and was destroyed. Right? That was all in my plan. You see, I have a reproduction, the only reproduction, mind you, of that portrait. After much tedious research, I have concluded the hiding place of the fabled treasure. Stecknadel Horn. A dangerous peak the French Alps. I need you and all your skill to find that cavern and bring me back proof of the treasure.”

“Why won’t you go yourself?” I asked blankly.

“Why would I? If you fail, I send in someone else. There is one person that I would like you to meet. Heinrich?”

In walked a tall and muscular man with slicked back black hair and a thin pencil mustache.

“I believe that you met Heinrich earlier this morning. Since you have agreed to help me Heinrich will watch over you. Now I believe that you have some work to do.”

With a flick of Johannes’ wrist, I was lifted from my seat by the strong muscles of Heinrich and motioned to the elevator.

The last thing I remember was being hit.
 

Do you ever wonder what goes on when you are unconscious? Man, is that the story of my life.

All I know is that one minute I wake up on a plane and the next I am sitting in the terminal.

As I sat in the terminal all alone I wondered ‘where the heck am?’ I realized that I had not been changed since whenever I got onto the plane. I searched my pants and pockets to find that all my weapons including my gun were still with me. And it was loaded. I had unloaded it in the car with Alvatraz. I also found in my left breast pocket a neatly folded piece of paper.

Dear Mr. Hammond,
I would so very much like to thank you for choosing to help me. Not that you had much of a choice. When you find this note you should be at Geneva-Cointrin Airport in Switzerland. My contact will be there to meet. The contact will then join you on your search. Remember that your every move will be watched by me. Find my treasure and you will go free. That is all.
           - JS

Now here is where it gets interesting. As I stood up and walked toward the doors, I noticed a slim girl in a sweater, scarf, winter boots and sunglasses looking at me. Now, I understand that I am good looking and all, but the way that she was looking at me made me uncomfortable. I knew her face.

Alarmed for my safety, I turned the other way, positive that she was following me. Hoping that I could lose her in the crowd, I turned down a hallway only to find that it was a dead end.

I turned around quickly, only to find myself face to face with an old friend.

“Hello James. It has been a long time.” spoke my stalker.

“Not long enough, Felicia.” I replied.

“I trust that you had a good flight here?” She definitely had not changed since the last time I had seen her which was about fifty-two hours ago. (No duh!)

“Not as good as I would like. How did you get out?” I asked.

“Silly detective. If you know the right people, you can go in and get out. I am your contact. Come with me.”

I followed her to the front desk, checked out and followed Felicia out to a waiting red 2012 Ferrari 458 Italia.

“Even crooks get the cool cars, eh?” I said as we strapped ourselves in, her in the driver's seat and I in the passenger.

“Only in Switzerland.” she said nonchalantly as she drove from the airport to the main road.

As soon as we were a good three miles the airport, I turned to her and spoke.

“If I’m going to help you, I need to know what and where and how I am supposed to do so.”

I could tell that by this point she was extremely irked at me and possibly have a psychotic shooting spree any moment.

“We are heading for the abandoned Family Ski Lodge and Resort. From there we will hike four miles into the mountains of Stecknadel Horn. We will then find the cavern that the map spoke of and retrieve the treasure.”

We drove on and in a half an hour we were at the lodge and before I knew it I was being ushered to a room on the third level. 318. They purposely left the door unlock to see what I would do, but I knew that my chances of running and escaping alive were slim to none.

As I sat down on my bed, I took out the only possessions I had. My Glock, combat blade and, most importantly, my New Testament.  I was about to open up to Romans when the phone at my bed-stand rang.

“Hello, James Hammond.”

“Hello Mr. Hammond. I would like to invite you to dinner tonight in the Dining Hall. It will be served in one hour. Please be there.” Before I could speak, the voice, clearly Ms. Simmons, hung up on me.

I had nothing to where but my combat clothes and now, I felt like a complete mess, but I only had fifteen minutes.

She had a knack for hanging up on people.

When it came for me to leave for dinner, I walked down two stories to the Dining Room and was met by one waiter dressed in black tuxedo. He greeted my and showed me to a table that already had Ms. Simmons seated at it.

Dressed in a black satin dress, with her chestnut hair in a ponytail, she was quite the sight. But, I hardly even cared at that moment.

“Champagne, Mr. Hammond?” She asked cordially.

“Please. Thank you for inviting me to dinner, but I believe that we have business to attend to.”

“Indeed we do. Examine this map. Does it mean anything to you?”

I took the piece of paper and examined it closely. To a first look, it looked like a man looking at you.

“All I see is a black and white George Washington.” I said bluntly.

“Flip it upside down. Then fold the left corner over to the left. Then what do you see?”

“Incredible. The whole country of Switzerland and an X.”

“Yes. We are here.” Miss Simmons pointed to a large dot.

“We will then hike four miles to the cavern marked with the X. It is rumored to be booby trapped. That is why I need your help. You will help me pass through those traps and if I die, you die. Understand? Now, how about some dinner?”

Felicia clapped her hands and in came a waiter with a huge tray balanced on one hand,

The meal was a whole and hearty meal with roasted lamb seasoned with lemon, three kinds of bread, a salad and finally, dessert. Though I was being held hostage, she was able to lure me into what was very friendly conversation all things considered, about my line of work.

As the meal ended, we said our goodbyes and left for our rooms.

Back in my room, I sat on my bed and just tried to think.

‘What in the world is happening’ is all that ran through my mind.

“Dear God. I just ask you now, more than ever to put your hand over me and guide my hand, my feet and my words. Lord, I ask that you put your hand over Felicia and protect her, so that she might someday see your face. Protect Pete and Commissioner Alvatraz. In your name, Amen.”

As I finished that prayer, I leaned back on my bed and closed my eyes. I did not want tomorrow to come.