The Price of Silver

August was a strange and unpopular month in Madrid. The surrounding mountains ensured cool, crisp winters but by late summer turned the city into a fiery cauldron. Nevertheless, Paco relished the capital at this time of year – not least because it was calm and coherent.

The traffic lights ahead turned red and Paco was jolted from his thoughts. He would never normally consider such a scenic drive to Ana-Maria’s but the lack of traffic allowed him to meander leisurely through the heart of the city.

In the distance was his office and his mind turned to work. At times, Paco could barely reconcile memories of himself as the mischievous kid scrambling over the Sierra with the pressure and privilege of his adult life.

Turning into Usera neighbourhood, the streets felt cramped and scruffy. When he got to Ana-Maria’s apartment she threw her arms around him excitedly and he carried her backpack to his car.

“We need to pick up some flowers for your mum!” She called behind him.

On the highway out of the city, Ana-Maria turned down the radio “did your Dad have any hobbies? What did he like to do when he wasn’t working?”

Paco hesitated briefly. “He liked to complain,” he said sarcastically, shutting down the conversation.

A few hours later they finally left the motorway onto a stony track and through a gnarled olive grove. The rugged old farmhouse emerged and Patricia Pizzaro was gardening out front.

Before Ana-Maria had spoken, Patricia flung her arms around her. “I’ve been so excited to meet you!”

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Whilst Paco changed, Ana-Maria couldn’t resist taking a discreet look around the old farmhouse.

“That’s Miguel, Paco’s dad’s old study,” said Patricia, behind her, making Ana-Maria jump.

“Sorry to startle you…But would you two help move some of his stuff out of there?”

“Sure” said Ana-Maria sheepishly “happy to help.”

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The next morning the two of them headed up to Miguel’s study. It was packed with shelves and boxes brimming with books, papers and other random objects.

Maria opened a filing cabinet and Paco began looking through his father’s antique desk. Fumbling clumsily inside one of its many drawers, his finger struck a hard object - a rusty iron key.

Instantly energised, Paco rifled through the remaining doors. A dark recess at the back of the cabinet caught his eye and reaching with the old key, he found the chamber of the lock.

“Ana-Maria! Look what I’ve found”. He said, pulling out the hidden drawer.

In the wooden container was an old revolver and a little black book. Reluctant to touch the gun, Paco opened the notebook and began reading aloud:

“The political situation has worsened significantly since the Election. There was already growing resentment towards the Nationalists and their sympathisers, especially in the Clergy. Last Thursday an angry mob descended on the castle to confront the priests who live there. The Padres put up no resistance and eventually the mob skulked away but the clergymen were left shaken to the core.

Over the years, I had befriended Father Pedro and it was he who sent word, asking to see me urgently. By the time I had reached the old fort, it was dark and Pedro ushered me through the dark, candlelit corridors.

“They ransacked the place” he said mournfully “but thankfully they didn’t find the treasury.”

Along a narrow passage he unlocked a door and made his way through the room toward a striking wooden chest decorated with colourful images of South American hunters.

“Antonio, take this chest and hide it somewhere where only you can find it.” He said solemnly.

He swung opened the lid and a sea of silver sparkled back.

“20,000 Silver Dollars from the mines of Cerro Rico. A gift from the Conquistadors to the Church to dilute their sins. A new terror has arrived, and these coins must not fall into the hands of those who’d use them for evil.“

By the time he finished speaking, I already knew my chosen hiding place.

When I arrived at the old mine it was still dark. Near the derelict office buildings, I turned right through a dried-up riverbed and up a bumpy slope. The steep incline had created a spur with a small opening at its base. I placed the chest into the hollow, before covering it with stones.

Yesterday, the mob returned to the castle and arrested the entire priesthood. As evening fell, they took several Padres, including Father Pedro, up to El Tajo gorge where they were shot dead”.

Paco closed the notebook and turned it over in his hands.

“Do you know who wrote this?” asked Ana-Maria

“Yes” replied Paco “It’s my grandfather Antonio”. Deep in thought, he began walking out the room.

“Where are you going?!” called Ana-Maria after him “we still have loads to do!”

“Dad’s stuff can wait”, he reasoned. “But this treasure…this is potentially life-changing.”

Ana-Maria rolled her eyes. She knew only too well his addictive tendencies, and she feared this would become his latest obsession.

“Well maybe I like my life. And I don’t want it to change…” She said firmly.

Paco was already busy searching online for mines in the area . Taking into account the direction and distance described by his grandfather, Paco concluded the treasure chest could only be in one place.

For the rest of the day, every time Ana-Maria tried to speak to Paco he was distracted by the treasure hunt, until finally she snapped. “Instead of this wild-goose-chase, you should be spending more time with your grieving mother...And what about me?! ”

Paco was torn - he wanted to patch things up with his girlfriend but was desperate to find the treasure. They avoided eye-contact at dinner and when he got to bed Ana-Maria was already asleep. He woke at 3.52am and lay awake toying with this dilemma. It was now or never.

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A sharp hairpin turn snaked up the hillside towards the old mine. Paco left the car and lugged his large duffel bag of supplies up the slope. Paco froze - in the centre of two gullies was a ridge of rock that resembled Antonio’s description. Grabbing a pickaxe from his bag he hacked at the rock face until an opening appeared.

Shining his torch inside, Paco could make out the dim reflection of rusted metal. He stretched for the object and felt some sort of box, which he carefully dragged out next to him. Using his fingers, he rubbed off several layers of dust. His eyes widened, as faint images began to appear - he had found the treasure!

He opened the lid and Paco stared in disbelief. Inside a silvery shimmer, shone up at him. To his dismay there was no precious treasure but rather spanners, screwdrivers and other tarnished tools.

He lay back in exasperation and the adrenalin drained from him. As the minutes passed, he fell asleep.

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The vibration of his phone woke him. He checked his notifications and saw a string of angry messages from Ana-Maria. “Where are you?!” Read the last. “I can’t deal with this selfishness - I am going.”

Paco swore, stuffed the chest into his bag and rushed down the hill. Could this day get any worse? He asked himself.

His foot caught on a protruding rock and he fell forward. His elbow struck the ground first, sending him careering downhill. Rolling frenziedly down the rugged slope his head and limbs bounced limply over the jagged ground, until he came to a lifeless heap at the bottom.

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With great difficulty Paco tried to move his aching limbs. Crawling up onto the bank he found his duffle bag behind a boulder. At least my rusty toolbox is intact, he told himself sarcastically.

Limping badly, he re-traced his route until his silver saloon came into view. He immediately noticed another vehicle nearby. A clean-cut man climbed out and circled Paco’s car.

“Can I help you!?” asserted Paco loudly, as he got nearer.

“Deputy Inspector Ramos, Policia Nacional” said the man, flashing an ID card. ”We received reports of a suspicious vehicle in the area. Is this your vehicle, sir?”

“Yes it is,” said Paco. He could feel DI Ramos’ eyes on him, staring at his dishevelled clothes and injuries with a real suspicion.

“Are you ok? What happened?” enquired Ramos coldly.

“I tripped whilst hiking.” Paco explained nervously. “I’m fine...Just a scratch!”

Ramo remained impassive “You know this is Private land, right?” He glanced back at his car and after a brief pause told Paco in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want to see him back there again.

A relieved Paco nodded furiously and bid DI Ramos farewell.

“What’s in the bag? Mind if I take a look?” said Ramos pointing to Paco’s duffel bag.

“Sure” said Paco, handing DI Ramos the bag – its contents were odd but not incriminating. He began rifling through it and then suddenly froze and looked up. In his hand was the old revolver.

“I am arresting you on suspicion of possessing an unlicensed firearm. You have the right to remain silent.”

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Paco stared at the cuts and scratches on his arms. Waiting in the police holding cell for his lawyer, his anxieties bubbled up until he felt dizzy and nauseous.

His lawyer, Mr Gonzalez, arrived looking flustered and Paco explained what had happened. “Tell me Señor, what’s the worst-case scenario?”

Gonzalez was a little hesitant. “Possession of this type of unlicensed firearm can carry a two prison sentence… but with your clean record and the mitigating circumstances, we’d contest that”.

Paco’s world imploded. Two years in prison; losing everything that he valued - time, relationships, reputation - at once seemed very real. He vowed never to take these for granted again.

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The next day Paco woke to a rattle on his cell door and Mr Gonzalez bustled in.

“You’re free to leave!” He smiled.

“Wait what!? How?” responded Paco in disbelief.

“The gun”, Mr Gonzalez explained “I looked it up and it’s a Russian-issued Colt .44-caliber single-action revolver, originally manufactured in America in the 1860s.”

Paco looked puzzled. “I don’t understand. What does that have to do with me?”

“Yes, well under Article 107 of the Regulations on Arms, weapons manufactured before 1870 are deemed ‘antique’s and thus exempt from current legislation.”

It took a moment for Paco to process this information and then a wave of relief washed over him. He thanked Gonzalez but the lawyer batted away his gratitude and offered him a lift home.

Patricia greeted him at the door with an emotional hug.

“Where’s Ana-Maria?” Paco asked excitedly.

Patricia hesitated. “I’m sorry Paquito, she just left for Madrid”.

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A dejected Paco, suddenly became animated. “Maybe we can catch her before the train!”

“We can take my car!” Patricia said, tossing him her keys. Paco drove as fast as he dared and for once his mother didn’t scold him for speeding.

Maybe it was the drama of it all but on route he began opening up to his Mother about how he’d been feeling and in particular about his love for Ana-Maria.

As they neared the station though, there were roadworks causing a traffic jam in the town centre.

Paco quickly lost patience. “I’m going to run the rest of the way!”

“Wait. Take this” said Patricia, placing something in his hands.

He sprinted across the road, past the traffic and into the station.

He looked from the station clock to the departures board. It was 16.33 and to his dismay the Madrid train left from platform 2 at 16.31…. but wait. It was delayed five minutes!

He ran to platform 2 but Ana-Maria was nowhere to be seen.

“What are you doing here?” said a bewildered Ana-Maria behind him.

He turned, dropped to his knee and held out the silver wedding ring his mother had handed to him. Before he had a chance to speak though she said “yes” and burst into tears.