Bangkok James and the Secret of the Andes: and the Secret of the Andes

By B.J. Dettmer

It's 1995 and "World-Class" treasure hunter, Bangkok James, is down on his luck. His most recent attempt to find D.B. Cooper's treasure has failed, and he's once again late on his rent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.J. Dettmer
• Release date: Apr 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088108376

Book preview

This book is dedicated to my high school English teacher, Dr. Mike Ralston. Without him, I never would have been interested in writing to begin with.

Contents

Dedication

Bangkok James and the Secret of the Andes

- PROLOGUE -

- CHAPTER 1 -

- CHAPTER 2 -

- CHAPTER 3 -

- CHAPTER 4 -

- CHAPTER 5 -

- CHAPTER 6 -

- CHAPTER 7 -

- CHAPTER 8 -

- CHAPTER 9 -

- CHAPTER 10 -

- CHAPTER 11 -

- CHAPTER 12 -

- CHAPTER 13 -

- CHAPTER 14 -

- CHAPTER 15 -

- CHAPTER 16 -

- CHAPTER 17 -

- CHAPTER 18 -

- CHAPTER 19 -

- CHAPTER 20 -

- CHAPTER 21 -

- CHAPTER 22 -

- CHAPTER 23 -

- CHAPTER 24 -

- CHAPTER 25 -

- CHAPTER 26 -

- CHAPTER 27 -

- CHAPTER 28 -

- CHAPTER 29 -

- CHAPTER 30 -

- CHAPTER 31 -

- CHAPTER 32 -

- CHAPTER 33 -

- CHAPTER 34 -

- CHAPTER 35 -

- CHAPTER 36 -

- CHAPTER 37 -

- CHAPTER 38 -

- CHAPTER 39 -

- CHAPTER 40 -

- CHAPTER 41 -

- CHAPTER 42 -

- CHAPTER 43 -

- CHAPTER 44 -

- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS -

Bangkok James and the Secret of the Andes

By

B.J. Dettmer

- PROLOGUE -

HUNG UP ON SOMETHING

A Forest Near Ariel, Washington — 1995

O

n November 24, 1971, a nondescript man - appearing to be in hismid-forties and about 6 feet tall - bought a $20 ticket for Northwest Orient Airlines Flight 305 in Portland, Oregon. Upon buying the ticket, he gave the alias Dan Cooper, which later became more commonly known as D.B. Cooper. He boarded the plane with nothing but a cheap attaché case in his hand. Sitting near the back, he ordered a drink - bourbon and soda - while waiting for the plane to take flight.

Shortly after takeoff - sometime around 3:00 p.m. - Dan called over a stewardess. He then handed her a note, claiming he held a bomb in his case and asking her to sit with him. Stunned, the stewardess did what she was told, and Dan opened his case - revealing many wires, red sticks, and a battery. He then wrote another note - this time demanding four parachutes, and a briefcase filled with $200,000 comprising only $20 bills. He handed the note to the stewardess, who then handed it to the captain.

Once the flight landed in Seattle, Washington, authorities gave Dan the money and parachutes in exchange for releasing the thirty-six passengers on board. However, he forced the two pilots, a flight engineer, and a flight attendant to remain on the plane, demanding they take him to Mexico City, Mexico. Authorities attempted to reason with Dan, but he refused to cooperate and again demanded the pilots fly him to Mexico City. Seeing no other choice, they refueled the plane and Flight 305 took off into the sky once again.

Per his instructions, the plane flew under ten thousand feet at a speed slower than two hundred knots. The flight was going by smoothly for Dan, with him sitting near the back once again and keeping his money and bomb close to him. Though sometime around 8:00 PM, between Seattle and Reno, Nevada - widely believed to be near Ariel, Washington - Dan lowered the rear steps of the plane and jumped. Disappearing into the night sky.

Ever since those events transpired on that fateful November evening, there have been wide-scale manhunts for the man and the money, but to no avail. Leaving Dan and the $200,000 lost to time… That was until 1995, for one man had finally tracked the treasure down. A treasure hunter - determined enough to take up such a task - believed he had tracked down the exact location of D.B. Cooper’s treasure. Many brave, skilled treasure hunters have made similar attempts, but none were as courageous or as capable as one Bangkok James.

A self-proclaimed world-class treasure hunter, and with a lush sideburn and soul patch combo, he considered himself a handsome one at that. Fancying himself a plain button-down tucked into a dusty pair of cargo shorts, he blanketed them with a worn leather jacket. He had a satchel strapped across his chest and a worn felt bucket hat resting atop his head. To tie his look together, he filled his demeanor to the brim with eagerness and confidence. He was so brimming with confidence, in fact, that he was sure his look contributed to his world-class status. Though in reality, the few people who actually knew of him only knew him for his insistence on finding D.B. Cooper's treasure.

Now that he had actually found the treasure, though, he almost couldn’t believe it, and all he had to do was dedicate years of his life to finding it. He had to believe it, though, as his years of research finally pointed him to the abandoned mines west of Ariel, Washington. He, of course, took it upon himself to follow up on his research and traverse the treacherous - and daring - journey through the Washington forests. Trudging through the relentless wilderness and baring the pouring rain until he came upon the exact mines in which he believed D.B. Cooper’s jump landed him.

Exhilarated, he took a moment to admire the abandoned and dilapidated mines - its run-down entrance looking like a gate clad in gold to his eyes. He was so exhilarated that his hands started trembling as he worked his way through the mine’s remains. Starting his search by digging around the left side of the ancient caverns, looking for a very specific hole in which the ground caved in during an excavation back in the 1960s. Because if his research was indeed correct - and of course, he thought it was - then D.B. Cooper should have landed in said hole where he would have become trapped, and later die from the elements.

Cutting bushes here and removing stones there, he had yet to see any signs of his proverbial treasure pit. That didn’t deter him, however, and he pressed on for a while longer - cutting more bushes and removing more stones. Unfortunately, after a little while longer, he still had yet to see any signs of a hole.

That’s strange. I’d sworn the- he cut himself short when his eyes finally saw something of interest: a caved-in excavation laying beside the mine, just like in his research.

Excited, he ran up to the hole and looked down into it. The bottom was just barely visible, and from what he could see, something was covering it. He wasn't sure what, though, but it didn't matter to him, as he would find out soon enough. He could see the walls clearly, however, and just as he suspected, their tall rocky structure made it near impossible for an average person to climb them. Fortunately for him, he was no average person.

He quickly pulled a rope out from his satchel and tied it to a nearby tree, tugging on it a couple times to ensure it wasn’t going anywhere. He then tied the rope around his waist before climbing into the hole and slowly descending toward his destiny.

At first, he started his climb down quickly, eager to make it to the bottom as fast as he could. He was making substantial progress too - climbing down a few meters every few minutes, and it seemed he was going to make it to the bottom in no time.

It all came crashing down, however, when he grabbed onto a large stone sticking out the side, only for it to fall out from under his weight. He flipped onto his back as he lost his footing. Fortunately, the stone holding up his other hand didn’t budge, and it left him dangling. His grip was slipping, though, and so - thinking quickly, he used his free hand to tug on the rope. He tugged and tugged until he felt it tug back on the tree he tied to. He let out a smile as he grabbed onto the rope just as his grip finally slipped and left him dangling from the rope.

He let himself hang for a minute as he attempted to calm his nerves and catch his breath. Once he felt he was good, he started swinging himself back and forth - all the while grabbing at walls in an attempt to latch back on. After a couple swings, he was able to grab a protruding stone and latch back onto the wall. He continued his descent - slowly this time - making sure he had one hand tightly gripped on one rock before moving his other hand to another.

He continued down the rocky walls for some time, climbing down a good distance before stopping to see how much he had left to traverse. At some point, the wall became too unstable for him to traverse, and forcing him to move to another wall. He did what he had to, though, and continued down.

The hole turned out to be a lot deeper than he thought, but he didn't care, as after a couple minutes of climbing - he was able to see the bottom. Excited, grabbed onto the rope and kicked himself off the wall, using the rope like a pendulum to lower himself down to the bottom. Once he felt his feet touch the bottom, he let go of the rope and pulled out his lighter. Flicking it to life, he could see that he was standing atop a pink pilot seat pack parachute. "Just like the one D.B. Cooper used during his jump!" he thought.

His eyes lit up with childish glee, and, wasting no time, he got straight to yanking it out of the way. He pulled and pulled until he finally spotted something strange. A treasure chest.

Huh, that’s weird. I’d sworn the accounts said they handed him a briefcase. He stood there confused for a moment before quickly brushing it off. Oh, doesn't matter anyhow, for, after all this time, I’d finally found it! All those years of ridicule-

He was so caught up with the money before him that it only just occurred to him that the chest looked to be upside down, and so were his hands and his arms. Wait, a minute! he thought, Just why is everythin’ flipped?! Inspecting his surroundings, he realized that something had completely flipped his vision. He reached his arm out and tried grabbing for something, but everything stretched far enough to be just out of his reach. He went to take a step, but he couldn’t lift his legs anymore, as if someone had glued them in place. It took him a moment, but thanks to his sharp eyes and cunning deductive abilities he realized he had been dreaming the entire time.

He tried to wake himself up by pinching himself and slapping his face, but no amount of minor pain would wake him. He tried again, but still nothing. It was only when he took a deep breath and punched himself in the face that he was able to wake from his slumber and fully realize the true gravity of his situation.

He had fallen into a snare trap.

Strung up like a piece of beef jerky left to dry out in the northwestern sun. His feet had gone numb from the tightly tied rope, and his throat was drier than Death Valley itself. He hoped to cut himself down, but when he reached up to his sheath, his knife was missing. He frantically searched up and down his body, checking his pockets and hunting through his jacket. It was only when he looked down to the ground, and a glint caught his eye, that he realized his knife had slipped from its sheath. He was really starting to feel the blood rush to his head and the dehydration that had taken root within him.

He thought that the time he got stranded in the Sahara was bad, but at least then he had a canteen to wet his whistle every now and again. It appeared he was out for some time too - judging by the deep, dry heat that penetrated his skin. It didn’t help that he was wearing a jacket, either. His body ached, and he felt a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Probably a side effect of his body ricocheting off the tree that now hoisted him up off the ground. He tried to look at his surroundings, but the sun’s rays strained his vision.

Wait, a minute! Bangkok shouted, reaching for the top of his head only to feel his hair. Where’s my hat!

He turned back to the ground and saw his satchel lying next to his knife, much to his relief. At least he now knew no one took that. He couldn't care less, however, as his hat was the actual issue. He started waving his arms here and there as if they would somehow stretch out and touch the ground. Not that he cared if they would or not, he just really couldn't afford to lose another hat. One thorough search, however, showed no signs that his hat had ever even existed.

Ah shite. he let out a heavy sigh. I’d probably have to get another one when I get out of here… if I get out of here, that is.

He knew he would, though, and reached his arms out behind him to get hold of the tree that held up the rope. After struggling for a couple seconds, he finally felt his palms hit the tree’s bark and immediately got to work. He tore off all the bark he could and placed a firm grip on the wood, but before he could truly execute his daring escape, he noticed two men approaching his direction. He knew just from looking at them that the two men were his captors, and upon a closer examination, he deemed them backwater.

One man was slightly obese while the other looked almost malnourished. Both men had long hair, and both were shirtless for some inexplicable reason. At least the big fellow had the decency to wear overalls, covering up most of his body. Seeing as the two men were approaching him, he felt he had no choice but to converse with them.

Hey! Bangkok tried to play it cool, but he knew that hey came across as a little more desperate than he would have liked. Uh… how’ve ye two been?

Nailed it, he thought.

Such a question stopped the two men dead in their tracks.

How’ve we been? the big guy spoke first with a thick, northwestern drawl.

He looked at his partner with a curious glare, and after what felt like forever, he looked back to Bangkok.

Uh, we’ve been pretty good… but uh, what’s wrong with your voice?

The big man’s question did not surprise Bangkok, as many people before had asked him the same exact questions many times in the past.

It’s called bein’ the son of an Irishman. Ye know, it’s rude to ridicule my accent. I’d not ridicule yer accent, nor did I?

Oh… sorry… The big man paused for a moment. Well, how’ve ya been then?

Pretty grand, all things considered. But, as ye can see, it seems I’ve lost my hat. Ye wouldn’t happen to know where it’d be, would ye?

The two men looked at him, confused.

Your hat? the big man looked over to his partner before returning his gaze to Bangkok.

Yes, my hat. Ye know, it's, uh... brown?

Buddy, you have any idea how little that narrows it down?

Bangkok didn’t like how frustrated the big man looked as he said that, but he had a point.

It’s brown and, uh, made of felt? He hoped the extra tidbit of information would help somewhat, but now the big guy just looked more confused than ever.

Look, buddy, I'm not sure whatcha mean by ‘felt,’ but are you talking about this thing? He pointed behind him to the thin man.

The smaller man walked up to Bangkok, brandishing his beautiful felt bucket hat resting atop the man’s dirty head. The man’s oily hair already tainted its brown fuzz, and the gray hat band that normally tightly secured the hat atop Bangkok’s head was now stretching to fit the man’s large cranium.

Yes! Yes! That thing! Bangkok tried to save his hat from the thin man’s grimy head, but he pulled away too quickly.

Now hold it dere cowboy, Donny says I could has this here hat, ain't it right, Donny? The thin man turned to ‘Donny’ for an answer.

Bangkok was almost knocked out by the thin man’s breath, but his southern drawl was so thick that it almost masked the stench.

I do remember saying something of the sorts, yes.

A smile stretched across the thin guy’s face as Donny said the words that would live infamously in Bangkok’s psyche.

Now listen here, uh... Donny? I understand ye- Before Bangkok could state his case, however, the thin man butted in.

But Donny says-

Donny cut him off.

Now, Josie, let the nice hat man say what he’s gonna say.

It looked as if the Josie fellow was going to protest, but one look from Donny instantly shut it down.

Hat man? What-? Bangkok shook his head, "Anyway, listen, Donny, I'm sure ye said somethin’ of the sorts - and, Josie, I'm sure ye just looove that hat - but… it's MY hat! And neither ye nor Donny have any rite to have MY hat!"

Well, that is a good argument, Mr. Hat Man… Donny started scratching his chin, clearly thinking of something. "But, by the looks of it, you’re using OUR snare trap, and you have no right using OUR snare trap. So, I think we’ve an even trade here."

Josie gave Bangkok a stupidly smug look, as if what Donny just said made even the slightest lick of sense.

What? No! That's not how- Oh, whatever. Suddenly, an idea popped into Bangkok’s head. Look, tell ye what, Donny. How’s it sound to ye that if I’d stop usin’ yer snare trap, Josie’d give me back my hat? Deal?

Bangkok reached his hand out in hopes of a handshake, but sadly, Donny left him hanging.

Instead, Donny turned to Josie, and the two started quietly discussing something. After what felt like forever, Donny turned back to Bangkok with a new even better proposition.

"Listen here, Mr. Hat Man, if YOU can get yourself out of that there snare then - and ONLY then - will we give yah your hat back." Donny gave Bangkok a smug grin, so naturally, Bangkok reciprocated.

Deal

So now, after all that prattling, it was finally time for Bangkok to execute his masterful escape plan. He reached his arms back out behind him and tried to get hold of the tree that held up the rope again. However, after struggling for some time, he soon realized that his masterful escape plan wasn’t so masterful after all, and everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

The first thing to go wrong was that he assumed he could get a good grip on the tree immediately, and - according to Donny - he looked like a dancing fish on a hook, gasping for air. With the tree being the air, which he oh so needed to latch on to. The second thing to go wrong was that he didn’t realize just how hard it actually was to climb up a tree backwards - all the while being upside down. After about ten more minutes of looking like a buffoon, he finally felt saving face was more important than getting out, so he threw in the towel.

Oh, shite… Bangkok let go of the tree and let himself hang. Ye know what, Josie? Just keep the stupid hat. I can always get a new one, anyway.

Donny and Josie’s faces lit up.

You see that, Josie? I told you he couldn’t do it, I told you! Donny started laughing obnoxiously, causing Josie to laugh as well.

So much for savin’ face, he thought.

Ha ha, yes yes, hilarious, but can ye two please cut me down now?

Donny and Josie laughed for a couple seconds more, but Donny eventually composed himself just enough to accommodate Bangkok’s request.

Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Hat Man. Donny kicked a stick, and Bangkok crashed down to the ground.

After he picked himself up and dusted himself off, Bangkok gathered the effects, along with the rest of his dignity, and started onward toward his journey.

Hey, where ya going? Donny continued chuckling under his breath, but Bangkok tried to ignore his chortles.

Home, I’d be goin’ home. Bangkok promptly grabbed a new hat from his satchel and, oh so gently, fixed his hair to the beautiful state it once held before placing his hat atop his head.

Before Bangkok could take his leave, however, Donny called out to him one more time.

Say, Mr. Hat Man, whatcha go by? It’s only fair that we thank ya properly for your gift before ya head out. Right, Josie? Donny stifled his chuckles as he waited to hear, Mr. Hat Man’s, real name.

The name’s James… Bangkok James.

- CHAPTER 1 -

WELCOME TO MID YORK

Mid York, New York — 1995

The drive back to his hometown of Mid York, New York, all the way from the state of Washington, was a long and depressing one for Bangkok. Not only did his latest attempt to find D.B. Cooper’s treasure result in another failure, but he also suffered a great embarrassment at the hands of two hillbillies and their snare trap. Even throughout the entire drive back, he was practically seething through his teeth at the mere thought of the embarrassment he suffered. Though once he saw the great green Welcome to Mid York sign enter his view, despair replaced his anger.

Not wanting to Feel down about his most recent failure, he decided to do the only thing he thought he could to cheer himself up. That being to recount his daring, though fruitless, experience to his good friend, Micheal Beanne. An older gentleman, smart and lively too, despite his advancing age.

He was a private detective back in the early ’70s - would have kept it that way too if a particularly messy case hadn’t forced him into early retirement. Not wanting to let his investigative skills rot away, though, he decided to utilize them in the field of archaeology instead. He spent six years getting a Ph.D. at Mid York’s University of Archaeology, then another five traveling across the globe - uncovering many of the earth’s secrets. He was pretty good at it too, uncovering many artifacts and bones alike, but this all stopped when - in 1991 - Beanne got offered the job as Dean of the same university he attended. It was here where he would inevitably run into Bangkok, who had just enrolled at the time. This man was Bangkok's confidante, the man Bangkok came to whenever he felt down.

Bean! BEAN! Bangkok knew better than to go marching through the university halls, screaming for Beanne in front of students, but he could not care less as he needed the solace. BEAN!

JESUS CHRIST! Bangkok, are you crazy?! Beanne slammed open a door Bangkok had just passed by and chased after him.

Hearing this, Bangkok stretched to a halt, allowing Beanne to catch up.

Ah! Dean Bean, it’s so grand to see ye. How’ve ye been? He turned towards Beanne and went to hug him.

Beanne didn’t reciprocate, however, and grabbed Bangkok by the arm - dragging him towards his office.

Dammit, Bangkok, it’s Be-Anne, Be-ANNE! Beanne emphasized the last part of his name, much to Bangkok’s annoyance. And what are you doing on this part of campus?

Oh, Bean, ye have no idea. I’d gone lookin’ D.B. Cooper’s treasure again and-

Again? For heaven's sake, Bangkok-

"Yes ‘again,’ and I