Golden Legacy

by Robert James Glider

  “Another child unaccounted for.” Peri frowned. “What happened to Anne?”

  “That’s where the history really gets muddled. One version of her story alleges that Anne’s father, a rich influential Virginia planter with ties to Jamaica, found out about her capture from a doctor who fell in love with her during the time she was being treated in prison. Anne told the doctor about growing up on a Virginia plantation and mentioned that her father frequented Jamaica to check on his holdings. The doctor wanted to save Anne’s life so he began a search to find her father. A week later he found him because he happened to be in Jamaica on business. Anne’s father was friends with the governor, and bought her pardon.

  Another version of the story is that, on a prior occasion, Anne had told the governor of Jamaica that she’d overheard a conversation in a tavern about a plot that was under way to kill him. When the information proved to be true, and the governor’s men killed the assassins, the governor, owing Anne a debt of gratitude for saving his life, reciprocated. He pardoned her before her sentence was carried out. It was under the condition that she leave Jamaica and never return to the Caribbean. If she did, she’d be hung. With either story,” Jac said, “Anne literally disappeared on the day she was released.” Jac took a deep breath, stood, and stretched his arms over his head. “Oh, and one more thing, Peri. It’s unknown whether Anne gave birth, and if she did, what became of her baby.”

  “I see. So we have another birth unaccounted for,” Peri said before sipping from his glass. “So we don’t know anything about the years in between until Abigail discovered the strongbox in the graveyard and found out Anne never went back to pirating.”

  “Right. By all accounts, according to the diary, Anne led a respectable life as a doctor’s wife and died in 1778 in Virginia. And that sums up what I know from researching on the Internet while you got rid of Erica.”

  “Erica is a great lady and a good friend. But when she’s drunk … My God, Jac, she’s a vixen!”

  Jac grinned. “Tomorrow we start hunting—with a diary, which may or may not give us direction, and a piece of dried-out leather that may or may not show us the way. We may just have a dry hole.”

  “You believe the treasure could still be hidden?”

  “Yeah, the possibilities are high enough that we should take a look and see what else we can uncover. But it was a long time ago. It’s possible someone could have found the treasure and never reported it. However, we won’t start with that assumption.”

  “Did you find any mention in the diary that Anne might have told anyone else about the location?”

  “No, no mention of anyone else. She kept the secret until she died or she wouldn’t have buried the strongbox. Let’s just hope that, whatever the treasure is, it’s still where Anne and Mary hid it.” Jac downed the last of the vodka and set his glass down. “I’m sure we’ll learn a lot more over the next few days. And, hopefully, it’ll be enough to give us a course to follow.” He sighed. “You know, Peri, the most amazing part of Anne’s story …” He cleared his throat as he stared into the dark shadows of the fireplace. “All of this happened before Anne Bonney was twenty-one years old.”

  “That is just so … unbelievable.”

  Jac looked at his watch. “It’s after midnight, and we’d better get some shuteye. Tomorrow could prove to be a most revealing day.”

  Both men got up. “Night, Jac,” Peri said as he tended to the fire.

  On his way to his bedroom, Jac took a yellow rose from a vase full of fresh flowers. He decided to go on the assumption that Abigail had moved on, and so had he. Nikki loved yellow roses. So did Abigail. “Damn it, stop it!” he yelled out in frustration, trying to clear his mind.

  Peri had just pulled the covers over himself and closed his eyes when the phone rang.

  “Yes? Yes … Michael … hold on.” As he reached over to turn on the light, Peri recalled that earlier that night, just before dinner was served, Jac had asked all those at the table to raise their glasses in a toast to Michael. “Michael, as you all know, has become a renowned marine archeologist,” Jac had said. “And without his expertise, on our ‘hunts,’ we wouldn’t be here tonight. Peri and I are asking Michael to join us as a full partner in our not-for-profit enterprise.”

  “Michael, I’m sorry Jac and I didn’t get to talk to you after dinner.”

  “I wanted to thank you. And tell you both that I don’t deserve a partnership.”

  “You more than deserve it, Michael, you’ve earned it. Jac and I feel you deserve to share in the real treasure—what you, and we, love most: the hunt. Besides, we also have a selfish motive. We don’t want to lose you to some museum. Michael, you know we’re not in this for the money. We keep only what is necessary to keep us going. So you’ll never get rich, but you will have a lot of fun.”

  “I don’t care about the money. I’m not in this to make someone else rich.” Michael took a deep breath. “I feel the same. I do love the hunt, and I do love having fun.” Michael was quiet for a moment before giving his answer. “I’m in.”

  “Good! Get some sleep. Jac and I are leaving in the morning for Winchester, Virginia. It looks like we’ll have another project facing us in a few days.” Clearing his throat, Peri couldn’t help thinking of how proud he was of his nephew. He wished his sister had lived to see Michael grow from the spindly anemic bookworm youngster he was when she died into the tall, strong, intellectual young man he was today. “I’ll call you tomorrow evening … partner.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The next morning

  Fast asleep after the intimacy of the past hour, Nikki had cuddled up close to Jac with her head nestled in the crook of his arm. Jac couldn’t sleep; he felt edgy. He always did when a new hunt was on the horizon, and his mind kept replaying the story he’d read and reread in the diary. But the phone call from Abigail was really what was bothering him. It had taken him by surprise. Is she trying to get us back together? he thought. It’s been over ten years, and she’s avoided contact. Now, out of the blue, she calls, and just when I’m beginning to have feelings for Nikki. Damn it, I need to pay attention to my premonitions. Her face popped into my head yesterday while I was flying. Damn!

  Jac shook his head to clear it, but he couldn’t. Abigail had said her mother had passed away under suspicious circumstances, and that she’d found the diary in a strongbox with a map. Looking over the pages she had sent, I think this is a legitimate call for help, he concluded. That’s all this is. She just needs my help.

  Jac gently moved Nikki off his arm and over to her pillow. He flipped himself over onto his side and took several deep, calming breaths. He was feeling better now that he reasoned this out. He turned his attention and focus to the diary:

  We celebrated with Calico and the rest of our mates after we took the Spanish caravel. Our greatest prise, full of Spanish gold and goods the like of we’ve never seen. Silks and beautiful laces were stored under canvas in the hold. I was surprised that they hardly fought and gave quarter. After that Mary and me took to the land and lived, must have been a month or more. Until Calico came back for us, but our shares we hid in our hiding place. Jack and the others spent theirs in the Tortugas and were ready to take ours or another so they could whore and drink until it were gone again. Not ours. It is hid well on the island in a secret place. Only Mary and me know where.

  He stretched and yawned. He nestled down into the pillow and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, his eyelids fluttered, and a deep REM sleep sent Jac visualizing Anne’s life. He didn’t know it, but his dream was similar to what Abigail had dreamed when she first read the diary in the church. Seeing the events laid out in the diary on his mind’s screen brought him to the paragraph from the diary that he’d memorized. It was the key.

  Jac had to find the island the women had been left on when Calico Jack and his men sailed off to Tortuga. That was the key. That would enable him to
draw a circle, the circumference of which would indicate the limits of how far two women could row during one night. It would be good start.

  A sudden jolt, and then another, caused the words echoing in Jac’s mind to fade. He felt Nikki nudge him.

  “Jac, sweetie, you okay? I have to go.” She leaned down and kissed him as he opened his eyes, whispering, “I’ll call you when I get there.”

  Jac saw her beautiful face smiling at him, and before she could get away, he grabbed her and pulled her close. “You know, I’m really going to miss your snoring.” And before she could answer, he drew her close and kissed her.

  After several minutes of playful banter, he said, “Be careful … and Abi …”

  Nikki pulled away, and her smile evaporated, “Who’s Abi, Jac?”

  “Sorry, I was thinking about the call I got from Abigail Chance yesterday. She said she might be in danger since she doesn’t believe her mother died from natural causes.”

  “Oh … okay.” But Jac could see the doubtful look on Nikki’s face as she stood up.

  She fixed her blouse, looked in the mirror, picked up her bag, threw him a kiss, and left the room.

  Lying back on the bed, Jac put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He’d tried to tell Nikki about Abigail, but he’d frozen when he blurted out Abi instead of Nikki. Nikki had immediately picked up the sudden change in his demeanor. He had the opportunity and should have finished the sentence. He should have told Nikki about his past relationship with Abigail. He decided he had to tell Abigail this was business—to him this would just be another hunt. She would have nothing to worry about from him. He wouldn’t bring up old wounds. Abigail needed his help. She’d moved on, and so had he. Noble bullshit, he thought. Who am I kidding? I think about her every day. This is going to be tough … for both of us.

  Jac reached over and picked up his watch from the end table. Four hours had passed, and still a single sentence from the diary haunted him, playing over and over in his mind, chiming: “I and Mary are the only person who knows where and half hids shows the way”

  CHAPTER 14

  Early Evening

  Hathaway House

  “Good evening, Miss Abigail.” Standing in the doorway, Remy Austin beamed a broad smile. His yellow slicker glistened under the porch light. Kincaid didn’t tell me she was so beautiful, he thought.

  Remy had let Kincaid out of the car at the top of the long driveway in case someone was watching his arrival from the window. He hoped the bumbling pastor wouldn’t screw up their simple plan. While he distracted Abigail, Kincaid would sneak into the house through the back door or an open window and secure the strongbox. And they would have what he had searched for most of his life.

  “I’m sorry … and you are?”

  “I do apologize. I’m Remy Austin. I was a very good friend of your mother’s. May I come in? There’s a matter of importance we need to discuss.”

  “Yes, of course.” Abigail looked puzzled as she stood back to hold the door open. “Please come in, Mr. Austin.”

  Remy grinned. “Please call me Remy.”

  “Damn it,” Kincaid muttered as he crept through the trees. He had to squeeze through a stand of overgrown hedges to get to the back of the old mansion. He huddled against the wall next to a window. Water overflowed the rain gutters and streamed down the side of the house onto the window glass, distorting his view. He was determined that nothing was going to stop him from getting what Abigail’s mother had denied him all these years. To be able to see inside clearly, he put his hands together and placed them over his head, then firmly pressed them against the window to deflect the flow of water.

  “Oh my God! The box! There it is!” he whispered. It sat in the middle of a table in front of him, only a few feet away. If the window wasn’t latched, he knew he could reach in and grab the box and secure it without having to climb into the house. He stood up on his toes, shielding his eyes from the rain, and craned his neck, trying to see if the latch clasp was open. Uncertain, he decided to give the window a try. Carefully he pushed upward on the sash. He grinned when the window moved. Suddenly, a woman appeared in the doorway to the next room. He took a step back and froze in place. He slowly lowered his head so the hood of his raincoat would cover his face. He prayed his black raincoat would blend with the darkness and render him undetectable. A mixture of sweat and water ran from his forehead into his eyes. He couldn’t move. A several-second eternity passed before he ventured a look. When he saw the woman had disappeared, his legs buckled. Then he remembered that he had forgotten to tell Remy that Abigail’s sister-in-law had been with her yesterday at her mother’s funeral. He knew Remy would be angry, but he didn’t care. He had come for the box, and he was about to get it. With his body shaking and his heart pounding, Kincaid took in several calming breaths. And as his courage returned, he slowly stood up to peek through the glass. After a moment of scanning the room and waiting, he stopped. The woman returned. She turned toward the window. Oh dear God, she has a pistol in her hand. He watched as she looked at the box for a moment and then left the room. He couldn’t move. He heard a loud scream, and his legs gave way. He yelped when his buttocks hit the ground.

  “Your mother and I had an arrangement,” Remy lied, “but she passed away before it was consummated.” He looked upward into Abigail’s eyes thinking she must be four inches taller than he was. “But I’m sure you’ll honor her wishes.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Austin. My mother always told me this was our family home,” said Abigail, “and I should never sell it.”

  Stalling to give Kincaid more time to secure the box, Remy pleaded, “Believe me when I tell you, Miss Abigail, your mother really wished to sell and move into the retirement condominium I promised to sell her at a reduced price. She told me she wished to give you the proceeds before she died, so it would be a gift rather than part of her estate. That way, the taxes wouldn’t eat out a sizeable chunk.”

  “I don’t need the money,” Abigail said. “No … I’m sorry, I’m not going to sell. Besides, I have no need for a retirement condominium.”

  Remy’s smile turned to a scowl. He had to stall just a little longer. “Now look here! Do you know who I am?” he yelled. He grabbed Abigail’s arm and squeezed.

  “No. And I don’t care.” She tried to pull away from his grasp. “Take your hands off me!”

  As Remy applied pressure, a woman burst into the foyer holding a pistol. It was aimed at his head. “Let her go or …”

  “And you are?” hissed Remy.

  “It’s not important who I am!” the woman shouted. “What’s important is that you remove your hand—now!”

  Remy let go as if he had touched a hot stove. “Please … please pardon me. I didn’t intend anything harmful. I was only asking for Miss Abigail to honor her mother’s bargain.”

  “Leave now!” Abigail demanded.

  “And don’t come back!” The woman with the gun glowered as the pistol shook in her hand.

  Remy bowed, and as he turned to leave, he said, “You know, in the South it’s honorable to respect a parent’s wishes.”

  When the door closed, Abigail looked at Roni. “Was that a threat?”

  Still pointing the gun at the door, Roni said, “Yeah. I think he knows about the strongbox and came here to get it.”

  “Thanks, Roni. That was a brave thing you did.” Abigail breathed a sigh of relief. “I see you found Momma’s old gun.”

  “Yes I did.”

  Abigail removed the gun from Roni’s hand and shook her head. “You did know this gun isn’t loaded?”

  Hearing a commotion, Kincaid pushed upward on the window until the opening was large enough for him to reach inside. He grasped his hands firmly around the strongbox. Water drops from his slicker splashed across the table. He pulled the box forward and clutched it to his chest before he closed the window. Str
uggling in the dark, he ran through the bushes, bare branches scratching his face. He saw the road ahead and ran through the large puddles that covered the lawn. He lost his balance, skidded, and the box flew out of his hands. He fell forward trying to catch it, and landed flat on the wet grass with his face in a deep puddle. He heard a clunk when the box hit the ground.

  “Damn it!” Kincaid swore. He pulled himself up onto his knees. He could feel his clothes underneath his slicker clinging to his body making it difficult for him to move. Crawling and groping in the torrential downpour, he couldn’t see more than a foot in any direction until headlights coming toward him illuminated the box. It was only a few feet away. He stood up, scooped the box up, ran, and jumped in through the open door of the slow-moving sedan.

  “I got it, Remy!”

  “Open it!”

  “Shit!”

  CHAPTER 15

  The Shenandoah Valley

  The next morning

  Abigail’s heart raced as Jac walked up the ramp from the Dulles International Airport arrival gate. He hasn’t changed. He looks to be fit, she thought. He was still the handsome man she’d fallen in love with over ten years ago. He looked more mature with the added touch of gray in his dark-brown hair, and he seemed taller than six foot three. Her eyes glazed when he smiled recognition. She fought to hold back tears. She still loved him.

  He made his way through the crowd, and when he reached out and took her into his arms, she felt secure and wanted to stay in that moment … forever. But he let her go, stepped back, and turned toward a large man who was just emerging from the mob carrying two briefcases.

  “Peri, this is Abigail Chance.”

  “Hello, Abigail, I’m Pericles Schmoond, Jac’s partner.” He set the briefcases on the ground and hugged her.