Abaco Gold

by Patrick Mansell

  Grant Web’s next call was the one he had been hoping to avoid. His intention had been to pull this project off with his own resources, but that was now clearly not possible. For want of a mere $20,000 to continue funding the pirates for another week or two, he would have to give up a percentage of the bounty. He already promised a one third share to Hammerhead and Whale. How much would he have to give up to Nipper Blood to stay in the game.

  Nipper was a semi-retired scam artist living in a villa on Paradise Island. Fifteen years earlier, when he was still in his later thirties and had the energy to run all over the ocean, back and forth across the Gulf Stream, smuggling drugs for the Cali cartel, he was healthy, strong and quick thinking. He knew how to plan a smuggling operation and how to evade the authorities. And he made a ton of money. Now Nipper was fifty-two and the years of decadence had caught up with him. He frequently drank too much and would have to be carried home by one of his full-time companions and tossed into bed. He could binge for two or three days at a time and then sleep for thirty hours. This life style made him puffy and soft for his years. His eyes were habitually bloodshot and he was bent over at the waist from constant lower back pain which in turn was caused by his considerably oversized belly. The muscle tone he had so proudly sported as a younger man, had all turned to flab, his skin had dried up and his hair and teeth were falling out. The only thing that kept him going was the occasional call from one of the Grant Web types who would offer him an opportunity to participate in a clandestine operation which promised huge returns and no personal connection to the scam. Safe and profitable was just the way he liked it.

  Nipper’s housekeeper answered on the second ring. Grant announced himself and waited for Nipper’s voice to come on the line. They had known each other for years and had done business in the past, so Grant was comfortable calling on him. When Nipper answered the phone, Grant started right into his proposal until Nipper stopped him.

  “I’m not so certain that this line is secure,” said Nipper. “I think we should meet.”

  That was exactly what Grant wanted to hear him say. “OK, where and when. This is important and can not wait.”

  “I can see you today if you like. Come here in three hours.”

  “I’ll be there, “ said Grant. “I have a proposal I think you’ll like.” He wasn’t certain that Nipper had heard this last part. After Nipper told him to be there in three hours he hung up and did not wait for a reply from the Deputy Assistant. He felt like a real chump, trying to sell his proposal into a dead telephone line.

  Wind and waves continued to lash the Jamaica coast. Still a strong tropical storm, the winds were sustained at forty miles per hour with gusts to sixty. The residents of Jamaica were thankful that the system had not developed more and felt for the islanders further along the storm route who were certain to get crushed when it began generating hurricane force winds. The eastern tip of Cuba would be next followed by Turks and Caicos Islands and then the southern Bahamas. The National Weather Service had placed the Exuma Islands, in the southern end of the Bahamas chain, on a tropical storm warning. The central and northern Bahamas were on a hurricane watch. Storms in the southern part of the chain were a certainty. Whether it would make its way up the chain into Nassau, Eleuthra or Abaco was still anybody’s guess.

  An unwelcome Grant Web appeared at the front door of the Blood residence. Nipper had given some thought to the notion that the Deputy Assistant to the Governor was in need of his services, and the whole idea was somewhat nauseating. He perceived Grant Web much the same as so many other people did. He did not like his flashy way and sneaky look. He wondered what family the Governor was doing a favor for in allowing Mr. Web on his staff. If this visit was about seed capital for an illegal scam, he was going to make Web pay.

  The housekeeper led Grant Web into the Nipper’s study and offered him a seat. Nipper was happy to make the Deputy Assistant wait for forty-five minutes. It agitated Web to have to wait, but he was in dire financial straights and could think of no other alternatives.

  The meeting between the two co-conspirators went relatively well. Nipper feigned cordiality while Web feigned respect. In the end a deal was struck which allowed Grant Web to walk out of Nipper’s house with $35,000 in cash to continue funding his operation. The money was a loan bearing interest at a rate of twenty five percent per week until paid back. The kicker was a fifteen percent share from the proceeds of any sale of goods recovered from the San Pedro. On Nipper’s permanent payroll were two of the most ruthless collection agents in the western hemisphere. He was not worried about losing his capital.

  Grant Web felt sick as he drove off of Paradise Island. He had just made a pact with the devil that he was certain he would some day regret. In the meantime there was nothing to do but to follow through. It would have been possible to end the caper right there, walk away from the scam and take his losses. But this was not to be. Visions of great wealth swam in his head. He had been bitten by the gold bug and there was no turning back.

  Nineteen

  The Barge Springs to Life

  “We’ve got to shift into storm mode on this island,” said Skeeter. “There’s a whole lot going on here and we need to prepare. Whenever we see a system like this one aiming our way, we begin preparations at least three days ahead of time. With the dive site and barge to think about, we need more time. That means that we need to get started today.” Skeeter was standing in the work area behind his house addressing a gathering that included everyone associated with the operation except for three guards who were on duty on the barge. “How well we organize and execute will be critical, it can mean a great deal of savings to property and possibly even save lives.”

  “I’d like to do what I can while I’m here,” said Virgil, “but that only gives me a day. The storm is a day closer to Nassau than it is to here and my responsibilities lie there. With a population of a 170,000 to look out for, and me being the chief of all security, you can understand my situation.”

  “Of course,” said Skeeter. “I wouldn’t blame you if you left today to get a head start.”

  “Tomorrow is soon enough,” said Virgil. “Let’s first make certain that Nassau is in the storm’s path.”

  Jenny James spoke next, “As we all know, for purposes of photographing and preserving the archaeological record, a great many artifacts have been left in plain view all over the site. I believe we have a clear enough record so that we can now move those items and bring them to the safety of this house. I’d like to work on that today and tomorrow.”

  Skeeter disagreed. “Those artifacts have survived centuries of hurricanes right where they are, while these buildings have been blown away time after time. I suggest we leave the artifacts on the bottom, only maybe move them all to one spot and secure them so that they won’t get scattered all over the ocean floor. We have only today to secure the wreck site. By tomorrow I will want to move the barge into the sheltered water, because by Wednesday the seas will be kicking up and it will be time to concentrate on securing things topside.”

  “Then our only option is clear,” said Max. “No matter how much other preparation we face, today must be dedicated to securing the wreck the best we can. Tell us what we should concentrate on, Jenny.”

  “We can talk about the value of all those artifacts and the historical record and all that archaeological mumbo jumbo, but in the final analysis, on a wreck like this, the gold and precious stones are still the most important and valuable artifacts. When it gets down to how the people in Nassau are going to market their new museum, they will certainly put diamonds and gold at the top of their list of sunken treasure.”

  “Then we need to get on it,” said Godfrey. “We can’t just leave those artifacts lying around down there when we’re that close to having them in our hands.”

  “You’re the one person who is not going to hold them in his hands today,” said Jenny. “As we remove artifacts we will uncover more. It means that your hands will be very busy s
napping pictures. We can record the data later from your photographs. It’s not the way I’d like to do it, but it’s better this way than no record at all.”

  “I’m good with that,” said Godfrey. “I’ve got plenty of underwater cameras and unlimited film. I can make up to possibly four dives in a day. I’ll be able to get fifty to seventy five shots on each dive. This will be an important aspect of the story and I want to get it all.”

  “We wouldn’t be able to do it without you,” replied Jenny. “Now I suggest that we get moving as soon as possible. Skeeter, what do you think would be the best way to prepare the wreck site for a blow? Under these circumstances we need to be very inventive.”

  “One thing that comes to mind is that we might move the exposed artifacts to one area. Then we can use a canvass tarpaulin to cover the bulk of the most important artifacts and then secure the tarpaulin to the bottom. The canvass will keep all that stuff from getting stirred up and drifting away.”

  “How do you suggest we secure the tarp?” asked Jenny. “What’s to keep it from drifting off?”

  “I think it can be fairly easily weighted down. We have all kinds of junk on this island, engine blocks, pieces of concrete building material, iron rebar, coral rock. We’ll only have to cover an area forty feet by sixty feet.”

  Skeeter’s suggestion was immediately adopted and for the next hour a steady stream of people moved back and forth to the boats. They carried an odd assortment of materials including heavy objects that could be used as weights, collection baskets, scuba equipment and food. P.J. and Matthew helped Godfrey with his photography equipment. Virgil spent this time on his cell phone speaking with headquarters in Nassau.

  Today was different from other days. The air was charged with a sense of urgency and excitement. Much had to get done and the work was non stop. Gaffer was on high alert as he hit the starters on Bimini Twist and the engines roared to life. A minute later the twin diesels aboard Conchy Lady came to life in a throaty idle. The boats were finally loaded with supplies and people. On board Bimini Twist were Gaffer at the helm, accompanied by Matthew, Max and Virgil. P.J. opted to ride out with Godfrey on Conchy Lady. As the flotilla of two made their way north through Whale Cay Passage, Skeeter and Jenny were relieved to find there was no wind and the seas were flat. For what may be their last productive day of diving for a while, it would be a relief to not have to fight against a rocking boat or barge.

  The dive center on the barge swung into action the minute Skeeter climbed aboard. Eight full scuba tanks was a good start but would not last very long. He assigned Matthew and P.J. the job of keeping the tanks full, 3,500 pounds on each fill. Before Skeeter could turn around to begin his next task, Matthew hit the starter on the air compressor to begin the gasoline powered drone that would be heard most of the day. Before the first team of four divers hit the water, the filling crew already had two fresh tanks filled and two more hooked up to the compressor. P.J. wanted to get fifteen tanks ahead of the divers so that he could be assured of having a chance to make a couple of dives himself. Skeeter had it worked out so that each team would sit out for the duration of two other teams of divers. A surface interval of one and a half to two hours was designed to allow each diver to make at least four and, in the instances of the stronger divers, five dives on this day. They had to work fast to move the artifacts to safety, but they still had to be as careful as ever.

  The first five divers hit the water before 8:00 AM. They descended to the galleon quickly and knelt on the bottom as Jenny made hand signals, pointing to which artifacts she wanted placed in which locations. The ballast rocks could stay where they lay, but ship parts, urns, pottery, metal objects including gold and silver, iron works and tattered remains of rope and sail had to be moved to safety. It broke Jenny’s heart to disturb the site she had worked so hard to preserve, but this was for the very survival of the entire project. She reasoned that these artifacts would soon enough be brought to the surface and, with that thought in mind, she happily got busy.

  Cameron and four of his men spent their bottom time unfolding and arranging the canvass material so that it would fit neatly over the designated portion of the site. The four divers were to each grab a corner of the canvass tarpaulin and swim outward from the center. When the canvass resisted their movement, they would know that it was open to its full extension. As they discussed this action topside prior to the dive, it all seemed quite easy. In actuality it was not easy at all. One diver apparently did not understand the instructions and was of little help. Another diver’s regulator went into free flow at a depth of seventy feet and had to be escorted to the surface by his dive buddy in an emergency ascent. By the time Cameron and his remaining single team member completed the task of unfolding the canvass, they had blown their dive tables and had to make a twenty minute stop on the safety bar. It was what the divers referred to as a Murphy dive, alluding to the law by the same name that states ‘if anything can go wrong, it will’. And on this dive, it did. Fortunately, no one was injured and the operation, for the most part, continued as planned.

  For five hours teams of divers descended to the dive site. Some moved artifacts while others made preparations to secure the site. No diver could make a safe descent to the ocean floor with any of the heavy objects that were intended to weigh down the canvass material. Even dead weight of thirty pounds would cause the strongest diver to make an uncontrolled descent. For this reason the winch on board Conchy Lady was being used. These materials had all been lowered to the bottom and placed around the under water storage area.

  By early afternoon it was time for everybody to meet on the barge for lunch and a group surface interval. This was their last chance to make final arrangements before the barge was to be hauled out. The security guards sat at one end of the barge. They usually liked to stick together when possible. Matthew and P.J. were filling the last two scuba tanks. Skeeter was turning his floating dive shop upside down looking for a heel strap to replace the one that had snapped on his favorite fins. Virgil was back on his cell phone with headquarters in Nassau trying to keep things from falling apart, while Max and Gaffer made a quick run down to Man-O-War Cay in what may be their last chance for the summer to catch some fish. Gaffer had out the light tackle and a box of chum in hopes of scaring up some yellowtail. It was free time, a moment to relax and clear heads before the afternoon of hectic activities started back up.

  From earlier reports, it was told that somewhere far to the south was a terrible storm brewing. From local appearances no one would ever know. It was a gorgeous day, perhaps a little warm, but the humidity was low and the light afternoon breeze was just enough to let you know it was there, without chopping up the water and making things uncomfortable. Max pondered this beautiful day when it occurred to him that he had missed the noon hurricane advisory from the National Weather Bureau. He tuned his VHF radio to the weather channel and sat back to see what was brewing.

  Twenty

  Disinformation

  The one thing that Hammerhead and Whale did right was to carefully monitor VHF radio channel sixty eight at all times. Even as they sat in the Sand Dollar Bar on Green Turtle Cay, they tuned in on a battery-powered, hand held radio. The bartender, retired civil servant Bonita Pindar, called Bonnie by people who knew her, had been tolerating these two wharf rats for the past two days. The first day Hammerhead and Whale arrived, they foolishly bragged about their intention to attempt an assault on the San Pedro. Bonnie, as well as just about everyone else in Abaco and half the residents of the rest of the Bahamas Islands, was aware of the archaeological excavation that was going on in their waters. Who were these dirt bags who were out to mess things up?

  Bonnie excused herself from the bar and walked over to the marina office where she could be assured of privacy. She sat at the dockmaster’s desk and dialed from memory the number of the Royal Bahamas Defense Force office in Nassau. She made it through three levels of secretaries and clerks before she was able to talk to someone who could
really help her. The private secretary to Virgil Price was keenly interested in what Bonnie had to say. She asked for the number from which she was calling and asked her to stay there and wait for a few minutes for a telephone call. Bonnie agreed and sat back looking out over the marina, waiting to see what would happen. She was not the least bit disappointed. The telephone came to life in less than three minutes. She picked it up on the first ring.

  “Is this Bonita Pindar?” asked the strong and refined voice at the other end.

  “This is Bonnie Pindar,” she replied. “With whom am I speaking?” she asked.

  “This is Virgil Price,” came the reply. “I am the Superintendent of the Royal Bahamas Defense Force and I have been told that you have information for me.”

  “Mr. Price, yes I do,” came the reply of the now very nervous Bonita Pindar. She was speaking with the man, himself. She needed a minute to catch her breath.

  “Hello, Mrs. Pindar, are you there?” asked Virgil.

  Bonnie took two very deep cleansing breaths and replied in a squeaky, airless voice, “I do not know how much this would interest you, but there are two men in my bar who seem to be plotting to steal some treasure from that sunken ship they’re working on off Abaco.”

  “I am on that site right now,” responded Virgil. “Do you know who these men are and when they plan this assault? Please tell me everything you know.”