The woman turned to Jack and Miguel. “Thanks for the drink boys.”
Jack and Miguel watched as they left the bar.
“What was that? A jealous boyfriend?” Miguel was still staring at the door.
“That guy wasn’t her boyfriend.”
“So you think it was a con? She sets us up and this jerk hits us when we leave?”
“We better hang tight for a bit.”
“I’ve no problem with that.” Miguel grabbed the pitcher and filled their glasses.
27
STOWAWAYS
Laney Moss entered the pirates’ den, which was a vacated warehouse on an abandoned pier a short distance from the main harbor. The ancient wood structure was decayed and falling apart with rotted holes in the roof. Waves lapped the pilings rhythmically below the deck boards. Seagulls fluttered in, roosting on the guano-stained rafters.
Twenty or so men sat at tables or together on the floor, cleaning their handguns and semi-automatic rifles in preparation for the next raid. Two grenade launchers were in a crate by the wall along with scores of metal ammo boxes.
Tarik Obob walked in after Laney. He hadn’t spoken to her since she had foiled his attempt to rob the two men at the bar. If it had been any other woman, he would have enjoyed beating her to a bloody pulp. But then if he did, he would have sealed his fate, negating a hand or spending the rest of eternity feeding the fish, chained to a piling at the bottom of the bay.
Laney was the property of Butros Jabeen.
Butros sat in a throne-style chair. Behind him was a large window with a crossword puzzle design of smudged and translucent panes allowing a partial view of the setting sun beyond the seaboard. As soon as Butros saw Laney he bellowed, “Ah, my little castaway has returned.”
Laney occupied the chair next to the corsair leader.
Butros plucked at his black beard as he often did whenever he was ruminating about strategies for a new incursion. He smiled fondly at Laney, displaying his nicotine-stained horse teeth. He was wearing a Sherpa jacket and a woolen cap.
A two-way radio rested on the armrest of his chair.
On his lap, a Colt .45 semi-automatic pistol with gold inlays on the barrel and handgrip.
Laney watched Tarik approach.
Butros looked up at his second-in-command. “Tarik. You have nothing for me?”
“She stopped me.”
Butros turned to Laney. His face was impossible to read.
“He’s right. I did,” Laney beamed.
“She was with two men,” Tarik said. “I think she was conspiring with them.”
Butros’ right hand rested on the handgrip of his gun. “Most unfortunate.”
“No, quite the opposite. Those men Tarik saw me with were treasure hunters.”
“Treasure hunters,” Butros said dubiously.
“They showed me an island on their computer where there is a shipwreck full of gold bullions.”
Butros gazed at Tarik. “Is that so?”
“They were looking at something—”
Laney cut him off. “They are leaving tonight. We could sneak aboard. Take over their ship once we’re there.”
“She’s lying.”
“Am I?” Laney smiled at Butros. “I assure you. You will be very rich.”
“And where is this?”
“Pier 5. The Dark Horizon.”
“Tarik, alert the men.”
Tarik glared at Laney with his one eye then stormed off.
“Butros, you must promise me one thing,” Laney said.
“And what is that, my little castaway?”
“You won’t kill anyone.”
“Sorry, that I cannot promise.”
***
The pirates crept along the dock, keeping to the shadows. They hid behind pallets stacked with cargo. Tarik peered over the lid of a crate. He had a rope coiled over his shoulder with a grappling hook on the end. He watched the seaman patrolling above him, making his rounds on the ship. He waited until the sailor headed back toward the stern.
Tarik ran over to the mooring cleat by the bow of the Dark Horizon. He ducked under the mooring line stretching up to the ship. He grabbed hold of the rope, pulling himself up hand over hand, feet draped over the line. He made his way to the main deck of the ship. He hung the grappling hook on the metal side and threw down the rope.
Two marauders ran toward the ship, scurrying up the ropes. Another pair followed. Then more invaded the ship.
Tarik opened a deck hatch leading down to the forward cargo area. The men snuck down carrying a cache of weapons and small sacks of provisions.
Butros and Laney were last to come on board. Butros detached the grappling hook, letting it splash down into the water. They shimmied down the ladder into the dark hold of the ship.
Tarik stood on the top rungs and sealed the hatch.
28
COMMANDEERED
Jack was bored out of his skull. They’d been out to sea for five days and still no sign of the mysterious island. He was beginning to wonder if it really existed. Standing midsection on the portside, he gazed through the binoculars at the flat water. Instead of focusing on the horizon directly, he scanned just above the horizontal plane, as it was a better way to spot an object on the thin line between the blues of the sky and ocean.
He turned when he heard footsteps approaching.
Miguel leaned over the side to watch the white water skirting past the side of the steel hull. “I talked to the captain.”
“Yeah, what did he say?”
“By his calculations we should be sighting the island soon.”
“Any more updates from Nora?” Jack raised his binoculars to take another look around.
“I haven’t been able to reach her today. There’s no satellite signal.”
“Maybe the captain will have better luck.”
“He says they haven’t been able to reach anyone on the ship’s radio.”
Jack lowered his binoculars and looked at Miguel. “So where are we, the Bermuda Triangle?”
“Well, I don’t think we’re anywhere near there. It could be anything.” Miguel looked up at the flotilla of battleship-gray clouds moving in their direction. “Could be those clouds causing the interference.”
“Or we’re entering dark waters.”
“What are you gibbering about? Can I see those?”
Jack removed the lanyard around his neck and handed Miguel the binoculars.
“You know, like the Sargasso Sea.”
Miguel held the binoculars up to his eyes. “If my memory serves me isn’t that where they found ships adrift with their crews missing?”
“That’s right.”
“And weren’t they supposed to have been eaten by some carnivorous seaweed?”
“Right again.”
Miguel handed the binoculars back to Jack. “Do you see any seaweed?”
Jack looked over the side and saw nothing but blue ocean.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
A man yelled further up near the bow, followed by a gunshot.
Jack looked at Miguel. “You were saying?”
They heard more gunfire.
“What do you think, a mutiny?”
“Whatever it is, I don’t think we want to get caught in the middle. Not without our guns.” Jack and Miguel ran for the nearest access hatch and slipped inside. They ran down the passage, sliding down the ladder railing to the level below. Jack flung his cabin door open and went in while Miguel entered his stateroom.
They stepped back into the passageway. Jack strapped on his gun belt. He checked the open cylinder on his Colt .44 Magnum revolver and snapped it shut. Miguel slung on his shoulder rig. He pulled back the slide on his .357 Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol, inserting a round into the chamber.
“Where’s your laptop?”
“Hidden where no one will find it,” Miguel said.
“Let’s go see what this is all about.”
> They had just reached the base of the ladder steps when a crewmember suddenly appeared on the landing above. He saw Jack and Miguel and yelled, “They’re attacking the ship.”
“Who is?” Jack yelled up.
A man came up behind the sailor. He reached around the front of the frightened mariner and slit his throat with one clean sweep. Blood spurted out the thin gash, splattering the bulkhead and splashing down on the steps.
The knife-wielding killer pushed the bleeding man down the metal stairwell.
Miguel stepped to the side so as not to be bowled over by the tumbling body. He fired two quick rounds at the murderer.
The man above dropped on the deck.
Jack and Miguel charged up the steps.
They stood over the dead man, staring at his face.
“I don’t remember this guy when the captain took us around and introduced us to his crew,” Miguel said.
“Me neither.” Jack saw a Mayan medallion with a skull face in the center on the man’s arm. “I saw the same tattoo on that guy in the bar.”
They heard men yelling and screaming outside.
“What the hell’s going on out there?”
“My guess, we’re being attacked by pirates.” Jack crept over to the hatch leading outside. As soon as he stepped out on the deck, a man came running at him. He was screaming, holding a bloody stump where his hand used to be. He was so hysterical he kept running after he passed Jack and Miguel.
Another man came racing down the deck, holding a blood-dripping machete above his head.
Jack shot him three times.
The pirate stumbled, dropping the machete. He slammed into the railing, his momentum catapulting him over the side.
Jack and Miguel ran forward. The main deck near the bow was swarming with pirates. More were climbing out of a cargo bay hatch like sewer rats. Some of the ship’s crew, including the ship’s captain, were on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Jack counted three dead, their dismembered bodies lying in large pools of blood.
The barbarians laughed as if the atrocity of brutally hacking up another human being meant nothing to them.
Jack saw a heathen climbing a ladder to a lookout post near the top of a mast.
A dozen men pointed their automatic rifles at Jack and Miguel.
“What now?” Miguel asked Jack.
“Maybe we can reason with them.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work. Look what they’re doing to the crew.”
Jack saw the man with the eye patch. “Ah, shit. That’s the guy from the bar. What did she call him?”
“Tarik.”
The men stood in firing squad formation waiting on Tarik’s command.
A burly man with a black beard exited the cargo hatch. He stood over the opening and extended his hand. He assisted a slender figure onto the deck.
“I don’t believe it,” Jack said. “It’s the woman from the bar.”
As soon as she saw Jack and Miguel she immediately said to the man beside her, “Butros, those are the men.”
“If you want to live, I suggest you drop your guns.” Butros lit a cheroot and blew out a steady stream of smoke. “The choice is entirely up to you.”
“Maybe we can talk our way out of this.” Jack lowered his gun. He bent down and laid his revolver on the deck. Miguel did the same.
A pirate confiscated their weapons.
“So, I gather you are the treasure hunters?” Butros said.
“What?” Jack looked at Miguel. He could see his friend was also drawing a blank.
The woman stepped forward. “If you show us where the gold is, Butros will spare your lives.”
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“My name is Laney Moss. Do as they say and no harm will come to you.”
“Maybe we had too many beers that night. Can you kindly refresh my memory?”
“The shipwreck on your computer. The one with the treasure.”
“Okay,” Jack said, still not getting her meaning but eager to stall as long as possible.
Laney came closer until she was standing a foot away from Jack and Miguel. She whispered so the others couldn’t hear, “Are you thick? Play along.”
Tarik looked at Laney suspiciously then turned to his boss. “Why do we need two when one can lead us to the gold?”
Butros puffed on his cigar, giving his second-in-command a shrug.
Tarik waved two men over. They tied Jack and Miguel’s hands behind their backs.
“I’m not liking this,” Jack said to Miguel.
“What are they going to do, make us walk the plank?”
Tarik must have overhead Miguel because he said, “There are worse ways to die.”
“Please, Butros,” Laney pleaded. “Don’t let Tarik do this.”
“It amuses me. Besides, what else is there to do?”
Jack watched a few pirates hurry away. They came back with planks and crates and built a scaffold next to the ship’s railing.
Tarik ordered his men to force three crewmembers with their hands bound behind their backs onto the scaffolding. They stood, heels to the edge of the railing. One step back and it was over the side into the ocean below.
A pirate handed Tarik a long gaff with a six-foot long shaft.
Tarik walked up to the first man. He jabbed the barbed spear into the man’s chest, shoving him backwards over the side. The man screamed all the way down before striking the water. The second man begged for his life only to be prodded over the railing. The third man tried to jump off the plank. In his panic, he tripped over his own feet and plummeted down the side of the ship.
Jack and Miguel were hoisted onto the plank.
“Butros, what are you doing?” Laney said to the corsair leader.
“Like Tarik said. We only need one.”
“Please, don’t—”
“If it will make you feel better, you may choose.”
“No, I can’t do that.”
“You may proceed,” Butros told Tarik.
Tarik placed the tip of the gaff against Miguel’s chest.
“He has a wife and a daughter,” Jack yelled. “Pick me instead.”
“Jack, shut up. I got the short straw. It’s okay.”
“Think of Maria and Sophia.”
Butros stepped in front of the scaffold. “It is noble to want to die for one’s friend.” He turned to Tarik. “Don’t you agree?”
Tarik applied more pressure on the gaff, pushing Miguel back so his heels were hanging over the plank.
“No, stop!” Jack screamed. He gazed up and saw the pirate up on the lookout post pointing at something off the forward bow.
“Land Ho!”
PART THREE
THE ISLAND
29
LANDING PARTY
The Dark Horizon anchored a half-mile offshore from the island. Storm winds churned the once-tranquil sea into furrows of white-capped swells. A light rain pelted the pirates as they lowered the two launches into the water. Rope ladders stretched down to the boats for boarding. None of the ship’s crew was among the landing party as Butros had ordered them and the captain confined to the bridge under heavy guard.
Tarik was in charge of the first boat with six of his men. Jack and Miguel sat side by side in the middle of the craft, their hands no longer tied. Two pirates watched them intently with their guns. Jack glanced back at the second boat. Eight men accompanied Butros and Laney as they got underway.
Facing forward in the boat, Jack had a view of the island and the shipwreck cast upon the rocks. There were places where the steel hull was exposed under scant patches of overlaying foliage. He didn’t see barnacles or moss growing on the metal; just overgrown leafy vines, which might have suggested the wreckage had been there for years instead of only a few weeks.
He heard shorebirds keening above. Leaning back, he gazed up into the overcast sky expecting to see white seagulls soaring overhead. He nudged Miguel to look up. “What do you make
of those?”
Miguel stared at the birds. “You got to be kidding me. Flying peacocks?”
“But they’re too small. And besides, peacocks don’t fly.” Jack watched the small flock of colorful birds fly in a circular pattern above their boat. A shorebird split away from the group and swooped down over the boat. A pirate stood, striking the bird with a neck-snapping wallop with the butt of his rifle, killing it. The gull fell into the water.
Jack leaned over the gunwale to get a closer glimpse of the dead bird with its wings spread open, floating on its back in an undulating trough. Like its head and body, the wings were multi-shades of different colors as if an artist stirred together his entire palette and created a universal template for the entire spectrum.
Before the bird sank from view, Jack swore he saw it revive, its feathered body transforming into some type of aquatic kelp-like creature. “Jesus, what the—”
“What’s wrong?” Miguel asked.
“I must be seeing things.”
“Shut up,” growled a pirate. He jiggled the barrel of his gun at Jack and Miguel.
Tarik stood up on the forward thwart. He pointed to a flat boulder jutting out from behind the centerline of the shipwreck’s bow. “Bring her around. We will board from there.”
The two men rowing propelled the launch one last time, pulling the oars in through the crutches. The man at the tiller cut the rudder hard to the right so the boat wouldn’t smack into the rocks.
Tarik looked down at Jack and Miguel. “Now you take us to the gold.”
Everyone piled out of the boat except for the tillerman. They clambered over the slippery boulders wet from the ocean spray of the pounding waves—a preamble to the storm to come.
Jack gazed out over the choppy water. Butros’ launch was a hundred yards away, riding the rolling surf toward the black sandy beach to wait it out while Tarik and his men searched the wreckage.
Miguel turned and whispered to Jack, “What do we do when they realize there’s no gold?”
“We better have something good up our sleeves.”
Cryptid Island Page 11