The House Lost at Sea

by R. J. Blain

  “Yes, your personal belongings were turned in by the captain when he reported you were missing yesterday. It seems he stayed out on the water searching for you before he gave up and brought his ship back to the harbor. We’ll have your things ready for you as soon as we’re done with your questioning.”

  I wanted to stab the man and leave him on the floor to bleed out for wasting my time, but I forced a smile instead. “I understand. I’m just so very tired. Could I bother you for another glass of water?”

  At the rate I was guzzling water, I’d float away long before he finished questioning me, but since they didn’t seem to think being missing at sea qualified as a medical concern, I’d at least do my part to keep from collapsing.

  The first thing I’d do once I got my hands on my wallet was find something to eat.

  “Of course, Miss Corona.” He got up, went to the door of the interrogation room, and said something to someone outside. If they had any modern technology at all in the place, they had surveillance equipment installed in the room, watching and listening for any signs of deceit. If the cop knew his stuff, his getting up and going to the door was to reinforce the illusion I wasn’t being watched.

  He returned with a small paper cup of water, which would give me a few swallows at best. I sipped at it to make it last through however many other questions he intended to ask until he finally got around to accepting I wasn’t going to change my story.

  “I’m so sorry to be a bother.” I used my best fake smile, the one I reserved for when I needed to work with an insufferably rich client who believed the sun, moon, and stars all revolved around him without having the wit or intellect to intrigue me.

  “Are you certain you don’t remember anything else?”

  “I wish I did, sir. The last thing I recall before waking up in the water was watching the sunset after dinner. Captain Naidoo told me it would be another hour before we reached the dive spot. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  “This is not the first time one of his passengers has ended up lost or stranded at sea. One gentleman was left adrift on a life raft, where he was picked up later by another sailor who happened to be in the area. Another had a small rowboat and had been set adrift near shore, close enough to find his way. He has reported several women lost during dives, but you’re the first to be found. Are you certain you don’t remember anything? Do you recall the dive at all?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t, sir. It’s possible I went diving in my clothes, but I normally wear a wetsuit or swimwear. I’ve dived before. Waterlogged attire can be lethal. I was close to shore when I woke up, and I suppose I must have had something to hold onto until then—or had swam without being conscious of it. I’m sorry, sir. I just don’t know what happened.”

  “Yes, Captain Naidoo claimed you had your own gear, but he didn’t have it. He had your wallet, keys, and a phone. Would you please confirm he returned everything you had with you when you boarded his ship?”

  “Except my diving equipment,” I muttered.

  He acknowledged my complaint with a nod, got up, and once again spoke to someone outside the door. Within two minutes, he presented my wallet, keys, and cell phone in a plastic bag. I opened it, dumped everything out, and began a systematic check.

  “Everything’s here,” I reported after a second check. “Including my cash.”

  “Then theft was unlikely the motive, if he had one.” The cop scowled. “Captain Naidoo is a wily one.”

  “How strange. He seemed so polite, too. My travel agent arranged for his ship.”

  “Which travel agent?”

  I gave the police Lizzy’s information, the agency I found her through, and the circumstances surrounding my booking the Lady of the Lake. “I suppose I got exactly what I paid for, although it would’ve been preferable if I could remember the adventure. Preposterous.”

  “I’d like to apologize again for how you’ve been inconvenienced, Miss Corona.”

  I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture before shoving my wallet, phone, and keys into my pocket. “It’s hardly your fault. Are we finished here? I’m starving, and it’s not often I get to mean it quite so literally. I could really use a shower.”

  “I’ll have someone take you to a good place for something to eat and drive you to your hotel, Miss Corona. Once again, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

  I nodded in acceptance of his apology and stood, grimacing as every muscle in my body protested moving. “Thank you, sir. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  He led me out of the police station to a waiting white, yellow, and blue cruiser.

  Ten

  Ricardo would’ve been proud of me for contemplating a conquest.

  Word had spread all the way to my boss about my disappearance, so instead of sleeping and eating like I wanted, I spent several hours convincing her I wasn’t actually dead. She asked more—and better—questions than the South African police had. By the time I managed to get off the phone, I had a plane ticket for home and a promise I could take a real, proper vacation a little later in the year.

  She hung up after making a stern promise Bensen could do his own research and risk his own personnel.

  I read between the lines; she needed me for something, probably one of the more active accounts requiring a little more attention than most of my co-workers were willing to put in. On a good day, she tolerated me because I worked magic with numbers that she couldn’t. On a bad day, she probably wanted to maroon me on an island so remote no one would ever find me.

  Instead of complaining about the vacation that wasn’t, I packed my bags and headed home. I cleaned my captain’s watch, so it looked like something an eccentric businesswoman might use and wore the key as a necklace tucked under my blouse, adding to my eccentricity when I passed through security to catch my flight back to the United States.

  My plan had changed, and I didn’t need to return to the House Lost at Sea until I had the second half of the key in my possession. Getting the second key would prove problematic, but I’d dust off my rusty skills and partake in a little plundering. I’d feel a twinge of guilt for swiping a friend’s property, but it wouldn’t last long. I’d call us even after the adventure cruise that came too damned close to ending with me as the booty.

  I had no idea who the sea witch on the modernized frigate was, but if I met her again, I’d turn the tables on her. She could be my booty instead, and I’d enjoy every minute of turning the tables on her.

  If she put up a good fight, maybe I’d talk her into becoming part of my crew. Wenches were so much more fun when they were willing participants, and smart wenches so often made witty conversationalists on top of having delightfully nasty mouths.

  I realized how ridiculous my thoughts were, but I couldn’t help it. I didn’t find many women with nice looks, an active interest in piracy, and great taste in ships—even though she had polluted her frigate with an engine. I yearned to know what she wanted to do with me, who appeared to be nothing more than a banker in South Africa doing research for a wealthy client.

  The best covers were the real ones, and I’d shown no signs of ever having been a pirate myself.

  I spent most of the flight contemplating the odds of taking the woman and her frigate and making them mine. If her crew seemed clever enough, maybe I’d take them, too. Once I had them, I’d find out what they wanted with me before deciding what I’d do with them.

  Ricardo would’ve been proud of me for contemplating a conquest, and it cost more than I wanted to spend for something like a frigate. Hers would be an acceptable alternative to a proper one, although I wouldn’t be pleased with its engine.

  First, I needed to pull off a modern-day raid, plunder the most important of treasures from the Terrier, and close the book on my past. It wouldn’t break the curse on me, but it’d be one last chance to take a stab at the woman who’d taken everything from me with her treachery.

  There was no finer way to get revenge against a pirate
queen than taking her treasures and legacy away from her. If her ghost lingered, I hoped Captain Maritza recognized me for who I was and regretted her broken vows. More importantly, I hoped she would realize my thirst for revenge stemmed from Ricardo’s loss.

  Had we been given a chance, I would’ve been truly loyal, but no.

  When I finished my work, the only ghost left to haunt me would be Ricardo’s.

  I would take her half of the key, and I would uncover the secrets of the House Lost at Sea. Closure would be mine, and the lost pirate queen’s wealth would complement my cavern hoard. Maybe I would take up the life of a treasure seeker, exchanging gold for cash and living the life of the wealthy, the dream of many a pirate.

  Between my boss’s insistence I get on the earliest flight back to the United States and my idiocy for doing what she wanted, by the time the plane landed, I trembled, felt—and probably looked—like death warmed over, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be a candidate for hospitalization.

  My boss waited in the terminal, and she looked me over with narrowed eyes and a frown. “You look like hell. What’d the doctors there say?”

  “They didn’t. The police didn’t feel I was in any need of one.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.”

  I couldn’t help it; I raised my eyebrows at her snapped words. “I called you as soon as my phone charged after they released me from the police station. They questioned me for a few hours before deciding I didn’t know anything of use.”

  “Lovely. Should I be driving you to the hospital, then?”

  I thought about it. Having not had a chance to eat anything of substance, I’d probably match doctor expectations. I could claim prior good physical health and exercise to explain my condition if I had recovered better than I thought. “Might be wise,” I mumbled.

  Existing without anyone discovering my second nature involved a lot of lies, and after an experience like mine, no one would question my surrender to the inevitable.

  “All right. I’ll take you to the ER. If it looks like you’ll be there a while, I’ll arrange for someone to pick you up when they’re ready to release you. Do you have your insurance information with you?”

  I nodded; I paid through the nose for insurance I didn’t really need, but if something did go wrong, at least I wouldn’t have to go digging into my treasure hoard to pay for it.

  “Good. Can’t be too careful. I’ll take care of informing Mr. Bensen he may not wish to invest too much into such a dangerous part of the world.”

  I forced a laugh. “Well, if it’s an adventure he wants, South Africa definitely delivered—in an unpleasant sort of way, unless you’re into that sort of thing. I’m not.”

  After I played the part of a banker dealing with a traumatic experience and retrieved Captain Maritza's key, I would hunt down the brunette pirate and her fancy little frigate. When I did, I’d show her what it meant to be a true pirate of the seven seas.

  I did a fifteen hour stint in the ER, most of which I spent with an IV stuck in my arm, replenishing lost fluids. All in all, the doctor fell in line with my plans, crediting my good health and tendency to exercise as the reason I had survived exposure to the sea and sun in such good condition. I thanked my Spanish heritage for my lack of a severe sunburn, although he annoyed me by asking which part of Mexico my relatives came from. It took several minutes to explain I was literally a Spaniard—from Spain.

  I confused the doctor, and I wondered how someone smart enough to be a doctor could be so ignorant about global geography. With a little help from my phone, I showed him pictures of the Spanish coast, not far from where I’d been born.

  Time had changed the place, humans had moved in en masse, and life went on, but I imagined the untouched shores of my youth and pretended they hadn’t been overrun by modern times like everything else.

  My boss arranged for someone to pick me up from the hospital, but the last person I expected to see waiting in the lobby was Bensen. The instant he caught sight of me, he hurried over, grabbed my shoulders, and dropped kisses on my cheeks. “When I got the call you had gone missing in South Africa, I was worried. What happened?”

  One day, my boss wouldn’t leave me to make the uncomfortable explanations—maybe. “I was scouting for additional opportunities for your portfolio and found that you may not wish to expand too much in the region, at least not without hiring your own captains—or importing them. I don’t think they quite understand the difference between a good adventure and a bad one.”

  “You’re all right?”

  “Nothing food, sleep, and a few hours with an IV jabbed in my arm won’t cure.”

  “What on Earth happened?”

  At least my stint in the ER had done me some good; the doctor had done a blood test, and they’d found trace amounts of some sedative in my system, one I’d been informed could cause limited memory loss. “I don’t remember much, but it seems the captain of the ship drugged me before a dive. When I woke up, I was washed up on shore.”

  The lingering residue of drugs in my system made sense; while transforming into a shark cured a lot of ailments, poisons and drugs tended to stick around in my human shape; they wouldn’t kill me, but they didn’t metabolize out of my system when the curse influenced me.

  It occurred to me the South African police might have somehow been involved with Captain Naidoo’s treachery. Why else would they avoid having me see a doctor, unless they knew I’d been drugged?

  Later, I would think long and hard on the issue.

  “I simply must insist on you coming home with me then, dear. It can’t be safe or healthy to be home alone after such a traumatic experience. I’ll have my chef make you something for dinner, then you can rest however much you need. I insist. It’s my fault you were put in such a position.” He took hold of my elbow and pulled me towards the doors. “You could have been killed.”

  If I refused, he would argue with me until I agreed to do what he wanted, and while I bristled at his meddling, fighting with him wouldn’t do me any good. “I’ll be fine. I think my boss expects me to come to work…”

  “I have already discussed the situation with her. You’ll stay at my house tonight and tomorrow night, and I’ll have someone drive you to work. Arrangements have already been made for you to be taken home, too.”

  Wonderful. The last thing I needed was an overly wealthy man micromanaging my life, but instead of complaining, I smiled and thanked him for his generosity.

  A few days wouldn’t change anything, nor would the lost time make any difference in my plans. Captain Maritza's key waited for me, broken and useless to the casual observer, a curious trinket and nothing more.

  Of all the wealth discovered on the Terrier, the second half of my key was worthless to everyone save me, who knew of the House Lost at Sea and longed for the treasures hidden within.

  Eleven

  They even broke into your walls.

  In the two nights I spent at Bensen’s home, I suspected someone had somehow cast a second curse on me.

  Theft happened, but I wrinkled my nose at the thorough plundering of my home. The shredded ruins of my couch had ended up in three different rooms, and they’d gone as far as to break apart the wooden frame during their search. At least I hadn’t kept the aquarium and its precious corals and sea life; I suspect the thieves would have killed everything.

  As a proper law-abiding citizen with nothing to hide, I called the cops from my front step, took pictures of everything, and took care where I walked so I wouldn’t ruin any evidence—if any had been left behind. It didn’t take long to confirm my fears: the thieves had taken every last one of my safe deposit keys. While waiting for the police to arrive, I called the banks, expecting the worst.

  It didn’t take long to confirm someone had accessed the most important of my safe-deposit boxes and taken my three prized possessions. They’d gone as far as finding someone who looked a little like me to make the grab. Both banks promised to get in touch with my insur
ance company and the police, giving them all the information on who had accessed the boxes.

  Within twenty minutes, a curious pair of police officers entered my home, both men whistling at the extensive damage.

  “They even broke into your walls,” one observed, a man easily in his sixties but built like a linebacker on a mission, and he gestured at the gaping holes in my drywall. “Did you have anything of value to justify this?”

  I stuffed my hands into my pockets, and my fingers closed over Captain Louisa’s pocket watch. “I had a few antiques which were quite valuable, but little else.”

  “What sort of antiques?”

  “An original flintlock pistol from the Golden Age of Piracy, a cutlass from the same era, and some golden doubloons and similar trinkets I’d bought at auctions over the years. I’m a collector.” I braced for the worst, guiding the two officers to my bedroom.

  My armoire lay broken and scattered across my bedroom floor. “The keys for the safe-deposit boxes where I stored many of them used to be in there. That used to be my armoire, which I kept locked.”

  “What would you estimate the value of these items to be?”

  I drew in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and grimaced at the hike my insurance bill would take when I reported the thefts. “North of half a million dollars, sir. The insurance policy for all the items sits at six hundred and twenty-five thousand, appraised three years ago.”

  Both cops stared at me with wide eyes.

  “It’s the gold. The flintlock and the other trinkets barely reach twenty thousand combined. I’ve been on some scavenge dives, which is where I got some of it, and I bought the rest at estate auctions.”

  It made for a pretty story, one composed almost entirely of lies. In a way, I had acquired the booty on scavenge dives, three hundred years ago while the ships were in the process of sinking. While I did sometimes do modern-day dives as a shark to add to my hoard, the bulk came from the Calico and other ships we’d preyed upon before our final voyage.