The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  Garret turned to Walsh. “What about Sandoval? Where is he?”

  Walsh made a motion across his own throat.

  It was Garret’s turn to high five the crew chief. He stared over at Mitch and Raine. “Time to get you guys into the decompression chamber before you get the bends.”

  “At least let us change out of these wetsuits,” Raine said. “How long will we be in there?”

  “Eighteen should do it,” Mitch noted.

  Raine headed for the stateroom. “Eighteen minutes, is that all? Piece of cake.”

  Mitch laughed. “More like hours and a chemical toilet.”

  “Ewww.”

  Later, Garret marched them both into the boxy chamber and slammed the door shut. He programmed the software for decompression for an eighteen-hour stint. “That ought to give them plenty of time to talk things out.”

  On deck, they had a mess to clean up on The Black Rum. They began the distasteful task of disposing of the bodies, three in totalBaskin, Sandoval, and the unidentified guard.

  Anniston and Sebastian watched through binoculars as sharks and other marine life were already at work taking care of the debris field from the Patagonia Pike.

  “Sinclair and Duarte are fish food,” Garret noted. “We may never know what happened to Carson Frawley.”

  “I still say burial at sea is too good for Baskin,” Jackson grumbled.

  Tessa rubbed his back as they finished mopping up the last of the blood. “It’s over now. Behind us.”

  Jackson put his arm around Tessa. “Now the fight begins as to who goes down first to retrieve those boxes.”

  “Anniston and I came in second in Monopoly,” Garret pointed out. “As soon as the sharks move on, we’re going down to haul up the first box.”

  “Fine,” Jackson muttered. “But after that everyone takes a turn bringing up boxes. Everyone.”

  “That’s fair,” Anniston said. “There’s more than enough to go around. But I’m not going anywhere in the water till those sharks clear out.”

  Inside the decompression chamber, Raine sat next to Mitch. “Talk about claustrophobic,” she moaned. “This is small. What are we going to do in here for a whole day? I think Garret locked us up for longer than necessary.”

  The same thing had already occurred to Mitch. “Does pure oxygen always make you this chatty?”

  She punched him in the arm. “I can’t believe you expected me to just swim off to the boat and leave you behind to arm the mine. What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “I was trying to keep you alive. I can’t believe you opted to stay put. If that mine had exploded on impact the way it was supposed to, we wouldn’t be sitting here now bitching about the fact we’re contained in a space the size of an egg.”

  “A sobering thought. That kind of situation makes you stop and think about the important things in life.”

  “And?”

  She clasped his hand. “You’re the most important thing in my life.”

  “That’s all I need to know. We’ll make it work somehow. I promise.”

  “I don’t like the idea that our relationship should take ‘work.’ Your parents don’t seem to ‘work’ at their relationship. They get along without it seeming like a chore.”

  “Maybe ‘work’ is too strong a word. If you stay on the Key and I take off on a dive, what are the chances of making long distance work on both sides?”

  “See, there’s that word again. Could you at least agree to spend six months in town?”

  “And you spend six months at sea with me? Fine.”

  “Hmm. If I spend six months away from the business, I might as well make it a year. Besides, I feel really good about the last week. I like diving with you, being on the water, being on the boat.”

  “It could get old and tedious. Sometimes it does. It’s also dangerous.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand you. Are you trying to talk me out of the idea?”

  He chuckled. “No. I’m trying to paint you a realistic picture that it isn’t all roses, twenty-four-seven. Nothing is. Even if you and I stay on island, there will likely be times we disagree about a lot of things. Nothing’s perfect, Raine. No situation is perfect.”

  As she saw it, they had sixteen more hours to figure it out.

  When they did emerge from the hyperbaric chamber, they walked out holding hands. The first thing they saw on deck was Garret and Anniston pulling on wetsuits, getting ready to dive on the sub.

  “I’ve had some time to think about this,” Mitch told Garret. “I’ve figured out if you use the cargo net, it’ll hold five boxes at a time. Less trips, less time spent in the water.”

  Prentiss stepped forward. Still sporting a bandage around his head with strands of hair poking out, he was in no shape to take a turn at diving. But he stood ready to do his part. “I’d like to be the one to man the winch. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention on guard duty. I’m sorry I let those men board the ship. They could’ve killed us all.”

  Mitch threw an arm around the young man’s shoulder. “Lesson learned then. Next time you’ll be more aware of how dangerous men like that can be.”

  “So you aren’t firing me?”

  “Do you still want to go back to San Diego to be with your family?”

  “Sure. On leave, maybe when vacation time comes around.”

  “There you go. I’d have to train someone else to take your place, waste of money, if you ask me. No sense in doing that.”

  Mitch saw the relief pour out of Prentiss. “Are you up to running that winch? It’s up to you to let Garret know how much weight she can handle. You’re in charge of that.”

  “I’m up to it.”

  After reaching the sub, it took Garret and Anniston an hour to load the first five boxes into the cargo net. The metal containers hit the surface around midday as everyone crowded around to see what was inside.

  Walsh carefully handled the cutting torch to shear off the wing nuts used to lockdown each box.

  “Be careful,” Sebastian cautioned. “You don’t want to damage what’s inside.”

  “Not after all we’ve been through to get this far,” Garret said, looking on.

  As each wing nut hit the deck, the gold fever went up a notch. When the last wing nut dropped, Walsh stepped back. “Who gets the honor of opening it up?”

  Garret looked at Mitch, who motioned to Jackson. “You do it, you’re the oldest and the one who took out Sinclair.”

  Everyone jammed in closer to get a better look.

  Jackson slapped on a pair of latex gloves before raising up the lid. He lifted out a roll of what looked like canvas material. Placing it on a nearby table, he began to carefully peel back the canvas, unrolling it to reveal a painting.

  “This is a Gierymski,” Garret announced. “See the signature in the corner. Aleksander Gierymski, a Polish painter.” Delicately, he held the corners without picking it up. “This is one of his landscapes. I’ve only seen his work in a museum in Warsaw. This is big.”

  Behind the Gierymski they found three other paintings done in oil, created by various French, Italian, and Belgian artists.

  All five boxes were opened and found to contain artwork, masterpieces gone missing or thought destroyed.

  “Whoever had looted art in the pool won big,” Anniston reminded them. “At ten bucks a pop, they won a grand total of hundred and twenty dollars.”

  “That’s me,” Prentiss shouted. “I had works of art.”

  Mitch cleared his throat to correct that, but Raine pulled him back. “Don’t say anything. I don’t care about the pool.”

  “Are you sure? He’s bound to find out eventually that there were two winners, not one.”

  “Nah, it’s okay. I think most people went for the gold,” Raine whispered. “Except for us. Let’s just leave it at that. This is exciting enough, at least it is for me. I’m basking in the moment. Imagine, witnessing the recovery of work from the likes of Tiepolo and Caravaggio, painti
ngs thought lost forever. Who knows? The next set of boxes could hold a Klimt or a Poussin.”

  “I’m pretty jazzed about it myself. Being a part of seeing these hanging in a museum somewhere is pretty significant.”

  “Yes, but you’ve been through this a couple of times before with a lot better loot. As much as I love art, I guess it’s okay to admit now that I was secretly hoping we’d find a cargo full of gold.”

  Mitch laughed. “I think we all were. But hey, there are still forty-five more boxes to bring up. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  That afternoon when it came Tessa’s and Jackson’s turn to don their diving suits, the two followed protocol and checked each other’s gear. As they stood on the dive platform, Jackson turned to her and stared. “You look like the Greek goddess Aphrodite.”

  The declaration caught her off guard. “I do?”

  “Yeah. I’m a lucky man.”

  Amused at his mood, she returned the favor. “And you look like a kid on Christmas morning about to take off running down the hallway to see what’s under the tree.”

  “I kinda feel like that. Do you suppose this is the kind of adrenaline Garret feels every time he rides through a wave? Or what Mitch experiences whenever he dives on a sunken ship?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Maybe for the first time I understand why they do what they do for a living.”

  “It’s your turn to explore,” Tessa told him.

  “Our turn,” he corrected, before stepping off into the ocean’s depths. She followed him down into the cold Atlantic.

  Once the U-boat came into view, the sight blew him away. Here in front of him was a piece of history, a slice of another era, chock full of treasures. The treasures didn’t have to be museum pieces or prized artifacts. That didn’t matter. Everything the sub had to offer hadn’t seen the light of day since Hitler had been alive.

  Jackson persuaded Tessa to indulge him in a tour around and through the boat, poking into all those dark corners they’d only seen on video. Up close was much better than viewing it from in front of a laptop screen.

  After forty-five minutes of exploring they started hefting and loading up another five boxes. But as they made their way to the top, Jackson made a decision about his future.

  Livvy’s death had changed them all in one way or another. Going after her killers had been surreal. But the dive itself had given him an entirely different perspective. He hoped his brothers would agree.

  Above them, Prentiss noticed the winch straining more with this haul, more than it had before. “Pass the word that we have a much heavier load this time around than the last one.”

  That revved everyone’s gold fever back up again.

  Soon Jackson and Tessa surfaced and stood on the deck with everyone else gathered around, hoping for better treasure this time.

  They had to wait for Walsh to burn off the wing nuts. It was Anniston who lifted out something wrapped in cloth. There were ten bundles. She unwrapped the first and uncovered a set of printing plates for twenty-dollar bills. In fact, everything in the box was either plates for United States currency or British pounds. The next boxes were just as disappointing, full of stacks of counterfeit hundred dollar bills.

  But they didn’t give up. When Jackson wanted to go down again, Tessa gave her spot to Walsh. Since this was Walsh’s first look at the sub in person, he had to inspect the boat from stem to stern just as Jackson had done on his earlier trip. The two men journeyed through the wreck like kids exploring a cave. Time got away from them until the alert sounded on Jackson’s wrist that they’d been down almost two hours. They quickly loaded up the cargo net with five boxes picked at random and headed topside.

  Three of these crates held German firearms, mostly Luger pistols. The other two contained books, old ones.

  Garret and Anniston took another turn before supper, but the results of their boxes were the same, a few sculptures that would no doubt be given back to France.

  The letdown among the crew was evident as they gathered in the galley to eat a batch of Blaine’s chili. That disappointment stayed with everyone until bedtime.

  So far, they’d opened a total of twenty boxes. And all they had to show for their effort was priceless artwork that would end up returned to renowned museums or earmarked for displays on the walls of fancy galleries.

  That was all fine and dandy, but gold would’ve been a whole lot better.

  Dawn brought a new attitude. The crew bustled around like a swarm of bees attacking a budding honeysuckle vine. The prospect of more boxes renewed their spirits and made them ready to tackle the sub all day long if necessary.

  Mitch posted the dive schedule in the galley. And at breakfast everyone found out they’d work in pairs for two hours and then switch out to another pair of divers. That way it would make everyone feel like they were part of the hunt and no one was overextended or pushed to the limit.

  “I see you put yourself and Raine on the dive schedule,” Garret noted. “I don’t think you two are ready.”

  “Why’s that?” Mitch asked.

  “Because I saw you at the computer in the command center making out the roster and your hands were still shaking. And last night at supper, Raine dropped her spoon, twice.”

  Mitch blew out a breath, raked his fingers through his hair. “Okay, we might be pushing it a tad to go back down today, but this is an opportunity of a lifetime. Raine suggested last night we should at least be getting this down on video. We’re making history here, even if the crew is somewhat frustrated.”

  “She has a point. And this is already historic no matter what we find. Everyone on this boat knows that. I listened to them over breakfast this morning and they’re revved up. My take is they’re having the time of their lives. Which makes my point. You’re surrounded by an entire crew willing to do anything for you. Let them. I’m happy to film the dives. Or Jackson could do it. He’d stay down there for hours if you’d let him. I hate to mess up your dive schedule, but consider this. We could make it three divers, one with a camera.”

  Mitch smiled. “Go for it. Maybe Raine and I should stay on the sidelines at least another day. Fix the roster for me, will you?”

  “Sure.” Garret took the time to glance over at the stockpile of artwork and other items already tucked away in fresh watertight storage crates. “I know part of what’s bothering you.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Mitch said sadly.

  “It’s hard to come to terms with the fact that all this stuff is the reason Livvy, Ally, and Blake lost their lives.”

  “Between you and me, I’m fine with doing my part as a salvor, but that’s as far as it goes. The truth is I’ll be happy to unload what we’ve pulled up so far. Because the cost was just way too high.”

  After Garret reshuffled the schedule, Sebastian and Jenkins led off the day with Jackson doing the filming. Dominka had opted out entirely, explaining that diving wasn’t her thing.

  This time, when they brought up their five boxes and cracked them open, inside was a cache of antiquities, gold and bronze statues, silver crosses, and one sculpture, wrapped in old German newsprint.

  “Will we ever find anything that doesn’t go to a museum?” Jenkins moaned. “I’m all for preserving art and all that, but I’d like to see a few gold coins taking up space in one of these crates.”

  Jenkins got his wish with the next batch of boxes. Prentiss felt well enough to dive and did so with his buddy, Blaine. They brought up gold and silver coins, stashed away in cloth sacks and bundled with rope. Sebastian captured it all on film.

  “Now we’re talking,” Jenkins said.

  They’d barely unloaded the chests when another three divers dropped into the water. This time Walsh was paired with Garret while Anniston did the camerawork.

  The dives now were mostly routine. Other than spotting several small tiger sharks lurking around the bow, the only other sea life that came calling were squid or the occasional loggerhead or a school of clownf
ish that brightened up the shadowy sea.

  Anniston had never experienced this kind of pure joy from the ocean. She’d been diving for years. But this, the adrenaline rush of holding a piece of history in your hands, was too powerful to pass up. Even if it all got shipped off to a warehouse wherever it had started out, it was a mighty strong pull.

  When they reached the top and unsealed these newest boxes, Mitch found a row of tube-like containers. He dumped the first canister out and stared at fat diamonds, sparkling in the sun. There were other canisters filled with rubies and sapphires just as glitzy as the diamonds. Another canister held nothing but pearls.

  The next chest was loaded with rows of gold bars stamped with the Nazi emblem. Applause broke out behind him.

  But for Mitch the buzz sounded far away.

  Standing there on the bridge, Mitch picked up a single bar, held it in his hand as the sunlight danced along the edges giving it almost a halo effect.

  His fingers tightened around the bullion. Clutched in his hand, history came rushing back to him. How many people had died for this six-inch piece of precious metal? How had it been formed and from what? How many gold wedding bands and fillings had it taken to create this one piece? Hitler’s regime had stolen from so many people, the Jews, stolen their lives, their culture, their possessions, taken anything of value. And for what?

  Seventy years later, through a series of bizarre events, an evil greed had swept in and taken a part of his own family. And why? For the lust of this yellow metal.

  Raine slipped her arm into his, laid her head on his shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking. So much blood spilled to make that stupid little gold bar.”

  He turned to her. “Some women would beg me to see the light and keep this, all of it.”

  “I’m not one of them.”

  “I know. And that’s why I fell in love with you so early in my life. Even then, I knew what was in your heart.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three - Justice

  Before they could head home, before Mitch could leave the sub in its resting place, he needed more closure. He needed to do one more thing. He decided it was time to dive on the Patagonia Pike. Enough days had passed that he deemed the area safe. Fortunately for him, Garret and Jackson agreed.