by Zoe York
“No,” Dex said, deadpan. “Do you? You were there, after all.”
The woman stiffened. “Yes, I was. And a good thing for you that turned out to be. Had I not called in the cavalry, Con would have taken off in the Neptune and left you and Katy stranded in the Celtic Sea.”
“We’re grateful for your help, Moira,” Katy said. Just not grateful enough to let you push us around. “But if you were supposed to look out for us, why did you take off with Jack yesterday?”
The woman’s face reddened. “Rick arranged to get rid of me.”
“Ah. You overplayed your role as the clingy girlfriend and he didn’t want you peering over his shoulder while he searched for the box.”
Moira nodded. “Rick was a cunning bastard. That’s also why he arranged for you two to room together. When one of the backers insisted he hire Katy, he realized someone else knew about the box. He was hoping you’d distract one another during the expedition and be too busy to notice what he was up to.”
Katy adopted her poker face. “Sorry we can’t help you. I have no idea where the box is.” This, at least, was true.
“No clue.” Dex shoved his hands into his pockets. “Damn shame, really. Those necklaces would have fetched a nice price.”
Moira shot him a dark look. “I didn’t hear that. I don’t want to know about your black market dealings.”
“Given how long you’ve been tailing him, I’m guessing you know all there is to know about how Dex makes his living.”
Moira met Katy’s icy glance and laughed. “Touché.”
“Well,” Seán said, straightening. “If you have no more questions for my brother and Dr. Ryan, I’ll see you out.”
Moira and Mr. Devon rose stiffly.
Although a muscle in Moira’s cheek betrayed her irritation, her smile didn’t falter. She extracted a crisp business card from her pocket and handed it to Dex. “If either of you happen to recall anything further, I can be contacted at this number.”
Katy snorted and Dex pinched her arm. Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Fine. If the necklaces show up, I’ll give you a call.”
Moira inclined her head the barest fraction and her mouth curved into an ironic twist. “Thank you, Dr. Ryan.”
After their visitors departed, Seán shut the door of the apartment and slid the numerous locks into place. He shot his brother a knowing look. “I put it in the safe behind Mum’s vinyl collection.”
Katy blinked. “What? You have the box?”
“Of course.” Dex flashed her a grin. “After that fucker Con stole it from you, he put in his salvage bag. As soon as I got you back to the boat, I nabbed it. Now where’s this fail proof safe of yours, bro? I can’t see it.”
His brother laughed. “That’s the whole point, you eejit. Why do you think I came out on the landing to meet you? I wanted to give the spooks a chance to root around the apartment and come up empty.”
Seán strode to the wooden shelf containing his vinyl collection and began removing records. At the back of the shelf, he pressed the wood paneling. It sprang open to reveal the door to a small safe.
Katy whistled. “Clever. Why does an Irish cop need a high-tech safe?”
“Because I used to work for the art fraud squad and I value home security.” Seán extracted the rusty box from the safe and held it out to Katy.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, frowning. “Aren’t you afraid of getting into trouble with your superiors?”
“Fuck them. I don’t take my orders from the British. If the higher-ups want to play nice with British intelligence, let them. I’m an Irish policeman. As Ms. Moira so aptly put it, this is above my pay grade.”
Katy took the metal case and placed it carefully on eating bar. “Want to take a look inside?”
“Hell, yeah,” Dex said and slipped a nifty army knife from his pocket. After a few minutes of fiddling, he eased the lid up and they peered inside.
“Holy crap.” Katy traced a fingertip of the lining. “This box was lined with solid gold. Someone went to an awful lot of trouble to make a jewelry case waterproof.”
Dex reached inside and removed rubbery sheeting from the box’s interior. “This is like playing pass the parcel at a kid’s birthday party.”
When they unraveled the last of the protective covering, a stack of material was revealed.
“Definitely not jewels,” Seán said dryly. “Bummer.”
Dex fingered the stack. “What are these?”
“Those are waxed cotton sheets. Naval forces used them as a form of waterproof paper in the early twentieth century. Courtesy of the gold-lined box and rubber covering, they’re still legible.” Katy picked up the top sheets and gasped. “Fuck me. Is this the plan for a chemical weapon?”
“Not just a plan,” Dex said gravely. “These are the instructions to make it.
Seán peered over Katy’s shoulder. “How do you two know this? You’re archaeologists, not scientists.”
“We took plenty of science classes as part of our degree,” Dex said. “Not enough to understand everything written on these pages, but we get the gist.”
“What sort of a weapon is it?” Seán asked. “Is it similar to the mustard gas the Germans used during the First World War?”
Katy shook her head. “I don’t know, but it looks like some serious shit.”
“What the hell was Alfred Vanderbilt doing with these papers?” Dex demanded. “Why would a wealthy American playboy transport top secret information of this nature to the British?”
Katy was pacing in front of the window. “Okay, with the caveat that we’ll never know what really happened, here’s my theory. Alfred Vanderbilt was traveling on the Lusitania to England to attend a meeting of the International Horse Breeders’ Association. This is a fact. Vanderbilt was known to feel very strongly that the United States should enter the war against Germany. According to his family, he intended to offer a fleet of wagons to the Red Cross Society and even volunteer as driver. Given his support of the British war effort, it’s not a huge stretch to imagine he might have agreed to carry sensitive documents with him on the journey.”
Dex nodded. “Right. It would have been the perfect cover. Who would suspect a dandy like Vanderbilt of thinking of anything except his own pleasure?”
“Exactly,” said Katy, “hence the surprise at eyewitness reports of his heroic behavior during the sinking. Which makes me suspect there was more to the man than horse flesh and women.”
Seán frowned. “How did the jewel case end up on the sea floor? Wouldn’t Vanderbilt have kept it locked in a safe during the voyage?”
“I’m guessing he did. When I was sorting through footage with Mickey at the library, he showed me some unpublished photos and eyewitness accounts. One mentioned Vanderbilt’s valet, Ronald Denyer, tossing aside the black box he was carrying to help a woman fasten her life jacket.” Katy tapped the case. “If this was what Denyer was holding, it would explain why it landed on the seabed. Even if it wasn’t on the deck when the ship went down, the safe in Vanderbilt’s room might have burst during the sinking.”
“Regardless of how these papers ended up at the bottom of the sea, what are we going to do with them now that they’re in my living room?”
Katy and Dex looked at Seán and then at one another.
“If the British intelligence are keen to get their paws on the plans after all this time,” Dex said, “I’m betting the substance described here could do serious damage.”
Seán shook his head. “It’s not just British intelligence. Before Moira kicked me out of the interrogation room, I was present when they questioned Con Driscoll. He didn’t mention what the box contained but he did say that James Taylor, the guy who hired him and Rick to salvage the box, was only the middleman. Taylor was to pass the contents of the box to an unnamed Russian.”
The three of them lapsed into a contemplative silence.
“I don’t like the idea of chemical weapons,” Dex said finally.
&nbs
p; “Neither do I.” Katy scrutinized the chemical equations on the century-old paper. “Do you smoke, Seán?”
The man glanced at Dex, then laughed. “No, but I have a fireplace and a box of matches.”
She held his gaze and held up a hand. “Toss them my way.”
— EPILOGUE —
Nine Months Later
Great Barrier Reef, Australia
Katy lounged on the double deckchair, sipping a fruit smoothie and savoring the salt-tinged breeze. The boat rocked slightly, lulling her into a state of relaxation. “This is bliss.”
Dex rolled over on his side and tickled her gently rounded belly. “Are you enjoying life as Mrs. Fitzgerald?”
“Yes. And given how often I’m expected to do my wifely duty, it’s just as well I’m enjoying it.” She tugged on his newly acquired beard and grinned. “Aren’t you hot beneath the facial fuzz?”
“Cheeky.” Dex blew a raspberry on her baby bump. “Do you think this little person will take after you or me?”
“In the facial fuzz department or otherwise?”
His grin turned Katy’s insides to mush faster than the Australian sun melted the ice cubes in her smoothie. “I’ll shave it off if you don’t like it.”
“No, keep it.” She rubbed his cheek. “It suits you.”
He propped his chin up on his hands. “Whichever one of us Baby Fitzgerald takes after, he or she is destined to be have a fascination for the water and shiny objects.”
Katy fingered the silver and jade ring on her wedding finger. “Or simply good taste in jewels.”
“I can’t decide whether I’m excited about my book launch tomorrow, or nervous as hell.”
She blew him a kiss. “You’ll rock it, babe. Even my brother enjoyed the book and he almost never reads fiction. You’re going to be the next Clive Cussler.”
“That’s the plan,” he said with a smile, “although part of me would rather put reality on hold and stay on this boat with you forever.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, running her fingers through his hair, “tempting as that sounds, I’m looking forward to settling into our new home and digging into my next research project. And—” she took his hand and laid it on her belly, “—I don’t intend to give birth on a boat.”
Dex traced the shape of a heart on her bare belly, making her laugh. And then she gasped. It was a small sensation at first, barely a ripple. “Dex,” she murmured and pressed his hand to her belly. “I think you might finally get to feel this baby move.”
Sure enough, the outline of a tiny foot protruded through Katy’s stomach. Each time Dex moved his hand to feel it, the foot shifted position.
“Contrary little creature, isn’t she?” he said, laughing.
“He is a sensible creature with excellent preservation instincts. I wouldn’t want my foot grabbed by a stranger.”
“I’m not a stranger,” Dex protested. “I’m her father.”
“Your hand is too restless. That’s why he always moves away.” Katy scrunched her brow in thought and then beamed. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you put your cheek against my belly? You could sing him a lullaby.”
He eyed the bump warily. “I’m a terrible singer. What if my caterwauling brings on labor?”
“You’re not that bad. Now hurry up. He’s active today.”
Dex dropped to his knees and laid his cheek on top of the bump. He hummed a few bars of his favorite rock song. No reaction.
“Keep going,” she urged. “You’re worse than I remember. Your singing is bound to wake up the baby.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly but continued humming.
While the minutes ticked by, they remained frozen in position, Dex singing off key and Katy developing a cramp in her leg. And then it happened: Callee Jane Fitzgerald kicked her father in the face.
—THE END—
Join Zara Keane’s newsletter at www.smarturl.it/zarakeanenews to receive a FREE novella from her Ballybeg series and hear about her new releases.
Want to read more about Dex's brother, Seán? His book is Love and Shamrocks!
For more adventure romance featuring sexy Irish alpha heroes, look for The Rock Star's Secret Baby in October 2015. Katy's brother, Liam, makes an appearance and he'll get his own story in The Navy SEAL's Holiday Fling.
THE BALLYBEG SERIES
Love and Shenanigans
Love and Blarney
Love and Leprechauns
Love and Mistletoe
Love and Shamrocks
THE BALLYBEG BAD BOYS
Her Treasure Hunter Ex
The Rock Star's Secret Baby (October 2015)
The Navy SEAL's Holiday Fling (December 2015)
CLICK HERE TO READ LOVE AND SHAMROCKS
— AUTHOR'S NOTE —
Thank you for reading HER TREASURE HUNTER EX. I hope you enjoyed Dex and Katy’s story.
I took artistic liberty and chose not to use underwater voice communication protocol for the underwater scenes. I did in an early draft but it made the dialogue clunky. In real life, technical divers and underwater archaeologists communicate using the method observed by the military, civil aviation, and emergency services (e.g.: “over” and “roger, out”).
While my book is a work of fiction, the RMS Lusitania is a real shipwreck and the controversies surrounding its sinking are based on fact. The wreck lies in 300 feet (91 m) of water, 11 miles (18 km) south of the lighthouse at Kinsale, Ireland. Ballybeg is fictional but its geography is loosely based on Kinsale, Cobh, and Clonakilty. Therefore basing Dex and Katy’s expedition team in Ballybeg made perfect sense.
For those of you interested in the history of the Lusitania, here are a few basic facts and links to further resources.
The Lusitania was a British luxury ocean liner that belonged to the Cunard Line. She embarked on her maiden voyage in 1907 and made 202 transatlantic crossings before being torpedoed by a German submarine on 7 May 1915, just off the coast of Ireland.
At the time of the sinking, the ship was en route from New York to Liverpool. The passengers included British, Irish, Canadians, and Americans. Among them were the Irish art collector and gallery director, Sir Hugh Lane, and the American millionaire, Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt.
With the exception of the story about the black case, the details I provided about Albert Gwynne Vanderbilt and his valet, Ronald Denyer, are true. Vanderbilt was known to sympathize with the British side in the First World War and to be frustrated by Thomas Woodrow Wilson’s reluctance to allow America to get involved.
The loss of life was devastating. Out of 1,962 verified passengers and crew, 1,201 died. Of the 129 children on board, 94 of perished. Of the 158 American passengers, 128 died. The loss of American lives increased the pro-war movement in America and was a contributing factor to America’s decision to enter the war in 1917.
German submarines had been active in the area since February 1915. Until the Lusitania was torpedoed, passenger ships had been considered safe from attack. The Lusitania’s captain was aware of the threat but assumed that the British Admiralty would send warships to escort the ship through the danger zone—as they had done on every other crossing since February. The warships never arrived. The message warning Captain Turner of specific submarine activity in the area through which he was to sail was so vague it was useless.
In contrast to the Titanic, the Lusitania was carrying more than enough lifeboats to accommodate her passengers and crew. Unfortunately, three factors combined to render them useless. First, the war against Germany had sucked the best sailors into the British Navy. This meant that the Cunard Line was forced to hire people with little experience at sea. Second, many of the crew who had been trained in launching the lifeboats were sorting cargo in preparation for the ship’s arrival in Liverpool. When the torpedo hit the cargo hold, they were killed outright. Finally, the ship sank in just 18 minutes. This didn’t allow enough time to launch more than a couple of lifeboats.
Another factor that contribu
ted to the high loss of life was the lifebelt situation. There were sufficient lifebelts on board for every person but passengers were unsure how to tie them properly. The result was that many passengers ended upside down in the water and drowned. We roll our eyes at the safety instructions at the start of every flight, but the Lusitania disaster is one of the reasons the instructions are repeated ad nauseum. After the Lusitania sank, instructions on how to correctly fasten a lifebelt became mandatory on passenger ships across the world and this practice carried over to planes.
The rescue effort was a catalogue of errors. The British Admiralty had introduced a rule that forbade other ships going to the rescue of the victims of submarine attacks. There was a logical reason for this: submarines often lurked in the area after the initial attack and fired on any ships or boats that came to the stricken ship’s aid.
Unfortunately, this rule also applied to the Lusitania. After the ship was hit, the ship’s captain sent out a distress signal. The HMS Juno was in Cork Harbour at the time and immediately set out to help the Lusitania. Unfortunately, Juno was ordered back to port because it was too valuable a ship to risk near a submarine. Had the Juno been allowed to continue to the scene of the disaster, it would have arrived within an hour. Instead, the rescue effort fell to fishermen in rowboats who braved the submarine threat and rowed for hours to reach the passengers.
The official enquiry into the sinking was a farce. Due to wartime secrecy, it was held in a closed court and the information revealed was selective. The Admiralty attempted to blame the ship’s captain for putting the Lusitania in unnecessary danger but this didn’t wash with the presiding judge. The official conclusion was that several torpedoes hit the ship. History has proven otherwise—the German submarine fired one torpedo. The second explosion had to have been caused by something within the ship. While various possible causes have been suggested over the years, the most logical explanation is that Lusitania was carrying munitions from neutral America to aid the British war effort.