Troubled Waters td-133

by Warren Murphy

  "You stole the family fortune!" Kidd shouted.

  "You stole it first," Chiun retorted. "How many human beings died because the Kidd pirates lusted for trinkets and females?"

  "We lived by a code of honor and discipline!"

  "So does the Mafia and they're slime, too," Remo said. "I knew you had some secret going on, Chiun. Are you telling me one of the Masters was on this island fighting pirates?"

  "Yes. Once. There is something you should know," Chiun added with quiet amusement. "The gold that belonged to the Kidd pirates never left the island."

  Kidd looked as if he had just been slapped. "Liar!" he retorted hotly.

  "A Master of Sinanju never lies," Chiun responded.

  Remo snorted. Chiun gave him a glare and continued.

  "My ancestor found where the chests were dug up," Kidd rattled off. "They searched everywhere. There was no trace of any other digging. They knew the island, every square inch of it. If the gold was here they would have found it."

  "But the Master was still here," Chiun said. "And when he was bored with their games he wiped them out. Would he leave with the gold and come back again?"

  "Yes! He must have!" Kidd replied fiercely.

  "No."

  "We know he left without the gold after murdering my ancestors-that is how the family history tells it! He did not have the gold then!"

  "Correct," Chiun said.

  "So it must have been removed prior to that!"

  "Incorrect."

  "No, no, we would have found it. They searched. They came back and searched again. Even though we stopped pirating, my family came here for three generations, always searching for the treasure. If it was here, it would have been found!"

  Kidd was emphatic. To believe that the treasure had always been right under his nose for all these years was simply too bitter a pill.

  Hands in his kimono sleeves, a slight smile touching his mouth, the tiny, ancient Korean man said, "It is here."

  "Where, then? Prove it!"

  The smile became slightly more amused. "It was never removed from where your ancestor buried it. My ancestor simply dug deeper into the hole that the old Kidd made for it."

  "No. My ancestors thought of that. There's the water table. If you try to go deeper, the water just makes the hole keep filling itself in again with sand. It's impossible to penetrate any deeper."

  "Impossible for you. Impossible for your fleabitten ancestors. No problem for a Master of Sinanju."

  Kidd sneered. "You lie."

  "No."

  "Prove it."

  Chiun sighed. "If I must."

  "What? Huh? Why can't we just kill him now?" Remo demanded, his patience running thin.

  Chiun shot him a baleful look, but his voice was almost buttery. "This man deserves to know his heritage before he is removed from this world. We'll allow him to see the gold of his ancestors before he goes. Remo, take him."

  "Why don't you take him?"

  Chiun wrinkled his nose. "I think not. He has soiled himself."

  Indeed, although Kidd himself had hardly noticed it, the stew had finally caught up with him, and his baggy-legged trousers were sloshy and stinky.

  "You're the one all fired up about getting more gold," Remo complained. "Like Sinanju even needs more gold."

  Chiun's face reddened in the firelight. "Sinanju always needs more gold! Have I taught you nothing, imbecile?"

  "All right, don't have a sea cow. Come on, Cap'n. Could you at least see to the prisoners, Little Father?"

  "Of course," Chiun said magnanimously.

  "HE'S LYING, you know," Kidd said.

  "Been known to happen," Remo conceded.

  "He said the Masters of Sinanju never lie!"

  "That was an untruth. How far is this place?"

  "Just up ahead," Kidd said. "We'll see what you dig up. I know the treasure is not there. I know it."

  "Okay. Fine."

  "I know it. I mean it."

  "Okay, okay, you know it! Is this the place?" They were in a clearing in the trees no more than eight feet in diameter. The soil was sandy. "It's one of the lowest points on the island," Kidd said. "The chests were eight feet down, about. It's been dug up over and over in the last three hundred years. At twelve feet you hit water in the sand. You can't get through it. It's been tried a dozen times. You just can't."

  "Fine," Remo said. "The treasure is not-"

  Remo paralyzed the malodorous pirate with a pinch and propped him up against a tree. Then he started digging with his hands.

  The sand flew out of the ground as if some high-tech piece of machinery were pile-driving into it. Captain Kidd, mute, paralyzed and stinky, watched the hole appear as if by magic, frowning deeper by the second.

  Then he noticed where the sand was going-flying into the air and sprinkling down on his head and shoulders, and piling up around his legs. His feet were already covered-he could see his shins disappearing if he really strained his eyeballs.

  Soon he felt the cool pressure of the sand reach his crotch. By the time he was chest deep in the sandpile, Remo was out of sight, so deep was he in the hole he had created.

  But it had only been maybe fifteen minutes-this was impossible! Kidd tried to tell himself this was all a bad dream.

  Kidd was now buried to his chin.

  The sand coming out of the ground was now soggy, and it landed on his head in globules. Seawater trickled down his face.

  The ancient Korean appeared in the moonlight and bent to peer into the hole. "Are you not finished yet?"

  "Hey, I don't see you in here shoveling dirt!" Remo cried from the hole.

  "Nor shall you," Chiun answered.

  "Are the prisoners all right?"

  "Yes, yes, the healthy ones are succoring the unhealthy ones. They found a stable in the rear where the used-up prisoners were housed in filth until they finally died-some forty of them. The loudmouthed daughter of the senator is supervising the rescue. She has already called for medical assistance on one of the boat radios."

  Kidd's mind was sidetracked violently. Senator's daughter? Who?

  "So what was she doing playing dress-up, anyway?" said the voice from the hole.

  "Getting married," Chiun said impatiently.

  "We do not have all night, lazy boy! Keep digging!" Kidd's vision was swimming. Stacy was the senator's daughter?

  "Okay, I'm at the water level. Now what?" Remo called.

  "Now go in and get the treasure! Before the authorities arrive would be ideal!"

  "It's muck!"

  "It's sandy water. It is not a challenge to a skillful master. I'll come and get you if you don't surface."

  "Fine! Whatever!"

  Kidd heard some sloshing, then nothing.

  Had the white man really slithered into the wet sand of the water table? If so, he would never, ever pull free! But the little Korean didn't look worried.

  Ten minutes passed. Kidd knew the white man had to be dead, but something told him he was wrong. The old Korean stood watching the hole calmly. Then came more sloshing.

  "Next time you want me to go swimming in mud," said Remo from the hole, "I ain't gonna!"

  "Give those to me," the Korean demanded. He pulled one heavy chest, then another, out of the hole. They were corroded chests, but they clearly hadn't been constructed of wood. They looked intact.

  The Korean was dancing. It was almost a jig. Kidd looked on in horror. All this time it had been there. For all these years he had been this close to unfathomable wealth.

  "Hey, Chiun," Remo said, brushing at the damp sand that was caking his body, "was it Shang-Tu?" Chiun became still and looked at Remo in surprise. Kidd rolled his eyes at Remo, too, clearly recognizing the name.

  "I do not recall ever telling you of this episode in Shang-Tu's life," Chiun said.

  "No, but he's the loser who let the king of Siam rip him off, right?" Remo said, proud of his deductive historical insight. "Right time frame, and he seemed like the kind of knucklehead who
would get his hands on a pirate treasure and then lose it again."

  "Shang-Tu did not lose the treasure. He simply could not bring it with him when he left the island and planned always to return for it. He never had the chance, and the instruction he left for finding it proved to be inadequate," Chiun explained.

  Then the old Korean turned on Captain Kidd. "One thing more you should know, pirate. I looked for the burying place this afternoon. I could not find it. I must thank you for leading my son to the spot."

  The bitterness became a bonfire in the body of Thomas Kidd.

  "Remo!" Chiun called. "More sand!"

  "Sure thing."

  The wet soggy sand reached Kidd's mouth, his nose and finally his blazing eyes.

  Kidd was thankful for it. Death, now, was a mercy.

  Chapter 19

  Remo placed the call to Folcroft Sanitarium from the Melody when they were just an hour out of Nassau. They had found the boat floating at anchor at the pirate's dock and made their getaway before the first rescue craft could get to the scene.

  "You made the evening news on CNN," Smith said. "You were successful, I assume."

  "It went all right," Remo allowed. He had not watched the news and did not plan to, but his curiosity was piqued. "Who's cleaning up?"

  "Authorities from Martinique have claimed the jurisdiction," Dr. Smith replied, "although their provenance is far from certain. As it happens, they're cooperating with our friends from DEA."

  "Your friends," Remo corrected him.

  "Carlos Ramirez and his bevy of Colombians were quite a bonus, Remo."

  "Should I recognize the name?"

  "He's low profile-or, he was-but I'm informed that he ranked third among the DEA's 'most wanted' fugitives from Columbia."

  "Do I get a bonus?"

  Smith cleared his throat. "In any case, aside from shutting down the pirates, you apparently took out the leadership and first-string soldiers of a leading cocaine ring in Cartagena."

  "Well, I had some help," Remo reminded him. "Of course, and that's another bonus. To the media, it looks like Kidd and this Ramirez person had some kind of private feud in progress, and they wiped each other out."

  "That's pretty close to the truth."

  "It's convenient." Dr. Smith was on the verge of sounding happy.

  "Don't get all exuberant on me, Smitty. I don't know if I can take it. Did they find Ethan Humphrey?"

  "Yes, the professor was found in the forest, buried up to his neck in the sand," said Dr. Smith.

  "Wonder how that happened."

  "The ants got at him and he nearly died-"

  "Aw."

  "But they choppered him to the mainland, and he was treated in time. They think he'll pull through.

  "Aw."

  "The man is an accessory to murder, hijacking, assorted other felonies. Police in the Dominican Republic want to have a talk with him and see if he can finger any more associates in Puerta Plata," Smith explained.

  "Well, I wish them luck."

  "There's still the matter of Stacy Armitage," said Dr. Smith. "Her father is concerned, as you may well imagine."

  "Right. It's getting closer to election time."

  "Remo-"

  "She's fine. I'll have her on a plane this afternoon."

  "Fine."

  The connection was severed.

  "Thanks. You take care, too. Bye-bye now," Remo said sarcastically and pressed some buttons. The display on the phone was supposed to go dark. Instead it said, "Menu Options: 1) Program Caller ID. 2) Program Quick-Dial Numbers. 3) Activate GPS."

  Remo pressed more buttons. The little green display wouldn't turn off. In fact, it was still glowing green when the phone sank beneath the waves a hundred yards off the port bow.

  Stacy, on the beach chair, lifted her sunglasses to watch it disappear, then haughtily allowed them to drop back in place.

  "I hate phones," Remo explained.

  "You hate a lot of things," she observed without rancor.

  "I do like your bikini top."

  "I'm not wearing the top." She grinned.

  "You saucy wench, that's what I like about it."

  "Eeee!" The wail came from the bridge of the Melody, where, above them, Chiun was busily inventorying his long-lost treasure chests and, when he had time, keeping the craft on course to Nassau.

  "What's the matter with the old fart?" Stacy asked.

  Remo smiled. He really liked it when Stacy called Chiun "the old fart."

  "Tell the young harlot this!" Chiun cried out, and the rest of his instructions were too softly spoken for Stacy to hear.

  "Well, what did he say?"

  Remo grimaced. "It's not very nice."

  "So clean it up enough that my delicate sensibilities will not be offended."

  "Uh," Remo said. "Well, in a nutshell, he said if he has to listen to any more of our, uh, sexually charged banter that he'll be forced to kill us both or himself."

  "I see," Stacy said, expression unchanged behind her sunglasses.

  "And could we please just go belowdecks and commence quote rutting unquote so that he is not forced to endure any more of said sexually charged banter."

  "I see." She sipped her bottle of water and stood, and a second later she was doing the same thing with the bikini bottom as she was with the top-not wearing it.

  "He's not going to spy on us, is he?" she asked.

  "Naw," answered Remo. "The old fart won't leave his gold."

  "For your insolence, I am not giving you a share!" Chiun squeaked from the bridge.

  "Big surprise," Remo said. He took the hand of the beautiful, naked senator's daughter and led her inside the Melody.

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