Alicia flicked her eyes toward the window where a faint purplish smudge was beginning to show. “It’s not tonight anymore.” She sighed. “What a first day in the Caribbean.”
“Didn’t live up to your expectations?” Healey said with a grim smile.
“Well, I usually save the gun battles for the second week away.”
“Anyway,” Caitlyn said. “To show you the kind of man Morgan was—the governor of Panama sent a message asking how he’d overcome such a larger force of men and asked him not to attack Panama City. He also included a jewel with the note. Morgan sent him a pistol in return and said he’d be coming to reclaim it later. Now, more crucially, Morgan stayed in Porto Bello for over two months.”
“Why is that crucial?” Healey asked quickly.
“Because, dopey, it gave him time. Time . . . to do anything. My guess is he wasn’t drinking the whole time, though the man had a huge reputation as a drinker.”
“You mean he had time to hide the bulk of his treasure?”
“Now you’re talking. The take for this town alone was at least two hundred thousand pieces of eight, and that included the ransoming of prisoners. You see, these pirates or privateers, they were more ruthless than most of us know. Don’t be taken in by Johnny Depp and co.”
Alicia flicked at Healey’s ear. “Beauty don’t come with brains, eh kiddo? And Caitlyn, stop with the dissing of the Depp.”
Crouch stepped forward. “All right, that’s all well and good. But the maps are to be followed in a strict order. How do we know Porto Bello comes first?”
Caitlyn turned around in her seat. “How about the map?”
Crouch now showed them the work he’d been doing. “Well, take a look. This is all I can remember seeing, but it’s not a bad start to a pirate treasure hunt, deadly as it may yet become.”
He laid several sheets of paper out on the table.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The team browsed through the various creations Crouch had made. Caitlyn sighed and then laughed a little as she handled the sheets of paper.
“Problem?” Crouch asked.
“I’ve seen better coastline drawings,” Alicia said. “Just sayin’.”
“Nothing wrong with them,” Caitlyn said. “But I’m from the current age, Michael. All the maps I use are digital and can’t be touched. I’m a researcher and might have started off picking through dusty shelves but the only dust I touch these days is on top of my computer. It feels odd, handling real paper research.”
“I have to say,” Russo spoke out, “that I don’t see why we should follow them in order. Are you saying one may be a red herring? Or that they are deliberately jumbled?”
“Probably something to do with this.” Alicia tapped the first map where Crouch had written several lines. “Follow these maps the right way, or you may have to bite the bullet.”
Healey shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“Basically, a warning,” Caitlyn said. “Many of today’s sayings were born in pirate days. Blood is thicker than water. Bitter end. Calm before the storm. And—bite the bullet.” She pressed a few buttons. “Apparently sailors were given a bullet to bite on during difficult operations before the use of anesthetics. Hence, bite the bullet. Facing up to something rather unpleasant.”
“You’re not suggesting bloody traps?” Alicia moaned. “I hate traps. Healey—you’re youngest. You go in first.”
Caitlyn shrugged. “All we know is there is a warning. Don’t you think we should heed it?”
Russo capitulated with a gesture. Alicia held up the map before her eyes. “Caitlyn, can you get a picture of the Panama coastline up on that screen?”
“Don’t take that sketch as gospel,” Crouch said. “My memory may be bordering on eidetic but it’s not picture perfect by any means.”
“Am I being stupid?” Healey asked, rather dangerously, as Caitlyn and Alicia compared the coastlines. “But why are we just assuming these are treasure maps? Because some diver said so? I mean, how lucky would it be to find these particular maps as they’re searching all five wrecks?”
“You’re suggesting they’re fakes?” Crouch asked him. “Well, anything is possible. But don’t be too cynical. Many chests have been brought up from the depths and they have some kind of radar that can identify objects. It’s believed there could be thousands of bottles of rum on those ships. The real Captain Morgan rum. How cool is that?”
“So they aren’t fakes?” Healey looked confused.
“My gut says not, my head says faint possibility. But I’ve been running with my gut for years.”
“And in any case we’ll soon find out,” Alicia said. “This could very well be the right coastline.”
“It could also be a hundred others.” Russo peered over, playing devil’s advocate.
“Just read the next sentence,” Crouch said quietly.
“Uh?” Alicia looked over to the map’s margin. “The Spaniards were between the devil and the deep blue sea, three forts down and we were in hot pursuit. That place was a rich picking and we used it as our port for as long as we pleased.”
Crouch nodded. “I can’t honestly recall the rest but the next paragraph I do remember talks about going ‘inland with our blood money. ’ ”
“And that leads us to this Porto Bello how?” Russo asked.
“The three forts,” Caitlyn said immediately. “Morgan and his men destroyed them on the way into the town.”
“So you knew all along?” Alicia clucked a little. “Why not tell us straight away?”
Crouch took a seat. “Because I prefer you question my reasoning, come at it a different way. If we all end up with the same answer then it has to be the right one. Besides, I only knew when Caitlyn described the battle for Porto Bello.”
“I guess it could be possible that each site holds a further clue,” Caitlyn added. “Or a portion of the loot.
“Only one way to find out,” Crouch said, holding up a bottle of water in salute.
“Not exactly the drink I’d have chosen.” Alicia placed the maps in a small pile. “But it’ll do. Are we doing this then?”
“Oh yeah,” Crouch said. “If only to catch Jensen and put that bastard out of business.”
Caitlyn pulled a new website up on her computer. “Panama, here we come.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alicia soon realized that modern Porto Bello lacked a little of the majesty of old. Today an incredibly laid-back fishing village it was almost impossible to imagine it as the greatest Spanish port in the region. Peruvian gold, Spanish doubloons, unimagined riches from the Far East all came through this local capital, destined for Spain She knew that, despite all the attacks through the years, crumbled ruins of the old fortresses still stood among newer homes and dwellings, all adding an atmospheric ambiance to the little place. When the team arrived by boat, the residents took little notice of them.
People are always arriving by boat, their pilot told them. They don’t linger long. Walk through the ruins and they’re gone. Whatever they are looking for, they don’t find it here.
Alicia led the way up the pebbly beach, knowing the others had her back and keeping a sharp eye open for Jensen and his cronies. No telling where they might pop up next. They had traveled over from Jamaica and they had come prepared. Alicia still hated boat travel, but fancied she should try to get used to it pretty soon since they were following a pirate around the Caribbean. Hours later though, she still hated it.
“Should’ve taken a plane,” she muttered at Crouch.
“Too visible,” he said. “We don’t know where Jensen is and who he knows.”
Alicia saw the logic, but hated the consequences. “Yeah, yeah.”
Healey hitched his backpack a little tighter. Discreet boat travel also meant the team could bring weapons and other questionable equipment along with tents and sleeping bags, fodder, water, and much more. All of them wore heavy packs and sweated under the midday sun.
“Let’s get o
ut of this heat,” Crouch said. “We’re tourists. Let’s tour.”
With the blue waters at their backs and acres of greenery before them, the five found a rutted track and started to follow it. Crouch had a map of the area and produced it as they walked. Alicia wiped sweat from her brow and peered over.
“Where we headed?”
“Just trying to get our bearings. The old main port should be a few miles this way.”
They trekked for a while, saying nothing. Healey and Russo ranged a little inland and watched the rear whilst Crouch and Alicia kept eyes open to the front. All they saw were a few local residents tending a few small fields or fishing offshore. Nobody looked up.
“Steady away,” Alicia said. “Nobody in anyone’s business. I think I could retire somewhere like this.”
Crouch looked over. “Retire? Am I talking to the real Alicia Myles?”
“I don’t mean tomorrow, for fuck’s sake,” she said, confirming that he was. “I mean . . . eventually.”
“Still . . . you seem different than when last I saw you.”
Alicia studied the glittering tops of the steady waves. “I’m trying, Michael. No more running into the sunset. No more moving away after every nasty little incident.”
“You putting down roots?” He sounded a little disbelieving.
“Maybe. Let me put it this way—you’ve very lucky I came. Even more so than you thought.” Of course she couldn’t yet mention her other reason for coming. She needed privacy for that.
“Good.” Crouch nodded. “Good. If there’s anything I can do . . .”
“Oh, I’m sure there will be.”
A long, green and furrowed track ran ahead until they could see the ruins of the old fort at the harbor. It wasn’t much to look at now, but hundreds of years ago no doubt presented an imposing sight. The spectacle of tourists wandering around it now, their white hats pulled low and pink limbs turning even redder, doused even Crouch’s enthusiasm for the hunt.
“So that’s the harbor where Morgan eventually docked his ships?” Alicia shielded her eyes.
“Yep,” Crouch said. “We’re finally here. Let’s see what it has to offer.”
An uneventful hour passed as the team kicked around the ruins of the old fort and worked out some points of reference.
“One thing’s for sure,” Caitlyn said as she studied some nearby trees. “If Jensen’s around we won’t miss him.”
Very few people passed as the team worked and the sun descended well past its zenith. Alicia spent some time studying the quiet, gleaming waters and tried to imagine what it must have been like to see several pirate ships anchored out there as their brethren scrambled to shore. Terror. Hatred. A sense of ruin. Invaders always left devastation in their wake.
Crouch called them all together and Alicia took the opportunity to eat. The maps appeared once more and Crouch drew their attention to the writing he’d memorized.
“Carried away it was, inland with our blood money. The channel behind, the forest ahead. We returned soon enough. Below decks among timber spars it was sent, but the trees they tell a story all their own. Our Black Book, buried there. As the crow flies, through two stands and at the foot of the hill.”
“Clear as fucking mud that,” Alicia said.
“It’s not often we agree,” Russo nodded, “but Milady has a point.”
“The channel behind, the forest ahead.” Crouch turned and held up a hand. “Clearly marks the way. Of course, if these maps had never been found nobody would ever have known where to look.”
“And the Black Book?”
“A reference to the treasure or the chests. Or whatever. Clearly they buried something out there and it needs to be found.”
Crouch set off at a pace and the others hurried to catch up. Alicia saw that he almost looked hassled, as if doubting himself. Maybe he’d missed a line? It would be easy to do, despite a superb memory. She checked that the main channel into port was at her back and set off in as straight a line as she could manage. It occurred to her that, to the hard-drinking Morgan, a straight line might not be what it was to Michael Crouch, but she decided this wasn’t the time to voice such thoughts. Maybe later.
The first stand of trees was dense and hard to push through, the second just up ahead after another stretch of flat ground. The heat shimmered all around and the sounds of insects filled the air. A bird swooped overhead, its bright plumage searing the skies with beauty. Alicia smelled earth, tree sap and mold, and walked upon a soft, loamy surface behind Russo, surprised that he held the branches back for her and wary in case he let one twang back. She would have. But maybe Russo was more of an adult.
Crouch entered the second stand of trees, still careful to check the position of the channel which they could now only see in glimmers through gaps between leaves and trees. The clearing here was a bit of a sunspot, radiating heat between walls of trees with a now darkening patch of sky up above. Crouch passed from sight.
Alicia pressed on, assessing the entire area as she went. They all had hands close to concealed weapons at this point since they knew Jensen could already be here. Crouch paused as a huge tree flummoxed him, its widespread branches and clinging leaves just too thick to penetrate.
“Stay there, Russo,” he said. “I’ll go around and pick you up on the other side.”
“I’ll join you.” Alicia didn’t want Crouch to venture off alone. She squeezed to his side and together they circumvented the big tree, resumed position and then waited for the others to come around.
“I am sorry about Beau.”
Alicia blinked and felt a rush of surprise. Crouch had caught her out. “Oh, thanks. He got what was coming to him, I guess.”
“I never pegged him for a traitor.”
“Not even after he switched sides to join you?”
“No. I’m rarely a bad judge of character but I trusted that man.”
Alicia hung her head. “Same here.”
“I realize he used to be your boyfriend, Alicia, and I’m sorry.”
“I made my own decision, Michael. The new one’s much better.”
It was supposed to ease the rising tensions, but Crouch didn’t smile. “Matt Drake has many a demon to tame.”
“Same as anyone who’s lived past maturity.”
The others were getting close now, but Crouch took one more moment to engage her. “I recruited Beau. He was my responsibility. Did I miss something? Or did I want to?”
Alicia could think of no quick reply, and then the rest of the team joined them. Crouch pushed ahead, threading the last of the trees and they found themselves in a sheltered clearing with a small brook running through the center.
“At the foot of the hill,” Crouch intoned.
Beyond the burbling brook a sloping hill led directly up to another thick body of trees. Its banks were a verdant green and unsullied, the flowers that grew there wild and free. Crouch walked out toward the brook.
“So,” he said, looking around. “Who’s got the spade?”
Russo grunted. “Who’d ya think?” He shrugged out of his backpack and laid it on the floor.
“Does this feel right?” Alicia asked. “Does this really feel right to you?”
Crouch acquiesced with a slump of the shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not. But the verse was written on the set of maps and it led us here. What do we have to lose?”
“To be honest—” Alicia stared at the spade Russo produced from the backpack, a heavy, broad-bladed tool “—who wouldn’t want to dig for buried treasure?”
“That’s the spirit.” Crouch found his own, smaller spade and made a beeline through the brook. “Take perimeter, Healey.”
Alicia watched Healey leap off into the woods to start a recce and took in the general ambiance of the place. One might feel nothing bad had ever happened here. One might even feel nothing bad ever happened anywhere. But, sadly, these places were few and far between. Her friends, they all had their secrets. Healey had been mercilessly bullied by his
brothers and shown no love by his parents and then run away to join the Army. He was still struggling. Russo continually controlled a Berserker rage, always coping and dealing with the knowledge that sometime, somewhere, it was going to erupt once more.
Her darker thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a shovel striking earth. Russo was already on the job. “Hey,” she said. “I’d like to see a little of that action.”
*
An hour passed, then two. The bright blue patch of canvas above their heads faded and shaded slowly to dark colors and then to pitch black. The team pitched tents and made them safe, then took a walk back toward the beach, leaving Healey and Caitlyn on guard. The air remained at a balmy temperature and the cool breeze felt good on their exposed skin. Nobody spoke a word during the short walk, but took in the relaxed atmosphere and almost utter quiet.
It was far from a common sensation they’d all enjoyed for most of their lives.
“Like I said before,” Alicia eventually spoke up. “I could get used to this.”
Russo started to nod in agreement and then appeared to remember who was speaking. “For once, I’d say your face is dirtier than your mind.”
“Nothing wrong with a dirty mind, Robster.”
A grunt. “Depends who you share it with.”
Ahead now, the ruined fort overlooked the rolling waters and a bright moon shone upon rippling waves. All three soldiers drank it in for less than half a minute, and then Alicia voiced the thoughts of all three.
“Shit, let’s get back to work. Any more of this I’m gonna lose my edge. Or go mad.”
There was no more work that night, since the shadows filled all the spaces and flashlights weren’t good enough to work by. The holes were already deep but nothing that glittered had revealed itself so far. The team took a few hours’ rest, switched for sentry duty and were up before dawn the next day. A quick meal and they were back at it. Caitlyn fetched water from the clear stream and left it for the diggers to cool themselves off. Russo was already stripped to the waist by early morning, making Alicia shade her eyes every time she glanced over in his direction.
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