“No diving for me,” Alicia put in. “Ever again.”
“Well, they do seem to have a confused image of Morgan around here,” Crouch said. “The current tourist port of Isla Vaca is named after him.”
“Romancing the pirates,” Alicia said. “Helps with the cash flow.”
“Y’know,” Russo said to her as the plane banked, “I can imagine you as a pirate. Lady Alicia and Calico Jack, plunderers of the high seas.”
“Fuck off, Russo.”
“An interesting and more pertinent fact to our mission,” Crouch then took it up, “is that in 2004 a team of researchers found another of Morgan’s vessels only four meters below the surface of the sea.”
“Like I said—” Alicia coughed “—no diving.”
“That’s hardly diving,” Healey pointed out.
“Well, it just shows how close these shipwrecks are. Anchored at shore, accidental damage. Some still unsalvaged.”
“And where to now?” Russo asked. “We can hardly start digging in Port Morgan.”
Crouch rustled the map. “We’re heading for the other side of the island. It’s pretty unclear, if I’m honest, but that, my friends, it the reason we chartered a seaplane.”
“Really?” Alicia raised both brows.
“Well, one of the reasons.”
“Ten minutes out,” the pilot informed them.
“Speaking of seaplanes and chartering,” Caitlyn said. “One day we will have to meet Mr. Sadler, our mysterious benefactor.”
Crouch nodded. “Oh, he’s not so mysterious. Rolland funds all kinds of searches and treks. At heart, he’s a kid, a treasure hunter like me. Just so happens he’s also a multi-millionaire.”
The team prepped their packs, always ready for anything. Crouch rolled up the map after explaining why they were headed for what looked like a deserted beach.
“It’s singled out in the only piece of script I could remember,” he admitted. “If this comes up blank, we could be all washed up.”
“On to map three?” Healey suggested.
“Well, there’s always that. But it would be good to get something solid behind us. Something real. Treasure-wise,” he added with a grin.
“Always the treasure.” Caitlyn laughed.
“On my mind when I wake up, on my mind when I fall asleep.”
“It amazes me how many ships they find, how many they salvage and search, and yet so little treasure,” Healey said. “I have to say—”
“Whoa,” Alicia interrupted. “Is this our deserted bay?”
The plane had been banking quite a bit as the pilot followed Crouch’s directions, flying over hills and valleys and the bluest of sparkling streams. Sunlight was the golden treasure here, and it bathed the whole beautiful land with its bright bounty. As they stared out of the window a canopy of trees ended and an arc of gilded beach began, lapped by a glittering sea. If that was all they could see, it would be a soothing vision, but Alicia had spotted something quite the opposite.
Seaplanes.
“They’re anchored just offshore,” she said. “Three of them.”
“Anchored?” Russo said. “Isn’t that like talking about an elephant’s hoof?”
“Whatever.” Alicia didn’t turn away from the window. “And what is it with you and hoofs anyway?”
“Do you see any men?” Healey was yet to make it to the window.
Alicia studied the scene below. Three white seaplanes bobbed a hundred feet away from the beach. Men sat in the floats and one sat with his legs dangling out of an open door. Two more men piloted a dinghy and, as their plane drew closer and the beach opened up, a whole bunch of figures could be seen congregated near the tree line. Tents were arrayed all around as well as a larger canopy.
“Looks like these guys have been here a while,” Alicia said. “Made themselves right at home.”
Some were stripped to the waist, others wore T-shirts and shorts, but most were at work, digging holes in the ground. Alicia imagined they almost certainly had a perimeter in place to ward off nosey neighbors and that the perimeter guards would be on the two-way right about now.
“Fly away,” she said. “Just bank clear. We can come in from the south and through the tree cover.”
Instantly, the plane banked hard, making Crouch stumble. Luckily he landed in one of the seats with nothing more than a look of embarrassment. The seaplane flew up and away, but already the men on the beach were staring at them, pointing, and arms were gesticulating back and forth.
“They recognized us. Shit,” Alicia grunted.
“How could they?” Caitlyn showed her naivety.
“Binos,” Healey said. “The perimeter team would have them, not to mention a few spotters on the beach.”
As the pilot climbed higher, Alicia saw one of the pilots scrambling into his seaplane, quickly followed by a half dozen armed men.
“Better break out your guns, boys,” she said. “It’s time to earn our keep.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
This particular model of seaplane had front and rear doors, and two long pontoons to land on. Crouch saw no profit in staying too high so the pilot brought the craft lower, trying not to complain but staring at the approaching enemy with eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry, Iceman,” Alicia said. “We’ll sort this in a jiffy.”
She hefted her rifle. Russo loaded his own beside her and Healey took the other side of the plane. As the other plane approached, Crouch cried: “Bank left and down!”
A jerk of the controls and a lightening of the stomach, and Alicia saw their plane dive under the other. She held onto the door handle as the plane came back up, but their enemy banked too, diving again. Caitlyn fell to the floor. Crouch held onto a seatbelt, refusing to strap in, in case he was needed. Their pilot came around in a wide loop and suddenly the planes were broadside to each other.
“I’ve seen this before,” Alicia said as she opened the door. “But it was between galleons, not planes.”
She poked the rifle out, steadied, and opened fire. Bullets slammed across airspace and into the other plane, shredding the metal skin. The pilot veered away. Alicia saw men falling in all directions.
“Modern age, modern warfare,” Russo said in answer to her comment. “At least we can’t sink.”
“Well, eventually we could but we’d have to crash-land first.”
Crouch tried to direct their pilot who seemed to be frozen at the controls. He climbed out of his seat to ask if he could take charge of the plane. The pilot stared at him aghast.
“You kidding?”
“No, sir. I am an accomplished military pilot.”
“Where was your last flight and what happened?”
“Um, well, over Niagara Falls in a helicopter and we . . . won.”
“You won? What do you mean?”
“It was a gun battle,” Crouch admitted with a sigh.
“Dude, you should stay away from things that fly.”
Alicia held on with grim determination. Their pilot was flying straight at the other plane, but then swung right at an order from Crouch. As the two winged crafts passed, Healey opened fire from his side of the plane. At the same time bullets ripped into their own hull. The sound of tortured metal and the terrible thudding of bullets filled the small space for seconds that felt like hours. The team hit the floor; the pilot shrieked.
“We’re getting the hell outta here!” he cried out.
“No,” Crouch told him. “Show your tail to them and they’ll quickly shoot you out of the skies. We have to stay fully mobile and as cunning as possible.”
The pilot girded his loins. Alicia held firm to the door, and Healey followed suit. Russo eyed it all as if wanting to push her out of the way and get involved. Their plane descended, then rose sharply, leveling off alongside the other.
More bullets were traded. Alicia picked out a man this time and took him down, seeing his falling body push aside two more. As the other plane passed she saw a big mercenar
y crowding his way through and out the door, jumping down to the pontoon with incredible confidence.
Or incredible stupidity.
She preferred to think the latter, but didn’t think too hard. As the planes came around again, she lined him up.
“Oh, holy crap.”
Concentrating on the man and not his ammo she’d failed to spot the H&K machine gun.
“Dive! Dive!” she cried, feeling like a submarine pilot. “Fucking dive!”
The pilot reacted instantly, hearing the urgency in her voice. Bullets grated across the top of their craft and lumps of shredded metal rained down. The pilot cleverly came back up the other side and lined Alicia up for a bit of retaliation.
She was ready. Steadying both aim and balance she destroyed glass and metal and even the struts of wings. Her own plane then plunged and her stomach hit the roof of her mouth.
“Wha . . . ?”
“Have to drop her down a bit.” The pilot grimaced. “The altitude’s stressing her out.”
Alicia figured it might be the pilot not the plane, but got on with it. Russo stared at her with demanding eyes.
“Go on, Robster. You can have a go.”
As the enemy plane came lower too, descending on top of them, Alicia saw the beach flying upwards. Most of the men had climbed out of the hole and were heading toward jeeps, the tents and their contents forgotten. Some carried guns, but others just ran. She wondered if many of them were just hired help. The two remaining seaplanes still bobbed in place, though several dinghies now surrounded them, filled with men.
An idea came to her, crazy but workable, and that was enough.
“Take us down to the sea,” she said. “And don’t hang around. If they see this coming, we’re sunk.”
Russo laughed. “Sunk?”
“Literally.”
The pilot, to his credit, didn’t question her, just headed toward the glittering waters with the other plane left wondering above. Alicia began to see faces more clearly, and get a grasp for the weapons they faced.
“Mostly handguns,” she said. “If this is Jensen’s crew they’re cheaply outfitted and running on air. No wonder he wants a score so bad.”
“Could be his last gasp. Crew losing patience. At each other’s throats. That kind of thing,” Healey said.
“Ready to mutiny?” Caitlyn asked with a scamp’s grin.
“Jensen figures he’s a pirate captain.” Alicia shook her head. “Maybe he’ll end up like one.”
By now the plane was approaching the blue waters of Haiti and most of the men aboard the dinghies had turned to watch. Some readied weapons. Others sat without moving as if wanting none of the violence.
“Ready for this?” Alicia asked.
“For what?” Russo asked. “What’s the plan?”
“We take another plane.”
The pontoons skimmed across and then plowed through the water, arrowing straight for the leading enemy plane. It slowed rapidly, forcing the Gold Team to hang on tightly, and the pilot sent it in a little swerve toward the end.
The craft came alongside nicely.
Alicia flung open the side door and followed Healey out into the bright, hot day. With weapons screaming they were all shock and awe, fire and brimstone. They jumped down to the pontoon and spread out. A dinghy was shot to pieces, its men sent sprawling or tumbling overboard. Two lay bleeding, their own weapons cast aside. Men swam hard for the shore. Alicia concentrated on the second dinghy. Their enemies, though, were no slouches and were already bringing their own weapons to bear.
Healey came out of the same side door just as a bullet struck the frame around it. He ducked quickly, swearing. Alicia shot the man that held the gun, and saw him topple backwards. But they were exposed now. It was time to act.
The planes had drifted closer. Without missing a beat, she leapt to the prow of the shattered dinghy, used it for balance and momentum, and sprang onto the pontoon of the enemy seaplane. A man met her, striking out with a knife. She hurled her body to the side, using the hull of the plane to stop her fall and bounce back up. Her right fist connected hard with his jaw, her left with a set of ribs and then the barrel of her gun with his right temple. He collapsed, unmoving.
Healey came next, outpacing and probably out-gracing Russo when it came to nimble movement. Two more mercs stood on the pontoon, and were both targeting Alicia. Healey fired at one and kicked at the other, unbalancing both, sending them slithering between the pontoon and the body of the plane. Both gone, but not necessarily neutralized.
Alicia gripped the door of the plane and pulled.
Behind her, Russo was concentrating on the second dinghy. Beyond that battle the beach was becoming more and more deserted as mercs drove off in jeeps, all running as if someone had lit a fire at their heels. Alicia wondered if Jensen had sacrificed the planes and the men around them. A decoy. Nothing would surprise her.
But a second seaplane certainly wouldn’t hurt.
Inside the cabin the pilot and two mercs remained. A bullet clanged off the framework at her side. She wasted no time returning fire. She shot the mercs and then stared hard at the pilot.
“You know what to do.”
Without a word he flung open the door and leapt out of the plane. Alicia scrambled into the cockpit and took a look out the panoramic windows. Their own seaplane bobbed even closer now, protected by Crouch and largely untroubled now save for the sudden appearance of the original mercenary plane. Alicia spun and shouted a warning to Russo who switched his attentions from a rebellious merc to the swooping plane. He lifted his aim and opened fire, raking its side as men leaned out to draw a bead on the resting seaplane. Crouch also fired through an open door. Two men slithered out, falling into the sea. The rest jumped back inside as the pilot banked hard.
Alicia waved across the water at Crouch’s pilot. “Fire her up!”
Jensen’s last seaplane, the fourth, was also winding her engines up now and Alicia motioned Healey inside and then to the controls.
“Not sure about this crazy idea!” he cried.
“Two are better than one,” she answered back.
Healey jumped inside and slammed the door at his back. The water around them was scattered with struggling and dead mercs, all heading for the fourth plane, a surviving dinghy, or even to shore. One of the dinghies floated in a heap, riddled with bullets.
“Jensen’s not even here,” Russo was saying. “They’re fleeing and it’s now a rout.”
“He got what he came for,” Alicia said, “and decided not to hang around.”
“Man’s a pirate all right. Through and through.”
Alicia shook her head slightly, watching Healey and the other pilot through the glass of the cockpit. The man looked like he was ready to take off. Their other plane was taxiing through the waves, faster and faster. Healey goosed the throttle and shot forward. Plumes and showers of water arced through the air. Alicia strapped in as Healey poured on the speed and then took off right behind their other seaplane with Crouch and Caitlyn aboard. As soon as they were level the soldiers unbuckled and readied their weapons. Both enemy seaplanes were out of sight for the moment, but Alicia expected them to return.
Unless they decided to run.
Doubtful, she thought. The battle had been hard-fought so far.
They banked and came around, their vision suddenly filled with an approaching plane. Healey dove fast and Alicia lost her balance, falling to one knee. The eyebrow she arched toward Healey said it all.
Healey grimaced. “Saved your life.”
“Just check the rearview mirror next time, eh?”
They came around, and Alicia caught a momentary glimpse of all four seaplanes leaning through the air, making wide turns and attempting to hold onto their bearings. As the planes leveled out, rifles and handguns popped out of windows and some of the more adventurous men opened doors and slithered onto the pontoons. Alicia shook her head at the two that weren’t anchored inside.
“Death wis
h.”
Healey took a target and came alongside. Alicia zeroed in on the pilot, but the buffeting winds and shifting metal hull sent her shot wide. Still, other targets were hit as the two planes blasted past each other. Russo, alongside her, winced to see a man fall and end up dangling from his harness beneath the plane.
“Poor bastard.”
Alicia said nothing, but tended to agree. They might be enemies, these men, but nobody wanted to see them suffer. She watched Crouch’s plane scream alongside the other enemy craft, propellers whining, engines screaming, and saw windows blown out on either side. All four planes descended toward the rippling waters as if wary of the next pass and adding odds to their chances of survival.
Alicia steadied her aim with the window frame, wedged her body into the small space as best she could, and breathed easily. The peril, the skies, the entire Caribbean faded away until it was the gun barrel and her target. She fired hard as the other plane approached, bullets raking the cockpit and sending the pilot slamming back into his seat.
Instantly, the seaplane veered toward them, the pontoons growing bigger, men at the windows increasing in size. Healey jerked the controls violently, gaining space. The tip of a wing slammed past the bottom of their hull, shredding metal like paper, and then fell away, the enemy plane falling like a rock. Healey’s eyes were wide.
“Ah, shit, that’s bad.”
Alicia turned on him. “How bad?”
“We’re definitely gonna crash, I just don’t know how bad.”
“Bollocks.”
Alicia watched Crouch and the other pilot engaged in an aerial dogfight, bullets strafing the skies. Loud pings and the wrench of metal could be heard even over the plane noise. The seaplane they’d shot down hit the waves at that moment, even as Healey struggled, bits of white wing and nosecone, propeller and rear wing shredding and grinding away. The craft somersaulted and then started to sink slowly; several pairs of arms and shoulders visibly swimming away.
“Hey, that’s encouraging.” Russo squinted down.
“Not for us, dumbass,” Alicia grated. “They’re daft enough to sit down there and wait for us.”
Caribbean Gold Page 7