Edward pointed to the screen. “The boat belongs to Captain Collins for certain. It looks abandoned.”
“No, it’s not abandoned. It’s hidden,” Paul said. “Look, there are lines tied to several sturdy mangroves, and two anchors are set. I wonder why he decided to hide it here. It looks like whoever was on board might have used a small dinghy to leave.” He pointed to the back of the boat. “You can see where something was usually tied back there on the stern.” He grinned. “One aspect of having a dirty boat is you can easily tell how it’s been used.”
“Is that blood?” Savannah pointed to a large spot near the stern. It had dried, but the drips were a shade of red brown and looked fresh. She grabbed her phone from her backpack. “I’m calling Detective Parker.” She placed the call, and the detective picked up before the second ring.
“Detective Parker, this is Savannah. You’re on speaker. We’re out in the Intracoastal Waterway, near Jungle Prada Park, with Paul and Julie Wedlake, using their underwater robotic camera. Captain Collin’s salvage boat is hidden here, with no one on board that we can see, and there’s fresh blood on the boat.”
“It could be fish blood,” the detective replied.
“Except that Captain Collins never fishes. He’s strictly a dive and salvage operation.”
She waited through a long moment of silence.
“I’m sending a marine patrol boat to investigate. Give me the coordinates.”
She shrugged her shoulders at Paul. “I’ll text them to you.”
“Thanks. Savannah. Stay away from the site. Let the patrol boat have clear access.”
“Absolutely.” Savannah ended the call and cleared her throat. “Okay, you heard him. We need to get cracking. Remember where Amanda is while we’re out here.”
“Absolutely.” Edward sat back next to Savannah. “Let’s find the bottles.”
Paul retrieved Red Rover, stowed it and the controller, then snapped the laptop back in its case, and they were soon on their way. It proved to be exactly as difficult as Jacob had predicted to find the right spot. After the fifth trial Red Rover launch and recalculation of the coordinates, Savannah regretted not letting him come along to interpret the disparities between the old maps and the new charts.
“Okay, I think this is it,” Paul said. “Well, I think it’s a possible site. I’ve stopped being sure we’re over the equivalent site on Jacob’s old maps. Anyway, let’s look here.” He set the anchor and launched Red Rover with a low toss into the waterway.
The display revealed the Red Rover’s slow dive to the bottom.
“This new camera is giving us a clearer image than a human diver would see. It’s so much quicker to drive this around than for us to do the same fully suited,” Paul observed.
Paul clicked on the keyboard and brought up the chart in another window. In the center was a little red square. “That’s where Red Rover is at the moment. With this feature”—he clicked on another selection from a pull-down menu—“we can leave a search trail on the display, so we know where it’s been and we don’t backtrack. Well, at least we will know when we backtrack. The bottom terrain sometimes foils the best search algorithms.”
Julie piped up. “You like driving it, anyway. Don’t blame the algorithms. If you gave them more time to learn, those algorithms would be better.”
Paul frowned but kept his concentration focused on the controls. “This is where I think Jacob indicated the wreckage is most likely to be.” He slowed the motors down a notch and started a systematic search of the area in larger and larger circles from the center point.
At the beginning of the fourth circuit around Jacob’s coordinates, Julie tapped Paul on the shoulder. “Wait, wait. I saw something on the edge of the screen.”
Paul paused the Red Rover. “Which way? Show me on the screen which corner.”
Julie pointed to the lower left-hand corner. “There it was. Just a glimpse.”
Paul returned his attention to the controls and manipulated Red Rover to replicate Julie’s sighting. He slowed the ROV’s speed and began a new small grid search. Within a few seconds, a funny-looking lump appeared on the bottom.
“There,” Julie said. “That’s the shape I saw.”
Savannah peered at the screen. “It could be a bottle that’s been buried neck down.”
“I’ve saved the precise GPS location so we can return here. I’m going to raise Red Rover to expand the viewing area.” Paul guided Red Rover up a few feet, and the screen filled with single lumps similar to the first one. “Yes! Yes! This is it.” He pointed to one of the shapes. “What do you think, Savannah?”
“It is definitely a bottle. Can you go down and bring some up?”
“Absolutely.” He turned and revealed a huge smile. “Julie, keep Red Rover steady, and I’ll follow the tether to the bottles.” He passed the controller to Julie, and as quickly as he could, he put on his dive gear. In only a few minutes, he was over the side.
Julie was concentrating on keeping Red Rover steady, while Savannah and Edward were staring at the display. It wasn’t long before they saw Paul. He gave a wave to them and dropped down to the lumpy bottom. He picked up the first bottle they had located. It was a few feet from the rest. He shook the loose sand from it and held it in front of the camera.
“Look.” Savannah pointed at the screen. “You can see the blue. It’s either a copy or an original. It’s too dirty to tell.”
They watched as Paul put the bottle in his dive bag, then moved over to the area where the other items were clustered. He picked up something small, and he waved it in front of the camera in agitated excitement.
“What has he found?” Savannah asked Julie. “I can’t tell, because he’s not keeping it still.”
“I don’t know, either. He won’t be still.”
They watched in silence while he stowed the small object in his dive bag and retrieved several more bottles.
Julie yelled at the screen. “For heaven’s sake, Paul. Bring them up here so we can see them.”
Savannah laughed. “Look. He must have heard you.”
Paul looked into the camera and showed them a thumbs-up.
“It’s works that way with us sometimes. Watch for him and help him get in the boat.”
Paul surfaced, holding a small disk in one hand. He pulled off his face mask. “It’s a piece of stamped gold. I think we’ve found Gaspar’s treasure.”
Chapter 35
Sunday Morning
Everyone cheered and helped Paul get on board and out of his tank and flippers.
“The bottles are mixed in with coins.” He was breathless with excitement. “The whole site is only about two foot square. Without Red Rover, we could have been diving for years and missing it by inches.”
Julie tapped Paul on the shoulder. When he turned, she gave him an enthusiastic kiss and a high five. “Wonderful find. Are you forgetting something?”
“Forgetting? Oh, right. Let’s get Red Rover back on board.”
They turned to the task of retrieving Red Rover, performing the smooth actions of a practiced routine. After all the retrieval, the rinsing, the shutdowns, and the checks were completed, they turned to the contents of Paul’s dive bag. He pulled out six bottles and three clumps of coins.
“I took everything that was visible from the surface. We can use one of my other cameras to search the area for more artifacts. This is more than enough to get grant funding for a thorough scientific study.”
Paul and Julie high-fived again.
Edward turned to Savannah to say something, but a whizzing sound passed between them. Edward yelped, grabbed his arm, overbalanced himself, and tipped over the side of the boat. Savannah stepped on the gunwale and dove in after him. She grabbed his shirt and hauled him to the surface.
He spluttered, coughed, and looked totally confused. “What was that?”
“It sounded like a bullet.”
Edward looked at his upper arm. It was bleeding, the blood running in a w
ide stream from a narrow gash. “Someone’s shooting at us!”
Paul and Julie appeared at the side of the boat. “Hey, this is no time for a swim. We need to get back—”
“Duck!” yelled Savannah. “Edward’s been shot. Someone is out there shooting at the boat.”
“What! Is he okay?” Paul turned around and scanned the far horizon. “There’s a small boat about fifty yards away. That has to be it. Hurry back on board!”
“For heaven’s sake, get down! You’re giving the shooter a perfect target,” Savannah said.
Savannah and Edward swam back to the side of the boat. Paul and Julie helped them back on board, and they all crouched low among all the equipment. Savannah looked at Edward’s arm. The furrow wasn’t deep, but blood was running down his arm in a stream.
“Julie, can you get to the first-aid kit? Edward’s bleeding needs to be stopped quickly. Paul, can you call the Coast Guard?”
Julie scrambled on all fours to grab a small first-aid kit, while Paul reached up to grab the radio mic.
Zinggg!
“Hey! That was close.” Paul dropped down below the gunwales again. “I can’t reach the radio.”
“Where’s my backpack? I’m calling Detective Parker.”
Julie made her way to the pile of personal stuff and tossed Savannah’s backpack to her. Savannah pulled out her cell and dialed Parker.
“Hi, Savannah. No, we have not released Amanda. She is—”
“David, it’s not about Amanda. Edward has been shot. We’re out in the Intracoastal Waterway, near Jungle Prada Park, and we’re being attacked.”
“How bad is Edward? Can you get away?”
“Edward’s good. It’s a shallow crease on his upper arm. The big problem is the shooter has us pinned down.”
“I’ll divert the marine police to you. Keep out of range if you can. If the shooter is alone, he can’t shoot and drive the boat. Use the time to escape. Over and out.”
“You heard him.” Savannah stowed the phone. Although they had crouched down as low as they could, it wasn’t enough for them to avoid being a target.
Paul eyed their profiles. “Let’s pile some of this gear higher so we have more shelter.”
“Brilliant idea,” said Edward. He started to reach for a box to stack.
Savannah pulled him back down by the tail of his shirt. “Not so fast. Let me get a compress on this wound, or you’re going to pass out.”
“Fine, but hurry.”
Savannah pressed the wound with wadding until the bleeding slowed. Then she placed a large gauze pad over the furrow and taped it on tight enough to keep the wound compressed.
They all stacked equipment and coolers in the center of the boat. The pile added a foot to the silhouette of the boat and made it easier to hide from the shooter.
“Paul, can you see the boat?” Savannah whispered. “It was way out there when he shot at Edward.”
Paul poked his head above the equipment barrier and ducked down again. “The boat is coming at us full throttle. We’ve got to move quickly, or we’re going to get shot. I’m going to raise the anchor. I can do it without being seen. Julie, break out the emergency paddles.”
“Good,” said Savannah. “If we can get to the mangroves, we can slip away.”
“One of the paddles is on this side.” Julie scooted down toward the stern and unhooked a short paddle. She handed it to Savannah and crawled to the other side of the boat. Savannah heard her curse. “It’s stuck. One of the clips that holds it is bent.”
Edward peered over the top of the equipment barrier. “There’s a small boat right on top of us. Wait! The boat has run aground.”
Savannah looked at the boat. It was a small, low-riding johnboat with a loud engine. It was less than twenty yards from them.
Julie pointed to just beyond the grounded johnboat. “There’s Captain Collins in a rubber dinghy.”
“The shooter is Captain Collins. Oh, crap!” Savannah yelled. “He’s aiming at us. Get in the water. Bullets are completely useless at depths more than two feet. Hide under the boat!” She grabbed Edward’s good hand, and as they all jumped overboard, the crack of a rifle struck cold fear in Savannah’s heart. They were sitting ducks.
As soon they surfaced, they heard a blaring siren, quickly followed by “Put down the weapon,” shouted through a bullhorn. “Put down the weapon and raise your hands now!”
Savannah and Edward swam to the stern of the boat and hung on to the rear anchor chain. She had a clear view of the person standing in the grounded boat and swinging a rifle toward the police launch.
“That’s Vicki! She’s going to shoot,” said Savannah.
Vicki screamed at the top of her lungs, “That treasure is mine! No one is taking it away from me. I’ve killed for it!”
About twenty yards away, Captain Collins motored his rubber dinghy directly toward her. Vicki fired. The police officers returned fire. Vicki dropped the rifle overboard and fell back into the boat. Captain Collins cut back the throttle, and the dinghy slowed and finally bumped into the johnboat. He looked down into Vicki’s boat and shook his head from side to side. He yelled, “She’s dead.” Then he put his rifle down in the bottom of his dinghy and raised his hands high.
The sudden silence was crushing.
The police launch anchored behind Captain Collins, and the officers swarmed over both boats, securing the scene.
Savannah grabbed Edward. “Hold me. Hold me very tight.” She buried her face in his chest.
It seemed like they were held there by the police for a hundred years, but Savannah realized it was probably only a little over an hour, and then everyone traipsed downtown to give signed statements.
While they stood outside the station, Captain Collins explained that he became suspicious of Vicki’s erratic behavior after he and Martin found a small cache of bottles. He discovered that she had arranged to get copies of the bottles made by a glass artist downtown who specialized in molded objects. She was going to take those few bottles and sell them for three thousand dollars each.
“We found your boat and couldn’t figure out what had happened,” Edward said.
“Little did she know that the original bottles are now worth about thirty thousand dollars, if not more,” said Savannah.
“Apparently, Martin disagreed about selling the forgeries, and she flew into a rage and struck him.” The captain shook his head. “I would like to think she didn’t mean to kill him.”
“Why was she on the Intracostal?” asked Edward.
“She was convinced that I had found the main treasure trove. I hid my salvage boat and took the dinghy to throw her off my trail.” Captain Collins shrugged his shoulders. “I am a salvage expert. I had to try to find Martin’s cache.”
“It’s sad, but Gaspar’s treasure is now in the hands of the scientists. That’s where it should be,” said Savannah.
Chapter 36
Sunday Evening
The afternoon sun was still blazing white heat through the heavily tinted windows of the Queen’s Head dining room. The large ceiling fans helped the struggling air conditioner keep the blistering heat at bay, but it was the company that was cool. Edward had reconfigured the two tables on the east side of the pub to accommodate those Savannah had invited to celebrate Amanda’s release as a murder suspect.
Edward entered from behind the bar with a flight of new draft brews to try. He stood next to Savannah and placed the small box filled with four small glasses in front of her. “I’ve been experimenting with different beers lately, so I have a full selection, from a light wheat ale to the boldest stout. I have a box like this for everyone—except Jacob, of course. This will be fun.”
Bartender Nicole helped him place a box of beer samples at every setting.
“I borrowed these from 3 Daughters Brewing. I think I counted correctly, but we’ll see,” Edward noted.
A quiet Jacob arrived with Suzy. He sat across from Savannah. He smiled hello to Nicole and ordere
d a root beer.
The Rosenberg sisters arrived in eye-piercing head-to-toe silver garb. “We’re here!” they said in unison.
Rachel smiled at Faith, then said, “Mrs. Blake is recovering so nicely that the hospital—”
“Scooted us away earlier this afternoon,” Faith said, finishing her sister’s statement. “They’ve taken her back to the Abbey, and she’s all settled by now.”
Savannah leapt up and gave them each a big hug. “You two were absolutely fabulous with Mrs. Blake. I’m sure Amanda is immensely grateful.” She guided them to a pair of seats, and Edward tried to give them each a beer sampler.
“Oh no, Edward. We are cosmopolitan girls,” said Rachel.
“Yes. Nicole knows what we like,” said Faith.
“Coming right up. Two cosmopolitans—shaken, not stirred.” Nicole reached for the large Belvedere Vodka bottle behind the bar and started to make their cocktails.
Paul and Julie arrived just then.
“We have something to show you,” Paul said as he placed a shiny coin down on the surface of the table. “It’s from the right time period, but not unique in any way. It’s the bottles that identify the treasure as belonging to José Gaspar, but it’s not yet a verified discovery. I’ve started the horrendous paperwork to claim it.” He nodded at Jacob and Suzy. “We’re including Jacob as a principle. Without his analysis . . . Well, it would still be undiscovered. Even so, it may take years of scholarly research.”
Nicole placed their sampler boxes in front of them after they sat.
Julie turned to the group. “We were disappointed at first, but then we realized this would be valuable for attracting funding for our robotic bottom-mapping project. A little pirate mystique will put us at the top of the allocation lists.” She smiled at Paul, lifted one of her beer samples. “Here’s to grant funding. May it never end.”
Paul clinked her glass, sipped deeply, and followed that with an enthusiastic kiss. “I agree completely.”
Julie blushed, then raised up a finger. “But here’s the even better news. It has already gotten out that we found the treasure with Red Rover. We’ve been getting e-mails from serious treasure hunters, asking to buy our system. We may not even need grant money if even ten percent of these orders come through.”
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