by David Wood
“Are you saying the people you fought weren’t Americans?”
Gold shrugged. “I don’t know who they are or where they came from, but if they’re out here shooting at innocent people, that’s as un-American as it gets.”
Platt seized him by the arm. “Pops. Somebody’s coming.”
“Is it Ace?” he asked, raising his rifle and moving behind cover. Ace and another team member had gone out scouting.
“No. It’s one dude and he’s just walking directly toward us.”
Gold spotted him. He didn’t look like any of the guys they’d been shooting it out with, but he looked familiar.
Platt raised his rifle. “Put your hands up!” he shouted.
“Lower your weapon, son,” Gold said to Platt. “Relax. That’s Yoshi. He’s Segar’s cameraman.”
“What the hell, dude?” Yoshi was a fair-skinned young man, but right now his face was scarlet. “You’re pointing guns at me? It’s just a TV show!” Fists clenched, he stalked toward Platt, who had a good foot and sixty pounds on the smaller man.
“Chill, man.” Platt laid down his rifle and held out his hands in a placating gesture. “Some dudes have been shooting at us.”
The words stopped Yoshi in his tracks. He scratched his head. “Shooting at you? We just thought you guys were shooting at beer cans or something.”
The camera was still rolling, and Gold seized the moment.
“No, son. War was declared, and we emerged victorious.” He turned to Yoshi.
“Now, what can we do for you?”
“Segar is missing. He said he wanted to be alone for one of his weird spirit sessions. After a while I got worried. But when I went to look for him, he was gone.
I’d heard you guys shooting so I came looking for help. At first, I figured he’d just gotten lost.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me. If it’s not a buffet line, Segar has a hard time finding it.”
Yoshi looked nervously in the direction of the camera, then back to Gold. He lowered his voice.
“Come on, dude. This might be serious. What if he ran into the guys who were shooting at you?”
A wave of shame washed over Gold. Drunk on his victory, he had allowed himself to act the fool. This was still a serious situation. “I apologize. You’re one-hundred percent right. Where’s the rest of your team?”
“They stayed back at camp. To be honest, I don’t think any of them care very much,” he admitted.
“That ain’t going to pass muster.” Gold gave the man’s shoulder a squeeze.
“Our crews are going to team up. We’ll find Seagull and bring him back.” And he will be indebted to me for the rest of his life.
“Shouldn’t we call the authorities?” Roddy asked. “I mean, what if we run into those guys again?”
“If they’ve got Segar then I damn sure hope we run into them.”
Roddy threw up his hands. “What the hell, Gold? This isn’t television, this is real life!”
Gold fixed the camera with a side-eyed glare, then turned to his co-host.
“This, mi amigo.” He poked Roddy in the chest. “Is reality television. And let me tell you a little something about the real world. We’ve been trying to contact authorities since the moment hostilities commenced. And if we ever do get in touch with them, they can’t just hop in the old prowler and cruise out here. You know why? Because we’re in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you’ve noted there’s no green screen behind us.”
Roddy’s face was beet red. His fists were clenched, elbows cocked. That was good. Better angry than scared.
“It could be days before the manhunt begins. He could be dead by then. In short, it’s up to us.”
“I get it,” Roddy said loudly, trying to save a little face.
“I know you do, brother. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve got the anger brewing and you’re ready to take action.” He doubted that last bit, but the boy needed an injection, 20ccs of cojones, stat. A little praise from the alpha dog just might do the trick.
With his left arm draped around Roddy’s shoulders and his right hand resting on the top of Yoshi’s head, he addressed the camera.
“Our brother has gone missing. Even if foul play is not involved, which we hope it isn’t, the desert is still a dangerous place, where even the most experienced among us can get into trouble.” He paused to give the camera a long, solemn look.
“Segar, we are coming for you, brother!”
––––––––
Steven Segar stumbled forward and fell hard to the cold stone floor. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, mentally adding bruised cheek to the list of today’s injuries. His wrists were bound behind him, the nylon cord already cutting off circulation. He still couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to be captured. His body had betrayed him at a critical juncture. Now, here he was, taken prisoner by a punk twenty years his junior. It was almost like one of his movies. The room was pitch black, the air cold with just a hint of humidity. He was in a cave.
He heard voices from somewhere close by.
“...the hell you think you’re doing bringing him here like that?”
“I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t kill him. He’s a celebrity, dog!” This the voice of the man who had taken him captive. “He’s got to be worth some serious cash.”
Segar was embarrassed to realize he was smiling at the thought of how high his ransom might be.
“Brian, his movies are so old they don’t even get taken down from YouTube. Bro, he’s a has-been.”
Segar flared up immediately. “No, I’m not. I’m working on a new show as we speak!”
“Will you shut up?” a woman’s voice spoke from the darkness.
“Who is there?” he whispered.
“I said, shut up,” the woman hissed. “I’m trying to listen.”
“...not what we do.”
“Come on. The boss has brought in, like three new people this week. One more won’t hurt. Look, I don’t even want to be here. I thought we were helping people avoid the border patrol.”
“Yeah, well the boss doesn’t care what you thought you were getting into. And you better not let people think you’re not all in. They’ll kill you without a second thought.
Now, let me see this dude.”
A flashlight clicked on, bathing the space in light. He was, indeed, in a small subterranean chamber. There were three other prisoners: a woman with brown hair and red cowboy boots, a blue-eyed blonde who glared at their captors as if trying to decide who’s face to bite off first, and a girl with a Rosie the Riveter tattoo who took in her surroundings with an air of impatient disinterest. The latter’s eyes fell on Segar and she quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, what do you know?” she said. “They really did capture a former celebrity.”
“Former and current. I even have a new book out.”
“Did you get a nice advance, or did you publish it yourself?”
Segar didn’t reply.
“Listen up,” the man with the flashlight said. He was built like a tree stump.
Segar was surprised they’d found a suit to fit him, and even more surprised that he’d found enough neck to wrap a tie around. He did them the courtesy of aiming the light at the ceiling to prevent blinding their eyes. “You guys don’t give us any problem, and we won’t mess with you. That’s the deal.”
“What do you have planned for us?” the officer demanded.
No-neck shrugged. “The boss is going to have to decide what to do with you.”
“Where is Rockwell?” the girl with the tattoo demanded.
“You don’t need to know that,” he said.
“Can I get some water?” Segar asked. “And some for my friends,” he added hastily.
“Sure. I’ll get the craft service people right on it.”
“Would you mind leaving us a light?” the blonde asked in a tremulous voice incongruent with her wolverine glare of moments before. “It’s scary in the dark.” Their captor leered d
own at her. “Sure, sweetheart. Just for you. But I’m going to tell the boss you owe me.” He winked as he laid the flashlight on the floor of the cave, then blew her a kiss as he walked away.
“Neanderthal,” the girl whispered. “You don’t even realize how easy you are to manipulate.”
“Nice work,” the woman in red boots said. She turned to Segar. “I’m Franzen.
I’m a police officer. Our fake damsel in distress is Spenser.” The blonde gave a nod. “And that’s Riv.” The girl with the tat winked.
“I’m Steven Segar. Now, nobody panic. I’ve gotten out of plenty of situations like this.”
“In real life?” Riv asked.
Segar shook his head. “No, but this is my chance to finally do it for real.”
Chapter 31
––––––––
The hour was growing late and the air inside the ship was growing chilly. But the goosebumps on Maddock’s flesh had nothing to do with the cold. He was staring into the face of a murderer.
“You admit that you killed Megan Keane? That surprises me,” Maddock said.
“Yes, I killed her.” Shipman swallowed hard. “I suppose I murdered her, in fact. But not in the way you think.”
“What I think is that you spent too much time delving into the minds of serial killers and the lure finally became too great to resist.”
“No,” Shipman groaned.
“Was it an academic thing? Wanted to see if you could get away with it, like your father did? Or was it just a hunger?”
“That’s not it at all.”
“Maybe just a little trickle-down Critzer?” Bones asked. “A chip off the old axe murderer.” He looked at Maddock. “That last one wasn’t funny, was it?”
“Few of them are, Bones.”
“Listen to me.” Shipman waved with the pistol. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He looked around the dark cabin. “I cared only about the treasure. I did my research, pored over that damned journal, scoured the mountains and the desert. Common sense told me to give up, but I kept on searching. Finally, I found it! The lost ship of the desert.” For the first time, he actually smiled. “Imagine my surprise at what I discovered when I got here.”
“What was that?” Maddock thought he already knew.
“It was like something out of a horror film. The mummified remains of young women were hanging from those.” He waved his gun in the direction of the shackles. “Their bodies showed evidence of the most gruesome sort of torture. And there was a chest containing instruments of torture. No treasure, no priceless artifacts. Only a house of horrors.”
“You knew what your father was,” Maddock said.
Shipman shook his head. “I knew he had tried to hurt my mother and that she considered him an erratic man with the potential to snap at any moment. Once I learned about his family of origin, I knew we had dodged a bullet. But I never dreamed of the depths of his depravity until that moment.”
“Why didn’t you report it to the police?” Maddock asked.
“Easy,” Bones said. “He wanted to keep the ship a secret until he was sure there was no treasure to be found.”
“That’s it exactly,” Shipman agreed. “That and shame, disbelief, not wanting my name associated with his. It might have been great publicity, or it could have ruined my career. I didn’t feel I could take the risk. I frantically searched the ship but found nothing. I rushed home, positively devastated. When I finally calmed down, I took a second look at some of my father’s files. Pieces began to fall into place.”
“Like what?” Bones asked.
“Pawn shop receipts for old Spanish coins and artifacts. He must have found them inside the ship.” For a moment, the gleam of gold fever shone in Shipman’s eyes, but then his gloom returned. “The worst was the collection of newspaper clippings about missing and murdered women, including the Black Dahlia. I recognized a couple of the women as those hanging in the ship. It didn’t take long to begin drawing lines from each victim to my father. Nothing I could prove, but the conclusion was obvious. He really was a serial killer. It was then I truly began to worry about whether or not I might have inherited certain family traits. That was when I scheduled a session with Megan’s mother. I was terribly worried, but trying to hide it. I suppose I didn’t do a good job of it because I later learned that she came away from our session feeling unsettled.” An expression of regret passed across his face.
“I waited a week before I returned to the ship. I took a shovel so I could bury the remains of my father’s victims. If someone else were to also find the ship, better an empty one than a crime scene. Each would bring its own sort of unwanted attention, but only one could lead to my undoing. What I didn’t know was Megan Keane had suspicions of her own about me, and my visit to her mother only confirmed them in her mind. She fancied herself a future investigative reporter and decided to apprentice the craft by stalking me. On the day I came to the ship, she followed me. She caught up just as I was burying the first body.”
“And she thought you were burying one of your own victims,” Bones said.
Shipman nodded. “I don’t know how but she crept right up behind me. I heard two shutter clicks, someone snapping photographs. I turned around and there was Megan. She said she’d always known I was a creep and now everyone would know.” Silent tears trailed down Shipman’s cheeks. “But all I could think about was the ship and the treasure. I couldn’t have the world knowing I found it. I hit her with the shovel.”
Now he began to sob. Bones glanced at Maddock, a question in his eyes. Maddock mouthed ‘not yet.’ Shipman still had his finger on the trigger.
“I just hit her. Didn’t even think about it. But I suppose my heart wasn’t in it.
She acted like she hardly felt it. Just turned and ran. I chased her and, in her panic, she tried to climb the cliff wall. I begged her to come back. Said we could work something out. But she wouldn’t listen.”
“Then what happened?” Bones asked.
“She fell. Died on impact. Suddenly, my idea of burying the bodies beside the ship seemed foolish. If it were ever discovered, all the area around it would be excavated. So, I did what I had to do. One by one, I hid their bodies in the caverns.” Tears now dripped from his cheeks.
Maddock couldn’t manage any sympathy. Gold fever was common among treasure hunters, but it was no excuse for murder.
“You need to come clean,” Maddock said. “Killing us won’t stop this. Like we told you. We’ve shared our knowledge and suspicions with too many people. When you locked us in the caverns, we found Megan’s necklace and turned it in to the police. You can’t stop this.”
Shipman nodded sadly. “You’re right in more ways than you know.” With a sudden movement, he thrust the pistol into his own mouth.
“No!” Maddock and Bones shouted in unison, but neither man could move fast enough.
The pistol boomed and Shipman slumped to the deck.
Chapter 32
––––––––
Bones couldn’t believe it when Shipman pulled the trigger. His hand was inches from the barrel of the pistol when the weapon fired. Might as well have been a mile. There was no need to administer first aid. The bullet had done its job too well. Shipman lay slumped back, blood and gore spattering the bulkhead above him.
“You could have at least answered a few of our questions before you did yourself in,” Bones muttered.
“What do you think he meant that you and I were ‘right in more ways than we know’?” Maddock asked.
Bones shrugged. “He was already expecting his secret to get out in some other way.”
“Maybe these human traffickers know his secret?” Maddock offered. “That would be a very good reason to turn a blind eye.”
“Do you think he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t try to kill you?” Bones asked.
Maddock shook his head slowly. “I can’t say for certain, but I didn’t get the feeling he was lying. Why would he? He admitted to
causing Megan’s death and participating in human trafficking. Why lie about that?”
“Who did it, then?”
“Maybe one or more of the traffickers was poking around the ranch?”
“You realize we’re going to have to get the cops in on this? Like, right away.”
The words were bitter on Bones’ tongue. The fact that they had not, in fact, been the first to rediscover the ship, had been a blow. But he realized they wouldn’t be able to keep the ship a secret. Nor would they be permitted to keep the journal. The treasure of the Lost Ship of the Desert, if there had been one, would now be fair game. Treasure hunters would descend upon this place in no time. He and Maddock were about to lose their head start.
“We’ll do it as soon as we can get a signal.” Maddock frowned at Bones.
“What’s with that expression on your face? You all right?”
“I’m reminding myself that murder and human trafficking are more important than treasure hunting. Even if it’s one of the most legendary treasures of the Southwest.” “Let’s at least take a quick look around before we head back,” Maddock said. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to make the hike back.”
“Don’t bother asking for a piggyback ride,” Bones said. “You’re way too fat for me to carry.” He stood and took a moment to work the kinks out of his spine. “Is there enough of that ladder left for us to climb down or do we need to find a different way?”
With a loud crack, the floor gave way beneath him. Bones let out a shout of surprise as he plunged into the darkness. He hit the deck below him an instant later. The thick layer of sand that covered the planking only cushioned his fall a little.
A light shone down from above. Maddock poked his head through the hole where Bones had been standing only seconds before and grinned.
“Still want me to check the condition of the ladder?”
“Screw you, Maddock. Hand me that light.”
Bones stood and Maddock handed down the flashlight Shipman had been carrying. Bones swept the light around the hold. It had been picked clean.
“Looks like the cupboard is bare,” he said. “But we might as well check the rest.”