by Mark Stone
She walked forward a little, taking all of it in but trying to keep enough of a distance to protect her cover.
That was when the song started playing.
It blared loudly, though muffled. All of the people wearing the palm tree shirts stopped in tandem. They seemed to form a wall in front of Roscoe. Opening their briefcases at the same time, Kate saw speakers in each of them, all blasting the same tune.
Then they started to dance.
‘What is this?!” Kate balked through gritted teeth.
“I think it’s 'Happy Together' by The Turtles,” one of the men in her ear said, identifying the song.
“Not that!” Kate screeched as she realized what was going on here. “He’s knows. Nathaniel knows! Fall in! All of you!”
She dropped her camera so that it hung loosely around her neck and, foregoing her cover, darted toward the synchronized spectacle.
Each person gyrated back and forth to the tune as she tore through them one after another. Kate breathed heavy, lost in a sea of sweat, gold palm trees, and red fabric as she pushed her way through.
“Get out of my way!” she yelled. “I’m the police! Get out of my-”
She pushed through the last of the dancers to find a pair of briefcases sitting on ground, one stacked atop the other. The top one was open. The flour, meant to deceive Nathaniel into thinking the money was in the case, lay exposed to the air. On top of it, lay a note with the words “Better Luck Next Time” scribbled across it.
Kate’s heart fell. Her mission was a failure. Not only had she not gotten Nathaniel, but she hadn’t even gotten a peek at him (or she). She was no better off than when she started all of this and, worse than that, she had lost her one contact in Roscoe.
She would have to explain this to her boss, she knew as the song died down and the crowd parted. They might have been happy together, but she knew she had just landed herself in hot water.
Not good.
Chapter 3
“A flash mob?” Kate asked, looking at her superior officer from across his oak desk.
Chief Marcus James was a large man, though perhaps not in stature. Standing at five foot three with dark skin and head completely free of hair, save for the sides and back, Kate’s boss’s stature didn’t come from his physical attributes. In fact, to look at him would be to wonder why anyone in a department full of in shape and physically intimidating officers would ever take him seriously. The only thing Kate even found remotely intimidating about him was his eyes.
One look at the way he moved, at the grace and stoic nature in which he carried himself would be enough to answer that question. If the wall full of accolades hanging behind him left any doubt, that is.
“Yes, a flash mob. It’s a group of people who break out into choreographed song and dance in a public place at a completely random time,” Marcus said, shaking his head and waiting for Kate to respond. She was here to plead her case, to talk to the man and perhaps explain to him how blowing her cover, losing her one lead in the biggest case of her career and basically wasting taxpayer money in a sting gone wrong wasn’t as big a deal as Marcus seemed to think it was. At the moment, she was failing miserably and deep down, she knew it was because she was completely in the wrong. She had screwed up the case. She had to wear the blame no matter how much she didn’t want to.
“Well, how was I supposed to know about that?” she balked.
“Might I suggest the same way Officer Duncan found out?” Marcus growled. “It seems a quick Google search yields more than a few results about it.”
“That’s after the fact, Chief,” Kate said, standing from her chair. “Anyone could find that stuff out after it happens. I find it curious he didn’t know anything about it before.”
“Funny,” Marcus answered. “Because I was about to say the same thing about you. This was your case, Detective Cross; a case you begged me to let you take, if I remember correctly. It was on you to know the layout. It was on you to make sure things went smoothly, regardless of what it took.” He sighed loudly. “Suffice it to say, you failed.”
A wave of guilt ran through Kate, spiked with more than a little shame and regret. The chief was right. Kate knew that. She should have been better prepared. She should have known what was going to happen somehow, not because it would be easy or even because it made sense. She should have done it because that was the job, but she didn’t and now she was going to have to answer for it. And no matter how hard she tried to push the blame away from herself she knew that was an impossible task. “I promise you this will not happen again,” Kate said, swallowing hard.
“Oh, I know it won’t,” Marcus said, pushing away from the desk and standing himself. “because you’re off the case.”
“What?” Kate said, almost shrieking. “Chief, you can’t do this!’
“Really?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “Because I was under the impression that not only could I do it, but it was sort of my job description.”
“I’ve put a lot of work into this, Chief,” she said. “I know I messed up today. I know that, but that doesn’t negate everything I did on this case.”
“No one is saying it does,” Marcus answered. “But I can’t pretend you’re the most qualified person for this job anymore. Duncan—”
“Duncan?” Kate exclaimed.
“Duncan was raised in Atlanta,” Marcus said. “He was brought up around this kind of stuff, and he knows how to deal with it. He’s offered to step in.”
“How very Christian of him,” Kate said sarcastically, folding her arms over her chest. “If you would just—”
“You’re smart, Kate. You know you’ve been made,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “You can’t be on this case anymore.”
“I know that,” she admitted, defeated. “What you’re missing is one very important word. I can’t be actively involved in this case. That doesn’t mean I can’t be involved behind the scenes. I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this, Marcus. I won’t have you putting me on traffic duty.”
“No one is saying you’re going on traffic duty, Kate,” Marcus answered. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He took a deep breath. “But I also don’t want you on this case anymore…in any capacity.”
“Marcus, my-”
“I know. Your blood, sweat, and tears. I get it. I just don’t care and, frankly, neither should you,” Marcus answered. “You’re a detective, Kate. You need to be able to put your best foot forward in any case and, when that ends, I need you to be able to up and leave it.”
“You know I can do that,” she answered. “I follow orders, Marcus. I do. I just—”
“Don’t like to lose,” he finished.
“Don’t like to quit,” she corrected.
“Then don’t quit, but don’t pretend you know better than me,” he said. “I’m your superior officer for a reason.”
“What would you have me do?” she asked, sighing loudly.
“I have a case in mind for you, one that correlates to your specific skillset a bit better.”
“Chief,” Kate said, leveling a withering gaze at her boss.
“Some artifacts have been stolen—”
“No,” Kate said flatly, shaking her head.
"I wasn't finished," Marcus answered, his jaw setting firmly, the way it did whenever he was about to play the “superior officer” card. Kate hated when he did that, especially since there were times when the two of them could have almost been friends. That was hard to do, of course, when one of you had the authority to force the other one to do what he wanted. Even if what he wanted corresponded with the law.
"You don't need to finish," Kate sighed, running a hand through her hair. "You said the 'a' word, and that's more than enough."
Marcus leaned forward in his chair. "The word 'artifact' isn't a four letter one, Detective Cross," he said. "And, in case you haven't noticed, it's sort of the lifeblood of our little piece of beach here." Marcus shook his head. "We're on the Treasure Coast. Common sense would tell you t
hat treasure or artifacts are a part of life around these parts. You know what else is a part of life, Detective Cross?"
"Crime?" she asked, having heard this little song and dance from her chief before.
"Crime," he confirmed. "Your father understood that."
The mere mention of her father sent shivers up and down Kate's back. As a rule, she didn't like to think about the man who raised her, about the man who meant more to her than any person who had ever lived or probably ever would live, the man whose foolishness took him away from her far too early.
"I'd appreciate it if we could keep our focus on the present," Kate said, her tone hardening just enough to send her boss a signal that she wasn’t playing around here. "I've never found any value in digging up the past."
"That's a curious sentiment for someone living in a town ripe with buried treasure, but I suppose that's fair enough," Marcus answered. "At present, an artifact meant to be showcased in the Museum of Natural History was stolen three days ago. This morning, it was found around the neck of a woman who marched into Seaside Bank and Trust with a bomb strapped across her chest."
Kate's heart jumped. "The Willful Guild?" Kate asked, her eyes narrowing. Everyone in Vero Beach had heard about the string of robberies that had rocked the town and its surrounding counties over the last month. Innocent people being kidnapped and drugged, waking up hours later with bombs strapped to their chests and instructions to rob nearby banks before the explosives went off. The notes they were also outfitted with, the ones explaining their position to whatever poor banker was unlucky enough to come across them, was always signed “Sincerely and with great appreciation, The Willful Guild”.
As of now, there had been no clues as to the guild's identities or whereabouts, but, Katherine Cross hadn't been assigned to the case yet.
"I thought that might make a difference," Marcus said, obviously reading the hunger on Kate's face.
"You want me to hunt down the Willful Guild?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her obvious excitement out of her tone. "Of course, it makes a difference. It's the biggest case in the last five years. I'd be a fool to pass it up." She shook her head. "Though I don't think it has anything to do with artifacts. This is the third bank in as many weeks. I don't remember hearing about any artifacts on the rest of the victims."
"That's because we weren't sure what to look for," Marcus said, standing and walking toward the door. "But luckily, someone else was."
"What are you talking about?" Kate asked, spinning around in her chair and watching Marcus settle in front of his office door. "Did you get outside help with this?"
"In a way," he answered. "He came to us. Apparently, he had a keen enough eye to spot more artifacts on the other victims. He came to me with a dossier and a bunch of silly theories. The thing is, they all seem to pan out."
"He?" Kate asked. "Who are we talking about here? FBI? CIA?"
"Not so much," Marcus said. "Do you watch a lot of television, Officer Cross?"
Kate stood. "I'm not sure I'm following you, Chief."
"You ever seen a show called Anchor’s Away?" he asked.
Kate's face dropped. "Oh God. Tell me you don't mean what I think you mean. Tell me you're not talking about—”
Marcus swung the door open and standing in the pit with a doughnut in each hand and a half a bear claw hanging from his mouth stood Russell Anchorage, former reality television star and would be detective.
He looked over and, talking through a mouthful of dough said, "Oh, hey there." He smiled and held up the doughnuts. "I assume these are for the talent, right?"
Chapter 4
Five minutes.
That was how long Kate gave this ridiculous man to convince her not to walk out of here and forget the crazy plan her boss had just given her. To hear Marcus tell it, this was a done deal. She was going to work with some reality television star, pretending he was something other than a liability in the field, an albatross around her neck and... well, an anchor.
Kate knew better than that though. She knew Marcus well enough to know he had these sorts of flights of fancy. He was a man who valued thinking outside of the box, of coming up with new and intuitive methods of investigating that no one else had ever thought of. Employing an on camera pretty boy with an eye for buried treasure and absolutely no relevant experience certainly ticked those boxes.
There was little wonder the man was so excited about it. Still, Kate knew that - in addition to the Rest - Marcus James was a good cop and he could be talked down from this craziness.
And he would be, in five minutes’ time.
“I’m listening,” Kate said, her arms folded and her eyes trained on the scruffy man across from her. His grin, entirely out of place in a conversation about a string of bank heists that had not only stolen money from the good people of Vero Beach, but also put several of its denizens in danger, irked her and caused her to grimace.
He must have seen this, because Anchor shook his head, still smiling, and added, “Not for long, I’m sure.”
“More reason for you to get to the point,” Kate said, the grimace on her face staying put. “You said you know something about the Willful Guild that’s worth my time. Let’s see how right you are.”
“It’s not about the guild specifically,” Anchor answered, sitting further upright in his chair as if to signal he was ready to talk business. “I’ll leave the sort of detective work that uncovers their identities to the professionals.”
“I’m glad to see someone is leaving something to the professionals these days,” Kate said, her eyes moving sharply over to her boss. In return, Marcus gave her something close to a scoff and pointed back to the reality star as he continued his rant.
“What I will talk about, what I probably know more about than anyone who’s ever lived, with the possible exception of your own father, is the artifacts that have been found on the people forced to do the robberies.”
The mention of her father shook Kate a little, as it always had since his death. Still, there was work that needed to be done and, even under these strange circumstances, she was going to put that first. She just needed to make sure that Anchor did as well, and that none of this was some sort of ploy to get close to her out of a lingering awe of her dead dad.
“You have four minutes left, Mr. Anchorage. I suggest you stay on point,” she said, reining the man in. “And, just in case you thought your skillset would set you apart here, I’ll have you know that I grew up on those boats with my father. I know what an artifact from the Pillar looks like.”
Anchor sat up again, obvious excitement coloring his bright eyes. “Maybe you do,” he answered. “But if you think the disc I pointed out to you earlier is from the Pillar, then you weren’t paying as much attention on your father’s ships as you thought.” His irritating grin grew wider. “Let me guess. You had your nose in a book? You look like a reader. Was it mystery? Thriller?” He shook his head, actually biting his lower lip. “God, it wasn’t a romance, was it?”
“Three minutes, Mr. Anchorage,” she shot back, sighing loudly.
“As you know,” Anchor relented, sitting back in his start again. “The Pillar was one of the first Spanish ships to go down off what we now know as Treasure Coast, but it wasn’t the first. Some ancient text uncovered in Spanish ruins last year actually verifies a rumor I had heard floating around for years now.” He swallowed hard, tapping against his legs with the palms of his hand and producing an annoying and completely unnecessary noise.
Kate pursed her lips. This guy was like a child. He always had to be doing something with his hands, and it was obvious he liked the idea of pushing her buttons.
“And what would that rumor be, Mr. Anchorage?” Kate asked.
“Good old Phillip of Spain sent another ship, one in secret,” Anchor said. “The story goes that it didn’t fly Spanish sails or have anything to tie the ship to Spain in anyway, including the passengers. In an attempt to set up shop in the New World without gaining riva
ls, Phillip of Spain hired a trusted pirate guild.” He scoffed. “As if there’s such a thing. He set them up with some of his most loyal men as well as his best friend and top advisor and sent them off in hopes of them reaching the shore safely and claiming this piece of the New World as their own. With a pirate guild and the amount of gold he sent, that wouldn’t have been hard. Good old Phillip should have known better than to trust pirates though. Right off the shore, they turned on the king’s loyal men and the ensuing fight took the ship down. Some of them got off and a lot of the treasure was taken with them, but Phillip’s best buddy, he went down with the ship, as did the bounty he had with him. Pascal DeMarco, the—”
“The Jewels of Pascal?!” Kate asked, practically throwing herself out of her seat. “Did you come here to talk to me about the damned Jewels of Pascal?” Her nostrils were flared, her heart was pumping fast, and her hands had balled up into fists.
“So you’ve heard of it?” Anchor asked, standing to meet her, the grin on his face reappearing.
It wasn’t funny to her this time though. Of all the things he could have said, of all the tall tales and buried treasure he could have walked in here with hopes of uncovering, why did it have to be that one?
It took all she could do not to punch him in his stupid face.
“Oh yes, Mr. Anchorage,” she said, shaking her head and instinctively running a hand through her dark hair. “I’ve heard of it, and I’m not going to listen to this anymore.” She looked over at Marcus, who was sitting with arms folded over his chest. “I’m not doing this. This conversation is over.”
She turned, and walked clear out of the room closing the door behind her.
Chapter 5
Kate was halfway through her cup of coffee, black with just a single sugar, when Marcus walked into the shop. She didn't need to look up to know it was her boss. She could tell from the heavy clap of his loafers against the floor's tile. She was a good detective like that, gathering small details and putting them together to reach a conclusion. It was the job.