“You’re not planning to break open the chest with that crowbar, are you?” she asked furiously.
“You have a better idea?” Jay countered.
“A locksmith.”
Jose and Lonny laughed.
“For obvious reasons, that’s out of the question, baby. We’re sequestered here until the big event. No visitors allowed,” he explained. “Go ahead, Jose, work your magic.”
Despite the dire circumstances, Blossom glared at Jay as Jose wedged the crowbar into an narrow seam beneath the beautifully engraved letter “H” and worked on springing the internal lock. But the chest stubbornly refused to surrender its contents. Lonny held the chest in place while Jose applied even more pressure to the seam. Jose perspired freely during his struggle but finally the lock was defeated with a loud crack and snap.
Jay applauded his approval. “Bravo! Now let’s take a peek at your treasure, baby.”
All four crowded around the gold chest as Jay pushed the lid back. Their smiles vanished. There was nothing inside but an oilskin envelope and a bulging bladder.
Lonny snatched the bladder and shook it. Liquid sloshed inside. “Hey, maybe it’s filled with wine,” he suggested, sniffing the corked opening. “Let’s have a taste. This shit must be hundreds of years old, and you know what they say about aged wine.”
Jay grabbed the bladder from his hand. “You fool, why would anyone go to all the trouble of sticking some lousy wine into a gold chest? Whatever’s inside must be pretty fucking valuable.”
Lonny moved back and sulked.
“Maybe whatever’s in that envelope will tell us what’s inside that prehistoric thermos,” Jose offered.
Jay handed him the bladder for safekeeping. “Don’t drop it,” he warned Jose and opened one end of the envelope. He carefully withdrew a thick folded sheet of parchment that was yellowed and brittle from age. Blossom insisted that she be the one to unfold the paper, and Jay agreed. After ten minutes of painstaking caution, the parchment lay unfolded and undamaged atop the table. Jay whistled his amazement.
“It looks like a goddammed treasure map!” Jose exclaimed. “And it’s written in some kind of Indian-Spanish bastard language. Let me take a crack at it.”
Jay blocked his view of the map. “I’ll read it.”
Jose shrugged his shoulders in disappointment and backed off.
After a half hour and a lot of assistance from Blossom, Jay stepped back from the table and lit a cigarette. For a few moments, he and Blossom were speechless from their discovery. Finally Jay glanced her way. “This is unbelievable, baby.”
She merely nodded.
He snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just got a great idea.”
“What do you mean?” Lonny asked. “What’s in that bladder thing anyway?”
“Later. I have to make a few calls. This stuff could give us more leverage with the feds than what we originally planned.”
“Can’t you give us a hint?” Jose asked impatiently.
“Later I said!” Jay barked. He took the bladder from Jose, pulled Blossom into the small kitchen where they were out of earshot of his companions and shut the door.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked Blossom.
“Uh-huh.”
“This bladder must be filled with water from the famous fountain of youth.”
“If it is, then I don’t understand why Ponce de Leon never mentioned his discovery in any of his documents. I mean, finding the fountain of youth would’ve made de Leon the toast of the world,” she commented pensively. “Add that to the fact that he spent so much of his life searching for it, it would seem to me and probably every other historian ever born that de Leon would’ve welcomed the fame that went with this monumental discovery. Not to mention that he would’ve used the water’s regenerative properties to regain and maintain his youth. He was in his early fifties when he died.”
“For once we agree, baby. The whole damned scenario makes no sense at all.”
“Unless . . .” She let the word hang in the silence.
“Unless what?” he prodded eagerly.
“Unless the fountain was a fake.”
“Then why save the water?”
Blossom frowned. “Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”
“And what about his men? Wouldn’t they have talked to somebody about the discovery?”
Blossom sighed. “You scored again. So if we’re right about this being the famous water, the questions remain: why didn’t de Leon announce his discovery, and why did he go to all the trouble of sealing the fountain water and map into a gold water tight chest and just drop it in the gulf?”
“How about another question? If I’m de Leon, I wouldn’t go to all that trouble. I’d simply empty the bladder into the ocean. With so much water in the gulf, I mean, you’d think that the fountain water would be way too diluted to do any harm,” Jay proposed.
“Unless . . .”
“Dammit, I hate that word.”
“Unless he was afraid that it might somehow poison the gulf.”
Jay regarded the bladder. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Not if he’d witnessed its effects and was badly frightened.”
“Yeah, well this is all merely conjecture, you know?” Jay added.
“Right.” Blossom looked at him suspiciously. “What’s going through that sick mind of yours?”
He grinned. “I say that there is only one way to prove who’s right and who’s out to lunch.”
Her bloodshot eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t!”
“Hell yes, I would. I think I’ll conduct a little scientific test.”
“That’s a horrible idea.”
“Thank you.”
“Inhumane!”
“It’s all for science.” He stroked his chin. “Now I need a lab rat.”
“Who?” she whispered, afraid he was going to name her.
“It would only be fitting to let Lonny sample some of his precious aged wine.”
“You’d test it on one of your own friends?”
His mouth curled into a cruel smile. “Just watch me.”
8
N
eo arrived at the Pirate Cove Motel in his rental Excursion just before 5:00 p.m. that day. He was decked-out in a wildly colored tropical shirt, white baggy slacks and brown leather sandals. His gun holster hung from his hip, and his FBI picture identification was clenched in his left hand. He strode into the motel lobby, flashed his identification at the desk clerk and asked for the room number where the kidnapping had occurred.
The large Orion Sector agent was an intimidating sight and the young woman quickly complied.
“Room 214,” she said and managed a tenuous grin. “There’s an elevator through the glass doors to your right.”
“Thanks.”
When Neo arrived at room 214, the door was open and there were still a few FBI agents milling about the room. One of them turned and scowled.
“You’d think Rance could’ve chosen a better agent to investigate this kidnapping,” Crow quipped outside the bedroom doorway.
“There’s none better, my man,” Neo replied with a slight grin.
Crow shook his hand. “I suppose that because this case involves a minority citizen, Rance was forced to send a minority agent to investigate.”
“To be politically correct, of course,” Neo added. “Why don’t you just admit that you’re pissed because Rance didn’t send Nick?”
“That has-been,” Crow kidded. “But seriously, why didn’t the great white hunter poke his nose into this mess?”
“Rance ordered him to stay put in Washington and take the lead on the Tampa terrorist threat. Believe me, he wanted to be here in the worst way.”
“What Tampa terrorist threat?”
“I forgot you’ve been a beach bum this past week. I’ll fill you in later over a few brewskies. Let’s concentrate on your niece’s kidnapping for now,” Neo replied.
Crow nodded. “Good ide
a. Let me lay out the facts for you, but I warn you there aren’t many.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Three armed men gained access to the kids’ room without breaking in. Either Blossom and Clay knew the kidnappers or the men posed as maintenance workers –or something like that. In either case, one of them opened the room door which allowed the three kidnappers to charge inside.”
“Three?”
“Yeah. An old man down the hall heard a single gunshot and observed two white men and an Indian leaving this room, brandishing guns and hauling Blossom along with them. He watched them drive away in a tan Explorer, but the license plate was smeared with mud.”
“Figures. Did the old man call 911?”
“No. Unfortunately, he called the front desk to report the shooting and a possible kidnapping. The day manager took his own sweet time getting up here to check out the old man’s story. That’s when he found Blossom’s boyfriend, Clay Corey, lying on the floor in a pool of blood and near death. Finally the manager called 911.”
“How much time elapsed from the shots to the law arriving?”
“I’d say about thirty-five minutes.”
“Jesus!” Neo doubled his fists. “The kidnappers’ trail was ice cold by then.”
“You’re telling me, NFL man.”
“Any clues to the kidnappers’ identities?”
“That’s what these two lab boys from the Tampa bureau are doing here.”
“Searching for hair that we can run DNA matches on?”
“Bingo.”
“Mind if I take a look back there?” Neo asked and pointed toward the bedroom.
“Be my guest.”
One of the lab men raised a hand. “If you two are going into the bedroom, you’ve got to wear hairnets,” he explained.
Neo winced. “Whoa! Have you ever seen a black man wear a hairnet?” he asked indignantly.
“I’ve never heard of a red man wearing one, either,” Crow joined in. “Did you lab boys ever see John Wayne fighting Indian warriors who wore feathered hairnets?”
“As a matter of fact, gentlemen, I’ve seen Indians and big bad black guys both wearing hairnets,” the agent retorted.
“Yeah, where?” Neo demanded.
“In a little Fort Myers reality show called ‘crime scene’”. The agent tossed them each a folded hair net. “Just your sizes, guys.”
The two lab agents snickered as Crow and Neo slipped on their hairnets. Scowling, the Orion Sector agents examined the bloodstains on the carpet inside the bedroom. At first glance, nothing else appeared unusual. The bed was made, although the bedspread was wrinkled in the center. Crow’s brow puckered when he imagined what Clay Corey and Blossom must have done to muss it.
“What’s this gray crud in the waste basket?” Neo asked as he lifted the small plastic container and placed it on the dresser.
Crow shrugged. “Crusty stuff?” he offered.
The hairnet agent poked his head into the bedroom. “Those are long-dead crustaceans, and it appears as if your niece and her boyfriend had scraped them off something today.”
Neo nodded. “Makes sense. Otherwise the wastebasket would’ve been emptied by housekeeping yesterday.”
“Very astute, Supervisor Doss. Keep that up and you’ll be promoted to a real FBI agent any day now.” The hairnet lab man and his partner guffawed loudly.
“Funny. Real goddammed funny,” Neo shouted.
Crow couldn’t help but laugh too.
“You guys are all pretty pathetic comedians,” Neo huffed defensively, but shortly he joined in the laughter.
After their laughter died away, Neo noticed a bath towel wadded into a ball on the dresser top beside the wastebasket.
“Hey, did one of you comedians check out this towel?” Neo asked.
Both men entered. “Yeah, we did. It had the outline of something rectangular pressed into it.”
“By the depth of the depression, whatever was setting on it was pretty heavy,” added the other lab agent.
“Can’t you run some tests to identify what was on the towel?” Crow asked.
“We can tell you what it was made of, but couldn’t tell you what it was,” replied the hairnet agent.
Neo slid latex gloves on his massive hands and explored the dresser drawers. Blossom’s purse, containing her credit cards and traveler’s checks, was tucked in the rear of the top drawer and appeared undisturbed. Clay’s wallet was beside it, crammed with cash and shiny new credit cards.
“Obviously this wasn’t a motel invasion,” Neo said. “Those guys want cash and credit cards. And as a rule, they don’t kidnap their victims – they just kill them.”
“Yeah. We’re getting nowhere at the speed of light here,” Crow lamented. “When a wrinkled towel is our best clue for determining the motive for this kidnapping, we’re having a real bad day.”
Neo agreed. “And we don’t even know what wrinkled the towel.”
“Whatever was sitting on it was obviously valuable enough for the kidnappers to take it along.”
“Now that’s a big help.”
Frustrated, they returned to the living-dining area and immediately yanked off the hairnets.
“One aspect of this case bothers me,” Neo said thoughtfully.
“Only one?”
“Yeah, like why did they shoot Clay? He wasn’t armed and there were three of them. Shooting Clay in that scenario just doesn’t add up,” Neo explained.
“I know. Sounds a little like a crime of passion,” Crow agreed. “But I can’t picture one of Blossom’s old boyfriends showing up to kidnap her and shoot the new boyfriend.”
Neo nodded. “Right – that is a bit farfetched.”
Crow grinned. “But I suppose we could check it out just for the helluva it.”
“Yeah, just for the helluva it,” Neo added.
“I think I know what the motive was.” A woman’s voice carried from the hallway. “I think Blossom was kidnapped by thieves.”
The four agents turned and were instantly captivated by the beautiful woman in the open doorway.
Her expression was grim. “May I come in?”
The vociferous lab agent leaped forward. “If you’re coming inside, miss, you’re going to have to wear a hairnet.”
Suddenly the four men burst into laughter, leaving the woman completely bewildered.
9
T
he ominous skyscraper cast a pall over the Manhattan skyline like a tombstone. It was an architectural masterpiece of amber glass framed with black marble, and it glittered like a pale gem beneath the setting sun. The imposing structure narrowed as it approached the top six stories, and few people had ever been invited to the lavish penthouse on the uppermost floor. It was strictly reserved for the owners of the privately held Aspirations, Incorporated, world-renowned for their anti-aging products. However, the building’s architectural beauty was merely a facade that cloaked an ancient evil within.
Today, as was their custom every month on this date, the three owners convened their board meeting and discussed the corporation’s business and financial matters. The three elderly owners were Grant Donovan, Sloan McGrath and Tobias Simpkins. The six-foot two Donovan was muscular, ruggedly handsome and had a full head of wavy silver hair. McGrath’s medium wiry frame was an inch shorter than Donovan; his countenance was pinched in a perpetual scowl. Gray streaked his thin, unkempt red hair. Simpkins was the tallest partner at six-foot four. He carried himself with a regal air and was generally considered to be the leader of the group. His eyes were a vibrant blue, and his wide smile could exude charm and warmth – or lethal frost, depending on his mood. Those who were well acquainted with the Aspirations board members unanimously agreed that Tobias Simpkins was the most ruthless.
All three men’s bulbous noses were networked with broken blood vessels. Their complexions were scored with leathery wrinkles and their beetle brows were dusted gray. The flesh on the backs of their hands were sallow, transluce
nt and dotted with liver spots.
They wore ultra-expensive business suits and smoked hand-rolled Havana cigars. A bluish-gray haze rose toward the ceiling where the powerful smoke-eater sucked it quickly from the boardroom. Sloan McGrath reached into his suit jacket pocket, withdrew a business envelope and pushed it across the table to Tobias.
After scanning the brief report, Tobias passed it to Grant Donovan. When he finished reading it, he refolded the report and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“Incompetence is the only word for it,” Tobias said at last and his partners agreed. “That fruity jackass, Dr. Patrick, has botched his assignment but good.”
“Well, what’s our next move? We can’t allow Warnke Construction to continue excavating until we’ve had a chance to remove the elixir,” Sloan asserted.
“Plan B,” replied Grant.
“Precisely,” Tobias agreed. “Are our back-up people ready and willing to move later on tonight?”
“They are,” Grant replied. “I spoke with them less than an hour ago.”
“If your associates are nabbed by the cops, they can’t be traced back to us can they?” Sloan asked nervously.
Tobias frowned at McGrath.
“Of course not,” Grant snapped defensively. “I’ve taken the usual precautions. Besides, those people don’t care who they work for as long as they get their cash payments.”
“Good, good,” Sloan said quickly.
“That’s the easy part, Sloan,” Tobias reminded him. “Opening the vault and transporting the elixir without being seen are the most significant challenges.”
“Are we certain that the elixir’s even there?” Sloan questioned again. “All we have is the word of that pompous medical examiner.”
Tobias stood and strode across the boardroom to the armored cabinet that protected the ancient archives. He opened the ponderous door and returned to the table with yesterday’s thermal readings of the site. He spread them across the table, nearly spilling Sloan’s clear refreshing drink.
“Hey take it easy, Tobias,” he whined.
Tobias smiled and bowed. “I was a bit careless, wasn’t I?” There was no hint of remorse in his tone.
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