The Crowns Vengeance

by Andrew Clawson

  Tucked into the oxblood red leather driver’s seat, Parker Chase had one hand on the steering wheel and one on the shifter, clicking through the six gears his new toy had to offer.

  Five weeks ago, Parker Chase would have had no business in an exotic car dealership. He’d been a modestly successful investment banker, brokering deals for other people who drove vehicles like this. But one chaotic month later, he’d been able to found his own firm with private capital he’d provided.

  Fifty million dollars of capital, to be precise.

  The money had originally belonged to an assassin for hire. The story of how Parker gained control of the cash he kept to himself. Suffice to say the guy didn’t need it anymore.

  Parker’s fledgling investment business was based in his hometown of Pittsburgh, in a downtown office that had three phones, two computers, and one chair. His desk was an old card table. Spartan was an understatement, and he loved it. Newfound appreciation of professional independence aside, he was now headed to Philadelphia in search of a second office, closer to the big boys in New York. A small-time operation like his wouldn’t get enough exposure to attract serious investors without a foothold in a major metropolitan area.

  And it didn’t hurt that his girlfriend lived in Philadelphia.

  The iPhone on his dash lit up. Speak of the devil. It was Erika.

  “Hey, babes.”

  “Any speeding tickets yet?”

  “No, but I still have a hundred miles to go. This thing is awesome.”

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying your ludicrously over-priced vehicle. I hope someone scratches the paint tonight.”

  “Not funny. Are you still at the office?”

  “I’m still here. The speech I’m giving tomorrow is almost finished, so I should be home around the time you get there.”

  “No one’s going to come to your presentation anyway. Cut out of there now and pick up some cheesesteaks for us on your way home.”

  “Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you. Do you realize that four hundred people have signed up for my session? People are flying in from all over the country. I had to get approval to move to the auditorium.”

  Erika had been contacted by a staff member at Hamilton Grange National Memorial, the preserved home of Alexander Hamilton. A construction worker had stumbled across several ancient but well-preserved storage chests behind a wall in the library. The Memorial staff thought Erika might be interested in the contents, and while digging through the materials, Erika found a map.

  “Why do all these nerds care so much about a few old pieces of paper?”

  If there was one thing Parker loved, it was giving Erika a hard time. She may have been a respected professor of history at an Ivy League institution, but that only encouraged him.

  “Dim-witted though you may be, I hope you appreciate the historical import of what we’re talking about. The map is from Alexander Hamilton’s library, and it’s an amazing piece of history.”

  “You can’t seem to get away from that guy.”

  Earlier this year, a separate set of artifacts with ties to the illustrious patriot had come into her possession. The results of this find had led to one of the more interesting experiences of her life, in which Parker had played a vital role.

  “This map was found in an entirely different location, and if you’d listen for a second, I could explain.”

  “By all means, continue,” Parker replied.

  “Hamilton was born in the West Indies, and in that era, the 1750s, Saint Kitts and Nevis were hotbeds for pirates. It was the Golden Age of Piracy. This map is a valuable artifact.”

  That got his attention. Parker had been so busy lately with his business that he’d not asked what this presentation was all about. He just knew that she’d been working day and night to prepare her speech for tomorrow.

  “So you’re telling me that the first Secretary of the Treasury was linked to piracy?”

  “I never said that, but it makes you wonder. Hamilton visited the area frequently in retirement, maintaining ties to the community until his death.”

  “And you think that somewhere along the line he picked up this map?”

  “It certainly makes sense.”

  Pistons whined as Parker accelerated around a driver doing sixty in the fast line, oblivious to the world, cell phone pressed to her ear.

  “What’s the map look like anyway? I’m guessing a big X doesn’t mark the spot or else you’d be on a plane with your shovel.”

  “No, X doesn’t mark the spot. The focus of this map is an underdeveloped section of North Carolina coastline. It’s just east of the Croatan National Forest near the town of Beaufort.”

  That didn’t sound very exotic.

  “So what’s the big deal about a map of the coast?”

  Hostility crept into her voice. “Other than the fact this map belonged to one of our nation’s founding fathers, there’s also a phrase written in one corner that appears to contain directions of some sort.”

  A vague explanation if he’d ever heard one.

  “What exactly does it say?”

  “Come to the presentation and find out.”

  How very like her.

  “You’re impossible. See you in an hour.”

  He clicked off and lowered the windows, air blasting his face. He’d met Erika his freshman year of college, when both were on athletic scholarships. For most of the past decade they’d been together, and he knew her better than anyone else alive. She’d been there for him through the deaths of his father and uncle. Parker’s father had died in a hunting accident, and his uncle murdered shortly thereafter.

  His uncle Joe had been Erika’s mentor at Penn, where he was a renowned researcher. Under his guidance, Erika had blossomed into a formidable faculty member in her own right.

  A cloud of despair slid across his sun-drenched face. It was still hard to believe Joe was gone.

  As his new car ate up the miles, Parker forced himself to think about the only positive thing that had come from the fiasco: his reunion with Erika. They’d been broken up at the time, but when Joe died and Parker suddenly found himself the sole living member of the Chase family, she’d been there in his time of need. That had been less than a year ago, and they’d been going strong ever since.

  Erika lived in Philadelphia, across the Schuylkill River from her office at the University of Pennsylvania. Though it certainly wasn’t home, Parker had a soft spot for the city of brotherly love, rich with history and filled with a vibrant sense of life. As much as he enjoyed his freedom, he realized that eventually he would have to make a serious commitment to Erika. Even still, he doubted she would be willing to give up her dream job at Penn to move west with him. How could he blame her? She was on the verge of tenure, had access to world-class research facilities, and was well respected within the university.

  It was all enough to send him running for the nearest barstool. Still, he was excited to see her.

  Precision-crafted metal gears slipped into place as he punched the gas to send his new ride rocketing down the highway, the thrill of speed tingling in every pore.

  Chapter 2

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Flowing blonde hair framed her tan skin, high cheekbones sloping to dimpled cheeks. Sparkling blue eyes flecked with gold studied the mirror, checking for errant bits of spinach.

  Erika Carr was a beautiful woman, not in small part because she had no idea this was the case.

  Satisfied, she turned and marched toward her office door.

  “Are you honestly not going to tell me what it says? You’re unreal.”

  Parker trailed behind her, complaining all the way. She thought he would have figured out by now that the more he let on something bothered him, the more she’d do her best to make it worse.

  “I reserved you a front row seat for the conference. You’ll have no problem hearing what I say, just like everyone else in the auditorium.”

  Muted grumbling was her than
ks as Erika walked out into hot summer air. The crisp white dress she’d chosen for this speech flitted on a sparse breeze. She loved the heat, the chirping birds, loved everything about summer.

  What she enjoyed most of all about this time of year, however, was the peace and quiet on campus. Only a handful of students were visible on the spacious lawn, most off to summer internships or back home for the summer. She could actually hear birds chirping, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by blaring car horns.

  Hundreds of people were gathered outside of Irvine Auditorium. As a rising star in the academic community, Dr. Erika Carr’s presentations were always well attended. In constructing the announcement for this particular talk, she’d highlighted the possible connection between Hamilton’s map and the notorious pirates who’d terrorized that Atlantic seaboard. It hadn’t been long before word spread and the event was sold out.

  Parker’s eyebrows shot up when he saw the crowd. “Did you tell these people there was an open bar or something?”

  “Very funny. Go take your seat and be quiet while I’m talking. You’ll learn something.”

  Erika left him behind and headed to a side door, a folder tucked under her arm. Inside it was a copy of the speech that would be published on the Discovery Channel’s website that evening. One of her colleagues was a regular contributor to the channel, and after a few phone calls, a Discovery rep had called and offered to share her find with the world.

  It seemed that pirates were back in fashion these days, thanks to Johnny Depp, and the Discovery staff thought it would be a great idea to highlight this research angle on their website. Frankly, Erika didn’t care why her work was being distributed: she was just happy that someone had decided factual research was worth talking about rather than the latest Hollywood version of history.

  The ever-present noise that accompanied city life disappeared. Cool air tickled her bare legs as Erika marched through the back of the auditorium performance area, past an array of musical instruments, and, after nearly toppling a tuba, found herself onstage, the curtain already open.

  The auditorium’s lower level was nearly full, and attendees continued to stream down the aisles.

  I hope they aren’t just after buried treasure.

  Truth be told, she highly doubted Alexander Hamilton was involved with piracy in any way, but if it encouraged people to talk about history, why not?

  It was challenging enough to get non-academics interested in her work, so Erika ran with the idea. Mention that pirates might be involved, and people were hooked, visions of the skull and crossbones drawing them like sharks to chum.

  Combine the mysterious lines scribbled on Hamilton’s map with Blackbeard, and Erika had crafted herself a surefire way to get butts in seats. Which directly served her ulterior purpose of educating the owners of said rumps on the history of America.

  “Good morning, Dr. Carr. You look radiant, as always.”

  The head of Penn’s theatrical department glided in from behind her, his canary yellow bow tie shouting from the rooftops that this man was a lover of the arts who couldn’t be bothered with such mundane issues as good taste. Wise eyes twinkled beneath a wild shock of graying hair, which would have reached his shoulders if gravity ever won the battle.

  “Dr. Bowes, you’re too kind. Again, thank you for allowing me to use this wonderful facility today.”

  The man’s affinity for his newly refurbished playhouse was legendary.

  “Of course, my dear. It appears that everything is in order, so if you will excuse me, I’ll quiet the teeming masses.”

  Back ramrod straight, the diminutive director slid past her and out to the podium. “Ladies and gentleman, your attention please.”

  Silence descended as Dr. Bowes consulted his notes

  “The University of Pennsylvania History Department is proud to bring you this presentation. A trove of documents was recently uncovered on the estate of Alexander Hamilton, the first Secretary of the Treasury and one of our most illustrious founding fathers. Amongst these treasures was a piece that revealed previously unknown information about the life of Hamilton. Please join me in welcoming Dr. Erika Carr.”

  Applause filled the air when she walked on stage.

  Erika glanced over the crowd before her eyes locked onto Parker, who sat front and center. He laid his head on one hand, feigning sleep.

  Why she put up with him was a mystery.

  “Thank you.”

  She began with the history of piratical activity in the early eighteenth century, touching on the exploits of Black Bart and Henry Morgan, just two of the many seafaring raiders who plied their trade at the time. Erika then detailed how piracy had fallen as quickly as it had flourished, for then as now the disruption of international trade brought swift retribution from aggrieved governments. These buccaneers, however, had not simply faded over time. Many had left their mark, literally and figuratively, which was one of the main reasons so many interested people were sitting here today.

  Behind her, a massive digital image of Hamilton’s map flashed onto a towering screen.

  “The map behind me was found during a recent renovation of Hamilton Grange National Memorial, the only home Alexander Hamilton ever owned.”

  Erika explained that the map depicted a section of North Carolina coastline and seemed to focus on the town of Beaufort, a well-known pirates haven around 1700. Though she could have lectured on the area’s colorful history at length, these people weren’t here for that. And Erika wasn’t going to disappoint.

  Her voice became heavy with intrigue. “To begin, I’d like to talk about the poem. If you direct your attention to the area above the Eastern Atlantic, you’ll find a handwritten passage.”

  She knew everyone had already been studying the script that hovered just off the coastline, black letters written in stilted, halting script.

  On the slender road black as night, follow the beacons of alabaster light.

  Tread lightly through the watery door, lest the Blackened spirit raise his fiery sword.

  Inside the starboard flame, opposite four cubits depth, rests a pillaged truth for the cotton man’s death.

  Her words reverberated through the cool air.

  “On the surface, utter nonsense, perhaps the ramblings of a lost soul. Yet, this phrase meant something to somebody. It was important enough to write down. The question is what, and why?” Erika may have been an academic, but she knew how to put on a show.

  “Now, I must remind you that what I’m about to share is inconclusive. The study of this fascinating piece of American history has only begun, and it would be reckless to assume that Hamilton’s map will divulge its secrets so quickly.”

  And like that, they were hooked.

  “At first, I was confused by the lines. No real structure is present, nothing concrete to begin interpreting the message. It appears that this paragraph may have been written during the eighteenth century. As such, it should be viewed through the prism of someone living at the time. Taken one way, they appear to be a set of directions.”

  Heads bobbed, a wave rippling across the sea of humanity.

  “From where or to what, who knows? What we can tell is that the author is pointing us toward more than one source of white light.”

  Beacons of alabaster light was highlighted with a click.

  “A traveler following this path would find himself on or near a body of water.” Another click and the watery door was in bold. “Which may be hazardous to his health.”

  Blackened spirit raise his fiery sword demanded their attention, and starboard jumped off the screen.

  “Now we learn something about our mysterious author. He or she has been exposed to life at sea, or at least to the jargon used by sailors throughout the world.”

  “Also, we see that in order to understand the demise of the cotton man, we must look to a place opposite four cubits depth. A cubit is about eighteen inches, so the final stop on our journey is six feet in one direction from a flame t
oward the starboard, or right, side. Now, what might an adventurer find at the end of this mysterious journey? I have no idea. If he were lucky, though, there might be a chest of buried treasure at his feet.”

  Silence followed her words.

  “As to the author’s intent, we may never know. Thank you for joining me today.”

  With applause filling the air, one man in the audience sat motionless, his eyes locked on the screen. He’d traveled a thousand miles to attend this lecture. Only when he’d glimpsed the passage Dr. Carr had just read did he finally believe.

  As Dr. Carr concluded her presentation, his thoughts drifted back several days, to when he’d first learned of the map’s existence.

  Victor Burl had been standing on his private beach, feet buried in hot sand. The fourth-generation CEO of an oil and gas exploration firm, Burl was one of the richest men in the Bahamas. Like his father before him, Victor lived in Nassau year round, the island paradise his personal playground. As he stood, staring at the pristine Atlantic waves, clad in only a pair of linen pants, his latest girlfriend waved from the sprawling deck that fronted his estate, her crimson hair sparkling in the sunlight.

  A phone was held to his ear.

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes,” the man replied. “The description matches perfectly. Dr. Erika Carr has the map, and is presenting on it in two days time.”

  There was no question. Victor would be there.

  “Secure a ticket. And set up a meeting with Dr. Carr. I don’t care what it costs.”

  “I’ll have the jet ready to depart tomorrow, sir.”

  His assistant clicked off, leaving Victor alone with his thoughts.

  In that instant, Burl knew he would do whatever it took to secure the map.

  His family had been searching for this map for generations. He’d lost hope, fearing the map had been lost, when like a lightning bolt from the heavens it had appeared, here at the University of Pennsylvania.