by Matthew Rief
In an instant, Walt’s eyes lit up like a forest fire.
“Hot fucking damn!” he yelled, then jumped up and down like an old prospector who’d just found a large nugget in his gold pan.
Smiling, I kicked over to the swim platform and handed it to him. He held it up and admired it like it was the most precious artifact on the planet. Part of me couldn’t believe we’d actually just found it. It felt more like a dream than reality.
Walt helped me up out of the water, and I quickly removed my gear. After stowing everything, we motored the Calypso over to the edge of the channel, then dropped and set the anchor. Once the busy work was all done, we moved into the saloon with all of the excitement of two kids on Christmas morning.
Lethargic and struggling to keep his eyes open, Atticus followed right at our heels and dropped down onto a shaggy rug across from us.
We flipped on the galley light and sat across from each other at the dinette. Holding the compass out in front of Walt, he wiped it down, and we both examined it.
It was a simple design, clearly constructed for functionality as well as fashion. It had a sturdy gold outer shell, gold backing, and a loop above the north point to secure a chain that had long ago gone missing. The glass front was scratched to hell, but the inside and the gold were unaffected.
“Still works,” Walt said with a smile as he held it out in front of him. “The worst storm in American history, then over seventy years at the bottom of the ocean. They just don’t make things like they used to.”
He wasn’t kidding. The compass still looked pretty good all things considered and didn’t require any cleaning other than a quick wipe-down with the cloth. There was no doubt in either of our minds that it was pure gold. Gold is such a stable metal that it rarely if ever oxidizes. Unlike most metals, which corrode and tarnish over time, especially in saltwater, gold usually remains shiny and new.
“There’s an inscription here,” Walt said after flipping it over and examining the back. “But it’s small. You got a magnifying glass?”
I grabbed one from the navigation drawer that I used to look at charts. After handing it to him, he focused it and read the words aloud.
“Buried at the base of the city’s undying sun, the secret deed was done. Facing the ten score, eleven paces more.”
He read the words, then his eyes narrowed as he looked up at me. He handed it to me while thinking it over.
I ran the words over and over in my mind as I read them. The back was just as unassuming as the front. Just flat gold with the inscription in the middle. Looking closer at the back, I grabbed a rag and wiped underneath the inscription. There was something else, a symbol etched into the gold.
“Hey, check this out,” I said, pointing at the symbol.
Walt leaned over.
“What is that?”
I shrugged. But after staring at it for a few seconds, I grabbed my phone and performed a quick search. I smiled and held out a displayed image to Walt.
“It’s the Florentine Diamond,” I said.
The symbol had the same irregular double-rose-cut nine-sided shape as the lost jewel. He smiled and patted me on the back. Once we knew what it was, the symbol was clear.
We thought over the inscription for a few more minutes. Even with the excitement of having found the compass, I still felt more tired than I had in a long time.
With my eyes growing heavier by the second, I said, “We’ll have a better time figuring out what it means if we’re well-rested.”
He gave a reluctant nod, then rose to his feet and patted me on the back.
“Wait till we show the others,” he said.
I headed straight for the starboard guest cabin and crashed softly on the full-sized bed beside Ange. I was out before my head hit the pillow.
I woke up to the sound of the door swinging open and bare feet against the teak floor. As I opened my eyes, I could see light peering in through the cracks of the pillows burying my head. I turned around and caught a whiff of freshly brewed coffee.
I blinked a few times to clear the morning haze and watched as Ange sat down beside me. She was wearing a pair of workout shorts, a tank top, and a big smile on her beautiful face. In her hands were two steaming mugs.
“Good morning, Captain Dodge,” she said in her sexy accent. “You guys did good. Though I’m disappointed I wasn’t there to see your reaction when you found it.”
I laughed as I rose up out of the pillows and leaned back against the headboard.
“It wasn’t half as entertaining as Walt’s.”
She handed me the mug, and I took a sip. It was good. Jack’s Colombian medium roast. Black, just the way I liked it.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly ten.”
Damn, I thought, unable to remember the last time I’d slept in so late. I guess staying up past five will do that.
“You guys make any headway on the inscription?”
“Not really,” she said. “But we’ve only been up half an hour or so. They’re all looking at it now.”
I could hear the animated chatter coming from the saloon. Sliding my feet to the deck, I rose just as Atticus came storming through the open door. He practically tackled me back onto the bed in excitement. He licked my face, wagged his tail violently, and breathed heavily.
“Come on out,” Ange said with a wink before turning around. “I just finished up some eggs.”
Still dressed in the same shorts and tee shirt from the previous evening, I joined the others out in the saloon.
“There’s Indiana Jones now,” Walt said as he raised his mug to me. “I was just telling Pete how you managed to strike it rich on the last hit of the early morning.”
“That was real?” I said while jokingly rubbing my eyes. “I thought I’d dreamed that.”
The group laughed and greeted me as I joined them around the dinette. Jack and Ange plated the food, then brought it over. We scarfed it down quickly while taking turns looking over the compass.
“It’s incredible, bro,” Jack said, holding it like it was a genie’s lamp.
“It really is something,” Pete said. “And an artifact that I hope will end up on display at my place.”
“Of course,” I said. “Once we’re through figuring out what the words mean, of course.”
Walt shook his head. “I dreamt about it all night. Can’t seem to make heads or tails of it.”
“Well, let’s break it apart,” Pete said after finishing off his eggs and washing them down with a swig of coffee. “First, ‘Buried at the base of the city’s undying sun.’”
We sat in silence for about a minute, then Jack beat a fist on the table.
“I got it!” he exclaimed. “Maybe it’s referring to the Sun Sun Restaurant over at the Waldorf.”
Pete shook his head. “A good guess. But the Waldorf Astoria didn’t open its doors until New Year's Eve of 1920. Long after Hastings’s time.”
After a few more minutes of far-out-of-left-field guesses, Ange took her first shot at it.
“It sounds like he was being poetic,” she said. “I mean, this guy Hastings did say on his deathbed that it was a scavenger hunt after all.”
We looked over at her, our expressions welcoming her to elaborate.
“Let’s look up synonyms for sun,” she said, grabbing her phone off the counter.
After a few seconds, she sat down beside me and began at the top of the list.
“What about star?” she said. “After all, the sun is just a star.”
“Buried at the base of the undying star?” I said.
“Could be referring to constellations,” Pete said. “Though I wouldn’t have the first idea where to start digging.”
“A constellation would explain the use of the word base,” I said. “What else you got?” I added, looking at her cellphone screen.
“Sunlight, sol, shine, light, sunshine—”
“That’s it!” I said. The word light caught my attention and complet
ely changed the way I was thinking about the riddle. I grabbed the compass and read the words slowly. “Buried at the base of the city’s undying light.”
I looked around the galley at nothing but confused faces. Then, I saw a switch turn on in Jack’s head.
“Undying light,” he said, his lips contorting into a big smile. “The lighthouse, bro.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“That makes sense,” Walt said. “The Key West Lighthouse was built back in the 1830s. And it’s a big enough landmark to ensure that it would still be around long after Hastings’s death.”
“And it helps tie in the rest of it,” Pete said, his voice filled with excitement. “The secret deed was done. Looks like the next clue was buried near the base of the lighthouse.”
“Eleven paces is simple enough,” I said. “But what about ‘facing the ten score’?”
Walt jumped to life this time and grabbed hold of the compass, looking closely at the front of it. His face grew into a big smile.
“Facing the ten score,” he said quietly. He looked up at us, then pointed at the compass. “He’s talking about the degrees. Ten score is two hundred. So all we have to do is go to the lighthouse and—”
“Face the two-hundred-degree position,” Ange said, completing his sentence.
“Right,” Walt said.
“And then walk eleven paces and voilà!” Jack said.
We all smiled as we looked at each other, then raised our mugs into an enthusiastic cheer. With breakfast finished, Pete and I took care of the dishes while the others prepared to make way.
Atticus, sensing that we were getting ready to leave, jumped up and down excitedly. Once the anchor chain was coiled up and the anchor secure, Jack started up the Calypso’s engines. We brought the cooler up to the flybridge with fresh ice and a refill on beverages for the trip back.
“I think it’s time we head back to Key West and dig ourselves up a secret deed,” Walt said, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder as he accelerated the Calypso north, heading out of the channel toward the Atlantic.
FOURTEEN
We passed under the Snake Creek Bridge, and just as we were about to reach the end of the channel, a boat caught my eye behind us. It looked like a twenty-foot bowrider, and it had a pristine hull and a black Bimini top. The boat itself was nothing unusual, with watercraft of all types coming and going in the channel. The issue was that it was moving fast. Way too fast for a no-wake zone.
“Get a load of this,” I said, motioning toward the quickly approaching boat.
I grabbed my binoculars while the others peeked back to see what I was looking at. Atticus jumped up onto the flybridge bench beside me and growled at the boat.
“First those plastered city slicker fishermen yesterday and now this?” Pete said.
Ange gave a piercing whistle to get their attention. She and Jack also waved, trying to get them to slow down, but it didn’t work. There were kayakers and paddleboarders right at the edge of the channel. There’s a reason why no-wake zones exist. Incidents involving reckless boaters are far too common and rarely end well for anyone.
I peered through my binos and focused on the approaching boat. Within seconds, I realized that this wasn’t a case of an ignorant captain.
Through the lenses, I gazed upon the same three guys Ange and I had seen on the shore the previous day. All three of them were staring at our boat as they thundered toward us at well over thirty knots. Judging by their expressions, they weren’t looking for a friendly chat.
I lowered the binos and looked straight over at Walt, who was standing at the edge of the flybridge.
“Looks like your friends are back,” I said sternly.
“No fucking way,” Ange said, snatching the binos from my hand and taking a look for herself.
“Walt, what’s going—” Pete started, but I interrupted him.
“You’ve got one chance to tell us who these guys really are and what they want or I swear to God I’ll throw you overboard,” I said, stepping toward him and staring fiercely into his eyes.
Walt looked back at me with wide eyes. He stood in shock for a moment at how fast my persona had shifted from friendly to serious.
“They’re…” He closed his eyes and looked down.
“No time to talk now,” Ange said as she lowered the binos. “These guys are packing and coming in hot.”
Shit, I thought, my mind racing through potential scenarios.
After a moment, I had an idea. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I could do on short notice.
“Walt,” I said sternly, “you get below deck.” Before he could protest, I turned my attention to the others. “Jack, you keep motoring us along at this speed. Pete and Ange, you two cover me.”
They didn’t know we were armed. For all they knew, we were just harmless locals trying to help out an old friend looking for treasure. I wanted to keep it that way, to play the innocent card as long as we could.
If we engaged them right off the bat, we could very well find ourselves in an old-fashioned gunfight back and forth between our boats. It would be easier to catch them by surprise up close and personal.
I headed down to the main deck, whistling for Atticus to follow and practically forcing Walt along.
“Be careful, Logan,” he said.
Once he and Atticus were through the saloon door, I slid it shut behind them without a reply. By the time I turned around, the approaching bowrider was within a few hundred yards of our stern. I felt my Sig at the side of my waistband. It was hidden from view by my shorts and tee shirt. I didn’t need to grab and inspect it to know that the safety was off and that it was loaded up with fifteen 9mm rounds.
Thirty seconds later, the bowrider slowed along the Calypso’s starboard side. Two of the guys were standing and eyeing me suspiciously. The third was seated at the small helm station, smoking a cigarette and lowering his sunglasses to get a better look at me.
“Going a little fast for the channel, aren’t you?” I said.
If any of them heard me, they didn’t show it.
In lieu of a reply, the pilot rose to his feet and said something I couldn’t hear to the two guys. The pilot was shorter than the other two and had long black hair tied back in a ponytail. The two other guys were bigger than my six-two and looked like they knew how to carry themselves. They each wore black tank tops that showed off their bulging muscles, while Ponytail wore a sweat-stained silk button-up.
Suddenly, Ponytail grabbed a handgun from the dash. Without a moment’s thought, my right hand hovered casually over my Sig. I could have it out, aimed, and fired in half a second.
With a quick wave of a hand, Ponytail ordered the two guys to climb over to our boat. We were still moving at about five knots, but Ponytail kept their boat even with ours.
“Where the fuck is Walt?” Ponytail shouted as the first big guy jumped over.
I shrugged.
“He’s in the head,” I said casually. “Hey, you can’t just come aboard without asking.”
I tried to sound as innocent as possible.
“We’ll do whatever the hell we please,” the big guy grunted in a low, husky voice.
Once both men were aboard, they eyed me, then glanced back at Ponytail. Again he spoke in a language I couldn’t understand. Sounded like Albanian, but I couldn’t be sure. What I could understand was the statement big guy number two was making when he reached over to the bow of their boat, grabbed a shotgun, and angled it toward me. He had a look in his eyes I’d seen many times before. It was the look of a man who was about to take a life. No sign of potential remorse. Just cold, hard, deadly, and straight down to business. The look of an experienced killer.
Before he had the barrel leveled on me, I heard an explosion from just over my head. In an instant, blood and bone exploded out the back of the guy’s skull, and he fell backward over the starboard gunwale and collapsed back into their boat.
While the report of the weapon still filled the air,
I lunged after the other big guy before he could react. I intended to take him down and use the gunwale for cover as we engaged Ponytail, but I slipped on the wet deck. Just as I grabbed hold of him, my momentum caused us both to go tumbling over the side and crash into the stern of the bowrider.
We hit hard, but I spun him around and tried my best to keep control. Looking up, I watched as Ange fired off a few rounds at the pilot. Seeing that they were outnumbered and that we weren’t as innocent as we appeared, he managed to hit the throttles and duck from view as her bullets shattered the windscreen and rattled against their exposed hull. He turned sharply, causing me and my newfound friend to roll hard to port as Ponytail tried desperately to put as much distance between himself and his new enemies as possible.
The big guy woke me up and rattled my brain with a strong jab to the side of my face. But I got him back with a quick elbow to his left eye and a chop to the throat. He gasped and struggled for air as I rose to one knee, struggling to remain balanced as the boat bounced up and down.
Just as Ponytail had her up on plane, he looked back at me over his shoulder. We were too far away for me to engage him hand to hand, so I reached for my Sig. Just as his eyes met mine, he turned to level his weapon at me. But I beat him to the trigger.
With a rapid squeeze, I sent a 9mm round into the back of his left shoulder. His body jerked and his hand let go of his weapon, which fell to the deck and bounced a few times before settling against the side behind him. He lurched forward and grunted in pain as he placed his right hand over the wound.
I was just about to send another round through his chest when the big wheezing guy on the deck swiped his right leg, causing my body to jolt forward and slam into the deck. He grabbed me forcefully, threw me against the gunwale, and staggered to his feet just forward of the transom.
He yelled out barbarically and reached for something at the back of his waistband. Not wanting to figure out what it was, I rolled over, snatched my Sig from the deck, and fired two rounds through his chest. His body shook with the blows and blood splattered out his back. He staggered for a second before I kicked him in the chest as hard as I could. He grunted as his body flew back, his legs slamming into the transom, causing his upper body to whip over the side.