Legend in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  Val paused again. More than anything else in the world, she liked this. Manipulating people, watching them squirm as she broke them down. It was a sadistic form of pleasure for her, one she’d enjoyed for as long as she could remember.

  “That’s not enough, old man,” she finally replied. “If you want to save them, I’m going to need more than just the diamond.”

  Walt couldn’t bring himself to ask the rest of her demands. He already knew what they’d be. If he was going to save his son, his daughter-in-law, and his grandchildren, he’d need to sacrifice others.

  “Your friends,” Val continued, her tone filling with more anger every second. “The assholes who killed so many of my men. In order for your family to live, they will need to die.”

  Walt fell silent. His hand was shaking. His breathing erratic. He’d stood face-to-face with danger many times throughout his life. Not once had he ever allowed it to get the best of him. He had no problem gambling his life on a roll of the dice now and then. But the mention of his son, his son’s wife, and his two grandchildren struck a nerve he didn’t know he had. They were in severe danger, and he couldn’t stand it. He needed to do whatever he could to save them.

  “I’m not a patient woman,” Val said menacingly. “If you don’t make up your mind soon, I might have to—”

  “Alright,” Walt said, summoning the strength to speak through the swarm of powerful emotions.

  “Alright, what?”

  “I’ll… I’ll make sure you get the diamond. And…”

  “And your friends die,” she said, finishing his sentence.

  “Yes.”

  “Good boy,” she said. “Now, what can you tell me?”

  “I don’t know much for now,” Walt said. “They went to the Bahamas to find the next clue.”

  She fell silent for a moment.

  “The second you learn where the diamond is, you call us,” she said sternly. “You call us and tell us your plans to retrieve it, or else they die.”

  The line went dead.

  Walt was squeezing his phone so hard he was nearly breaking it. He stared at the screen, in disbelief at what had just happened. His knees wobbled, and he nearly toppled over. He pressed a hand to his chest, felt like he was dangerously close to having a heart attack.

  Keep it together, he told himself. He took in a few deep breaths. You have to keep it together, or they’re dead.

  Just as he turned around, he saw Jack fast-walking toward him on the dock.

  “They figured it out, man,” Jack said once he was within earshot. “And you’re not gonna believe it. The diamond’s practically been right under our noses the entire time.” He froze when he got close to Walt and took a good look at him by the dim marina lighting. “Hey, man, are you okay?” he said, stepping over and placing a hand on Walt’s shoulder. “You don’t look so good.”

  Walt waved him off, trying to collect himself.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Where’s the diamond?”

  Jack paused a moment, not even close to being convinced.

  “He said it’s at—”

  “Come on, you two,” Pete said from down the dock. He was walking toward them excitedly. “Hurry up, let’s get a move on. I wanna meet them when they land.”

  Jack shrugged. “I’ll just let them tell you. Sounds like we’re in for a nice payday here soon. The children’s shelter will be set till the end of the century.”

  Walt followed them toward the shore, a few steps behind them. While they were eager and excited, he was lost in a whirlwind of emotions. But by the time he reached Jack’s Wrangler in the parking lot, he’d pulled himself together. He had no choice but to comply with Val’s demands. He had no choice but to lead Pete and his newfound island friends into a trap.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “Dr. Samuel Mudd,” Ange said, staring down at her phone as I motored us along the Queen’s Highway less than a mile outside of Andros Town. “Holy crap, this is it, Logan,” she added enthusiastically while continuing to read. “This Dr. Mudd helped John Wilkes Booth after he assassinated Lincoln. After Booth shot the president, he jumped down onto the stage and broke his leg. This Mudd guy helped him and was later arrested for conspiracy.”

  That’s right, I thought, shaking my head. I’ve never actually been inside Fort Jefferson, but I must’ve read or heard something about it’s connection to this Mudd guy. It rang a bell deep inside my mind, but I hadn’t been able to grasp it fully.

  I listened intently as I brought us back into town, heading toward the dock to drop off our stuff before returning the rental.

  “This has something to do with Fort Jefferson?” I said.

  She nodded.

  “Mudd was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. His sentence was carried out at the fort.”

  “Incredible,” I said, shaking my head. “So, I’m willing to bet that if we search this guy’s prison cell, we’ll find our next clue.”

  Ange nodded, then smiled.

  “Or the diamond.”

  It was well after 2200 when Ange splashed us down back at the Tarpon Cove Marina. Filled with excitement and fueled by a delicious to-go meal of pigeon peas and rice from back at Andros Town, we’d been wide awake the whole trip back. Only Atticus managed to doze off on the backseat, and he’d only awoken when we descended toward Key West.

  Scott had messaged me again, letting me know that Wilson said not to worry about US customs on the way back into the States. A quick call to ATCs and that was all it took. They gave us the all clear to land back where we’d taken off earlier that day. Sometimes, it sure was nice having friends in high places.

  Ange brought us up alongside her usual spot on the dock. I jumped out and tied us off, then we unloaded the gear.

  “Welcome back,” Pete said enthusiastically.

  He strode down the dock alongside Jack with Walt right on their heels. Atticus ran over and greeted them as they walked up and helped us with the gear.

  “So, how was the Bahamas?” Jack said.

  “Beautiful,” Ange replied. “And you should see Hastings Hole. It’s stunning and remote. We had the place to ourselves.”

  “Hastings Hole?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

  “He lived there for a time apparently,” I said. “You guys run into any trouble here?”

  “Nothing, bro,” Jack said. “There’s been a squad car parked over at the marina this whole time just in case. But I think they might’ve run off.”

  I wasn’t so sure. Based on our interaction, this Val Gallani woman didn’t seem like the type to back down. But it had been over twenty-four hours since we’d seen them. There was no way of knowing for sure if they hightailed it out of here or were just waiting for the right moment to strike.

  “I sure hope so,” Walt said. “I’ve had those people on my ass long enough. I’m sick and tired of them.”

  “We can’t rule out the possibility that they’re still here,” I said. “If anything, we have to be overprepared and ready for the worst.”

  We grabbed all of the gear, locked the Cessna, then loaded everything into Jack’s Wrangler. He drove us over to the marina, and we carried everything to the Baia and gathered in the saloon.

  We uploaded the images of the tablet onto my laptop, then showed them to the others while a pot of coffee brewed.

  “It’s a gravestone,” Pete said, examining the images closely.

  Ange nodded, and the three of them kept looking.

  “What did you find from the cipher?” Walt said, glancing up at us.

  I grabbed a notepad and scribbled the letters.

  “F-T-J-E-F-F. M-U-D-D,” Pete read out loud.

  “Fort Jefferson,” Walt said, only needing a few seconds to think it over.

  “And M-U-D-D must be referring to Dr. Mudd,” Pete added.

  Walt and Jack both nodded at the mention of the doctor. Ange and I glanced at each other and smiled.

  “That’s what we got too,” I said. “Had to do a search t
o figure out the Mudd part.”

  “Man, it all ties in perfectly,” Jack said, leaning back into the couch.

  I shrugged.

  “What do you mean?”

  The three of them paused a moment, then Jack motioned for Walt to do the honors.

  “While you guys were in the Bahamas, we did some more research on Hastings,” Walt said. “Being an engineer by trade, Hastings had been hired to work on many local construction projects around the Keys. Sure enough, one of them was a partial renovation of Fort Jefferson in 1905. He was the lead engineer for the job.”

  “Now it looks like he did a little more than just renovate,” Jack said. “He added a sparkling new addition to the old fort.”

  I grinned and nodded.

  “And his sparkling addition must be hidden well,” I added. “Given that it’s remained untouched for so long.”

  If I’d learned anything about the guy from his scavenger hunt so far, we were in for a well-orchestrated surprise.

  “Incredible,” Pete said, looking over the pictures of the stone tablet. “All this time, the famous diamond has been right here. Hidden in the old fort.” He shook his head. “Now, all we’ve got to do is go and find it.”

  Ange slid the laptop in front of her and performed a quick search. She brought up a top-view schematic of the fort.

  “Fort Jeff itself is open to the public from sunup to sundown,” she said. “So if we want to guarantee some time to ourselves in there, we should get there early in the morning. Looking around without drawing too much attention could be tricky regardless of when we go, though.”

  I looked at the map and agreed with her.

  Fort Jefferson is a hex-shaped fortress constructed of over sixteen million red bricks that form a thick wall surrounding an area of over sixteen acres. Construction began in 1846 and never technically finished. The primary purpose of the fort was to protect one of the world’s busiest shipping lanes. Its guns, and especially the ships that could anchor in its deepwater harbor, made the fort a vital American strategic asset for many years.

  But I remembered reading that the fort was abandoned by the Army in 1874 and subsequently used as a hospital quarantine site, a bird reserve, and eventually a national monument until President Bush made it a national park in 1992.

  The fort has since become a popular tourist attraction. Its impressive design, along with the beautiful nearby beaches and its seclusion from the busier part of the Keys, draws over fifty thousand visitors every year. There’s a ferry service that runs from Key West every day and private plane charters for those who prefer a quicker and pricier alternative. Dry Tortugas also offers some of the best diving and snorkeling you’ll find anywhere in the world.

  “Once we’re inside, then what?” Jack said. “We’re just supposed to search every inch of the doc’s old cell or what?”

  The five of us exchanged glances.

  “Yeah,” I said with a nod. “This is the clue, so we follow it and see where it takes us.”

  I stepped in the main cabin, took a quick shower, then changed into fresh clothes. Ange did the same, and when we came back out into the saloon, Jack and Pete were still going over all of our gathered information.

  “Where’s Walt?” I asked.

  Pete nodded toward the saloon door. “Went to get some air.”

  A few minutes later, he returned. As he stepped below deck, he had a strange look on his face, like something was bothering him.

  “You sure you’re alright, man?” Jack said. “You looked like you were about to drop dead earlier and now you need air?”

  Walt waved him off.

  “Just caught something, but it’s nothing major.” He filled a glass with water and took a sip. “It would take much more than a stomachache to keep me from finishing this search.”

  “I’ve got Tylenol and Pepto Bismol in that cupboard there,” I said, pointing above the sink.

  He thanked me and popped a few pills.

  We spent another half hour going over the plan. There wasn’t much to it. We’d head over early in the morning, search the cell, and play it from there. Just before hitting the sack, I got a call from Scott. I told him all about our little side trip to the Bahamas and about Fort Jefferson. He was intrigued, and he let me know he’d be in the Keys the following morning. When I asked if he needed me to pick him up from the airport, he told me that wouldn’t be necessary.

  “I’m gonna put that old trawler over at Blackbeard’s into the water,” he said in his articulate, confident voice. “She’s long overdue. I’d like to stretch her legs.”

  The trawler he was referring to was a sixty-footer that had been confiscated by the government after we had taken down its Russian assassin owner. By outward appearance, the vessel looked like a rundown fishing boat that was well beyond its last legs. But beneath its decrepit exterior, the trawler had a lot of expensive surprises, especially in the engine room.

  “I’ll meet you guys at Tortugas at sunrise,” he continued.

  “You gonna be alright finding the place?” I said with a laugh. “It’s been a while, Senator.”

  He chuckled.

  “I think we’re due for a little sparring match, you and me, Dodge. It’s clearly been too long since I showed you who’s still top dog.”

  “Just making sure,” I said in a friendly tone.

  We hung up, and when I headed back down into the saloon, everyone was getting ready to call it a night. Pete and Walt decided to stay in the guest cabins on Jack’s Sea Ray. I didn’t blame them. The Baia’s built more for speed than anything else, and though it’s comfortable on the inside, there’s not a lot of space compared to the Calypso.

  “Zero four thirty,” I said to them as they stepped down onto the dock.

  “That diamond’s ours, bro,” Jack said, petting Atticus, then waving as he strode down the dock alongside the others.

  THIRTY

  My alarm woke me up at 0400. After switching it off, I rolled out of bed, cleared my mind, then rose and got ready. Ange got up a few minutes later and headed for the galley. We ate a quick breakfast, and each downed a mug of coffee.

  I met Jack, Pete, and Walt topside, and they helped me secure my small white Zodiac inflatable dinghy to the Baia’s swim platform. After a quick check of the weather and the tides, we cast off and motored out of the marina. I’d filled up both the main and aux gas tanks the previous day, so we had more than enough fuel for the trip.

  Once clear of the no-wake zone, I rocketed us up to the Baia’s impressive cruising speed of forty knots. We flew into the Northwest Channel, storming into the Gulf.

  It was shaping up to be a good day out on the water, with little to no chop. The sky had only a few small patches of clouds, and there was just a six-knot breeze blowing in from the east. The waxing gibbous moon cast a sparkly glow over the dark water. Looking up, I could see the sparkling stars of the constellation Pegasus. The mythological Greek winged horse twinkled in the dark sky alongside Pisces and Aries.

  Just under two hours after shoving off in Key West, we reached Dry Tortugas. I piloted us between Iowa Rock off our port side and Hospital Key off starboard, then wrapped around to the south, cruising right past the massive red brick walls of Fort Jefferson on Garden Key. The fort’s size and resiliency after all these years always astounded me. It was an impressive feat of architecture and engineering, especially considering its location.

  I eased back on the throttles and brought us into the same deepwater channel that’s used by the Yankee Freedom ferry. There were two boats anchored in a small cove beside us. One looked like a thirty-four-foot Catalina sailboat, and the other was a large yacht. Both vessels were devoid of any visible activity. I kept my distance from them and idled the Baia as far north as I could get without being in the ferry’s path.

  Jack was already up on the bow, unclipping the safety lanyard for the anchor. Operating the windlass from the cockpit, I slowly dropped the forty-pound anchor into the water. Once clear of the
deck, I reversed the throttles to set it into place on the sandy bottom, then let out another fifty feet of rode.

  With the Baia anchored down, I killed the engines, then climbed up onto the bow to take a look around. It was 0630, and the first traces of the soon-to-be-rising sun were making their appearance over Long Key and the open Atlantic beyond. The scene was calm and quiet. There was no movement aside from a guy unzipping his tent and walking to the bathroom over at the campground, a flock of early-rising frigate birds, and a handful of sandpipers rummaging about in the softly crashing waves.

  I downed another mug of coffee for the road, then grabbed my waterproof backpack. Inside, I had a few essential items stowed, including my waterproof flashlight, satellite phone, and two extra loaded magazines for my Sig.

  Since we all reasoned that there’d likely be a little demolition required, I grabbed my fourteen-inch, five-pound sledgehammer and stowed it securely as well. I also grabbed my crowbar, which Pete put in his longer duffel bag along with a few extra flashlights and a small collapsible shovel.

  Ange had an idea to close off the cell, just to keep any wandering early riser tourists away. We grabbed a coil of nylon rope, and she created an “Area Closed” sign. I stowed both in my backpack, then zipped it up and stepped out to the main deck.

  Stepping down into the engine room, I grabbed the small 4-hp Mercury outboard engine for the Zodiac, and we hoisted it up onto the deck. After tightening it down to the Zodiac’s transom, we unlashed the lines and eased it into the water.

  I made sure Atticus’s water bowl was filled, then petted him behind the ears and said, “Alright, boy. You stay and keep an eye on the boat, alright? We’ll be back before you know it.”

  I said it but knew it wasn’t true. Stepping out of sight for more than five minutes is like a lifetime for a dog. I can drive down to the grocery store, and when I get back, Atticus will jump and lick me like he hasn’t seen me in ages. He never ceases to show his affection. One of the many things I love about having a dog.