Gold in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  I smiled as I read the message and kept driving, my hair blowing in the tropical wind. I drove on through Marathon and remembered why I’d loved that part of the Keys so much as a kid. It’s much quieter there than down south, and there are some great campgrounds and beaches that few people ever go to. It’s also where my dad and I lived and spent most of our time together.

  While driving through the town, I spotted a small used car dealership that was almost completely hidden behind a Mobil gas station. It only had about six vehicles in the lot, but one, a black pickup truck, caught my attention. I pulled my rental into the lot beside it and gave it a quick inspection before the salesman walked over. I smiled as I looked at the word Tacoma etched on the backside of the tailgate. It was the same make and model as the truck my dad had bought me back when I’d first started driving, though about fifteen years newer.

  “Just got her in on Tuesday,” a round-bellied, bald-headed man wearing sunglasses and a black visor said. He was wearing a name tag, which I thought was funny considering how small of a business it was.

  “Give me the rundown on her, Chuck,” I said.

  He gave me a quick overview of the truck. It was a 2001 four-door with an extended cab. It had a little over a hundred thousand miles on it, with four-wheel drive and new off-road tires.

  Liking what I heard, I parked the Mustang beside the office and walked over to do an inspection of the engine and the interior. Everything looked good, and the seats looked like they’d never been sat in before. The engine started up perfectly, and I took a quick drive around the block, testing the brakes and acceleration and making sure the engine didn’t make any strange noises.

  “She’s a great truck, one of the best I’ve had here in a long while,” Chuck said with a smile.

  “How much do you want for it?”

  Chuck looked off into the distance and thought it over for a moment. “Well, given its condition, I’d say it’s worth no less than twelve thousand.”

  I knew he was trying to pull a fast one on me. The truck was probably worth close to ten, maybe a little more for the island markup.

  “How about eleven?” I replied. “Cash.”

  Chuck sighed. “Eleven five. Can’t do any better than that, my friend.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said, grabbing my keys and heading towards my rental. “Thanks for your time.”

  “Are you really willing to walk away for five hundred bucks?”

  I grinned and turned around. “Are you really willing to let me walk away for five hundred bucks?”

  He thought it over for a moment, and when he didn’t answer, I took it as a yes and opened the door to my rental.

  “Wait,” he said followed by a sigh. “Alright, eleven thousand even it is.” I turned around, shutting the door to the Mustang. “I’ll get all the paperwork started.”

  My dad had taught me always to be willing to walk away when negotiating, and that cash talks. I’d negotiated for the truck the same way my dad had shown me when we’d bought my first truck years ago, and his advice still held true.

  Less than an hour later, after a quick trip to the bank, we shook hands and signed the title, and I drove out of there in my new truck. I’d called the rental company and they’d agreed to pick up my rental and bring it to Key West International Airport for a small fee.

  It was just after noon when I merged back onto US-1, and soon I was entering one of the most popular and craziest tourist destinations on earth, Key West, Florida.

  As much as I’d always liked the quiet and relative seclusion of the Middle Keys, Key West was an exciting place to be. The nightlife, restaurants and tourist attractions made it a truly unique place to visit. It was also where Jack and his dad had lived and where we’d met each other when I was young. Our dads had introduced us to each other, but it was our shared love for the ocean that had forged a friendship between us.

  I drove over to the Conch Harbor Marina and pulled into the lot. A young man with curly blond hair and a backward snapback greeted me as I stopped just beside his small wooden booth.

  “Good morning, dude,” the kid said. “It’s eight bucks to park for the day.”

  “Eight?” I asked. “Why not just charge ten?”

  “I’ll take ten if you want,” he replied with a grin.

  I laughed and asked him who is boss was.

  “Mr. Henderson.”

  I recognized the name but couldn’t quite place it. A second later, it came to me.

  “Gus?” I asked.

  The kid looked at me, confused.

  “Yeah. Look, I can give you his information if you need to contact him for something, but I gotta charge you eight bucks to park. We take Visa, dude.”

  I told him that I’d be coming and going frequently over the next few weeks, and he offered me a monthly pass for fifty dollars. I bought it, then the barrier rose and I drove through to the parking lot.

  “Welcome to Conch Harbor,” the kid said as I drove away.

  I waved back at him and found a spot right in front of the Greasy Pelican. It was just after one, but the place was filling up quickly, although it was the middle of the week. I killed the engine, and as soon as I hopped out of the truck, my mouth started to water. The smell of fresh seafood mixed with the warm tropical air made me wonder how anyone could ever leave such a place.

  I walked up the steps and through the double doors, which had old helms chopped in half for handles. The Greasy Pelican was just how I’d remembered it. Just as I walked in, I saw the walls covered with stuffed fish, pictures of famous people who’d eaten there and other knickknacks. Right by the front door was a massive saltwater fish tank filled with all sorts of sea life, from crab and lobster to clownfish and eels.

  “Just one today?” a waitress who was standing behind a small Host Stand asked.

  “No,” I replied. “I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone for lunch. Jack Rubio.”

  The restaurant seemed pretty busy, even given the season. Looking past the waitress, I saw that the patio was almost empty, seeing as how it was now well over eighty degrees. Still, I decided I’d rather sit out there and watch the boats come in and out of the marina.

  “Haven’t seen Jack at all today,” the waitress replied. “My guess is he’s on his boat. It’s moored just down the dock.”

  “Which one’s his? Is it still the Calypso?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir. You can see it from the patio. Slip forty-seven, I think.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a smile.

  I turned around and left the restaurant through the same doors I’d entered. I’d expected Jack to be late. He’d always been bad with time and had always told me that it was because he was an islander. “Blame it on the heritage, bro,” he used to say. Islanders are too laid-back to be somewhere exactly at the appointed time. Hell, I doubted he’d ever even owned a watch before.

  I walked past my new Tacoma and down a few wooden steps to the dock. It was a beautiful marina, filled with boats of all shapes and sizes. Some were small Catalinas and Tahoes, and others were million-dollar yachts that sparkled in the Florida sun and cast shadows over the dock. It wasn’t far to Jack’s boat. Slip forty-seven was at the very tip of the dock closest to the Pelican. The Calypso was the name of Jack’s dad’s boat that we used to go out all the time on as kids. His dad had been a fishing charter captain along with his father before him. Jack was a third-generation conch and had grown his father’s business to include scuba diving charters as well. He’d done well for himself, and last time I was down here, he had more than one boat and a scuba shop downtown.

  Nearing the end of the dock, I saw a black pirate flag flapping in the wind alongside a dive flag. Below it was the white hull of a forty-five-foot Sea Ray with Calypso stenciled on the side. It was a beautiful boat with plenty of deck space and a pilothouse above. As I walked closer, I realized there was someone under the cockpit, hunched over and picking something up from the deck. It was Jack. His tanned skin from y
ears of being on the water and curly blond hair were unmistakable. He was shirtless, wearing only board shorts, and when I reached the boat, I saw that he was cleaning up beer cans.

  “Nice boat,” I said. “What’s the rate for a dive out on the reef?”

  Jack looked up, then smiled as he realized who I was. He grabbed his cell phone from the chair beside him and looked at the time.

  “Dammit, I’m sorry, Logan,” he said, jumping up over the transom, landing on the dock and wrapping his arms around me. “I was hoping to be done with this by now.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s great to see you, Jack.”

  “You too, my brother. It’s been too long since the last time you came down. How have you been?”

  He welcomed me onto the boat and offered me a seat on the soft padded bench.

  “Can’t complain,” I said. The entire deck was littered with beer cans, and there was fish blood and guts against one of the rails. “What the hell happened here?”

  Jack shook his head. “Just got back from a morning charter. Bunch of loud-mouthed guys from the Midwest who’d never fished the ocean before.”

  “I don’t get how you can put up with it.”

  Jack shrugged. “It pays the bills.”

  A young man appeared from the cabin, walking up the steps and carrying two black garbage bags that were full and tied off at the top. He was scrawny and had much paler skin than Jack and looked like he was around fourteen. He dropped the bags on the deck beside us.

  “That’s the last of it for in there,” he said. Using the top of his forearm, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Isaac, this is Logan,” Jack said, motioning to me. “You met him once before, but you were really little.”

  The young man looked me over, then tilted his head.

  “Yeah, I think I remember. You pulled me out of the water one time. I was fishing off the dock and I leaned a little too far over.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Isaac,” I said, extending my hand. “You’ve sure grown up a lot since then.”

  Isaac was Jack’s nephew. Jack’s older brother had gone to college up north and then gotten a job in Chicago. For some reason, he’d always preferred colder weather to the tropical climate of the Keys. He’d gotten married and they’d had one child, Isaac. When Isaac was only seven, Jack’s brother had died in a tragic car accident, leaving behind his wife and son. When his wife had decided she couldn’t take care of him, she’d left him with Jack, who’d been raising Isaac ever since.

  We shook hands, and Isaac asked Jack if he needed help with anything else. Jack said no.

  “I’m gonna head home, then,” Isaac said, stepping over the transom and grabbing a bike that was leaning up against the Calypso. “It was good seeing you, Logan. Thanks again for saving my life.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure you would have been fine. Rubios are born able to swim.”

  He waved and peddled his bike down the dock and out of sight.

  “It’s a good thing you saved him,” Jack said, smiling at me. “He may bear the name, but that boy’s a mainlander at heart.” He opened the lid of a nearby Yeti and looked inside. “You want a drink? I’m afraid all I got left are a few Cokes.”

  I accepted the offer and we sat in the shade, enjoying the cold beverages.

  “How long are you here for anyway?” Jack asked, leaning against the railing across from me.

  “Well, that depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  I started to open my mouth, then felt my stomach grumble. “Why don’t you let me help you finish cleaning up here and we can talk over some lunch at the Pelican? I’m starving.”

  Jack finished up his Coke, crumpled the can, then threw it into a trash bag.

  “Sounds good, bro.”

  It didn’t take us long to finish clearing the deck of cans and spray it down with water to get all the blood and fish guts off. I could tell that they’d done most of the work already and were just tidying up. When we were finished, Jack threw on a cutoff shirt and locked up the Calypso. We walked over to the Pelican and got a table on the patio, overlooking the marina and the rest of the bay beyond.

  “Lucy,” Jack called to the waitress before she’d even stepped out of the door. “Could you get us a couple of hogfish sandwiches and two beers?”

  She smiled and continued walking towards our table. She was very pretty, with long brown hair, tanned skin and freckles. She was the same waitress I’d spoken to earlier when I was looking for Jack. I pegged her to be in her mid-thirties and was surprised to see that she didn’t have a wedding ring on her finger.

  “Will that be all?”

  “For now,” Jack said.

  “Lucy,” I said. “Could we get an order of coconut shrimp as well?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be right out with your beers.”

  “She’s cute,” I said when the door shut behind her. “I think she likes you.”

  “Who, Lucy? Nah, man. I’ve given up dating the locals here, even though she just moved here less than a year ago. It’s a small island, you know? It’s hard to avoid your ex when there are only a few grocery stores in town. It can get awkward.”

  Lucy came back out and set two beers on the table in front of us, each one on a napkin. She smiled again, then strode back inside.

  “Besides, it’s nice having a few women that are just friends, you know? You start dating and that all goes to hell.”

  I grabbed the beer and took a long pull. Leaning back in my chair and looking out at all of the boats and the blue water behind them, I let out a long sigh.

  Jack laughed. “You look like a fish that’s just been thrown back into the water.”

  “Sure is good to be back. It feels like it’s been forever.”

  “You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re here. What, did you finally get sick of going on dangerous adventures around the world?”

  I took another sip of beer. “Funny thing is, it was one of those dangerous adventures that led me here.”

  “Uh-oh. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” I assured him. “It was just an unexpected encounter, that’s all. Scott and I were in Mexico and we ran into some trouble. But we both made it out fine.”

  Jack grinned. “I should have guessed Scott would be involved. You two could find danger in the Vatican, for goodness’ sake. What does any of that have to do with you coming to the Keys, though?”

  I waited until after Lucy had brought us our food, ensuring that she wouldn’t walk out and overhear part of our conversation. The hogfish sandwiches were smothered in swiss cheese, onions and mushrooms, and they looked delicious. I took a bite, savoring the flavor and amazed by the freshness of the fish and the Cuban bread.

  “You remember that coin I found years ago? Well, we found another one, and let’s just say there’s a hell of a lot more.”

  I told Jack the story of our going to Sierra Gorda and exploring the cave. How we’d found Spanish writing along with a conquistador’s helmet and sword. I also told him about how Scott had found the coin we’d found all those years ago and how he’d learned that it was an Aztec coin.

  “The treasure was taken, Jack. It was taken from the cave by the Spanish, and it hasn’t shown up anywhere since.”

  “So what are you saying? You think Montezuma’s treasure, the gold of the Aztec empire, is somewhere here in the Keys?”

  I grabbed a shrimp, dipped it in cocktail sauce and scarfed it down in one bite. After taking a swig of beer, I leaned back in my chair.

  “All I’m saying is that there’s a damn good chance. How else could that coin have gotten here?”

  Jack thought it over for a moment. “That ledge isn’t a popular dive site down here. Only a few locals know about Neptune’s Table. Hell, it’s been nearly a year since I made it out that way myself, and that was just because the lobster are still plentiful there. But we’ve searched it over countless times before, bro. Heck, we probably know every inch
of that area for four hundred feet in all directions, and yet we’ve never found another coin or anything to hint at more treasure being there.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich and washed it down with beer.

  “But it’s possible we could’ve missed it. Even a massive treasure like that is tiny compared to the ocean, and it’s been hundreds of years. What’s your schedule look like the next couple of days? Any chance we could head over there soon and explore it some more?”

  “Sure, bro. I would take the Calypso out today, but this weather’s about to turn on us. Tomorrow’s gonna be blue skies all day, so we can head out early in the morning and have a look around.”

  I looked out over the blue water, then up at the sky, which was almost cloudless.

  “This weather’s gonna turn? What makes you think that?”

  Jack grinned. “Thinking’s got nothing to do with it. I’ve been living here all my life, same as my father before me. It’s called islander instinct. Mark my words, by no later than three this afternoon, there will be rain.”

  I looked at the sky again and just shook my head and laughed.

  “The funny thing is, you’re probably right.”

  He nodded. “Of course I am. Why don’t you come by the dock in the morning and we’ll take her out for the day?”

  I told him that sounded good, and he asked where I planned to stay. The truth was I hadn’t really thought about it and hadn’t had a chance to look for a hotel yet.

  “It’ll be tough luck finding a vacancy this time of the year,” Jack said. “Why don’t you stop by the house and I’ll put you up in the guest room?”

  I thanked him and told him it would just be for a day or two until I found a more permanent place to stay.

  After lunch at the Pelican, I spent the rest of the afternoon driving around downtown Key West, revisiting the historic tourist town that I used to call home. A lot of it was exactly how I’d remembered it. The same local eateries, the same gift shops, though there seemed to be a lot more of them, the same oddballs doing tricks or singing in the streets, and of course the same laid-back vibe in the air. I drove the length of historic Duval Street, then drove past the southernmost point and on to Fort Zachary Taylor State Park, which was always one of my favorite places in Key West.