by steve higgs
A quickly issued instruction from the Superintendent changed their aim.
‘In there.’ I indicated to the shack we had just vacated.
The armed Police rushed past us. Pausing briefly as she followed them, the Superintendent asked if we were hurt.
‘Nothing of concern.’ My father replied.
‘Roberta and her family are in there along with one of the drone pilots I told you about. They were using some high-tech camera gear to project images of the pirates. I saw them for myself. They were very convincing. The chap behind it all escaped though, as did Michael Shornecliffe, the other drone pilot.’
‘Where?’ she asked, looking around.
‘I did not see which way either man went.’
‘Nor I.’ added my father.
‘They will not be able to get far. The road out of the village is blocked.' There was noise coming from the shack now. Shouted instructions from the armed Officers as they secured the building. The Superintendent left us to join them, issuing orders to some other unseen force via her radio as she went.
I caught up with my father and took the lobster pot from him. ‘Let’s get the dogs out of there, shall we?’ The catch was a little fiddly, mostly through unfamiliarity. Once I worked out how simple it was to open, my two dopey sausages plopped happily out of the confined space and into my arms, their kisses showering me in dog saliva.
‘Isn’t anyone going to ask me what happened?’ demanded my Mother. ‘I got kidnapped.’
My father and I just looked at each other.
‘How about a glass of wine, Mary?’ Dad asked. ‘Then you can tell us all about being kidnapped.’
Mother beamed a smile at her husband. ‘Oh, Michael. You do know me well.'
Happily, and with my father and I either side of her, the three of us holding hands in a line and the two dogs trotting ahead of us, we left the beach behind and went in search of refreshment.
Are We Done Yet? Thursday, November 3rd 1927hrs
I didn't get far from the beach before I thought of something that turned me around. I sent my parents on without me, promising that I would be along shortly. The dogs followed me when I whistled for them. I had no idea what had happened to their leads. Fortunately, they were quite obedient and stayed close by.
I caught the flashing lights of more emergency services sweeping down the road into Cawsand. The strobe lights were not accompanied by sirens, unnecessary to clear the way when there is no traffic to clear. I picked up the dogs and stepped to the edge of the road to allow the ambulance and two Police cars to pass me. I was almost back at the shack, so the vehicles drew to a halt just in front of me, uniforms spilling from each vehicle in a rush.
I was looking for John, but it was Roberta I came across first. Sergeant Andrews was leading her out of the shack towards a waiting Police van. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, any resistance well and truly gone now. Her pretty hair and face were a mess, blood visible on her lower lip and a chunk of hair sticking out perpendicular to her head where it had most likely been yanked.
I was quite content to dismiss her, but she called my name, ‘Tempest.’ I turned to face her. ‘I’m sorry. I think you are a great guy.’ She shrugged apologetically. ‘For what it’s worth, I don’t regret sleeping with you. I wish I had met you sooner.’ She was being very open and honest. For the first time.
I considered just walking away, but it irked me that she thought she could make things better with a heartfelt apology. ‘Roberta you are a crazed, greedy, psychopathic murderer. I will regret meeting you for the rest of my life.’ My own heartfelt reply delivered, I turned away from her desperately hurt face. I could hear her being bundled forcibly into the van as I went in search of John.
Inside the shack, Gretchen and Tilda were being treated by paramedics. By the look of things, Tilda had suffered a heart attack. Armed Police were standing by but neither woman was restrained, the threat from either probably minimal.
I finally spotted John. He was in handcuffs being led away to the waiting Police van outside. He would be taken to a cell, processed, charged and locked up. He was guilty of GBH or worse and he was a fairly despicable human. He also made the world’s best granola and I needed the recipe. I doubted he would give it up, but I had to ask.
He turned as I called his name. ‘What?’
‘John, I realise you probably have no desire to be a pal. However, I was hoping you would give me the recipe for your granola.’
‘What?' his face was a mask of disbelief. ‘You have got to be kidding.'
‘John you make the best granola on the planet. Let the recipe survive this.' I implored. He was still being led away by the Police and we were nearing the van now. I only had a few seconds left.
‘Okay, okay. But only because I think you are cute.' I steadied my mind to memorise the recipe and ingredients. ‘First I take whole blanched almonds and fire raisins and bake them in the oven. While they are baking I take McVities original Hobnobs biscuits, not the chocolate chip ones, it has to be the originals, and I crush them by hand. This is important because if you use a machine you will get dust and not the wonderful chunks that you want.’
‘Hold on.’ What he had said had just registered. ‘The base for your granola is smashed up Hobnobs biscuits?’
‘Yes. How else do you think I get it to taste so amazing? Next you…’ I waved him into silence and walked away.
No wonder I was feeling bloated and my trousers were tight. I had eaten a whole packet of cookies for breakfast every day this week. I patted my stomach and chuckled ruefully. ‘Come on boys.' I said to the dogs. They were by my feet, looking up at me hopefully. It occurred to me that I had not fed them this evening, they were undoubtedly wondering what was going on. ‘Let's get some dinner, shall we?'
I would find my parents and deal with my own needs later. Quietly walking back up the street towards the darkened Sea Pilgrim the Superintendent's words echoed in my head. "He won't get far, the road out of the village is blocked." At the time when she had said it, I had felt reassured. There is only one road in or out, but he had been coming and going by sea all along. The gold would be too heavy or cumbersome to take through the village to a car, so he had been carrying it down to the coast and loading it into a boat to then row out to his yacht. I even knew where because it was where he had dropped the coins one morning.
What to do? Alert the Superintendent? Maybe he was already gone. I would take a walk and see. It seemed like a simple solution to my unanswered question. He had most likely headed straight there when he fled the shack.
He hadn't though. Displaying that greed can never be satisfied, he had gone back to the house for more gold. Coming along The Cleave I spotted him running back across the beach. In the darkness, it was just a darkened figure that could have been anyone, but the furtiveness of the figure's movements told me it was him.
He climbed back up to street level and crossed the road to head back up to the house. Was he really after more gold? I could soon put a stop to his greed. I pulled out my phone to call the Police. They would route a message back to the uniforms here on the ground in seconds. My phone was dead though. It had been in my pocket all afternoon and not charged since last night.
I debated going back to find the Police at the shack. I knew though that I was going to have to tackle him myself. If I went for help and he got away I would berate myself for months for my cowardice. If only I didn’t have the damned dogs with me.
It was too late to do anything about it. ‘Come on, chaps.’ I called quietly to them as I set off at a jog towards the house on Heavitree Road.
The front door to the house was open when I got there. The lights were not on but there was a glow coming from somewhere deep inside. The dogs scrambled in ahead of me. They thought we were visiting someone, to a Dachshund, going into a house that was not yours meant food and getting fussed. The noise of their claws skittering on the wooden floorboards sure to alert Cameron to my arrival.
I
shut the front door behind me, trapping us all inside. I thought about waiting for him to emerge rather than go looking for him in the dark house and walk into whatever trap he might have hastily arranged. Waiting though would mean the dogs would be with me when Cameron and I fought. I went through to the next room and shut the door on the dogs, separating me from them. Bull immediately whined at the door. I ignored him.
The glow was coming from a hole in the floor. Lights had been jury-rigged on a cable that led from a socket in the wall down through the hole. A wooden ladder was poking out through the hole. I moved over and looked down through it. All I needed to do was pull up the ladder and he would be trapped.
I could get the Police at my leisure.
I grabbed for the ladder, but I had missed my chance. Cameron was coming back up it. He looked up at me as I was looking down into the hole at him. His giant, meaty hands were gripping the ladder rungs. Staring up at me with a delighted grimace on his face, it was clear he fancied his chances. His thick-set neck and muscular shoulders were all I could see as he climbed. I remembered just how big he was. The question now was whether the muscle was for show, like a bodybuilder gets, or if it was truly functional in which case he would be as strong as an ox. I told myself the muscle would make him slow. I also told myself the sensible thing to do was grab the dogs and run for help.
He said, ‘So glad you stopped by, Tempest.’ as his head emerged above floor level. I wanted to kick it, but decency dictated I let him gain his feet before I attacked. ‘Aren’t you going to warn me the Police are coming? Tell me I need to run?’
‘No. My plan is to beat you to a pulp and hand you over to them.'
He chuckled. ‘I have to admire your spirit, little man. I think your mirror might be broken though.’ He was off the ladder now, squaring off against me. I was watching his eyes, waiting for the move. ‘I am twice your size and at least twice as strong.’
He twitched his eyes at my hands. The tell just before the move. We were six feet apart, no distance at all but the small room was barely more than twelve feet across so there was nowhere to go when he lunged. If he had expected me to dart away he was sorely mistaken.
He came with both hands trying to grab hold of me. I made like I was going to try to take a step back then lunged forward to punch him squarely in the face. He reeled back from the blow as I grabbed his right arm and swung under it. His forearm was dirty and sweaty though from working down the hole and my grip failed.
Where I had intended to turn his arm against its elbow joint and force him down I fell backward instead, landing on my butt and rolling quickly away. Not quick enough. A boot caught my ribs, right on the site of the injury I had sustained a couple of weeks ago and with a whoosh, the air left my lungs.
He kicked again, only this time I got my arms in the way, caught the leg as it hit me and pivoted my own legs around to sweep his remaining foot. He crashed down. I rolled away again, but right into the wall less than a foot behind me. I scrambled quickly to my feet to see that Cameron was across the room. There was distance between us once more so I could reset myself.
I brought my hands up and loosened my limbs, my knees flexed to react in whatever way I needed to convert his next attack and turn it against him. He chuckled though, reached down and produced a rusty looking cutlass from a pile of junk on the floor.
I was willing to bet that it was the murder weapon used to kill Philip Masonberg and very possibly to cleave open Matthew Todd's head. I wanted it for evidence. The more pressing task for me now though was avoiding getting cut to ribbons by it. I looked around for something I could use to defend myself. As he came for me, I grabbed the only thing I could see – the wooden ladder I had not been able to yank out of the hole earlier.
He swung the cutlass, aiming to take my head clean off. It thunked hard into the wooden ladder and stuck. Thankfully the weapon was blunt, but he was quick enough to kick me with a swinging boot that luck, not skill allowed me to catch on the meat of my right thigh.
The ladder was about eight feet long, giving me a ton of leverage. I cranked it hard through a perpendicular plane. I wanted to yank the cutlass from his grip. The result though was that he ripped the weapon free and hacked at me again. This time he put more force behind it and cut the top rung in two. His eyes flared triumphantly as he hacked again, this time lopping a piece off a ladder leg. My eight-foot weapon was shrinking.
I swung at him with it, boxing him with both ends. In turn, he stabbed at me point first meaning to skewer me. One, two, three times he thrust the blade forward. I parried the first one down, the second one up, but the third came right through the gap between the rungs.
Perfect.
I folded the ladder from perpendicular to the floor to horizontal, trapping his arm as I do so. Inevitably it pulled his arm and thus his face downwards. Seizing my chance, I whipped the ladder back up before he could bring his greater strength to bear. The wood caught under his chin, the cutlass came free and he fell backward.
But he didn't fall over. He was still on his feet, his eyes locked on a point on my torso. Then he looked back up at me and grinned once more. I glanced down.
There was blood on the floor and it was mine.
When his weapon had come through the rungs it had caught my side. Blood was coming through my clothing and seeing it now I became aware of the damp sticky feeling and a stinging sensation low on the right side of my ribs.
We locked eyes. He was readying himself for the next attack. The Cutlass was halfway between us but off to the side where it was not convenient for either of us. If one of us dove for it, the other need only wait and then kick their opponent once he was stooping to pick it up. He was waiting for me to make my move. He was convinced he was going to win.
Well, stuff that.
I took the fight to him. He swung a punch. I parried it with my left forearm and hit him in the face with my right fist and kept going. He tried to kick me, a giant foot arcing up towards my face. My right arm went out and around to trap the leg under my armpit as it struck me. Then I took a fast step back to pull him off balance and kicked him in the nuts.
The blow hit home. I let his leg go as he folded into himself. Then I noticed our positions relative to the room, took two steps back and three to my left then ran, leapt and kicked him in the chest with everything I could muster. He flew backward, slammed into the wall behind him and fell down the hole. Triumphantly I picked the ladder up and walked towards the door as he howled his disbelief.
I tried to think of something cool to say.
Nothing came though, so I shrugged and went looking for my parents and a cold pint.
A Cold Pint. Thursday, November 3rd 2017hrs
Before I could refresh my palate, I still needed to feed the dogs and alert the Police to the location of the master criminal. I was getting a bit weary, finding the Police again felt like a lot of effort but I did it anyway.
I found the Superintendent still down at the shack. There were crime scene type people there now, the armed Officers were packing up and of Gretchen, Roberta and the others, there was no sign.
‘Ah, Mr. Michaels. I'm glad you are here. I need a statement from you. I will need to interview your parents as well.'
‘I have Cameron Lake and the murder weapon, I think.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Cameron Lake. The guy behind it all. Your roadblock was never going to stop him because he was leaving by boat. I have him trapped in a basement. Oh yeah, when I called you to tip you off about Roberta, I forgot to mention that I found the treasure.'
‘The treasure?’
Goodness, this was hard work. ‘Yes, Superintendent. The treasure that twenty ships full of treasure hunters are at sea every day looking for. The half a billion pounds of gold, silver, and jewels that is supposed to have gone down on the Merchant Royal in 1641. Ringing any bells?' I waited to see if she had any questions.
‘Oh. Oh, I see. Well, perhaps you should show me where he is then.’ T
he Superintendent never seemed to get excited. She did react though, calling Sgt Andrews over and having her round up three more uniformed Officers so they could all follow me back to Heavitree Road.
I turned to start the walk back to Heavitree Road yet again. I talked as we walked. ‘The ships are looking in the wrong place. The treasure, at least quite a lot of it, was buried in the basement of a house on Heavitree Road. Quite how it had stayed hidden there all these centuries I cannot imagine, but Cameron tracked it down, probably by reading several of the same letters, logs and accounts that I have plus an awful lot more besides.’
‘I would guess that he has been excavating in that house for months, taking it out to his yacht at night under cover of darkness. He dropped some coins one night and their discovery was the catalyst for everything else. You probably ought to get on the radio and get a Police launch out to look on board a yacht called Caribbean Dream. It is moored out near the harbour entrance.’
‘Tempest?' The call came from behind me. I didn't need to turn around though to know that it was Rebecca Franks. Undoubtedly drawn by the flashing red and blues that had swept through town and were still flashing their strobe lights even now. I turned anyway, resignation in my movements.
Rebecca was jogging along the road towards me, the two men that formed her crew trying to keep up. Bull and Dozer assumed their natural defensive posture, appearing from nowhere to run headlong at the woman, barking for all they are worth. Fortunately, being attacked by a miniature Dachshund is not that terrifying. A little startling maybe, but there really isn't much danger of injury unless they manage to trip a person.
‘Goodness!’ She exclaimed as they ran at her feet.
‘Dogs.’ I called to them so that it sounded like I was at least trying to bring them back to heel. They had arrived at her feet and seemed confused about what to do next. She had stopped running in her surprise, so they were giving her a sniff.