Buccaneer

Chapter 16

It took every ounce of Locke’s self-control to keep from pacing. He waited at the edge of the swamp, impatience battling with eagerness. More than once he considered putting on dive gear and going in himself, but that would not do. He was in charge and needed to act like it.

He consulted his watch for at least the tenth time. What was keeping Fisher and his team? Having only begun operations the previous evening, they’d not yet had the opportunity to investigate the warren of tunnels beneath the island. For all he knew, his people were navigating a veritable maze. And then there were the intruders. Who were they? Were they armed? There was too much he didn’t know.

He was about to check his watch again when Fisher appeared. To Locke’s surprise, he didn’t emerge from the swamp, but from the direction of the drilling operation. The look on his face told him the news was not good.

“Report,” Locke snapped, his harsh tone a concession to his mood.

“It’s a death trap down there. The tunnels are like a honeycomb and whoever built this place added a few nasty surprises. I lost everyone.” He took a deep breath and looked away.

“Tell me the rest.” The back of Locke’s neck warmed with his rising anger.

“There is a church down there, clearly built by the Templars. Behind it, I found a hidden chamber.” He paused, stiffened, and swallowed hard. “The intruders got there first. Whatever was in that chamber, they took it.”

“How did they get away?” Locke bit off every word. Calm on the outside, his insides quaked with rage.

“I thought I had them trapped, but the Templars built in an exit. The lever that opened it was hidden and I had to search for it. By the time I made it through.” He shrugged.

“Where are they now?”

“They made it to the surface. I tried to track them, but they left little sign. I finally found a few tracks on the north side of the island. I think they swam for it.”

Locke grabbed his radio, ordered his men to scour the island, and instructed the sheriff to send both of his boats to the island’s north side. It was clear from Meade’s tone that he did not appreciate taking orders from a civilian, but Locke couldn’t care less. Even as he put his forces in motion, he knew it was too late. He would have to admit his failure to Morgan.

Who could have done this? Who had the skill to infiltrate the island, move like shadows through armed and alert guards, navigate the underground tunnels, and swim to freedom? Almost as soon as the question crossed his mind, he had the answer.

Maddock!

A commotion coming from the direction of the causeway drew him from his thoughts and he looked up to see two of his men escorting a handcuffed woman toward him. Two of Meade’s people, White and Boudreau, followed closely behind.

“This is our prisoner!” Boudreau shouted. “You can’t just take her. We want to see the sheriff about this.”

“Who is she?” Locke asked as he looked the prisoner over. She was an athletic-looking woman, dark of skin, eyes, hair, her lovely face at odds with the stream of vulgarity she spewed as she yanked at her bonds. She managed to land a kick to the knee of the man who held her, almost sending him to the ground.

“Our people picked her up along the coast road. We were told to be on the lookout for anything suspicious,” White explained. “She was looking out over the water like she was waiting for someone. She had a car parked nearby.”

“I wasn’t waiting for anything,” the girl snapped.

“You were just sitting on the shore, in the middle of the night, doing nothing at all?” Locke took a step closer. “Or were you waiting for someone? Dane Maddock, perhaps?”

“Who the hell is that?” She looked like she wanted to bite his face off.

Now he could see she was Native American, and something clicked into place.

“You are with that fellow who was running the operation here before we took over.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about you poncey…”

Fisher stepped forward and drove a fist into her gut. Surprisingly, she absorbed the blow and grinned.

“Is that all you got?”

Fisher tensed, but Locke put a stop to his foolishness with a wave of his hand.

“Enough.” Everyone fell silent, even the Indian girl. He turned to the deputies. “Something of value was stolen from the island tonight, and I suspect this woman is an accomplice.”

“We’ll take her to the jail.” Boudreau took a step toward the prisoner but Fisher blocked her. “Step away from me.” Her hand went her weapon but, just then, Sheriff Meade returned.

“What’s this now? We have a prisoner?”

“You do not have a prisoner, Sheriff. I do.” Several of his men had gathered round. All were well-armed and obeyed orders without question. As the Sheriff and his deputies became aware of their presence, Locke could see the fire in their bellies flicker and die. “Get my helicopter ready. We’re leaving.”

“To the museum?” Fisher asked.

The idiot! Locke tried to silence him with a glare but to no avail. “I can question her first, if you like.”

“No.” Would he have to choke Fisher to get him to shut his mouth? Clearly, the ordeal beneath the island had rattled him, but that was no excuse.

“Wait a minute, Mister Locke.” Sheriff Meade swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and went on. “I understand you have the support of some important people, but the law is the law. I cannot allow you to take this woman away. She…”

Locke stared him into silence, then stepped so close he could see the one silver hair in the man’s left eyebrow. The sheriff stood his ground, but he worked his jaw nervously.

“Sheriff, you have two choices.” He raised his index finger. “You can set your people back to guarding this island so my museum staff can continue its work here undisturbed, and we shall remain friends. Or,” he raised a second finger, “you and your two deputies can take out your sidearms and attempt to stop us. I would prefer we we remain friends, and I would consider it a great personal favor if you permitted me some time alone with this woman before I return her to your custody.”

For an instant, he thought Meade would go for his weapon, but the sheriff thrust his hands in his pockets instead and stalked away.

“Have her back to me by morning,” he said to no one in particular. The deputies sent twin withering looks in Locke’s direction before following Meade.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to question her?” Fisher asked when they were out of earshot. He turned to watch the young woman being led away.

Locke turned and punched Fisher in the jaw. The man crumpled to the ground.

“What was that for?” he mumbled.

“Stupidity,” Locke said. “You speak of interrogation in front of the man whose son you tortured and killed only a few days ago?”

“He’s too dumb to put it together,” Fisher said, still holding his jaw.

“You don’t know that. In any case, your special brand of questioning gained us no new information and added a complication. Between that and tonight’s fiasco, I no longer trust your judgment.”

“I’m sorry. I always give everything I have to the cause.”

“Morgan will decide whether or not to accept your apology. For now, I want everyone out of here except the museum staff. They may continue their research just as we planned. You will remain here as security until your fate is determined.”

“I’ll see to it immediately.” Fisher wobbled to his feet and staggered away.

Locke shook his head. Fisher’s failure notwithstanding, Morgan would consider this Locke’s responsibility, and it was. Morgan could temporarily be assuaged by the news of the temple beneath the island, but he would have to produce results soon or she would grow impatient. Perhaps this girl could help him bring things back into balance.