Caribbean Gold

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Alicia soon realized that modern Porto Bello lacked a little of the majesty of old. Today an incredibly laid-back fishing village it was almost impossible to imagine it as the greatest Spanish port in the region. Peruvian gold, Spanish doubloons, unimagined riches from the Far East all came through this local capital, destined for Spain She knew that, despite all the attacks through the years, crumbled ruins of the old fortresses still stood among newer homes and dwellings, all adding an atmospheric ambiance to the little place. When the team arrived by boat, the residents took little notice of them.

People are always arriving by boat, their pilot told them. They don’t linger long. Walk through the ruins and they’re gone. Whatever they are looking for, they don’t find it here.

Alicia led the way up the pebbly beach, knowing the others had her back and keeping a sharp eye open for Jensen and his cronies. No telling where they might pop up next. They had traveled over from Jamaica and they had come prepared. Alicia still hated boat travel, but fancied she should try to get used to it pretty soon since they were following a pirate around the Caribbean. Hours later though, she still hated it.

“Should’ve taken a plane,” she muttered at Crouch.

“Too visible,” he said. “We don’t know where Jensen is and who he knows.”

Alicia saw the logic, but hated the consequences. “Yeah, yeah.”

Healey hitched his backpack a little tighter. Discreet boat travel also meant the team could bring weapons and other questionable equipment along with tents and sleeping bags, fodder, water, and much more. All of them wore heavy packs and sweated under the midday sun.

“Let’s get out of this heat,” Crouch said. “We’re tourists. Let’s tour.”

With the blue waters at their backs and acres of greenery before them, the five found a rutted track and started to follow it. Crouch had a map of the area and produced it as they walked. Alicia wiped sweat from her brow and peered over.

“Where we headed?”

“Just trying to get our bearings. The old main port should be a few miles this way.”

They trekked for a while, saying nothing. Healey and Russo ranged a little inland and watched the rear whilst Crouch and Alicia kept eyes open to the front. All they saw were a few local residents tending a few small fields or fishing offshore. Nobody looked up.

“Steady away,” Alicia said. “Nobody in anyone’s business. I think I could retire somewhere like this.”

Crouch looked over. “Retire? Am I talking to the real Alicia Myles?”

“I don’t mean tomorrow, for fuck’s sake,” she said, confirming that he was. “I mean… eventually.”

“Still… you seem different than when last I saw you.”

Alicia studied the glittering tops of the steady waves. “I’m trying, Michael. No more running into the sunset. No more moving away after every nasty little incident.”

“You putting down roots?” He sounded a little disbelieving.

“Maybe. Let me put it this way — you’ve very lucky I came. Even more so than you thought.” Of course she couldn’t yet mention her other reason for coming. She needed privacy for that.

“Good.” Crouch nodded. “Good. If there’s anything I can do…”

“Oh, I’m sure there will be.”

A long, green and furrowed track ran ahead until they could see the ruins of the old fort at the harbor. It wasn’t much to look at now, but hundreds of years ago no doubt presented an imposing sight. The spectacle of tourists wandering around it now, their white hats pulled low and pink limbs turning even redder, doused even Crouch’s enthusiasm for the hunt.

“So that’s the harbor where Morgan eventually docked his ships?” Alicia shielded her eyes.

“Yep,” Crouch said. “We’re finally here. Let’s see what it has to offer.”

An uneventful hour passed as the team kicked around the ruins of the old fort and worked out some points of reference.

“One thing’s for sure,” Caitlyn said as she studied some nearby trees. “If Jensen’s around we won’t miss him.”

Very few people passed as the team worked and the sun descended well past its zenith. Alicia spent some time studying the quiet, gleaming waters and tried to imagine what it must have been like to see several pirate ships anchored out there as their brethren scrambled to shore. Terror. Hatred. A sense of ruin. Invaders always left devastation in their wake.

Crouch called them all together and Alicia took the opportunity to eat. The maps appeared once more and Crouch drew their attention to the writing he’d memorized.

“Carried away it was, inland with our blood money. The channel behind, the forest ahead. We returned soon enough. Below decks among timber spars it was sent, but the trees they tell a story all their own. Our Black Book, buried there. As the crow flies, through two stands and at the foot of the hill.”

“Clear as fucking mud that,” Alicia said.

“It’s not often we agree,” Russo nodded, “but Milady has a point.”

“The channel behind, the forest ahead.” Crouch turned and held up a hand. “Clearly marks the way. Of course, if these maps had never been found nobody would ever have known where to look.”

“And the Black Book?”

“A reference to the treasure or the chests. Or whatever. Clearly they buried something out there and it needs to be found.”

Crouch set off at a pace and the others hurried to catch up. Alicia saw that he almost looked hassled, as if doubting himself. Maybe he’d missed a line? It would be easy to do, despite a superb memory. She checked that the main channel into port was at her back and set off in as straight a line as she could manage. It occurred to her that, to the hard-drinking Morgan, a straight line might not be what it was to Michael Crouch, but she decided this wasn’t the time to voice such thoughts. Maybe later.

The first stand of trees was dense and hard to push through, the second just up ahead after another stretch of flat ground. The heat shimmered all around and the sounds of insects filled the air. A bird swooped overhead, its bright plumage searing the skies with beauty. Alicia smelled earth, tree sap and mold, and walked upon a soft, loamy surface behind Russo, surprised that he held the branches back for her and wary in case he let one twang back. She would have. But maybe Russo was more of an adult.

Crouch entered the second stand of trees, still careful to check the position of the channel which they could now only see in glimmers through gaps between leaves and trees. The clearing here was a bit of a sunspot, radiating heat between walls of trees with a now darkening patch of sky up above. Crouch passed from sight.

Alicia pressed on, assessing the entire area as she went. They all had hands close to concealed weapons at this point since they knew Jensen could already be here. Crouch paused as a huge tree flummoxed him, its widespread branches and clinging leaves just too thick to penetrate.

“Stay there, Russo,” he said. “I’ll go around and pick you up on the other side.”

“I’ll join you.” Alicia didn’t want Crouch to venture off alone. She squeezed to his side and together they circumvented the big tree, resumed position and then waited for the others to come around.

“I am sorry about Beau.”

Alicia blinked and felt a rush of surprise. Crouch had caught her out. “Oh, thanks. He got what was coming to him, I guess.”

“I never pegged him for a traitor.”

“Not even after he switched sides to join you?”

“No. I’m rarely a bad judge of character but I trusted that man.”

Alicia hung her head. “Same here.”

“I realize he used to be your boyfriend, Alicia, and I’m sorry.”

“I made my own decision, Michael. The new one’s much better.”

It was supposed to ease the rising tensions, but Crouch didn’t smile. “Matt Drake has many a demon to tame.”

“Same as anyone who’s lived past maturity.”

The others were getting close now, but Crouch took one more moment to engage her. “I recruited Beau. He was my responsibility. Did I miss something? Or did I want to?”

Alicia could think of no quick reply, and then the rest of the team joined them. Crouch pushed ahead, threading the last of the trees and they found themselves in a sheltered clearing with a small brook running through the center.

“At the foot of the hill,” Crouch intoned.

Beyond the burbling brook a sloping hill led directly up to another thick body of trees. Its banks were a verdant green and unsullied, the flowers that grew there wild and free. Crouch walked out toward the brook.

“So,” he said, looking around. “Who’s got the spade?”

Russo grunted. “Who’d ya think?” He shrugged out of his backpack and laid it on the floor.

“Does this feel right?” Alicia asked. “Does this really feel right to you?”

Crouch acquiesced with a slump of the shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not. But the verse was written on the set of maps and it led us here. What do we have to lose?”

“To be honest—” Alicia stared at the spade Russo produced from the backpack, a heavy, broad-bladed tool “—who wouldn’t want to dig for buried treasure?”

“That’s the spirit.” Crouch found his own, smaller spade and made a beeline through the brook. “Take perimeter, Healey.”

Alicia watched Healey leap off into the woods to start a recce and took in the general ambiance of the place. One might feel nothing bad had ever happened here. One might even feel nothing bad ever happened anywhere. But, sadly, these places were few and far between. Her friends, they all had their secrets. Healey had been mercilessly bullied by his brothers and shown no love by his parents and then run away to join the Army. He was still struggling. Russo continually controlled a Berserker rage, always coping and dealing with the knowledge that sometime, somewhere, it was going to erupt once more.

Her darker thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a shovel striking earth. Russo was already on the job. “Hey,” she said. “I’d like to see a little of that action.”

An hour passed, then two. The bright blue patch of canvas above their heads faded and shaded slowly to dark colors and then to pitch black. The team pitched tents and made them safe, then took a walk back toward the beach, leaving Healey and Caitlyn on guard. The air remained at a balmy temperature and the cool breeze felt good on their exposed skin. Nobody spoke a word during the short walk, but took in the relaxed atmosphere and almost utter quiet.

It was far from a common sensation they’d all enjoyed for most of their lives.

“Like I said before,” Alicia eventually spoke up. “I could get used to this.”

Russo started to nod in agreement and then appeared to remember who was speaking. “For once, I’d say your face is dirtier than your mind.”

“Nothing wrong with a dirty mind, Robster.”

A grunt. “Depends who you share it with.”

Ahead now, the ruined fort overlooked the rolling waters and a bright moon shone upon rippling waves. All three soldiers drank it in for less than half a minute, and then Alicia voiced the thoughts of all three.

“Shit, let’s get back to work. Any more of this I’m gonna lose my edge. Or go mad.”

There was no more work that night, since the shadows filled all the spaces and flashlights weren’t good enough to work by. The holes were already deep but nothing that glittered had revealed itself so far. The team took a few hours’ rest, switched for sentry duty and were up before dawn the next day. A quick meal and they were back at it. Caitlyn fetched water from the clear stream and left it for the diggers to cool themselves off. Russo was already stripped to the waist by early morning, making Alicia shade her eyes every time she glanced over in his direction.

“Jeez, man, it’s like staring at a pint of milk.”

“And you should cover up,” Caitlyn added. “Sunburn ain’t choosy.”

“Shit, I feel like I’ve inherited a couple of bossy sisters.”

Alicia then put down her spade and climbed out of the earthy hole she’d been digging. She took a long look at their day’s work and met Crouch’s already knowing eyes.

“It ain’t here, boss.”

Crouch climbed up and sat on the edge of his own small void in the earth. “I just don’t get it. Did I miss something?”

“Hey, can’t win ’em all. If every treasure hunt was a success it wouldn’t be worth searching for.”

Caitlyn brought them all water. “Why not check the maps again?”

Crouch studied his mud-caked fingers. “First, a wash I think.”

“You and me both,” Alicia murmured, then flicked her head up. “But not together!”

They wandered down the free-flowing brook. Crouch stopped first around a slight bend, courteously letting her stroll further away to find some privacy. When Alicia came across a suitable place, she knelt in the stream and took her time washing. It was a perfunctory cleansing; she was at heart a soldier and would never let herself become too vulnerable in such an open place. She made do with what she had, and that was good enough.

As they returned to camp, Russo suddenly gave out a yell. “Oh, hell!”

Alicia sprang into action, racing over to the big man and signaling Healey to take a closer look at the perimeter.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. But it sure as hell ain’t treasure.”

Of course, Russo did know. He was waiting for Alicia and Crouch to come over before indicating his find. Caitlyn came up as they stared in silence.

“Bones,” Alicia said, and felt a little shiver despite the increasing warmth of the day.

“Old bones,” Caitlyn said. “This might actually make sense.”

“Why? How can you tell?”

“Well, obviously I can’t tell the exact date they were placed here but looking at the condition I’d have to say a considerable time ago. And they were buried. And see the strongbox underneath? Somebody’s going to have to grab that.”

Russo didn’t hesitate, but carefully and respectfully placed the bones aside and hefted the strongbox. It was a basic, metal container with a rudimentary lock, also clearly many years old. He brought it out of the hole and placed it on the ground.

“Wait,” Crouch said as the soldier gripped the lid. “Caitlyn? What did you mean when you said this makes sense?”

“I did a bit of digging of my own,” Caitlyn said with a smile. “The part about the Black Book bugged me. Why include it? Why talk about burying it? Surely it had to have some significance to Morgan and his treasures.”

“And what is a black book?” Crouch asked.

Alicia reached down to help Russo back out of the hole as Caitlyn spoke.

“It started as far back as the 1300s and was a listing of maritime laws and codes of conduct. Offenders were always punished hard. To the pirates it was a collection, physical or verbal, of those of their own kin that committed crimes against them. Their ‘black book’ was buried here.”

“You couldn’t have mentioned that before we started digging?” Alicia asked.

“Well, I wasn’t sure. And you all seemed so eager.”

“And now we know.” Crouch nodded at Russo, who tore the worn metal apart with his bare hands. The edges were sharp and ragged, and Russo took his time. Inside, they found a sheaf of old parchment, partly covered in a thick, black script. Crouch stared at it hard but didn’t dare touch it.

“We can’t mess with this,” he said. “The experts should be allowed to figure it out. But I’ll say one thing for sure — there’s no treasure here.”

“The map was an account of Morgan burying the transgressors,” Caitlyn said. “Maybe we should move on to the next one.”

“Not exactly,” Crouch said. “There was more.”

He moved away and dug out the maps once more. Alicia walked with him. Healey popped his head around a tree to report the all clear and then vanished once more. Still, they were undisturbed.

“Carried away it was, inland with our blood money. The channel behind, the forest ahead. We returned soon enough. Below decks among timber spars it was sent, but the trees they tell a story all their own. Our Black Book, buried there. As the crow flies, through two stands and at the foot of the hill.”

“Now it makes sense,” Alicia said with a grin.

“Always does when you know the answer,” Crouch said off-handedly. He was concentrating on the map. “Come with me. All of you.”

The team gathered as quickly as they could, Russo still slapping at his trousers to remove clinging mud and shrugging into a T-shirt. Backpacks were hefted and Caitlyn pointed out the precariousness of their find.

“Don’t worry. We’ll report it as soon as we can. Problem is, we’re backed into a corner here with nowhere to go.”

“You could always ask a few contacts to find Jensen,” Alicia suggested. “Cut out the treasure hunt.”

Crouch looked at her as if she might be mad. “You’re kidding me, right? That’s why we’re here.”

Alicia sighed. She knew his love of treasure hunting came from a rich youth reading old books and getting into trouble. She also knew he’d dreamed of a job like this through decades of army duties. The joy, for Crouch, was the hunt itself.

Their boss took them back toward the old fort and the waters beyond. Alicia picked out several yachts bobbing on the surface, their polished hulls and golden ornaments shining under a rising sun, their white sails billowing. Closer still, half a dozen tourists walked the ruins of the old castle, cameras dangling around their necks.

Crouch stared at the harbor.

“Imagine it. Half a dozen pirate ships at anchor, day and night for two months. Stocked full with provisions, goods to barter and pirate plunder. Untold wealth. Surrounded by it every moment, it would make a man become suspicious. On edge. It could make a man so distrustful he might come up with a crazy, brilliant plan.”

“What plan?” Russo asked.

“Scupper a ship. Let it go down, the treasure with it.”

Alicia frowned. “How? What? I mean… how would they ever retrieve it?”

“It’s a shallow bay. Remember what Caitlyn said? Morgan and his men had to sail upriver by boat to take out the forts. They would have sailed the ships in very carefully a bit later.”

“Wouldn’t people have noticed a sinking ship?” Caitlyn asked.

“Undoubtedly. But who would question it? Most of the locals probably welcomed the sight of it. Invent some kind of story. Mutiny. Drunken men. Whatever. And let it all die down. There’s even the possibility that the men Morgan buried with the Black Book were thieves, trying to steal some of the treasure, which drove him to come up with this audacious plan.”

“All right. But what’s your evidence?” Caitlyn asked.

“The map. The script. Below decks on timber spars it was sent.”

Alicia shook her head. “That’s pretty vague, boss.”

“Of course it is. It’s meant to be vague. A pirate isn’t about to make it easy for you. But timber spars are how a ship ends up on the bottom of the sea when it’s scuppered and the word sent—I believe means exactly what it says.”

Alicia turned her face toward the bay. “So it’s out there? Somewhere.”

“I believe so. Maybe a spot of research would confirm the number of ships, though I doubt we’d get lucky enough to see their positions. In any case they’d be as close to shore as possible. Pirates weren’t known for putting in extra work.”

“So how do we find out?”

Crouch indicated an area in the distance where rows of huts and makeshift shopfronts had been erected on the beach. “We rent diving gear.”