Caribbean Gold

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Hours later, the running stopped.

Outside the new Panama City they found a refuge, a small clearing among the trees of a dense forest. Of course, Crouch could never go against the authorities; it would besmirch his reputation and endanger that which he loved the most — the treasure hunt — so he made sure to call people in authority that might be best placed to ease the team’s way forward. The calls took time and then those people had to make more calls which also took time.

Hence, the team’s decision to find a safe haven.

Alicia found herself wondering if it might be time to return to her primary team, and her new boyfriend, now that the bulk of the quest was out of the way. She felt a heap of disappointment, but also a little excitement at the thought of seeing Drake and the others again. She sat back on a blanket as Healey started a campfire and Russo took first watch. The night was black above, studded with twinkling pinpricks of light, and a thin sliver of moon barely crested the tops of the trees. A faint, fresh breeze played between the branches of trees and fanned the flames of their little fire.

Crouch finally returned from making his raft of calls.

“That’s about all I can do,” he said hopefully. “We have until morning.”

Healey sat back and put an arm around Caitlyn. “For what? I mean, what’s next? This is our third failure in a row.”

“Look, cheer yourself up,” Alicia said. “Take Caitlyn into the trees for ninety seconds or so. Come back with a smile on your face.”

Healey ignored her, but sent a smile toward his girlfriend. Alicia thought she’d maybe lightened his mood and wondered if Russo might want a little company.

Then Crouch addressed the other member of their party. “So, Jensen? What happened to the final strongbox?”

The thin, dark-haired man held up his hands, rattling a pair of cuffs. “Take these off first.”

Alicia chortled. “The stupidity is strong in this one.”

“Do you know how many men you led to their deaths?” Crouch asked. “How much your little quest cost? How many ancient keepsakes you lost? You should take this chance to make some amends.”

“It’s still there,” Jensen finally said. “Beneath the ruins. I have no use for baubles.”

“Had,” Alicia corrected. “You’re all washed up, crazy man.”

“It can’t be over,” Jensen rambled on. “It doesn’t end this way. There has to be a treasure. Morgan wouldn’t make all those damn maps for no reason.”

“Where are the originals?” Crouch asked.

“Same place,” Jensen said. “I left them in the car.”

“And where is the base of your operations?”

“I won’t tell you that. It has nothing to do with Henry Morgan. Does it not strike you as strange, Michael, that we have found not the barest hint of real treasure?”

It did. Alicia could see it in the boss’s eyes. Crouch made a point of fixing a sandwich into Jensen’s hands. The two men sat opposite and bolt upright, eyeing each other.

Alicia sensed trouble brewing. “What are you doing?”

“A little man to man,” Crouch said. “That okay with you?”

“That’d take two men. Not a liar and a cheat.”

Crouch looked hurt. Healey stared as if missing the point, which he did. Alicia waved it all away.

“Do what you must. I’ll be out of here in the morning.”

“We should talk first.”

Alicia wrestled with it briefly. “Maybe.” She wondered if she owed him at least that much.

Crouch then addressed Jensen. “In one aspect I do agree with you. There has to be a treasure. It’s not at the bottom of the ocean unless it sank aboard one of the few ships of Morgan’s that were never found, which I find a little coincidental. So where is it? Why draw these maps alluding to a large hoard if all he wanted to do was pinpoint the… baubles. It doesn’t make sense.”

“And the unquestionable fact is — there was a large hoard,” Jensen said. “It’s a documented history.”

Alicia drifted somewhat as they talked back and forth. She tried to ignore the part where she thought Jensen acted an awful lot like Drake. She didn’t agree with the polite questioning, or especially the humanization of Jensen, almost promoted to the level of equals, and found her mind wandering. It had been a little while since she took a look at the new self she was trying to embrace. Alicia of old was a tearaway, a sunset runner that never looked back and never cared much beyond the next dawn. If a problem arose she left it at her back, often crying for help. Then something — be it age or circumstance — had changed all that and made her realize that life could only be lived to the full by staying put, by confronting every challenge and rising above it. Part of that was why she had again agreed to help the Gold Team out; another part to find the answer to Beau’s final riddle.

Had any of it helped?

She thought not. But it was good that she was still here and not a speck on the horizon. It was good that she had no desire to leave immediately. And it was especially good that she still felt willing to hear more of Crouch’s explanation.

She zoned back in on the conversation.

Crouch had been flinging his maps to the ground. “Every last one a dead end. None interlinked. If you know something, Jensen, you’d best come clean now.”

“You think I would be here, and at Viejo and all the others if I wasn’t following the same fruitless trail as you?”

“So what’s left?” Crouch conversed amiably with the criminal as they both sipped from bottles of water.

“Jail time,” Alicia interjected harshly, purposely. “And plenty of it.” She didn’t want this thug to feel comfortable.

Jensen gave her a hard look. “This is Panama,” he said.

Alicia frowned. What did he mean? She knew exactly where they were and the extent of American influence. Before she could question him further though, Crouch had again taken up the thread of their discussion.

“Morgan was a well-traveled man. Perhaps he ventured further afield.”

Jensen stared at Alicia once more, and then at Crouch. His mind looked to be working overtime.

“If there’s something you gotta say,” Alicia said. “Do it now. ’Cause I can’t promise I won’t treat that mouth to a knuckle sandwich before bed.”

Jensen understood the reference. “My situation,” he said. “Is impossible. If I do help I won’t get to see the outcome. Listen, have you really completed all your Henry Morgan research?”

Caitlyn sat up for that one. “Everything I could find on the Web. Why?”

“Well, there’s a wealth of information not on the Web, Miss, I assure you. Only that which aggrandizes, embellishes or tarnishes is usually deemed worthy of repeating. Many a tome exists on the great captain, and only a few cover every single detail. The Pirate King and Morgan, the Privateer Pirate’s Treasure are the best. Read them. I delve thoroughly into the background of my targets. We both do, right Michael? It’s how we were trained.”

“What is it that you have?” Crouch pushed.

“These books speak briefly of a stronghold that Morgan set up. Not a staging point, resting place or halfway stop for the pirates but a secure sanctuary he visited rarely and stayed at only briefly.”

“You know of this stronghold but did not visit?” Crouch frowned.

“Not when we had the maps in our hands.” Jensen shrugged. “Why would we?” He took a sip of water.

“All right,” Caitlyn said. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth. Where is it?”

Jensen bit his lip. “Well, that I don’t know. It’s another reason I left it alone for what I thought was the easier option. The published books don’t say where it is but…” he paused, thinking.

Crouch leaned forward. “What?”

“There’s a maritime museum in Key West, some of which is devoted to Henry Morgan and his life and the stories that were written about him. Through research, through books,” he shot a glance of disdain Caitlyn’s way, “I learned that a first edition of The Pirate King is stored there and contains a later-removed, rather drab passage that describes exactly where the stronghold lies. I think that’s our way to the treasure. At least, now I do.”

Crouch considered it. “Even if you’re telling the truth I’m not so sure,” he muttered. “As you yourself said — the maps and this hunt had to have some kind of reason. Was it merely the baubles? Or something deeper?”

“Wait,” Caitlyn said. “I can corroborate his claim. There should be a copy of The Pirate King online.”

“And you’re going to read it all now?” Jensen scoffed. “Spare me.”

Caitlyn held up her cellphone and the screen showing a Word app. “It’s called technology,” she said. “I can search for the word ‘stronghold’ and be taken to the right page in about, oh, half a second. But cheers for doing the grunt work.”

Jensen grumbled. Alicia smiled at Caitlyn’s effrontery. The girl was clearly annoyed with herself too. Within five minutes she had validated Jensen’s claim.

“Well, the passage exists,” she said. “But no mention of Key West. I checked the rest of the book.”

“What makes you believe they have a first edition?” Crouch was looking tired now. Russo came out of the woods and Healey spotted him for a while. Jensen explained that they should check the museum’s online records, and Caitlyn found that it did indeed list a first edition of The Pirate King among its own treasures.

“That’s some clever research,” Crouch told Jensen. “And thorough. A shame you couldn’t bring yourself to put it to good use.”

Alicia finished her meal. “I don’t trust this ass one inch.”

“Of course not,” Crouch said. “But do we stay here and admit defeat…” He paused.

“Or do we go?” Caitlyn finished with a grin.