Caribbean Gold

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

The flight to Wales was long and subdued, the team at first all lying back, trying to come to terms with Healey’s death and their own feelings, not to mention their own weariness after such a long, intense battle. Those that could, ate. Those that wanted to, consumed alcohol. Others downed sugary drinks because they knew sleep was days away. At first the jet slipped through the clouds in silence, each member of the Gold Team lost in their own reveries, but then Caitlyn crept next to Crouch and Russo came over to Alicia. Soon, they were whispering and then meeting each other’s eyes. Then they were feeling a little comforted as they saw the shared grief in faces like mirror images.

As the journey stretched from painful to insufferable, Caitlyn eased its passing by reading out everything she could find about Henry Morgan’s hometown. “Since he was known as the greatest of all the ‘brethren of the coast’, Wales and its storytellers appear to have embraced Morgan’s tale. He was born at Llanrumney Hall on his father’s farm in 1635. It’s in Monmouthshire. And of course he died, Sir Henry Morgan, having been knighted for his… actions all along the Spanish Main. Interestingly, Monmouthshire borders both part of the South Wales coast and England, making it easy to slip into and out of.”

“And Llanrumney Hall?” Crouch asked. “His home. Does it still stand?”

Caitlyn hesitated, a far-away look hitting her eyes and a tear starting to form. Crouch reached out to touch her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Alicia felt Russo wilt a little beside her, reached out and put an arm around the big man’s shoulders. She had never offered so much of herself emotionally to anyone except one man. Russo smiled as best he could.

“It may still stand,” Caitlyn finished after an unknown time. “Llanrumney Hall was turned into a pub long ago. It’s still there.”

“So we end all of this in a pub?” Alicia said. “That’ll do. I hope to God it has lodgings too, ’cause I’ll be drinking the place dry.”

“Won’t help,” Crouch said.

“For an hour or two it will,” Alicia said. “And I’ll deal with the rest head on.”

“We all will. Together,” Russo said.

“Wonder if it sells rum?” Alicia said, then added, “I thought Healey might have said that.”

It brought the slightest relief to all their faces. “That he would,” Crouch said and Caitlyn nodded.

The plane flew fast through the night, chartered by the team’s benefactor and totally private. It was a fast jet, since they had lost many hours with Healey and then the cops, giving Jensen the chance to find a way to Britain if he chose to do so. Indeed, a later check of one of his aliases showed he had done just that.

And the location of Morgan’s home wasn’t exactly private knowledge.

Alicia counted the hours down, flicked her mind through what she knew of Healey’s past and tried to be a comfort to Russo and the others. Very soon she would have to return to her primary unit. The toll of this mission was going to make everything harder — every problem she would have to deal with back there and every outcome.

“This is the last location for me,” Alicia told them whilst she had the chance. “If all this leads to is another note, or letter, I can’t promise I’ll tag along.”

Crouch looked hurt. “Not running away?” he asked, an unnecessarily hurtful charge.

“No,” she said simply, easily. “Going home. If you can, maybe you guys should too. At least for a short while.”

She thought about their pasts and then grimaced. Caitlyn had no remaining family and neither did Crouch. She didn’t know about Russo, but Alicia considered her team her family so maybe they should actually stick together.

“Actually, scratch that last comment,” she said. “Who the hell am I to be handing out advice? Not a rebel without a cause — more a lost girl without a clue.”

Russo finally managed a smile. “Never a truer word came out of your mouth.”

“Thanks, Rob. I really needed that.”

“Huh? No jaunty nickname?”

“I’m all out of nicknames, Rob. I’m just with my friends right now.”