Justice

TWELVE

Edmonia Jennings Wright picked up the phone with some hesitation. She hated having to keep someone else informed. Her alliance with the individual on the other end of the line could never be a relationship of equals. Still, she was fully prepared to go it alone if the balance of power skewed any further in the wrong direction.

The phone rang and was answered on the other end.

“Hello, Edmonia.”

Even the familiarity of the greeting served to highlight the power of the speaker. Wright had spent decades honing the ability to push aside irritation and even dissipate it the instant it appeared. No trace of frustration adorned her voice.

“I have a status update. We recovered the journal. It’s in code, but that won’t be a problem.”

“Excellent. How long do you anticipate it will take to translate it?”

“Not long. The cipher is a common one used during the colonial period. I expect it will be complete in a few days at the most.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “The two SEALs have escaped with the park policewoman.”

The man on the other end paused. “I thought you said you put your best man on it.”

“I did. He failed.”

“Perhaps he needs replacing.”

“Perhaps.”

Another pause. “Do I need to get more involved?”

“That is of course up to you. This sort of endeavor never proceeds without setbacks. We have the journal, which is what matters most.”

“You don’t think your escapees will cause more problems?”

The emphasis on your grated at her nerves.

“Let them try. There’s no way they had time to translate the entire journal, assuming they managed to break the code at all. If they want to continue the chase, they’ll have to take it back from us, and that isn’t going to happen.”

“I have to go. Inform me the minute you have more information that gets us closer to the prize.”

It was a typical ending to these conversations. Wright decided then and there only to make another call when discovery was imminent. Perhaps not even then.

Jamison’s loss of Maddock and Bonebrake was disappointing, but she wouldn’t be too hard on him. Men like Jamison were hard to come by, and disposing of everyone who made mistakes only sounded good in the movies and at Congressional hearings. The fact was that they had the journal, putting them one step closer to their goal.

Soon, her search would be at an end.

A single beam of golden light sliced through the dusty air in Hunter Maddock’s private library and shone on the antique map spread out on the desk. Elizabeth never missed a chance to comment on this room’s need for a thorough cleaning, but Hunter liked it this way. It reminded him of the old library he’d frequented as a child, devouring books like Treasure Island and Journey to the Center of the Earth. Besides, it was nice to allow himself one aspect of his life that wasn’t shipshape and Bristol fashion.

His eyes drifted from the map to the framed photograph on his desk. He took out a handkerchief and brushed the dust from the glass. Three faces smiled back at him. Hunter, with fewer gray hairs; Elizabeth, looking as beautiful as the day they’d met; and Dane in his Full Dress uniform. As always, Hunter’s chest swelled with pride at the thought of his son.

The phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. As always, he picked up on the first ring.

“Hunter Maddock.”

“Dad? How’s it going?”

“Dane. I thought you were off mountain climbing with that…interesting friend of yours.” Hunter still wasn’t sure what to make of the big, roguish Cherokee whom his son had befriended. He had to admit, the man had a certain charm, and Dane vouched for him, so that was something.

“We were diverted.”

Hunter thought he detected a note of hesitation in his son’s voice.

“Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” Dane said too quickly. “I wanted to ask you about your pirate research.”

A chill ran down Hunter’s spine, and for one irrational moment he wondered if Dane knew about… No, it was impossible.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes. I’m just surprised that you’ve finally taken an interest in treasure hunting.”

Dane laughed. “Sort of. It’s hard to explain.” He cleared his throat. “I know Captain Kidd is your thing, but do you know much about Blackbeard?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Not much, though I’d be happy to hear all about it next time I’m home for a visit. What I’m specifically wondering is, do you have any idea where Queen Anne’s Revenge went down?”

Now it was Hunter’s turn to laugh. “You have caught the bug. Don’t deny it. But the answer to your question is, yes, I have a very good idea where she lies.”‘

“Really?”

Hunter smiled at the excitement in his son’s voice.

“A private corporation believes it has pinpointed the wreck. I have it on good authority that the spot lies just off the shore of Fort Macon Park in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. I can’t be more specific than that, but word is, they’ve got people out there right now doing sonar scans and taking underwater photographs. They’re trying to get enough documentation to justify permits and get funding.”

“So, I find the researchers and I find the wreck. Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.”

Hunter bade his son goodbye and hung up the phone. Once again he stared at the framed photograph. With a sigh, he took out his wallet, reached into a tiny compartment, and took out a photograph of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl.

“I ought to tell him,” he whispered. “And I would if I were half the man he is.”