The Emerald Scepter

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Calvin backed a pick-up truck up to an abandoned boat ramp, and Abby and Sutherland unloaded a five-foot-long black rubber raft from the bed and carried it to the water’s edge. Calvin tied a nylon tow line running from the prow of the raft to his air tank. He stripped down to a body-fitting Speedo bathing suit and got into his custom-fitted black neoprene wetsuit.

He waded into the water and tested his closed-circuit re-breathing SEAL rig which was designed not to emit bubbles like conventional SCUBA gear. Then he and his helpers loaded a waterproof zipper bag onto the raft. He gave them each a quick peck on the cheek, and donned his mask, hood and flippers.

Abby watched him breast-stroke ahead of the raft, pulling it from shore, and as soon as he submerged, she called Hawkins to let him know that Calvin was on his way.

Hawkins acknowledged the message with a thank you, clicked the phone off and waited.

He was sitting in a car parked a quarter of a mile from the turn onto to the yacht driveway. A chart of the local waters was spread out in front of him. He tried to picture where Calvin would be, but he knew he could only guess at his friend’s progress. He broke into a broad smile of relief at the chirp of his hand radio.

A slow drawl came over the phone.

“Fish ain’t bitin’ on the crab meat I’m usin’ for bait. Anybody got any suggestions?”

Calvin was telling him that he had arrived at the boat dock.

“Try hangin’ a night crawler on your hook,” Hawkins said in lazy tone that had more Maine than Maryland in it.

“Thanks, Cap. Let you know how it goes.”

The cornball code may have been overcautious, but with Cait’s life at stake, Hawkins didn’t want the faintest possibility of a screw-up.

Now it was his turn.

He started the car engine and drove to the restaurant driveway, turned in at the No Trespassing sign and bumped along the cratered road to the weed-grown restaurant parking lot. The old yacht that loomed in the headlight wash was in even worse shape than the boat in the photo Sutherland had dug up.

He snapped the lights off, re-checked the load in his Heckler and Koch P-9 and slid the pistol back into the carbon fiber hip holster that was concealed by the hem of his long-sleeve black T-shirt. He slipped the strap holding a thermal imaging monocular around his neck and pulled on a navy baseball cap.

He got out of the car and reached into the back seat to open the ebony case. He removed the scepter, tied a nylon rope around the nexus of the relic’s arms, and slung the loop over his right shoulder. The scepter hung at his left side like a sword.

Hawkins took his time examining the yacht from stem to stern through the monocular, letting his gaze linger at each of the vacant windows. All was quiet except for the ka-chunk of a bullfrog’s bass against the soprano insect chorus. Hawkins started walking slowly toward the boat only to halt after a few steps. The phone in his pocket was vibrating.

“Right on time, Hawkins,” said the voice at the other end of the line.

“Hello, Marzak.” He squinted through the monocular. “This place suits you.”

“It appealed to my sense of the poetic. Dark and mysterious, like the human soul.”

“Actually, I was thinking about how it smells rotten.” Hawkins slid the scepter from his shoulder and held the jewel-encrusted relic above his head. “Let’s do the deal, Marzak.”

“Yes, let’s. Walk toward the boat and climb onto the deck at the mid-ships gangway.”

Hawkins lowered the scepter and slung it over his shoulder again. His hand dropped to his pistol holster and unsnapped the flap as he approached the base of the wooden gangway. He tested it with his foot to see if it would support his weight. The planks sagged and groaned, but didn’t break, so he continued onto the deck and stood in front of the doorway leading to the dining room.

The stench that issued from the dark portal was a combination of mold, rotted wood and bird and animal droppings.

This must be what the doorway to hell looks like, he thought.

Calvin was less worried about Marzak than the mud.

After he had surfaced and called Hawkins, he had slipped off his re-breather and put it and the Pegasus in the raft. Calvin hauled on the tow rope and pulled the raft with him through the saw grass until the water was less than half a foot deep.

It was no use, though. The muck was like quicksand. He pulled back until the water deepened and heaved himself onto the raft which sank almost to the bottom with only a few inches to spare.

He paddled through the grass until the front of the raft bumped into something hard. He reached out and found the edge of the floating platform that had been connected to the permanent dock. It rested on the mud with no room underneath for booby traps. The plastic foam pontoons sank even deeper into the mud when he rolled from the raft onto the platform. He placed the Pegasus unit and SCUBA gear on the platform.

He examined the old pier the platform had been secured to. The dock had once been level, elevated around four feet between twin lines of pilings, but now broken sections of planking sagged all along its length. He leaned over and looked at the underside of the stationary pier.

A red dot glowed beneath the dock. He rolled off the platform into the mud and slithered closer until he was under a small black box attached to a cigarette-sized packet of plastic explosives.

His eyes followed a wire that disappeared through the boards. Probably attached to a pressure plate device.

He checked for other booby traps and found none, and then he pushed himself back through the mud and climbed onto the platform. Calvin heaved the waterproof bag from the raft onto the floating dock and unzipped it, revealing what looked like a miniature tank.

The PackBot had been waiting at the airport as Kelly had promised. The machine was a mobile robot that had been developed by a company called IRobot and its first operational job was to probe the wreckage of the World Trade Center. Later, it was given to soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. Calvin and Hawkins had been introduced to it as a way to see into enemy caves without getting their heads blown off. But its most popular use was by soldiers who employed the tough little robots to clear away Improvised Explosive Devices, or IEDs as they were called.

The forty-two pound robot was about the size of a lawnmower without the handle, and it moved on polymer tracks that were designed to flip up and down, allowing the machine to climb stairs or rocks and even go underwater. Calvin unpacked the joystick controller and switched on the PakBot’s batteries.

With the gear removed, the raft might be buoyant enough now to skim over the shallow water to the shore. He radioed Hawkins with an update and then turned his attention back to the robot.

No SEAL operation Hawkins had ever been involved in had gone off without a glitch. Including this one. He thought he had prepared for every eventuality only to discover that he was wrong.

As Hawkins stood on the deck in front of the door to the yacht’s interior, Marzak called again.

“Welcome aboard, Hawkins. Come in. Don’t be shy.”

“Let’s deal out here in the open, Marzak. I want you where I can see you.”

“You’re being disingenuous, Hawkins. You’ve been using a night vision device. You’re also armed, no doubt. So what are you worrying about?”

“I jump at shadows. Sometimes I shoot at them.”

Marzak chuckled. “I’ll light the way for you. Keep your phone on.”

A moment later there was a soft flickering glow in the windows.

Marzak’s order to keep the phone on hadn’t been in the plans. Hawkins’ intention was to keep in touch with Calvin on their radios until the last second when he could signal that the time was right.

He had to alert Calvin that the plan had changed. He switched on the radio so Calvin could hear his every word and said, “I’m coming in, Marzak.”

Then he stepped through the doorway.

He saw the source of the light. A dozen votive candles were arranged in two clusters on the bar. One group of candles was burning at Cait’s head and the other at her feet. She was covered with a sheet.

Marzak had turned the bar into an altar. He stood behind Cait like the high priest at a pagan sacrificial ritual. He wore a sweatshirt with the hood over his head, intensifying the image. The candlelight reflected off the shiny blades of a long, two-edged knife he held raised in his hand.

“Where should I start carving? Would you like a wing or a leg, Hawkins?”

Hawkins kept his eye on the knife. Marzak could lop off Cait’s head in the time it would take to draw his pistol. He forced a laugh.

“Very theatrical. What are you supposed to be, some sort of satanic demi-god?”

Marzak pushed the hood back. Grotesque shadows danced on his face.

“Is this devilish enough for you?”

“Now you look like a creep out of a Grade B horror movie.”

Marzak’s smile suggested that he was more amused than insulted by the comment.

“I’m not the only one with a flair for theatrics. I recall the elaborate helmet you wore when you almost shot me down in Afghanistan. That was quite the close call. You nearly killed me.”

“That was my intention.”

Marzak chuckled and said, “Let bygones be bygones. Please step forward and hand me the scepter. Then I’ll back away. The woman will be yours.”

Hawkins clutched the scepter closer to his chest. “Not yet. I want to make sure she’s alive.”

“See for yourself.” Marzak moved back from the bar, putting himself at the edge of the halo of light.

Hawkins took another step toward the altar. He tried not to stare at Cait’s face. He had to be alert to his surroundings. The sacrificial offering, the candles, the sly tone of Marzak’s voice, all screamed the word trap at him. He had to stall until he figured it out.

“We’ve got more to talk about first, Marzak. The professor told me about the Prophet’s Necklace.”

“I’m not surprised. The professor seemed a man of divided loyalties. What did he tell you?”

“That the necklace is a string of sarin-laden explosives you placed near crowded population centers. And that you are the only one that can set them off. He called it connecting the strands and that it could be done with a phone call.”

“You’re correct about my role in placing the sarin, and the phone call, but I’m not the one who controls the clasp.”

“The Shadows?”

“I don’t work for the Shadows, even though they think I do.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Anyone who pays me.”

“In that case, I can make you rich beyond your dreams. The scepter is only part of what I found. I’ll trade the scepter for Cait. And I’ll give you the rest of the treasure if you identify who’s giving you orders.”

Marzak glanced down at Cait’s supine form and a thoughtful look came to his face.

“Tell me about it,” he said.

Calvin was tying a flashlight to the top of the robot when the voices started coming over the radio. Something had gone wrong.

As he listened, he activated the robot’s forward control. It moved forward slowly, navigating the undulating boardwalk, and stopped around a foot from where he had seen the booby trap. He climbed back into the raft and pushed away from the platform until he was a safe distance off shore.

Hawkins slid the scepter off his shoulder.

“This bauble is only part of it,” he said. “There are twenty chests of treasure. Each one is filled with a different type of gem. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, lapis lazuli. You name it. You could retire in splendor to your own island.”

“Tempting, Hawkins. How do I know you’re telling the truth about the treasure?”

“Easy. I can lead you to it.”

“Agreed. The scepter for now, please. Then we’ll talk about the rest of it.”

He’s agreeing much too fast, Hawkins thought.

“OK. Your call. Just hope this thing doesn’t blow up in your face.”

“What are you talking about, Hawkins?”

He held the scepter up. “I’m talking about the explosive nature of this thing.”

“You’re talking like a crazy man.”

“Maybe, but this thing has already caused a lot of fireworks.”

Calvin finally realized what Hawkins was trying to tell him.

Duh. He pushed the forward button. The robot’s treads hit the pressure plate.

Kaboom!

The middle of the dock disappeared in a blinding ball of fire. Flaming splinters of wood fell from the sky like rain.

Calvin was already on the move.

Cait moaned at the noise of the explosion and tried to lift her head.

Marzak cocked his ear as the echoes faded. “I forgot to tell you. I set up a surprise for anyone attempting to come ashore at the old dock.”

“You killed Calvin, you sonofabitch! The deal is off.”

Hawkins backed up. He wanted to draw Marzak away from Cait.

Marzak came around the side of the bar, holding the dagger forward like a fencer, and advanced slowly. Hawkins raised the scepter and swung it like it was a Louisville Slugger. Marzak jumped back out of the way.

Cait was up on one elbow, taking in the confrontation with bleary eyes. She pushed herself off the bar, stood on shaky legs and tried to walk. She was only vaguely aware of knocking something over with her knee as she made her way unsteadily around the bar.

Marzak thrust the knifepoint at Hawkins, who sucked his gut in and took another swing with the scepter. Marzak circled, trying to drive Hawkins toward the weakened floor in front of the altar. He dodged another swing, and got in a quick swipe of his knife that caught Hawkins in the ribs.

Marzak saw Hawkins wince with pain and lower the scepter. The next cut of the blade would catch Hawkins below the Adams apple.

Cait was still unsteady on her feet, but she made it around to the front of the bar. Her groping hand accidentally pushed a candle over the edge. There was a plouff sound as the gasoline she’d knocked over a moment earlier ignited.

Flames roared up, enveloping the back of the bar and the rotten deck.

Hawkins jumped back to avoid another knife thrust. He felt a warm wetness in his chest where he’d been cut. He instinctively moved to protect Cait only to feel his feet break through the rotten planks. He crashed through the deck up to his armpits and struggled to keep from falling in any further. His pistol holster was inaccessible.

Marzak sheathed his dagger and extended a hand.

“Give me the scepter, Hawkins. I’ll pull you out.”

Hawkins lifted the relic, but when Marzak moved closer, Hawkins swung it at his ankle. The cross arm connected with skin and bone. Marzak yelled in pain and backed off. His hand went to his belt holster and he drew his pistol and pointed the muzzle at Hawkins’ face.

Speaking quietly, he said, “Fine, I’ll just go ahead and kill you now, Hawkins. Matter of family honor for killing my brother. Too bad. We’re arrows from the same quiver, you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

Marzak smiled, but instead of firing the gun, he shuddered, as if he’d been hit by a blast of wind, and his mouth dropped open in a look of shock. His free hand groped at his shirt where two holes had appeared as if by magic. He squinted through the flames roaring around the bar, fired his gun at something unseen then turned and ran into the dining room and out onto the deck.

Flames were rapidly spreading through the lounge and the air was thick with smoke. Cait rushed forward to give Hawkins a hand, but then a familiar voice was yelling at her to stand aside.

Calvin stepped past her and reached for the scepter, wrapped his hands around it and pulled Hawkins out like a cork from an old bottle of wine.

With Calvin in the lead, they ran through the dining room, weaving their way through the swirling pockets of flame dancing around like fiery wraiths. Tongues of yellow fire licked at their heels, but then they were out the door and down the gang plank.

The massive bonfire consumed the boat from stem to stern and blistered the air with its heat.

As they hastily made their way to the truck in the undulating light from the blaze, Hawkins scanned the old parking lot and the surrounding woods

Marzak was nowhere to be seen.