The Hunters

15

Papineau sensed the troops were getting restless. He knew he needed to grab their attention before they turned against him completely. He raised his finger to his lips, asking for silence.

‘Thank you,’ he said politely. ‘Now that we know a little more about each other’s accomplishments, I think it’s time that we get to the purpose of this gathering.’

‘It’s about time,’ McNutt grumbled.

Papineau chose to ignore him. ‘As I entered the dawn of my twilight years, I became intent on finding a way to leave my mark in history. Initially, I had no intention of focusing on the subject of history itself, but after giving it some thought, I decided to use the mysteries of the past as a starting point. To achieve what I had in mind, I understood the error of simply hiring the top experts in a variety of historical fields. Rather, I wanted to assemble the best team possible: a group that would combine to form the ultimate squad of hunters, whose talents were specifically tailored to meet my goals. I spent months searching for each of you, and several weeks more finding the proper way to test you all.’

Sarah frowned. ‘What was your criterion?’

‘I used a test called SAR, which stands for Stress-Action Ratio. It was developed by NASA when they first began recruiting men to fly into space. The examiner took something that people claimed to be an expert in and tested that skill under pressure. Either the pilots succeeded in overriding a malfunctioning space capsule system — or they perished. Even with that initial test, at least one of the original seven astronauts appears to have cracked under pressure on a mission. So NASA instituted double-jeopardy examinations unimaginatively called SAR-B. The systems fail and the lights go out, or some combination of troubles.’

Cobb wasn’t buying it, not entirely. NASA’s half-century-old winnowing process was not part of any modern curriculum he had heard of, but Cobb was willing to play along for now. ‘Which explains our homework assignment in New York. You wanted to see how we would handle ourselves in a life-or-death situation.’

‘Something like that,’ he admitted.

Sarah’s cheeks flushed with anger. ‘You mean I risked my life for nothing? You were simply testing me?’

‘No, my dear, it was more than a test. The document that I asked you to retrieve is actually an important part of your main mission. Furthermore, I am prepared to pay you significant amounts of money for your time. Naturally, my entire estate is at your disposal in terms of equipment and materials. Anything you need, ask. Here, you answer only to me. When you’re in the field, to your team leader.’

All of the eyes in the room shifted toward Cobb.

‘Excuse me,’ Jasmine said, ‘but will we be asked to do anything illegal?’

‘Yes,’ Papineau said. ‘In fact, almost everything. Is that a problem?’

‘It might be,’ she said.

‘You send half of your weekly take-home pay to your parents in Seoul,’ he said. ‘It would take you decades to send them what you can earn here in a few months. Is it still a problem?’

‘Some of us have been in prison,’ McNutt said. ‘It’s not fun — unless, of course, you enjoy rape.’

‘Fortunately we function under the Marine praxis that no member is left behind. That includes being kept in a prison, anywhere. Illegality is only a moral limitation for us, not a physical one.’

‘What about killing?’ McNutt asked.

‘Hopefully that will not be necessary,’ Papineau said.

‘But you wouldn’t have hired him otherwise,’ Sarah said.

Papineau’s silence was confirmation enough.

‘How much is this “significant amount” you referred to?’ McNutt asked.

‘Five million dollars to each of you,’ he replied. ‘Cash, wire transfer, bank check, gold — however you want it.’

He had them. Cobb knew it and so did the Frenchman.

‘Anyway, that’s all I have to say,’ Papineau said. ‘Are there any questions?’

McNutt raised his hand. ‘What’s a praxis?’

‘A practice,’ Jasmine said.

‘Ah. Thanks.’

Papineau took some of the breakfast burrito Garcia had made, some of the fruit Jasmine had cut, a half of a sandwich Cobb and McNutt had made, and a little of the juice Sarah had squeezed. The man was nothing if not diplomatic.

‘Do any of you need time to think over your involvement?’ the Frenchman asked. ‘We’re on somewhat of a tight schedule.’

Jasmine surprised everyone by being the first to speak. ‘I’m in.’

She looked at Hector, who said, ‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m in, too.’ He looked at McNutt diagonally across from him.

‘Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for all the tits at Hooters,’ McNutt exclaimed.

The momentum stopped there. Papineau stared at Sarah.

‘Ms Ellis?’

She looked to where her forefinger was making a little circle on the table next to her drink. ‘Well, since you went to so much trouble to bring me here… why the hell not?’

Papineau smiled and turned his attention to Cobb. ‘And what about you?’

Cobb glanced around the table. ‘Before I make a decision, I’d like to mention the one thing that Papi has not yet shared. This is not his home, it’s a training facility.’

‘For what?’ McNutt asked. ‘Being rich?’

Papineau returned Cobb’s stare. ‘You’re referring to the air vents?’

‘Among other things.’

‘Someone want to catch us up?’ Sarah asked.

‘Mr Cobb looked for and spotted the air duct that—’

‘Two air ducts,’ Cobb interrupted. ‘There’s one at basement level in the front, hidden by the landscaping, another about ten feet lower on the beach.’

Papineau made a face. ‘That’s a big assumption. A vent down there would be flooded during high tide.’

‘Hence the out-of-place sea wall,’ Cobb said. ‘There’s nothing else it could be shielding.’

Papineau nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes, there are two air ducts.’

Cobb smiled. ‘Care to show us the rest of the facility?’

‘Now that we have gotten to know each other a little, let us have a look at what Mr Cobb alluded to. I’m sure you’ll be impressed by what I have below.’

Papineau led the team downstairs past an indoor swimming pool. Through double doors they glimpsed a pier angling out into the sea and a motor yacht, four levels high and roughly sixty-five feet. Lights were on fore and aft, revealing a white hull and the inscription TRESOR DE LA MER painted on its stern.

‘Treasure in the Sea?’ McNutt attempted.

‘Treasure of the Sea,’ Jasmine corrected.

‘Damn. I was close. If I stick by you, I may get an education.’

‘You need one,’ Sarah teased.

The group followed Papineau down another flight of stairs to a sub-basement, toward a door heavy enough for a bunker.

‘This is modeled after the design of the White House situation room,’ Papineau said.

‘How do you know?’ McNutt asked.

Papineau grinned. ‘I stole the plans.’