Black Flag - Страница 2
2
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She told Knuckles to continue his studies, then grabbed her purse, with her lips set in a grim line. I said, “Hey, it’s not that big of a deal.”
She stalked toward me, saying, “Start of the money pit. I could see this coming.”
I saw Knuckles holding back a smile and said, “Anybody comes in here while we’re gone, you turn them away. I don’t need you knuckleheads trashing my company.”
Knuckles said, “Don’t worry about us. I just spent an hour with Jennifer. I’m all over this stuff.”
I started to say something when Jennifer slammed the door. Brett said, “I think you have more pressing things to worry about.”
Chapter 2
Knuckles waited until the door had been closed for five minutes, making sure Pike wouldn’t return, then said, “Blood, did you really study all this stuff?”
“Yeah, man. That’s what they’re paying us for.”
“I know, I know. Still aggravates me, though. I wanted to go fishing or diving or on some sort of Indiana Jones thing. I don’t want to waste my week in here studying charts, contracts, and pay scales.”
Brett laughed and said, “And I didn’t want the callsign Blood, but you don’t get to pick that. Or your mission. The enemy has a vote.”
“What enemy? If I’d known it would be this much work, I’d have taken real leave and gone to the Caribbean, whether the government was paying or not. This isn’t worth it.”
Before Brett could answer, the door opened and two men entered. Knuckles took one look and knew they weren’t from the United States, nor were they both from the same country. It wasn’t something glaring. Just a fashion sense that was a little off. The lead man was wearing a striped rugby shirt and chinos, with black shoes that were slightly pointed. The man following had on a battered short-sleeve shirt, baggy jeans, and running shoes. Nothing overt, but enough for a man whose life depended on identifying things that were a little off.
The lead man said, “Excuse me. Is this Grolier Recovery Services?”
Irish.
“Yes. It is. How can I help you?”
The man smiled, showing a lack of dental work over the years. “I’m Dylan Kinkead, and this is Stefan.”
Stefan said hello, and Knuckles couldn’t place the accent but guessed it was Eastern European.
“As you can see, we aren’t from the U.S. and we’re in a bit of a pickle. We could desperately use your services.”
Knuckles looked at Blood, who shook his head slowly, mouthing, “Don’t.” Knuckles went back to Dylan and said, “Well, let’s see how desperate you are. We don’t come cheap, and this time of year, we only go to locations that would be considered vacation spots. If you’re looking for help in Kazakhstan, you can move on out.”
Dylan said, “We are of the same mind. I’m looking for someone to help bring up the treasure of Edward Teach. Someone who can facilitate all facets of discovery. We don’t want to find something only to get it taken from us.”
Knuckles heard the words, the name a tease on the edge of his memory. Then it broke the surface, a vestige from his tourist trip to the Provost Dungeon no more than six hours before. Edward Teach. Partner of Stede Bonnet. Otherwise known as Blackbeard.
“You want us to help you find the treasure of Blackbeard?”
Dylan broke into a huge smile and said, “Yes, yes. That’s it. I have some papers handed down from generations. I did some research here in Charleston, on the trial of Stede Bonnet, and it marries up. I think I know where the treasure is, but I don’t have the expertise to get it out, or the knowledge to protect custody. I heard that’s where you could help.”
Knuckles looked at Brett, who shook his head again and said, “Remember what Pike said. Don’t commit the business.”
Knuckles said, “Yeah, but this is my expertise. I’m the vice president of maritime operations.”
* * *
Dylan remained silent for the entire drive toward the safe house. Located twenty minutes north of Shem Creek on Highway 17, it was in a little rural neighborhood full of aging houses that had yet to be claimed and destroyed in the mad rush to build McMansions all up and down the coast. It had the added benefit of being right on the marsh of the inland waterway. Something he was sure they’d need shortly.
Cutting off Highway 17 to Rifle Range Road, he traveled a few more miles before turning onto Hamlin Road, a strip of asphalt that had yet to see the developer’s knife and remained as it had been since it was first paved. No sidewalks, no swimming pools, and no country club. Just a ribbon of tar flanked by houses that had been built around World War II. A perfect community to blend into.
He drove all the way to the end of the road until it stopped at the edge of the saltwater marsh, then pulled up a dirt drive to a small one-story clapboard house shaded by an immense live oak, its limbs drooping almost to the ground, as if it were burdened by some unseen memory.
Stefan hadn’t said a word the entire trip and continued this silent streak walking up the path to the front door. Dylan saw the window blinds crack and knew Dragos was staring at them over the barrel of a gun.
Damn Romanians. I should have never gotten wrapped up with them.
Stefan left the door open, and Dylan walked into the gloom, hearing the groan from the window-unit air conditioner and smelling the mold from the condensation drip that had been accumulating for years. He closed the door, and as his eyes adjusted to the murkiness he noticed two bundles of thick clear plastic sheeting, the top of each illuminated by a ray of light escaping through the window blinds, the dust motes dancing in the air above them.
For a second, he couldn’t identify the packages. It looked like a couple of pieces of furniture that had been wrapped for a ride in a pickup truck, with little bumps and jabs poking out. But something was leaking from the bottom one onto the floor. He stepped forward and saw a row of teeth and a single eye, wide open and staring.
“Jesus Christ.” He jerked his head to Dragos. “You fucking killed them? Now?”
In a thick accent, Dragos said, “Yes. You told me on the phone you had someone else that would work. They were becoming a troublesome loose end.”
“Have you lost your mind? We needed them to find the damn map. I can’t locate the chips without knowing what container they’re in. And they’re the only ones that know where the boat went down. We’ll now have to troll a bunch of different locations.”
“So troll.”
“Damn it, we might miss the window! I cannot believe you killed them. They didn’t know about their boss. All they knew was the boat was lost. Could you not wait until I got back?”
“Their purpose has been served. When they decided to back out, they were already dead. We’ll dump them in the marsh tonight. Let the crabs have an all-you-can-eat night for a change.”
Dylan stared at the plastic-wrapped bodies, seeing that the legs had been folded up unnaturally, as if each body had been sandwiched like a suitcase. He saw a potential reflection of himself. He wondered if his butchered business partners had realized they were doomed when they saw the plastic sheeting on the floor.
He said, “Maybe we should rethink this whole endeavor. It was one thing to use these guys to pass us the chips, but something else to go through this elaborate charade to hide the fact that we stole them.”
He saw Dragos lick his cleft lip like a lizard and heard him say, “Dylan. Look at me. I’m not losing this sale. It is worth way too much money. You’re the one who came up with this idea. Did you find an appropriate company?”
Dylan turned away from the plastic in a little bit of a daze. He said, “Yes. An archeological company here. They think they’re going on a treasure hunt. We need to purchase cabins for them on the container ship. I have the names.”
“And how will we ensure the trail is lost?”
“Stefan will stay here. I’ve convinced the company of the urgency, and they’re going to meet us in Kingston tomorrow. Stefan will break into their office and leave appropriate evidence after they’ve left.”
He saw Dragos wipe his brow and heard, “You had better make this good. You lost the first chance.”
Lost the first chance? You fucking killed the first chance, you greedy bastard. Now you’ve killed the location of the map as well. He couldn’t believe how bloodthirsty the Romanians had become. Couldn’t believe how far things had spiraled. Instead of waiting in Charleston for the arrival of the container ship, they were now going to have to interdict it en route. A simple transfer had become a robbery as complex as any he had ever heard about. All because these insane Romanians have no patience.
“It will be good. When we’re done, everyone will think the company is smuggling drugs into the port. They won’t look for anything else. As long as your men don’t go around killing everything they see, it will work. This isn’t Russia or Romania. It’s America.”
Dragos settled his flat eyes on Dylan and said, “You’d better hope this company you’ve picked causes no trouble. I’m done working with agitators who don’t produce. I want the chips. They’ll die quickly, like your traitorous friends. You will not.”
Dylan felt a tremble in his legs and said, “Don’t worry about that. The firm’s full of academics. They won’t cause us any trouble at all.”
Chapter 3
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