Golden Legacy

by Robert James Glider

  “Take her in and hold her,” Townsend said. He took out his badge and held it above his head for all to see. “Let me through.” The crowd moved back as if he was Moses parting the Red Sea.

  Townsend watched the man who had decked James Murdoch place his fingers on the carotid artery on Murdoch’s neck, and yell, “He’s alive! Call an ambulance, now!”

  CHAPTER 25

  Aboard the Golden Adventurer

  The next morning

  Jac thrashed his arms as he came out of a twilight sleep. He was groggy, and his body felt like a moist towel. He looked over at the clock—two thirty in the morning. Something’s wrong. Peri was snoring away in the bunk below him. Jac reached down to the bedside table, picked up a bottle of aspirin, fumbled with the childproof cap, shook out and downed three aspirins. It seemed only minutes ago that he’d crawled into bed after several cramped hours spent within the windowless green-and-yellow walls of Inspector Townsend’s office.

  It had initially felt like an inquisition until Townsend’s demeanor changed when he recognized Peri from a television show. Jac was always amazed and thankful that so many people watched cooking shows. Once again, Peri’s celebrity had helped them out of a difficult situation.

  After a chat about some of Townsend’s grandmother’s original recipes, which he offered to share, the conversation turned back to the previous night’s incident at the hotel. “We know the shooting was related to a shady deal,” said Townsend. “One of James’s dealers—someone he’d stiffed on payment more than once—decided his honor as a thief was at stake and wanted James to pay with his life. And lucky for James, the bullet didn’t penetrate his skull. It turns out that your punch caused him to move just enough to save his life. One inch in a different direction and he would have been dead.” Townsend raised his right hand and demonstrated with his fingers to simulate an inch. “Only this much and he wouldn’t be my problem anymore.” Townsend paused to pick up a pencil on his desk and look at Jac. “I don’t know whether to thank you … or throw you in jail.” He laughed.

  “I guess you have a problem.” Jac grinned.

  “Actually, Mr. Kidd, it’s you who has a problem. James may want a rematch.”

  “And, you will … I get it—I’ll be the bait!”

  Townsend smiled.

  From the bunk below Jac, Peri groaned.

  “Peri, you awake?”

  “Yes.” Peri yawned. “Jac, I was dreaming about the Guatemalan jungle and the day you showed up in my life. Up to that day the only real excitement in my life had been conquering a perfect soufflé.”

  “I told you your life would never be dull,” Jac jibed. “I hope you didn’t join up just because of your ability to cook.” Peri didn’t respond. “Oh crap,” Jac muttered. He regretted the word as soon as he said it. The mere mention of the word cook and associating it with Peri in the same breath would begin with an admonition and end with being bombarded with a long discussion on the differences in stature of a cook and a chef. Unlike his father, he stared blankly at Peri as he began his rant. Mandrago always ruffled Peri’s feathers, and he would do it purposely, and often. But he would never listen to Peri’s ire; instead, he would walk away laughing and say, “Gotcha again, Mr. Chef.”

  One thing Jac and his father never did was question or make light of Peri’s archeological and anthropological knowledge. Peri had earned his stripes as an archeologist and adventurer, and he was not to be trifled with when it came to searching for ancient spices. He had tromped through jungles and deserts all over the world. Jac knew these skills were highly transferable to the endeavor of treasure hunting.

  Jac sighed. Peri was only halfway through his long explanation of the differences between cooks and chefs. Jac nodded his head and thought about a cocktail party and dinner last week. A reporter from Newsweek had asked him a question regarding Peri’s abilities and what he offered to their enterprise.

  Jac’s answer had surprised the reporter along with a group of Peri’s peers who had gathered around to listen. “Peri is a genius! He searches, as I do, for the truth. His investigation of historical cultures has not only unearthed the recipes of ancient daily life, but he’s solved ancient mysteries about which herbs and spices were used for medicinal purposes. And, as you know, Peri writes a monthly column for Gastranome magazine and has made appearances on every television chef’s program more than once as an expert in the culinary arts. He has acquired an international reputation since becoming known as the Food Archeologist, and his intuition, sense of organization, and logical mind make him the perfect devil’s advocate. He is a formidable part of our investigation team.”

  Jac felt uneasy. Something was nagging at his subconscious. And it felt foreboding, yet physical—a sharp stinging pain like an ice pick was nudging at the nerve behind his eyes. He sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his hands gently over his temples. After a moment of silence, the pain eased and he slowly sat up, stretched, and leaned over the edge of the top bunk. “Peri … last night …?”

  “I was dreaming about last night, Jac.”

  “I know. You were mumbling in your sleep.”

  Peri frowned.

  “We’ve lucked out and stumbled into a fortuitous relationship as a result of meeting Chauncey. But I’m convinced she knows a great deal more than she’s willing to tell us. It’s like …” Jac paused. “Do you get the feeling that she’s trying to get information from us?”

  Peri sat up. “Yes, I get that same impression.”

  “I’m getting premonitions. They play out in different scenarios about the same thing, and in living color. And that one hit like a buzz saw inside my head.”

  “God, Jac, that sounds awful.”

  Hearing a faint bumping noise just outside their cabin door, Jac, with a cat-like move, jumped from the upper rack. He signaled Peri to be quiet by putting a finger over his lips. Jac reached under his pillow and pulled out a Walther PPK/S like the one James Bond used in the double-oh movies. Jac slowly moved across the cabin and positioned himself at the side of the cabin door. He looked down and watched the door handle begin to turn.

  Jack reached down, grabbed the handle, and yanked the door open.

  “Good morning!” Mandrago said as he fell forward into the room.

  Chauncey Rutherford stood in the doorway smiling.

  CHAPTER 26

  “Thanks for the heads up, George,” Remy said into the phone as he watched Kincaid talking out loud and pacing the room like a cowardly hyena waiting for a predator to finish its meal. “I know you don’t want to be involved, but remember that our father spent his life searching for the treasure of Anne Bonney. He never found any clues, but now I have. And I will make us all rich and satisfy our father’s dream.”

  “Oh, my God!” Kincaid said when Remy hung up the phone. He sat down and leaned forward with his hands holding his head.

  “Stop sniveling,” said Remy. “They didn’t see us last night. That was my brother George. He’s helping us. He drew up an affidavit asking the assistance of the Jamaican police to find Abigail and have her contact him before any charges are filed.”

  “Then they know we’re here? Oh my God! They know!”

  “Shut up, you fool! Of course they know we’re here. Now be quiet. I have to think.”

  A loud knock on the door caused both men to freeze.

  Remy reached into his pocket and pulled out his 9 mm Glock, chambered a round and pointed the gun at the door. “Yes?”

  “Boss wants you to come with me,” a deep voice from behind the door answered.

  Kincaid opened the door and stepped back to allow Remy a clear view.

  Remy put the gun away when he saw it was the same man who had driven them from the airport.

  “Take everything wit you,” the man said. He came into the room and picked up the two suitcases he’d brought up to the room only hours before. “Fo
llow me. I have cab waiting for you in front of the hotel. I won’t be going wit you, since the police are looking for boss for questioning.”

  Mandrago got up from the floor of Jac’s cabin and smiled. “Get dressed and meet us in the main cabin in ten minutes.”

  When he stepped out into the passageway, he knocked on the door to Jac’s cabin where Abigail and Roni were bunked. He then yelled out for Michael to meet for coffee in ten minutes.

  Once Michael, Roni and Abigail had assembled around the large dining table, Mandrago introduced Chauncey to those who hadn’t yet met her. “You met my sons, Jac and Peri. This is Peri’s nephew, Michael Schmoond, and our friends, Abigail and Roni Chance.”

  Chauncey smiled and extended her hand toward Jac. “I came from the hospital to apologize. I also brought the information your father asked me to research regarding the two pirates, Anne Bonney and Mary Read.”

  Jac took Chauncey’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Chauncey suddenly turned her eyes toward Abigail.

  While Chauncey and Abigail sized each other up, Jac was thinking, She knows a lot more than she is about to tell us.

  Mandrago handed Chauncey and Jac each a cup of coffee and asked them to sit at the U-shaped table in the center of the main cabin.

  “I’m glad your son’s going to be okay,” Jac said.

  “Inspector Townsend told me how you saved his life.” Chauncey paused to dab her eyes with a tissue. “I don’t condone his actions or the life he’s chosen, and I want you to know that, as his mother, I’ll never give up trying to change his ways. Seeing him lying on the floor bleeding, and thinking he was dead …” Chauncey’s eyes glassed over and she stood up. “Please excuse me. May I use the loo?”

  “Of course.” Mandrago pointed toward the stern. “Down the passageway, and it’s the first door on your right.”

  When Jac heard the door close he turned toward Abigail. “Let her do the talking. We need to find out why she’s so interested in you. And please don’t tell her about finding the map and diary—at least not yet.”

  “Okay, Jac. I’ll be careful. But I am curious. I sense she has something on her mind concerning me, and I have this funny feeling. It’s almost as if I know her.”

  “I’m anxious to hear what you’ve turned up,” Jac said when Chauncey returned and sat down.

  Chauncey stared across the table at Abigail as if she was awaiting an answer to a question. “I grew up on the island of Tortola. And all my life I’ve had this fascination with history, especially about the pirates. So, over the years, I’ve read everything I could find about the buccaneers who preyed on ships trading with the islands in the Caribbean Sea. You see, the house I grew up in is very old. My ancestors built the original house in the late sixteenth century.” Chauncey leaned forward with her eyes still fixed across the table on Abigail. “I remember a particular rainy day. Thunder and lightning—a big storm was passing over the island. It was my twelfth birthday. I took my present—a new doll—up to the attic to play and noticed that one of the wall planks had come loose. Much of the wood used to build the house had washed ashore after storms and actually came from several ships that had been wrecked on the treacherous reefs off the west end of the island. Since the slat looked as if it could fall on me, I pulled it away from the wall and laid it down. I was about to go downstairs to tell my father, but I looked at the space in the wall and found it was filled with dusty books—several old journals, and ships’ logs.”

  “These journals and logs must have whet your historical appetite,” Peri said.

  “Yes, they certainly did.” Chauncey paused to sip her tea. “When I leafed through one of the journals, I found an account of the taking of Calico Jack Rackham’s ship and the capture of Anne Bonney and Mary Read.” Chauncey turned her gaze from Peri to Abigail. “I also found a diary written by Mary Read.” Chauncey stared at Abigail as if waiting for a reaction. Not seeing any change in Abigail’s demeanor she went on. “The diary is an account of her life aboard the ship, an affair with Rackham, meeting up with Anne Bonney, and how they managed to take several merchant ships.”

  Another diary, Jac thought.

  Chauncey told several of the stories she’d read in the diary and logs. “And there’s a piece of dried-out leather.”

  Bingo! The other half!

  “Let’s be frank, Mr. Kidd. I suspect you’re really here because you found clues to Mary and Anne’s salt-away.”

  Finally, she’s leveling with us.

  “Salt-away is what Mary refers to as treasure in the diary,” continued Chauncey. “And, you believe I have the map to the location. Well, I do. But the map doesn’t show any particular place, just the outline of what could be a group of islands or islets.”

  She doesn’t know she only has half, thought Jac. “Have you tried to find the location?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Chauncey said. “But there are hundreds of islands and islets in the Caribbean.”

  “Where did you search?”

  “I’ve spent years searching the locations in the area where history says Anne and Mary spent most of their time—around the Turk and Caicos islands.”

  “Did anything come close to matching the area depicted on your map?”

  “I looked at aerial views, studied navigation charts, and couldn’t find anything close to a match.”

  “Could we see the map and the other documents?”

  “The map and documents are not here. They are still hidden in the house I grew up in on Tortola.”

  Jac looked at Mandrago. “Are the Adventurer’s repairs completed?

  “We can sail for Tortola today if you like,” Mandrago said.

  Everyone at the table looked at Chauncey.

  Chauncey’s eyes scanned across the table. “Yes, I would like that.” Chauncey looked at her watch. “But first I must see to James, and I promised Inspector Townsend that I would call him.”

  “We’ll be ready to leave by the time you get back,” Mandrago said.

  Chauncey turned her gaze back to Abigail. “May I ask why you are interested in Anne Bonney and Mary Read?”

  Abigail looked toward Jac.

  “Abigail found a diary that was written by Anne Bonney.” Jac omitted any reference to a map. “And she found out that Anne Bonney is her ancestral grandmother.” Jac was thinking of Chauncey’s seemingly more than casual interest in Abigail’s background. But to be fair she related some very important clues as to where the two lady pirates hung out while Calico Jack and his men went off to party after their raids. Maybe reading Mary Read’s diary, he thought, could give us a starting point for the hunt. Jac knew it would take more—a lot more—even with both halves of the map, and a little luck still may not be enough. He was beginning to believe his father was right about Chauncey; there was something else—something else she was hiding. Whatever it was it could prove to be the critical information they would need to solve the puzzle. He knew he would have some time on the way to Tortola to try to find out what secret she hadn’t told them.

  “I see.” Chauncey said, “You and I have a lot to talk about. I will be back in two hours.”

  Chauncey could turn out to be a problem, Jac thought, but if there were no problems, there wouldn’t be any opportunities.

  CHAPTER 27

  Mullee’s Cantina

  The cab turned off the main thoroughfare onto a very narrow side street and stopped in front of a faded pink building. Yellow paint was peeling off a Cerveza sign just below the large green italic letters on the brick wall heralding the name, Mullee’s Cantina.

  “Be calm,” Remy said. He perceived that Kincaid was worried when he saw the two muscular men with Rasta-style hair wearing dirty white tank tops and leaning back against the wall on rickety chairs at each side of the entranceway to the cantina. They were puffing on big Cuban cigars.

  When Remy and Kincaid
exited the cab they watched the driver open the trunk, take out their suitcases, and throw them on the sidewalk. Before Remy could pay the driver, he jumped back into the cab and hurriedly pulled away.

  Beaming a smile of bright gold teeth, the larger of the two men leaning his chair against the wall, said, “Hey, mon, can I help you?”

  “We’re here to see Murdoch,” Remy said.

  “What’s your business?” the second man said as he positioned himself to block the entrance.

  Fondling the knife that dropped into his hand from the sleeve of his coat, Remy thought, I have the feeling we are going to be tested. How easy it would be to take him out! But it won’t serve my purpose. “Just tell him Remy is here. He’ll understand.”

  Gold Teeth rose, turned, and disappeared through the dark entranceway. His companion, Tie Dye, stood, folded his arms, and remained in the doorway. Tense minutes passed as Tie Dye, a sneer on his face, stood a foot away glaring down into Remy’s eyes. Another man wearing Ray-Ban wraparound sunglasses emerged behind Tie Dye, told him to move, and motioned for Remy and Kincaid to follow him.

  As they walked down the dark hallway, the smell of stale beer mixed with the faint odor of puke and cheap perfume invaded their senses. Remy heard Kincaid cough and gag.

  The center of the building opened into a courtyard where a waterfall, its sides adorned with multihued flowering plants, sent a meandering stream past tables intimately tucked into alcoves formed by tropical foliage around the perimeter.

  “Silence!” A large, balding, barrel-chested man wearing a sweat-stained tank top that exposed his hairy shoulders yelled at a group of men who were sitting around a large table. Waving a hand as if in recognition toward the door, he dismissed the men with a nod of his head, smiling. “I’m Mulee! Please come join me,” the man said as he turned to Remy and Kincaid.