by Alexie Aaron
“Are you hearing the voice?” Ted asked.
“Yes. It’s scratchy, reminds me of how corpses talk. It’s repeating the same phrase in a few different languages, Spanish, English and, of course, French. ‘I’m sure you are looking for escape. I’m in a sporting mood. I’ll give you an hour.’”
“What’s happening? Or rather, what happened?” Mason corrected.
“The sailor ran and found his way out of the underground passages, climbing higher and higher until he heard the sounds of the waterfalls. He climbed around on the slippery rocks. In the distance, he saw a ship approaching. He wanted to wave them off and away from this hellish island, but he was too far away. He took off his shirt and tied it to a branch.” Mia set the shirt down. “That’s all I’ve got besides your and Sabine’s residue.”
Mason gently took the cloth out of Mia’s hand and returned it, first, to the small bag and then sealed it in the salt-filled bag.
“I was wrong. It wasn’t bait,” Mia said. “The demon may not know about Sabine, but I’m sure it knows about you two. And if it’s that astute, it knows about Kevin and Fergus. There is an intelligence there, but to what end?” Mia mused. “I think I let Whitney and Angelo color my thinking. There is no grand conspiracy.”
“Mia, it’s a flesh-eater,” Ted said. “Don’t go and get all soft on it.”
“It gains knowledge by eating brains,” Mia remembered and seemed to snap out of it. “It’s still dangerous and, yes, could have used Sabine. We got lucky and acted prematurely but, in the long run, responsibly.”
“Why were the barrels of rum left there on the beach?” Patrick asked. “Who put them there, and who benefited by the transaction between the French warship and the rumrunner?”
“I think if there is a conspiracy,” Mason wondered, “it has survived many generations. I think someone is feeding the island. And they are doing it for profit. Our treasure may not be there, but we were led there all the same.”
Burt listened and asked a few questions of the Callens, taking notes. He stopped and asked Mia, “What do humans get from, let’s say, feeding demons?”
“Power. Riches, most demons have a hoard. Like dragons, they love shiny things. Immortal life. A demon can extend the lifespan of a human and sometimes enhance the quality of life too. I worry about what someone is getting from this flesh-eater though. It’s old, old enough to have been subjected to the old code. I hope Orion can find some reference to it. In the meanwhile, we need to keep people off that island. Especially outside of the reef. I’m not saying its pet can swim beyond the reef, but the small amount of information I do have tells me the reef is a problem for it.”
“Is there anything else, gentlemen?” Burt asked. “Any feelings? Glimpses of unexplained phenomena?”
“Sabine said she saw a ghost ship,” Mia blurted out. “I doubt it has anything to do with this demon, but it is unusual.”
“She told us. Do you think it’s the Flying Dutchman?” Patrick asked.
“Don’t know?” Mia said. “Not my area of expertise. I better go up and spell Murphy. He doesn’t tolerate being on the water well.”
“Neither does his father,” Mason said. “Kevin spent the whole time with his head on Sabine’s lap.”
“Lucky stiff,” Burt said. “In the morning, we should see if we can retrieve the ghosts and get out of here. We may avoid running into Whitney and his crew. Mia, I suggest you find a way to communicate with him and warn him off.”
“Mia, hang on a moment,” Patrick requested. “Burt, you said, with a lot of certainty, that the treasure wasn’t here, and Mia confirmed it was never brought to shore. Where is it?”
“Two places come to mind. New Orleans is the first, but where I have no idea. And the second is an island one would never expect would hold a pirate’s treasure.”
“Manhattan Island?” Mia guessed. “The place is full of pirates, but not the George Wall type of pirate.”
“No. Not Manhattan. Although, it is technically an island. And you call yourself geographically challenged,” Burt said with a twinkle in his eye.
“You said the ship was seen heading to Montreal,” Patrick said. “Mason, you need to check and see if we can get any information on the captain of the America and what his relationship may have been with Olympe de Gouges. Maybe he took the treasure for himself. And if he did, what happened to it?”
“Or you can follow a hunch from this ghost hunter,” Burt said slyly.
“What do you want? I can’t give you a piece of the profits unless I get an okay from the primary investors.”
“I want film rights and complete access,” Burt said. “Regardless of the outcome. That means, success or fail.”
Patrick looked at Mason. Mason hunched his shoulders. “I will have to speak to Sabine first, but if you can shortcut this treasure hunt, I believe she wouldn’t mind the camera being around.”
Burt looked over at Mia.
“Don’t look at me. I’m camera shy and not part of this. The only treasure I need is sitting at that computer.”
“Would you be willing to help us?” Patrick asked.
“Ted and I have a few weeks until the boys are back in town. What do you think?” she asked her husband.
“It sure beats watching Cid pounding nails.”
Mia lifted an eyebrow. “I guess we’re in.”
“Well, where is the treasure most likely to be?” Patrick asked Burt.
“Turtle Island.”
“Which one? There are hundreds of Turtle Islands. North America was reputedly given the name of Turtle too,” Ted said.
Mia’s face brightened. She looked at Burt. He smiled. The two of them had talked about this island when they were a couple. It was well known in the ghost-hunting circles as being haunted. “May I?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Mackinac Island, Michigan.”
“Impossible,” Mason said. “A Téméraire-class, seventy-four-gun, French naval vessel would not have been able to make it through the Great Lakes at that time. Not to mention by the British.”
“It could have been transferred to a smaller ship.”
“How do you know all of this?” Ted asked.
“You know that library I’ve been amassing over the years?”
“The Garage Sale Books of the Macabre?” Ted asked.
Burt narrowed his eyes at Ted’s title and quickly dismissed the dig. “Okay, in my library, there is a self-published tome from a New Orleans spinster that has quite a few tasty bits of gossip. During our investigation of Edward’s ghost-napping, I became intrigued by how Jake was able to find the island of Guadeloupe using the clues left in the books we found in the wall. The only thing that irked me was Santa Rosa. It didn’t seem that Olympia would just send the hoard to a place. Of course, this was nothing more than Bea guessing. You remember, all the jewels were either rose colored or had roses on them. What she missed was that she thought Rosa was a place. In actuality, Rosa was a woman, Olympe de Gouges’s cousin, according to the spinster, a Rosa de Familiare. I’m proposing the theory that Olympe was sending the fortune to her cousin for safekeeping. Unbeknownst to Olympe, Rosa had left Guadeloupe for New Orleans, where she became known by the spinster as a fortune hunter with an eye for military men. She then, according to the gossips, moved on to Montreal. There she had fallen in love with Captain Daniel Robertson and went with him when he was commanded to Michilimakinac by General Haldimand. I think the treasure was delivered to Rosa, and she took it with her, first, to Montreal and then on to Mackinac, where she left it there for George Wall to find. I’m sure it was looted by Rosa for the best pieces of jewelry. There was talk in the spinster’s book about the jewels Rosa was sporting at the last ball she attended in New Orleans, which I took as confirmation that the jewels made it to Rosa de Familiare.”
“That’s a lot of research,” Patrick said, impressed. “Were you by chance going to look for the treasure yourself?” he asked, his voice a bit too even for Mia�
��s comfort.
“I don’t know, maybe. I was looking at it from a different angle. I had no idea that you and Mason had already started your investigation until Mia called me for advice.”
Patrick shot Mia an angry glance.
“I doubted whatever was left of the treasure would be worth funding a hunt of this extravagance, but from a historic stand point, it would make a hell of a documentary,” Burt said. “I’ve always wanted to film a documentary. Don’t get me wrong, ghost hunting is a blast, but every now and again, I want a change.”
“I hear you,” Mia said. “K, to be clear, you’re not looking for a piece of the pie, just to be the fly on the wall, so to speak.”
“Exactly.”
“How does that sound?” Mia asked the Callens.
“I don’t mind having an experienced researcher and cameraman on hand,” Mason said.
Patrick nodded.
“Now that this is settled, let’s go and retrieve our ghosts,” Mia said, “and get the hell out of here.”
There was a knock on the stateroom door. Patrick walked over and opened the door and let the first mate in.
“Mr. Callen, I’ve been contacted by the US Coast Guard Cutter Ross Bell. They would like permission to board us. I have your papers…” He stopped and looked at the two strange men. Ted reached in his pocket and tapped Burt. He, too, produced a passport. Ted handed them to the first mate. Mia assumed she was going to pass for Sabine.
“I believe you have the original orders. Sabine, my brother and myself, and two others.”
“Yes. You said the other two would be joining us later. When did you come aboard?” he asked Burt and Ted.
“Not long ago. You were, I believe, otherwise engaged,” Ted said.
The first mate nodded and walked out.
“It’s got to be Whitney. Shit, I thought we’d get you guys out of here before he got here. How did he get here so fast?” Mia asked.
“Maybe it’s not him at all,” Burt said. “Maybe it’s just the local Feds.”
“Isn’t Whitney a friend of yours?” Mason asked Mia.
“Friend, maybe. Don’t count on any autonomy because of our history. He can be conflicted when it comes to breaking any kind of law,” Mia said. “Unlike Tom, he lacks imagination.”
Ted studied his wife mutely. She seemed more inconvenienced than worried.
“What do we do?” Patrick asked. “I’ve never been boarded by the Coast Guard. Come to think of it, these are French or Dutch waters. Damn, I’m not sure since the captain moved the boat away from Lanfé.”
They didn’t have to wait long. A very tired Captain Billard escorted two men into the suite of rooms. He stood there while one of the men flipped through the passports and handed them back to him. Billard’s bleary eyes didn’t seem to notice the change in Sabine and, fortunately, neither did the Fed.
“I’m Special Agent Simpson, and this Agent Boullé.”
“Can I ask what this is about?” Patrick inquired.
“We’ve been assigned to search for a missing shore party. The captain of the Azure said you landed on an island 16.35 N, 62.4 W,” Agent Simpson confirmed.
“Yes, that would be correct. The locals call it Lanfé, but I believe it is also known as Lucifer’s Lip,” Patrick said. “We’re looking for a place to film.”
“Did you see any sign of wreckage on the beach of the island?”
“My brother Mason and I landed on the cliffside and proceeded upwards to examine the waterfalls,” Patrick said.
“Did you see any wreckage or sign of inhabitation in the area where you searched?”
“We found this,” Mason said, handing the Fed the small plastic bag. “We believe it’s part of a French naval uniform. Please handle it carefully.”
The Fed opened the bag and drew out the scrap of fabric. “You think this is French?”
“The French still own a few islands around here. It’s more of a guess. We haven’t had time to have an expert verify our theory.”
“What is your theory, Mr. Callen?” the Fed fired back.
“That this island was used for rumrunning in the eighteenth century.”
“Why come all this way for a rumrunning theory?”
“My associate is interested in filming a documentary. I believe you may have seen his team on PEEPs?”
There was a flicker of confirmation, but the Fed did not verbalize it.
“Sir,” Mia began. “Did you say a shore excursion disappeared somewhere in this vicinity?”
“We believe so.”
“Why?” Mia asked.
“We’re not sure, miss.”
“Ma’am. I’m a widow,” Mia corrected in an airy-fairy voice she was used to hearing Sabine use.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Were there any storms?”
“No, ma’am, it was a sunny day. They left St. Kitts and did not return.”
“When did this happen?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“And you’re just now looking for them?” she asked, incredulous.
“A search party was sent out from the cruise ship and then from St. Kitts. We are just doing a more extensive search. We suspect foul play.”
“This is alarming. Have you issued a travel advisory?” Mia asked. “If we had but known, we would have postponed our trip.”
“Unfortunately, that call wasn’t ours to make.”
“I suggest, if these islands are dangerous, that you should do that right now. Maybe get the other governments in the area to post warnings too,” Mia advised.
“I don’t…”
“Why are you here then?” Mia asked.
“We’re following up on a hunch one of our senior agents had.”
“Who is this agent?” Ted asked.
“I’m sorry, it’s none of your business,” the agent responded.
“We’ve only been in the Caribbean for a few days. Do you suspect us of having something to do with the missing patrons of the cruise ship?” Ted asked.
“No.”
“I’m puzzled by this late-night intrusion,” Patrick said. “However, if we see any signs of the missing vacationers or anyone that seems to not be on the up and up, we’ll send up a flare.”
“We would appreciate that, Mr. Callen,” Agent Simpson said and turned and walked out the door.
Mia nodded to Murphy, who was standing in the passageway, to follow the agents.
Murphy watched as they discussed with the captain of the Azure what was really going on with his passengers.
“All I can tell you is that we put the Callens ashore yesterday morning. They came back in the evening, and we relocated.”
“What was the reason for relocation?”
“The female passenger was ill. Patrick Callen thought it may have something to do with the island, although he did not elaborate.”
“Thank you, Captain Billard.”
“Would you like us to transport you two back aboard the cutter?”
“No, we’ll call them. Thank you for your courtesy.”
Captain Billard left the two on the deck but motioned for the first mate to keep an eye on them.
Murphy moved in closer to listen in on the waiting agents’ conversation.
One picked up a satellite phone and called the cutter. Agent Simpson called another number.
“Agent Martin, everything seems to be in order on the Azure. One female and four males. All passports are in order. Yes, blonde, long hair. She’s kind of odd. Explain… Well, did you watch the Harry Potter movies? Good. Luna Lovegood. I’d bet she’s a dead ringer. Of course, I know the actress is a child. This woman gives off the air of being very young and drifty.”
Murphy smiled. Mia hadn’t been found out.
“No. No other women. Just the Callens, some documentary guy, and a geeky guy on computer. Yes, sir. We’ll maintain surveillance.”
The launch from the cutter arrived, and the agent put away the phone. Murphy waited until the boat sped
back to the large ship before he went below.
After hearing Murphy’s report, the five were silent.
“I don’t understand. Why keep an eye on us?” Mia asked. “It’s not that we’re causing people to disappear. How can Whitney think that we’d do that?”
“He’s just trying to get us to do the work for him. Whitney’s probably on St. Kitts at a bar right now,” Burt said.
“I hate to think of him being that close,” Mia said. “K. I think we’re going to have to wait until morning to go after Kevin and Fergus. Let’s get some rest.”
The Callens and Burt left the suite. Ted fired off a report to Cid, sending with it the video of the Feds’ visit. He received a short, encrypted communication from Cid. Sabine had arrived and was sleeping off the effects of the trip. Nicholai had left to report to Angelo.
Mia washed off the sunscreen and braided the hairpiece. She kept it attached to her head by French-braiding it into place. Ted unwound the bandage, allowing Mia to breathe freely again.
Ted kissed her softly. He caressed all the bits that were exposed and uncovered more that were hidden. The motion of the boat on the waves of the Caribbean added to their enjoyment of each other. After, as Mia fell asleep, she heard a voice in her head ask, “Who are you?”
It wasn’t until she turned over did she realize it was spoken in Demon.
Chapter Seven
Mia raised her head up just enough to take in the steam from the hot mug of coffee that was set in front of her. She waved off the cream and sugar that Sabine normally filled her cup with. The steward assumed that Sabine had a hangover. She had never seen such a change in a person before. The woman who jumped enthusiastically aboard the Azure, dripping sunshine and rainbows, had changed when they reached their destination. She became grumpy and withdrew to her stateroom, claiming a migraine. Now the woman wore large sunglasses and barley uttered a grunt when spoken to.
“Mr. Callen, I’m worried about Mrs. Norwood,” Daphne, the crewman in charge of catering, started. “She’s not the same woman who came aboard. Perhaps it would be best if you took her back to the mainland. It’s obvious that she’s not enjoying the trip.”
