Galleon's Gold

by David Leadbeater

  In his heart, Marco was starting to believe that Crouch and his team were good people. But in his head, he knew that he couldn’t just put his life in their hands. One of the reasons he’d quit the Army was so that his fate would no longer be dependent on the whims of others.

  Escape was best. Escape with the gold was better.

  Marco sent the text and turned. “Shall we get underway?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

  The Year 1733

  Gabriel dug frantically in the soft earth. He was lucky, the hard beating sun that battered Mexico daily didn’t penetrate to this area—a thick forest on the edge of a wide plain leading to the beach. Gabriel only had the use of his hands as a tool, and they were cut, bleeding and full of sores, but all the pain in the world was worth it. The sword in the sack was sacred, he knew that much. It couldn’t be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. It was why he had killed the guard—that and the preservation of his own life. The other treasures were substantial, diamonds and jade. He had spent a little time in the forest, under the shade of a big tree, studying them.

  But thirst and hunger spurred him on.

  Gabriel dug mounds and mounds out of the earth. He rested often, weary to the point of collapse. Twice, he almost fell into the hole he was creating, but climbed back from the edge, refusing to accept that he was digging his own grave. Finally, he dropped the gray sack into the deep hole and started to fill it back in.

  An hour later he was done. Gabriel smoothed the earth and threw forest debris over the top. In time, the patch of ground would look like every other patch of ground, but Gabriel knew where it was. He couldn’t count on his memory though. Gabriel recorded everything in his diary, from the galleon’s name, voyage and conditions to the ferocity of the hurricane and Juan’s betrayal. His entire life was in that diary.

  He rested now, content in the cool breeze and shade, and wrote about how he’d buried the sack of treasure. Then he rose, set his face to the south, and walked, finally trudging down a long hill into the hamlet he’d seen yesterday. People watched him approach. They were in the fields, and in the streets, but they followed his progress.

  Gabriel collapsed in the center of town.

  It was two whole days before he woke.

  The first thing he saw was the face of an angel. A black-haired, young maiden with white teeth and the smallest nose he’d ever seen.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You almost died,” she said in Spanish. “But now you will live.”

  He grinned and tried to rise, but his entire body screamed out in pain. The woman pushed him back down.

  “Rest,” she said. “Your body is riddled with diseases and is malnourished. You have many wounds. Your fingernails are gone. We have medicine, but when you are well you will need to work to pay us back.”

  Gabriel nodded. It was everything that he wanted from the rest of his life.

  Days passed, days that turned into delightful months. Gabriel helped in the raising of a church and then a graveyard gate. He helped construct houses. He eventually built his own, a small place, and reveled in the cozy safety of it. All the while the ocean was just over the furthest of three rises, but Gabriel never went to see it. He hated its indifference, its terrible cruelty. It was truly the world’s last untamed beast.

  Gabriel spent his nights filling in his diary and when that one was full, he started another. He began working on a farm, learning the dos and don’ts of farming and, years later, found the confidence to begin his own. The black-haired maiden that nursed him back to health became his wife. Together, they started a family.

  Gabriel never went back to sea. He was as content as he’d ever hoped to be there in the hamlet, working hard every day from dusk till dawn and then spending beautiful evenings with his burgeoning family.

  Gabriel died at the age of sixty. He never returned to the place where he’d buried the treasure. That part of his life was a nightmare he wished to forget, and digging up the past would only turn old problems into new ones.

  But Gabriel never forgot his time at sea and his voyages on the galleons. Sometimes, he reread his diary. More often, it was years before he went back to it. A man changes as his responsibilities grow deeper. Before he died, he gifted his diaries to the church he’d helped build, never once wondering or regretting his time in the hamlet.

  His wife grew old and soon she died, leaving behind three children. In time, they grew and flourished and became an integral part of the hamlet.

  And, later, they too had children.

  Gabriel Medina was never forgotten. He lived on in the hearts of his siblings and theirs. And though his name and memory passed from the annals of history—as we all do—the treasures he’d rescued from the sinking galleon never did.

  They lived on.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  Alicia helped Russo find two serviceable Zodiacs from the countless abandoned, rusting boats that crammed the beach, and hauled them aboard their little vessel. It was more of a precaution than a necessity, but having Zodiacs available was an essential part of Crouch’s plan.

  A plan where Duggan was returned safely, and Marco’s crew lived to tell the tale. The treasure was a secondary priority but that would be nice to recover too.

  At high tide, the boat lifted. Marco was ready to finesse the engines into life and make headway. It was a slow start, the vessel teetering between its chocks, the beach and the sea, but eventually it drifted into deeper water and responded to the engine. Alicia was aware of the noise and kept a sharp lookout behind them.

  “No activity,” she said, shaking her head at Russo. “Surely they can hear the boat’s engines.”

  “Maybe they think it’s a new delivery?”

  “What? Like Amazon Prime?”

  “No, like drugs or guns or whatever.”

  Alicia tried to push his buttons a little more. “A new camp toaster?”

  Russo glared at her. “Some days, I wonder if you’re on my side.”

  “This is me. Get used to it. And I’m always on your side, Robster. I’m pretty sure you know that by now.”

  Russo nodded then pointed at the slopes that bordered the shipwreck beach. “Oh, shit, that’s not so good.”

  Alicia had spotted them too. Half a dozen figures carrying guns had appeared, and stared down at the escaping boat. There was no doubt in her mind that those men would sound an alarm. She hurried back into the boat’s cabin.

  “Bad news. The whole fucking camp’s about to come down on us.”

  Crouch turned from his position at the front window. “How long?”

  Alicia shrugged. “It’ll take them a while to get mobilized.”

  “We’re thirty minutes from the meet. Hold them up.”

  Alicia exited the cabin, unsure of how the hell she could make that happen. The stretch of sea between them and the beach was growing but not fast enough. Slowing the enemy down was the trick.

  Or making it too costly for them to keep coming.

  Alicia took out her Glock and her semi-auto and loaded both. She checked her reserves, noting grenades and other items. Russo did the same.

  “Looks like me and you again,” Alicia said, settling at the bow. “You know, just one day I’d like to go on a treasure hunt in Disneyland.”

  Russo grimaced. “Don’t. You’d close the place.”

  Alicia nodded. He was probably right. Prince Charming wouldn’t know what hit him. She scanned the slope at their rear for signs of activity, but for the first five minutes there was none.

  Their boat sped on toward its deadly rendezvous at sea. The treasure remained stored below decks, the safest place there was.

  A starlit sky brooded over everything, offering a stark light overpowered only by the rising crescent moon. The tips of the waves were silver, the foam a glowing white. For some time, theirs was the only engine skipping across the ocean, but then Alicia became aware of several more.

  “Look.” Russo had eagle-eyes it seemed.
>
  Alicia squinted. She saw a speedboat, a skiff and two Zodiacs giving chase from the beach, manned by an assortment of figures.

  “Could I have a gun?” Cam was at her shoulder.

  “Can you use one?” Alicia asked.

  Cam nodded, eyes hooded, betraying nothing.

  “Don’t,” Russo said. “He’ll shoot us in the back. Accidentally, I mean.”

  Alicia searched Cam’s eyes. He offered very little in the way of trust, but she had seen him fight as well as almost anyone she’d ever seen. “Do you have training?”

  “Not like you do,” Cam said. “Not military. Not like anything you’d know.”

  Alicia recalled he’d been referred to as a gypsy. “In-house boxing?”

  “Very in-house.”

  Alicia had a reserve Walther PPK in her right sock and withdrew it. She passed it along to Cam with four spare mags.

  “Use sparingly,” she said. “Aim well.”

  Russo shook his head but said nothing. Alicia noted that their pursuers were closing. She wasn’t about to tell Crouch something he probably already knew, so looked around for inspiration. Of course, there was only one thing to do. In another moment she’d explained her plan to Russo.

  “Having you along certainly spices my day up,” Russo said with resignation. “Go on then. Let’s do it.”

  Alicia yelled out for Crouch to relent on the pace for a moment as she, Cam and Russo flung their two Zodiacs overboard and into the rolling ocean. A few seconds later both Alicia and Russo followed, slicing through the water.

  Alicia held her breath, wondering how the hell she’d found herself back in the bloody water so soon after her last mission. It wasn’t a place she enjoyed being. She consoled herself with the fact that Russo was there too and looking like a great shaggy bear as he surfaced for air.

  Alicia swam to her Zodiac, gripped the side ropes and hauled herself over the rim. Russo did the same. Above, Cam leaned over the rails and shouted.

  “Due west,” he said. “Four boats. There are more men on the shore.”

  Alicia nodded, started her Zodiac’s engine and readied herself. After a moment both she and Russo peeled away from their boat, which had hit full speed again. Russo went right, Alicia went left, veering wide and coming at their pursuers in a pincer movement.

  The night was dark enough to afford them some cover. Their pursuers were firmly engrossed in the escaping boat. As Alicia came closer, she began to make out the faces of her enemies. They were white and dark, dirty and pristine. All manner of bad guys brought together by mutual need for a secret camp, a covert base of operations from where they could ply their trade. So, consequently, they all needed to police it.

  Alicia’s Zodiac bounced over the waves, lifting off and then coming down hard with relentless force. She carried her weapons easily, waiting for her moment to strike. She could see Russo, a dark shape looping around opposite her, also converging on their pursuers.

  Two minutes later and they were within range. Alicia rose slightly, still steering, and opened fire. Bullets fired in a spray among their enemy. Her first shots hit the skiff: a peeling, white-painted boat carrying eight men. Two keeled over. Two more clutched their sides and fell to their knees. The others dived for cover.

  Alicia switched course, arrowing for one of the enemy Zodiacs. Both vessels were matched in versatility and strength, but Alicia had the drop on them. When she shifted position, she cut across their bow and then swung back around. Her enemy swerved and stopped, throwing men every which way, and wallowing in the water.

  Alicia opened fire again. Two more men went down. The others were scrabbling about the bottom of the craft where they’d landed either on purpose or when Alicia cut across their bows. She slowed, drifting forward. Behind her Russo engaged the other two craft. Machine guns opened fire, their clattering sound spreading across the dark sparkling waters. She threw a quick glance in his direction, but all looked well. Russo had left bodies in the water and a smoking speedboat in his wake.

  Nicely done.

  The skiff was coming around to face her. Alicia goosed the Zodiac into flight, firing the vessel forward. Bullets smashed through the air where she’d been. Way ahead now, Crouch and the others would be approaching their rendezvous. It was Alicia’s desire and mission to be there when they did.

  She swung her boat around at an angle, firing crosswise at the skiff. Bullets thudded into its sides. She threw herself headlong when three men rose and opened fire at once, crawling to the prow where she popped her head up and took potshots.

  Two heads exploded in her sights. The Zodiac she’d attacked was powering in at her back.

  Alicia took fire from front and back, trapped, the air all around her a mass of deadly lead as the Zodiac and the skiff closed in.

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Michael Crouch stood at the helm of Marco’s boat, watching the horizon with steady, evaluating eyes. He didn’t worry about their pursuers. He had every faith in Alicia and Russo. He also knew Cam was still up on deck and would report any issues.

  They were fifteen minutes out from their rendezvous with Akhon and the return of Duggan. To Crouch, it felt as though his friend had been gone for a year, subject to unknown tortures and traumas. The man would never be the same, and it was all his fault. Even if they survived the meeting with Akhon, the way ahead was going to be agony for Duggan.

  “You have Akhon on radar?” Crouch asked.

  Marco tapped a glass dial. “Radar’s sketchy at best but, yes, there is a vessel waiting at our coordinates.”

  Caitlyn peered over his shoulder. “Wait. There’s not one boat. There’s two.”

  Marco elbowed her in the face, sending her staggering across the cabin, holding her nose. Crouch reacted instantly, leaping for Marco, but Elyse got in the way, tackling him from the side. Together, they smashed into the cabin’s wall, making it shudder. Elyse pulled away and punched him, blows to the ribs and chest and face, making him cover up.

  Caitlyn stopped herself from falling to her knees, and spat out blood. Marco may have had the first blow, but she had a Glock buried in her waistband. She yanked it out now, raising the barrel. But, in her shock and pain, she had forgotten about Ralston.

  He struck her shoulder with something hard, making her drop the gun. She jumped back, gasping in agony. Ralston had a bolt wrench, a small but solid weapon. He swung it at her now, but she sidestepped. When Ralston missed, she dashed behind him and struck his back, pushing him over.

  Then she picked up the gun.

  And aimed it at Marco.

  “Stop! Stop now!”

  Elyse looked over, taking a punch from Crouch for her troubles. The sight of Caitlyn holding the gun on Marco made her grimace, but it didn’t stop her attack. She pressed Crouch hard, working his ribs and face.

  Marco shook his head at Caitlyn. “You won’t use it. Put it down.”

  Caitlyn waved the gun at him. “No! If you take over this boat, you’ll kill Duggan as effectively as if you shoot him yourself. Now, hands up.”

  Marco was busy shifting course from Akhon’s boat to what, she assumed, was Chase’s boat. “Not happening. We have the boat, the gold, and our lives. You two can jump overboard and start swimming.”

  Caitlyn wavered. Crouch was fully focused on resisting Elyse’s attacks. There was nothing else he could do. Ralston was approaching Caitlyn with the wrench raised above his head.

  “Put the gun down,” Marco said without looking up.

  Caitlyn fired. It was a wild shot, blasting over Marco’s head but it sent him down to all fours in a hurry. Elyse stopped and gaped at Caitlyn, which gave Crouch the chance to knee her in the stomach and then the sternum. She stumbled away. Crouch jumped at her, aware of how much slower he was than her. But his elbow landed on her downturned neck and bore her to the floor.

  Crouch looked around for a weapon.

  Ralston cried out when Caitlyn fired but then ran at her with the wrench. She spun and smashed him a
cross the temple with her gun, sending him flailing to the floor. By the time she’d righted herself, Marco was in her face.

  The ex-soldier threw two harsh blows, one to her throat and the other to her solar plexus. Cailyn’s world exploded. The next thing she knew she was wobbling, on her knees before Marco, staring at the floor.

  “Now,” he said, palming the gun. “Stop fighting. You will need all your energy for your swim.”

  “Please.” Crouch hovered over Elyse. “Please don’t do this. You’re condemning my friend to death.”

  “For that, I am sorry. But this is war. It always will be. The priority is me and my team. Your friend is an unfortunate casualty.”

  “No!”

  Crouch, at the end of his tether and desperate with guilt, spun and launched a headlong attack at Marco. The gun never wavered, it pointed unerringly at Crouch’s center mass, but Marco understood his enemy’s pain and desperation far better than he let on.

  Because he didn’t fire. He shifted the gun and met Crouch with a defensive attack, shoving him to the left and then into a cupboard. Crouch rebounded, face bloodied, gasping.

  Marco set a new course and poured on the speed.

  “You have about five minutes to jump clear, Crouch.”

  “We were going to help you,” Crouch muttered.

  Marco jabbed at the radar dial. “Akhon’s boat is moving toward us. I’m speeding up.”

  “We won’t survive the fall at speed.” Crouch wasn’t sure, but it was worth pointing out.

  “You had your chance.”

  Caitlyn was still on her knees, blood dripping from her chin. Crouch staggered over to her. “Can you stand?”

  “There must be something we can do,” she gasped.

  Crouch looked up, taking in Marco and Elyse and the world in general. “What can we do? We need a hero. An Alicia or a Russo. A Drake or a Dahl. There are no heroes here.”

  He was proven wrong as a sturdy figure burst through cabin door, smashing it back against its hinges. The figure carried a gun but didn’t use it. Instead, it ran at Elyse, snarling. Marco aimed and fired, but the shot went wide. The figure threw its own gun at the floor, bunched up its fists, and fired four solid punches at Elyse, each one snapping her head back. When she covered up, it ran at her, grabbing her around the waist and picking her up before using her as a battering ram to strike at Marco.