Galleon's Gold

by David Leadbeater

  “Ocean’s miles from here,” Elyse said. “Does anyone have a map?”

  “Always.” Caitlyn dug out her cellphone and tapped on an app. She soon brought up the area’s topography and found that the third slope was much shorter than the previous two and quite close to the ocean. There were no roads.

  “Who’s up for a hike?” she said.

  *

  With the time marching on, the team agreed to spend the night in Cuesta and start out early the next morning. Late that night, sitting at the bar of the quietest pub in town, Alicia found herself with Marco to one side and Cam to the other.

  “I have a question,” she said, downing her third straight bourbon.

  “No, I am not on the market,” Marco said with half a smile.

  Alicia cocked her head, appraising him. “Once, maybe. Today, I’m a one-man woman.”

  “Elyse seems to think differently.”

  “Okay, I’m a one-man, one-woman woman.”

  Marco shook his head. “Whatever.”

  “Back to the point. When you first mentioned Saint Peter’s sword you spoke of it as the gateway to the Holy Grail. What do you mean by that?”

  “Some experts suggest that the sword was made in the first century, in the eastern borderlands of the Roman Empire. The runes on the blade are supposed to lead the bearer on the first stage of the quest to find the Holy Grail.”

  “You think that’s legit?”

  “I think it’s worth a look.”

  “Wow, it’s like you’re in my head. That’s exactly what I think about men.”

  Marco studied his whiskey. “Will you be pursuing the grail?”

  “I’m being called back already. I won’t have time. Something big’s kicking off in the real world.”

  Marco nodded. “Always is, Alicia, always is.”

  He left the bar, leaving her alone with Cam. Alicia drank up and bade the young man a good night, knowing that tomorrow was about as long as she could stay away from her real job. It would be her last day with the Gold Team for a while.

  Let’s end this well.

  *

  The hike lasted hours. Alicia was glad they set out at dawn when the sun was at its coolest. They took water, food and as many other provisions as they could carry, all in rucksacks fastened over their backs. The first slope was long into the next valley, bottoming out where a wide stream flowed and much undergrowth grew. Alicia picked her way among the bushes, through the water, then along the top of a steep culvert. They hit the next slope thirty minutes later and slogged their way up that, cresting it and taking a break as the sun rose steadily at their backs.

  Alicia sat in the grass, her back to a tree, taking in the warmth and the expansive view as she drank water and ate a power bar. To right and left, mist-covered fields stretched without apparent end. Red-roofed houses clustered probably a mile away, the sign of another small town. The sun was burning the low-hanging mists away with every minute that passed, increasing the glory of the view.

  Ahead, the hill ran down to a thick forest and, beyond that, a wide plain. Hedgerows and ditches and at least one river barred their path. She saw a field of yellow flowers. But the excitement came when she realized she could make out the glittering, rolling waves in the distance.

  “I can’t make out the third hill,” Russo said. “But it’s down there, somewhere.”

  “In sight of the ocean,” Caitlyn said. “Those were Gabriel’s words.”

  Rising, the group continued. Alicia took the journey as easy as she could, still beset with aches and pains from earlier battles. The sun was good though, helping to bathe away her worries. She took an opportunity to chat with Cam and learned that he was from an original Romany gypsy clan that still lived in Romania. He and Ruby had fled the clan before they came of age but, by then, Cam had been renowned as the best bare knuckle fighter in the land and Ruby as an ethical thief. Alicia didn’t get much more on the personal side from him and even less on his past.

  For the first time, she wondered what the hell she was going to do with him.

  And that made her wonder what that way of thinking meant.

  It was complex, and laden with hard choices. She was glad when they entered the forest and were forced to walk in single-file, following a path laid out by Marco, Chase and Caitlyn.

  Two hours later, Caitlyn stopped. She held up a hand. Ahead, the ground rose about fifty feet. It was the only slope around, the only hill they’d seen in miles. From her elevation, Alicia could even make out rippling waves through the trees many miles distant.

  “We’re here,” Caitlyn said.

  The sound of male voices made her clam up.

  Alicia dove to the ground along with her colleagues. In her line of work she’d found it always paid to be cautious. The sound of voices wasn’t coming from the top of the hill, it was emanating from beyond it. In fact, now that she listened properly, she thought she could hear an entire hubbub of conversation and other sounds too: trucks, building work, spades, drills, the screams of desperate people.

  Her heart sank.

  She knew exactly where they were.

  “News alert,” Crouch whispered. “This hill overlooks the criminal encampment we sneaked through and escaped from two nights ago. It’s totally exposed.”

  “Bollocks.” Alicia rubbed her eyes in frustration.

  What could they do now?

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  Some careful reconnoitering did nothing to help their predicament.

  They huddled at the foot of the hill, in the hollow center of a ring of thorn bushes, their packs at their feet, drinking water and eating food as they tried to come up with a plan.

  “We don’t know how long it will take to find the treasure,” Marco said. “That’s the issue.”

  The top of the hill was wide open, in full view of the sprawling encampment. Alicia sat on her haunches, a little despondent having come so far only to be faced with what appeared to be an insurmountable problem.

  “We need a distraction,” Crouch said.

  “For a 1000-man military camp?” Russo said. “That’s gonna have to be one hell of a distraction.”

  “We can’t go up against them,” Elyse said.

  “We can’t get rid of them either,” Marco grumbled.

  Alicia thought it through. The general conversation echoed her own thoughts. But they had come so far. The least and greatest part of any treasure was a demanding lure. This one had more than monetary value. It was something that had to be found.

  Think big, she thought. There was no other option. When you started thinking big the impossible tended to draw back.

  “I can mess with their IT equipment,” Ralston offered. “Cause a bit of mayhem. Start fires. Plant viruses.”

  Marco nodded. “That’s good, but still not the distraction we need.”

  Alicia was way past computers and countless enemies now. She was thinking tanks, do they have any? Choppers? And then it hit her.

  “How many grenades do we have?”

  The entire crew stared at her. Russo winced. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  Alicia asked the question once more. The answer was more than enough.

  *

  Over an hour later, as the sun started to set, Alicia was all lined up and ready. Beside her in a row like sprinters waiting to start a race were Russo, Cam and Elyse. None of them looked happy.

  “I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” Russo moaned.

  “You do know you’re gonna get us killed?” Elyse said.

  “You like danger?” Alicia whispered. “This is gonna be danger like you never fucking believed.”

  She was hyper tensed-up. Buzzing with adrenalin. She carried four hand grenades, as did the others. Essentially, it was a great plan. They were lined up along the southern edge of the great ship graveyard, their feet in the rolling surf. On Alicia’s signal they would set off at a sprint, hurling the small bombs among the already broken ships, tankers and cruis
e boats, causing massive mayhem on the run and enough of a distraction to bring the entire camp running to the edge of the beach.

  “You all ready?” Alicia asked.

  “If I say no will it make a difference?” Russo asked.

  “Only to the size of your balls, Robster.”

  “Then... yes.”

  They would have to start together. Setting off apart meant the person behind would be running into a potential explosion. Alicia crouched down.

  “On your marks.”

  Russo took a deep breath.

  “Get set.”

  Cam clutched the hand grenades so hard his fingers hurt.

  “Go!”

  The sun flashed at the horizon as Alicia dug her heels into the soft sand and accelerated away at a sprint. Crimson lit her face. To her left the ocean rolled and swelled. A sea wind scoured her face and whipped up loose sand. To her right, countless, ragged, rusted hulls of all shapes and sizes sat in eternal hulking darkness, their corrosive paint and oil and what remained of their cargoes leaking all over the beach.

  Alicia hurled her first grenade. It arced high and bounced against a boat close to the slope that led to the enemy camp. At the same time, three more grenades looped up in different directions. The countdown was on. Alicia readied her next grenade.

  The first explosion was huge, fire lighting up the sky. Flames licked the side of the boat; sand, wood and debris burst apart in all directions. Alicia was running at a sprint but still had to turn her face away. Three more massive explosions followed in quick succession. Detonations assaulted the night. The roiling heat of fire and flames rolled from the slope to the surf. Boats caught fire and started to crackle, to melt, to burst into flames.

  Alicia threw her second grenade.

  This one bounced on the deck of a sailing boat. At her back there came three grunts as her three companions hurled their own grenades. She saw the pineapple-shaped devices collide with steel hulls and masts, crash through already broken windows, and waited for the unstoppable second wave of explosions.

  They were immense, resounding loudly even before the shockwaves of the first four had receded. Balls of flame hurt her eyes, bathing the area in deadly crimson and orange. She was deafened, ears hurting. Debris struck her back, but only small shards that deflected away. She was still at full sprint, still leading the pack, with Cam close behind and Elyse a step behind him.

  She checked for Russo.

  The big man was lagging a little, close to the danger zone where he might get caught by an explosion. Alicia slowed just a little.

  Elyse caught her quickly. “Having fun?”

  “Fuck, yeah. Definitely a top five vacation sport.”

  “They might not agree,” Cam yelled, nodding at the slope.

  They were lining up now, just as Alicia had predicted. The entire enemy encampment was rushing to the edge of the slope that ran down to the beach. They couldn’t attack because the ships were burning and the explosions were constant. They could only wonder what manner of hell had come to visit them tonight.

  Me, Alicia thought.

  She hurled the third grenade in sync with her colleagues. The bombs bounced and skipped between ships and boats. Again, the explosions felt as though they were ripping out the heart of the night. Men lined up along the slope were thrown backward off their feet. Fire rose in tongues of flame before them, turning them to shadow.

  Boats jumped out of the sand, propelled by explosive force, lifting up and then crashing back down into their own graves. Cracks and creaks heralded the crumbling of some and the tipping over of others and, when one hit another, an entire row started to topple. The sound was deafening and creepy as hell, like dinosaurs dying and collapsing en masse. Alicia saw skeletal hulls collapsing, deck timbers raging with flame, metal hulls warping and all sorts of ragged debris raining down from the sky.

  She hurled her fourth and final grenade.

  As soon as she saw where it was headed, her heart leapt into her mouth. “Oh, bollocks.”

  Three more grenades flew among the big ships of the iron graveyard. Alicia spun, still running, and yelled out a warning, but then her grenade exploded.

  It blew hard, simultaneously lighting up a huge oil slick that had escaped from a stricken tanker. The shocking blast wave threw her off her feet, which was good because the white-hot tongue of flame that followed might have incinerated her skin off.

  As it was, her clothes were washed with flame. Her face was pressed into the wet sand and escaped the blast. The great blast was immediately followed by three quieter ones and, suddenly, she felt like she had created hell on earth.

  A twenty-foot-high curtain of fire blazed to her right. A tanker was listing and collapsing. Boats were slipping and sliding through the sand as if they were under power. Great, immovable metal hulls, eighty feet high, were shifting left and right as the ground shook. A great grinding, grating sound filled the air, even louder than the roaring fires; the last death throes and protests of discarded, scarred behemoths. Alicia rolled away from the fire and into the ocean.

  Cam was with her. “Are you alive?”

  “I think so.”

  Russo fell next to her. “Me too, thanks for checking.”

  Alicia lifted her head to see Elyse on her knees in the sand, staring up at the fire and destruction and, beyond that, to the slope at the edge of the beach where lines of men and women had formed.

  “We did our bit,” she said. “Now it’s up to Marco and Crouch to do theirs.”

  CHAPTER FORTY TWO

  Crouch and Marco lay in blackness, field glasses pressed to their eyes. Chase had already walked into the enemy cam with Ralston at his side, figuring two more mercs wouldn’t be spotted. Hopefully, Ralston would be hitting their IT capabilities very soon, adding to the sense of havoc Alicia was about to start.

  No times had been agreed. Crouch would know when Alicia was ready. He, Marco and Caitlyn had their shovels ready and were secreted as close to the top of the hill as possible. They had weapons close to hand.

  “Quiet out there,” Marco whispered as they studied the camp. “Considering the amount of men.”

  “Even bad guys need a night off,” Caitlyn observed.

  “Well, they didn’t count on Alicia,” Crouch said, “and her plan.”

  “You think it’ll work?” Marco sounded dubious.

  “Depends on the size of those explosions.”

  When the first set of explosions lit up the encroaching night, Crouch and Marco studied the nearest bunch of men. Heads raised. Everyone jumped to their feet. Some looked around at their captains. Those captains sent one or two men toward the beach to investigate.

  When the second set of explosions hit it was like a mass evacuation. Every figure took off toward the far slope except just a few guards.

  Crouch knew they had to risk it. “Come on.”

  They broke cover, ran to the top of the hill and shrugged off their weapons. Marco thrust his shovel into a random patch of ground and started digging. Crouch and Caitlyn did the same. Crouch watched their surroundings with every lift of dirt, with every deposit. The horizon glowed. Figures were outlined along the far ridge, framed by fire.

  They dug as fast as they could. They worked inward, together, throwing the dirt behind them. Reverberations from the second batch of grenades rolled over them. As they died a generator exploded in the camp and then a long, snaking tube of wires fizzled and jumped. Sparks flew. Any men left in the vicinity scattered. The thick tube whipped this way and that, on fire itself now. Banks of computers shorted out, some inside tents, others outside in rows along wooden tables.

  Crouch used every ounce of adrenalin to dig. The earth was hard at first, baked by the sun, but as they cleared the surface it became softer. His boots were caked in mud. His hands already blistered. It didn’t matter. At that moment the third round of grenades exploded. An uproar filled the camp—a kind of indignant, shocked upwelling of anger. There were no leaders here, nobody to for
m any kind of plan and, since the criminals weren’t being directly threatened by the grenades, they didn’t directly react.

  Crouch threw shovelful after shovelful out of the growing hole at the top of the hill. They were two feet down in their respective holes.

  “What are you doing?”

  Crouch jumped in shock. He hadn’t seen or heard any approach. He looked up to see a man wearing camo and a green baseball cap, carrying a battered old AK. His stubble was days old, his lips lined with sores. On his exposed arms Crouch could see twin lines of bright red puncture marks.

  “Boss told us to make a hole.” Crouch climbed out and rested on his shovel for a moment. “Something about a transmitter.”

  The guy looked confused. “What’s that?”

  Crouch shrugged. The man was alone and held his weapon easily as if resistance was the least of his worries. Crouch nodded toward the beach.

  “What do you think’s going on there?”

  As expected, the man turned his head to look. “Ain’t got a—”

  Crouch’s shovel slammed across the side of the face. The man went down hard, striking the ground with his skull, not moving. Crouch removed the AK and zip tied him before dragging him out of sight.

  “Nice,” Marco said.

  Caitlyn and he hadn’t stopped digging. They were four feet deep. Crouch jumped back in, heart racing. A quick look over the camp did nothing to calm his anxiety.

  Men were rushing over to the blazing computers and generators, trying to stem the flames. Some were carrying precious desktops away from the conflagration. Others were trying to fix two generators that had exploded. All along the far ridge, rows of figures stood, some taking potshots at the beach below. It was a sight more fitting for Dante’s Inferno, the distant stick figures waving, whooping and leaping up and down against a backdrop of raging fire.

  Crouch dug furiously. Marco hit rock and then wood and got a look of hope in his eyes before coming up with a rotten tree branch. Two more guards came over, investigating, just as the fourth explosion went off. Crouch figured the pandemonium was already overpowering and a little more gunfire wouldn’t be noticed so shot them where they stood.