To Honor We Call You: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 9)

by Scott Cook

  I quickly explained about Catherine Cook and what she’d discovered aboard a French frigate. I told of her journal and the land claim deed and map it contained.

  “So how did she come to capture a warship?” Aleja asked with evident curiosity.

  “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” I said with a smile. “What’s really curious though… is why these same people believe that you might have this map, Ray. If that’s in fact what they were looking for… it’s only a hunch at this point.”

  The businessman only shrugged, “I can’t imagine… I’m neither Columbian nor much of a history buff.

  “Well, somebody thinks you’re connected,” I stated.

  “Perhaps it’s really just a coincidence,” George offered.

  Lisa grinned, “No way, George. When things happen so close together like this, Scott believes it’s intentional. And he’s always right. There’s no way that people are going to such lengths to break into Ray’s yacht safe and his grandparent’s safe in Stuart at the same time. There’s a connection.”

  “This is disturbing,” Ray said unhappily.

  “Yeah…” I said. “I wonder if your other problems are connected as well, Ray. They wouldn’t seem to be, but in the light of all this new information… it’s time we came up with a plan.”

  We arrived back at the downtown Miami dock where our voyage had begun at about ten in the evening. We said good night and headed back to the Davis’ house. I was bothered by the fact that somehow Ramon Tavares’ troubles were now connected to my grandparents.

  I was also a little worried about the fact that I had Katie Cook’s personal journal with me and that tucked inside was the object of several bold attempts to acquire it. I needed to lock that map up.

  All of this kept my mind going back to Pops lying in a hospital bed or even in surgery up in Stuart. It was driving me crazy not going up… but Nana seemed insistent that I shouldn’t that night.

  Instead, I called Martin Memorial and went through no less than four different receptionists and nurses before I was transferred to the head nurse in the ICU. Pops was out of surgery by then and the doctors were pleased with his status. I asked if there was anything I could do but was told that everything that possibly could be done was being done.

  I just had to wait… my favorite damned thing.

  After saying good night to George and Aleja, Lisa and I climbed into the big comfortable guest bed and she pulled the journal out from my bag and snuggled up to me.

  “Want me to read some more of this?” She asked. “I want to know how she deals with Meraux.”

  I chuckled, “Yeah… but let’s see that map first.”

  Lisa flipped to the back of the well preserved leather bound book. The book was six inches by nine and about two inches thick. My grandfather said there’s more of these, but he only gave us this one, which covers her rise to captaincy.

  In the back, several pages in, were two folded pieces of paper. One of them was a vague map of central Columbia with some hastily scrawled Cartesian coordinates. The other was a hand-written land deed with a description of a very large tract of fertile mountain land. The document referenced some legal records and was signed by the governor of Columbia as of 1796. Near the bottom, imprinted next to the signature was an odd oval shaped seal. The design was intricate and unlike most seals of the time, was inked on and not made of wax.

  “Interesting…” I mused, “Yet I don’t see how this is of any real value. Spain was still in control of Columbia then. After Columbia gained its independence, such a document would probably be worthless.”

  “What about what your grandfather said about the Indian connection?” Lisa asked. “About how anyone who can trace their lineage back to Inca ancestry would still have a claim to this land even now?”

  “That may be what these legal references mean,” I said. “I’d be very surprised if the current Columbian government would honor a two-hundred and twenty year old Spanish land deed though…”

  “Well…” Lisa commented thoughtfully, “If some men are willing to break into multiple safes and even harm people… maybe there is some validity to this.”

  I sighed and folded the documents back into the journal, “I guess so… but why? Just for some land that you could probably buy up?”

  Lisa shook her head, “Remember what Jack said? He said that this land, about a hundred thousand acres or so… that’s what… about a hundred and fifty square miles?”

  I thought, “Yeah… say ten miles by fifteen miles. That’s a pretty large area. Enough for a big city and surrounding farms… a small country or county.”

  “And remember what your granddad said? If somebody could legally claim that land as a Columbian descendant of the Musca or Incas… then they’d be considered by Columbian law to be a legitimate Indeo king. That land would be sovereign aboriginal territory.”

  I chewed on that for a long moment, “Okay… reason enough to want to get Kate’s map and deed… but how in the world does anybody even know about it?”

  Lisa grinned at me, “That’s what we need a world famous private eye for.”

  “Guess it’s time we kept reading Kate’s log,” I suggested, handing the book to Lisa.

  She grinned at me and set it on her nightstand, “Okay… but not just yet. You seem a little tense.”

  I sighed, “Yeah, just worried about Nana and Pops… I wish we were there…”

  “She’ll be okay,” Lisa said, turning her body and sliding half onto mine. “She’s strong and the cops are watching their house. And the hospital told you Jack was okay.”

  “I suppose…” I muttered, finding myself distracted by the feel of her taught naked body and her now roving hand. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”

  She giggled and took hold of my rapidly hardening member, “Gettin’ me some…”

  Her mouth pressed to mine, her lips wet and her tongue gently probing. I used my free left hand to explore her body, from the toned muscles of her arms to the smoothness of her back and her hips and rump as they flared out from her tiny waist. I enjoyed the feel of the solid runner’s muscles of her thighs and the silkiness of her skin. Touching her was always a pleasure and never ceased to amaze and excite me.

  Lisa laughed softly, “I know how to ease your worries, sailor…”

  She quickly began to kiss down my body, her light touches raising goose flesh on my arms and flanks. Just as her head moved down past my navel, I stopped her.

  “Not so fast, girly…”

  “Wha--?”

  I quickly sat up, gathered her in my arms and turned her around so we were laying on our sides head to foot. Lisa moaned with pleasure and giggled when she realized what I had in mind. As her hot mouth met my straining flesh, I pressed mine to the shaved moistness between her legs. We both moaned and shuddered with the simultaneous pleasurable contact.

  This particular activity, colloquially named for a specific number, was a lot of fun and yet did come with built-in irony. While it allowed both parties to provide exquisite pleasure to the other, it also distracted each party. One had to balance focusing on delivering pleasure to their partner while not becoming so enraptured by what was being done to them that they forgot their own part.

  Still, it was a wonderful way to kill time.

  It became clear that my lover had lost the battle and was simply holding onto my hardness for dear life while her body went first rigid and then shuddered with an explosive release. I smiled and turned myself around, pushing her onto her stomach and entering her. With my chest to her back and our bodies pressed tightly together, we began to move, Lisa pressing up to me and I pressing down. I covered her neck and shoulders with soft kisses, licks and light bites as she heaved under me, moaning, gasping and screaming in ecstasy. After a few minutes, she pushed her ripe ass hard up to me and demanded to be let up.

  She slid her legs under her and propped herself up on her knees. I was on my knees now, my legs outside of hers and she deman
ded in a very loud and insistent way that I pound her like a handful of pizza dough.

  I would’ve laughed if my own ardor wasn’t just as strong. I moved my hands over her incredible body as I thrusted deeper and faster. Lisa screamed as an orgasm rocked her and urged me on. After a few more minutes, I could feel her body getting tense again.

  “Now… with me… please…!” She demanded breathlessly.

  We both exploded and a supernova roared through my consciousness as a white-hot surge of pleasure overwhelmed us. We collapsed to the bed, panting and gasping, our bodies pressed together as we lay on our sides, still connected.

  “Jesus…” Lisa managed to breathe. “It just gets better and better with you… how can that be possible?”

  “Love,” I suggested. “Great chemistry… and I’m pretty awesome.”

  Lisa chuckled, “No argument.”

  “Plus a giant wiener,” I offered with a grin.

  Lisa reached back and patted my hip, “Now, honey… how many times do I have to tell you that four inches isn’t a giant wiener.”

  I laughed, “Really? We’re literally still attached and you’re making fun of my bits and pieces? That’s not really great for the old ego, y’know.”

  “Hey, it’s the effort that counts.”

  “Wow…”

  Lisa laughed, disengaged and rolled over to hold me close, “We both know I’m kidding.”

  I sighed happily, “Words can’t express how wonderful it is to be with you.”

  She smiled, “I’m so glad you feel that way… because I do too… and you seemed to have found an effective way of expressing yourself.”

  “Okay, enough with the mush,” I teased, giving her backside a squeeze, “why don’t you read me some more of Katie’s adventures while I recover. I think somebody owes me a little attention.”

  “Huh?” She asked and kissed me. “Weren’t you here twenty minutes ago?”

  I scoffed, “As I recall, somebody forgot what they were doing down there.”

  Lisa giggled, ‘It’s not my fault you paralyzed my mind and body with pleasure, baby. But okay… fair is fair. You recharge your cells while we see what Katie is up to…”

  10

  October 15th, 1797

  Eight bells had just sounded, indicating the end of the middle watch and the beginning of the morning watch. It was four a.m. and as usual, Catherine Cook was perched high up in the cross trees with a glass. On this morning, however, she wasn’t in her usual spot on the main topmast. She was in the fore topmast cross trees now because just after midnight, the prevailing winds had shifted to the south.

  Even more than that, the land breeze was making itself felt now, coming more from the southwest. Kate knew that would change once the sun rose, yet even though she suspected the wind would back south again, it would be more than fair for leaving the protected cove and passing out through the inlet into the offing.

  Perhaps it was time. Over the last few days, the crews and passengers of both ships had made several Indian sightings. There were people in canoes, a few scattered natives on the shores and they smelled the distinct odor of wood fires from somewhere not far to the west. As yet, however, no direct contact had been made, yet the native’s boldness seemed to be increasing. That in itself wasn’t a pleasant thought, as English and Jobe relations weren’t reputed to be particularly amicable.

  She recalled a story of an English party coming up the Florida coast about a hundred years earlier led by a man named Jonathan Dickenson. The ship had wrecked not far from where the brig and schooner were anchored and the English had not been well treated by the Indians. Not surprising, as Florida was a Spanish possession and the English who’d come ashore had not treated the native populations with much respect either.

  She knew that Dickenson had called the Indian Hobe, misspelling their name and pronunciation. The tales were that the Jobe Indians were fairly advanced, well organized and many of them now spoke both Spanish and English but most certainly preferred Spanish.

  Today therefore must be the day.

  Kate made her way back down on deck and then below to the sick berth. Danvers was still lying in his hammock, although only Kate, the doctor and a few other of the brig’s crew knew that the man’s leg wound had healed sufficiently for him to get out of bed. She’d ordered him to stay in it, however, at least during waking hours. Like their Spanish friends, these French sailors seemed to prefer snugging down at night. They barely set anything like an anchor watch, choosing instead to use the English to do that work. They’d soon discover that this was a mistake.

  Danvers sensed her presence, “Mum?”

  “It’s time, Danvers,” Kate said softly. “Just after eight bells in the morning. Our anchor watch is set on both vessels and the Frogs are mostly in their hammocks. Have you succeeded in getting word to the men?”

  “Aye,” Danvers whispered excitedly. “Young Willis managed to lift the key to the arms chest. We’s got pikes and cutlasses laid out all over both vessels. Hidden but ready to hand. Two boarding axes as well for cuttin’ the cable.”

  Both vessels had been riding at single anchor since they’d arrived. This was fortunate now, as cutting both bowers would not only take more time, it would also deprive the ships of them later on.

  “Excellent,” Kate said, rubbing her hands together. “Slack water is at two bells. We’ll cut the cable, hoist both jibs on the schooner and on the brig. Then we’ll have to set the spanker as well. As this is done, we must simultaneously subdue the crews. We’ll need a man at the wheel and one at the schooner’s tiller to guide us out into the offing. As I recall, the passage through the inlet is straight out, so it should be easy enough.”

  “What about that Froggy gent?” Danvers asked. “If he comes to organize his crew…”

  “Don’t concern yourself,” Kate said flatly. “I’ll see to him.

  She could barely see him in the darkness, yet she thought she detected a look of disapproval or at least concern.

  “Katie… mum…” he said hesitantly.

  She squeezed his shoulder, “It’s all right, Danvers. No worries. Let’s see it done, now. We’ve got less than an hour.”

  “Aye, aye.”

  Kate headed aft and up one deck to her cabin. There she slipped out of her usual shirt, coat, trousers and boots. She gave herself a quick wash down with a hand towel and some water she’d kept near the tiny wash hand stand. She then dabbed a little scent… ironic that it came from Paris… on her neck and wrists and slipped a long and flowing nightgown over her head. She then carefully folded her clothes into a neat pile that she bundled together with her boots. Finally, she slipped Gaspard’s knife into her right boot and her captured Manton pistol into the left.

  She crept silently from her tiny dog box cabin and headed aft to the great cabin. Meraux’s new sentry, another disreputable slob even less attentive than the old, was lying propped up against the bulkhead with his legs splayed out before him. A soft but steady snore emanated from his partially open lips. Kate considered the man for several seconds, debating whether or not to simply slit his throat.

  Pragmatically, it would be the best course of action. One less man to resist her efforts. One less man that would have to be dealt with in future once the alarm was raised. Yet in spite of everything, she couldn’t find it in herself to murder a man in cold blood while he slept. It was dishonorable as well as being un-Christian.

  She gritted her teeth and quietly opened the door to the French captain’s commandeered quarters. She slipped into the room and padded barefoot across the sailcloth deck covering and gently set her bundle down next to the Frenchman’s hanging cot.

  He suddenly sat up, his left hand flying out to grab at the dark figure who’d appeared in his sleeping place. She had to grudgingly admire his reflexes. His hand caught her wrist and squeezed, causing discomfort. Kate neither cried out nor resisted.

  “It’s only me,” She hissed.

  “Mademoiselle Cook?” he as
ked groggily, still clutching her wrist.

  “Yes.”

  His hand relaxed, “What… is there something wrong?”

  “I thought you should know that the wind has veered into the south,” she said. “And there appears to be considerable activity ashore.”

  He chuckled, “Are you nervous?”

  She had to play this just so. Too eager and too coquettish and he’d know she was making game of him. That hadn’t been her manner thus far. “I’m… concerned. Yet I don’t believe we’re in any real danger. A few shots from the guns will certainly give them pause. It’s more that the wind is fair for heading out to sea… and I just wanted to make sure…”

  “That your people will be delivered as I indicated?” Meraux asked.

  “Yes,” Kate said with just a hint of tremulousness in her voice.

  The Frenchman sat there in his night shirt and gazed at her, his eyes adjusting to the near total darkness. There was just enough star and moonlight coming through the stern windows to show him that she was in a flimsy nightgown. He smiled in the darkness.

  “You could’ve asked me this when I came on deck,” he stated. “There was no need to slip into my cabin.”

  She took in a shuddering breath, “I… I wanted to speak with you in private. To be certain of things.”

  “Oh?” He asked, his voice clearly carrying a note of hopefulness. “You wanted to make certain I kept my word, eh? Did you come to… convince me?”

  She paused just long enough to make it believable, “If… if that’s what it takes.”

  He smiled and in one swift motion, yanked his long nightshirt up over his head, “Then join me, Catherine.”

  She’d been kneeling by the hanging cot. She stood and drew her own garment up and over her head, exposing her naked body beneath. Meraux gasped when he saw her.

  Her body was as magnificent as he’d suspected. Although the clothing she normally wore was mannish in its style, the feminine body it contained was still quite obvious. And now, he could see that her long and slender body was exquisite. Her limbs were long, her waist small, her hips round and her breasts full. When she climbed brazenly into the cot beside him, he could feel how taught her flesh was.