by Scott Cook
“If it ain’t the man of the hour,” Wayne enthused.
‘I’m the man of every hour, baby,” I said, bending down to hug Shelby, Aubrey and Declan, I then kissed Clay and shook Missy’s hand.
“I think you got that reversed,” Lisa said with a giggle as she moved in for her own squeezes.
“So everybody ready for a sailing trip tomorrow?” I asked, settling in at the table.
“Yeah, that’s why we’re here, Scott,” Sharon teased. “To take advantage of you and your other sailboat owning friends.”
“Naturally,” I replied.
“Yeah, homey,” Wayne jibed. “Why else would we be friends with you?”
“I can’t imagine,” I said and tossed him the bone.
The same server that had served Rob’s family came over and took Lisa’s and my drink order. After listening to a few of Rob’s tunes and starting on my second beer, Juan finally asked the question that was on everybody’s’ minds.
“So… what ever happened with Garcia and his brother,” Juan inquired.
“Yeah, I’d love to hear that too, Machu Pichu,” Clay encouraged. “I can’t believe how far reaching the whole U-boat thing really got.”
“You mean like you and your family getting kidnapped in Costa Rica and then derailing Garcia’s plans to overthrow the Nicaraguan government?” I asked. “Or the time you helped me and Santino to take down four hitmen from Missouri?”
“Both,” Clay said. “So really, when you think about it… I’m the man of the hour.”
“Your logic is inescapable,” I told him. “As for Bolivar and Garcia… well, I don’t rightly know. I suppose they may crop up again sometime. Once they get set up in Columbia. Although after all that’s happened… I think they both might have gotten the hint that messing around up here isn’t good business.”
“So there’s one thing I don’t understand,” Sharon said.
“Now, that’s clearly not true,” I jibed.
She flipped me off, “How did you know that Tavares mom had the medallion?”
“Yeah, I’m kind of curious about that, too,” Missy added.
“My great, great, great, great grandmother told me,” I said with a grin. “She received the documents and the medallion in Charleston and returned them to Helena years later. When those men broke into Ramon Tavares’ safe and then my grandparents’ at the same time… that couldn’t be a coincidence. Antonio Bolivar somehow found out that his father’s mistress came to the U.S. from Cuba and assumed she had the medallion. He also found out that he had a brother in Tavares, too. So that tells me his father must have known about the son Angelique was carrying.”
“Bit of a leap,” Missy offered.
I shrugged, “Yeah… but that’s part of my job. It’s as much intuition as finding evidence. Probably more, in fact.”
“So what’s next for the great Scott Jarvis?” Clay asked.
“Oh…” I mused. “I’m sure nothing very exciting for a while. In the immediate future, of course, we’re going to sail up to Caladesi Island tomorrow, spend the night and sail back on Sunday. Then I’ve got to fly out of Tampa Sunday evening.”
“This is news,” Lisa said.
“Just found out on the way over,” I stated. “A little quick training thing for ICE. Should be back in Orlando Monday morning, actually.”
“Is it a secret mission?” Shelby, the Delaney’s fourteen year-old daughter asked with a wicked grin on her face.
“Why, you want to put it in your next book?” I asked her with a grin of my own.
Shelby, aside from a potentially promising singing career and a small internet business that was already turning a profit, had written several books partly inspired by her time in Costa Rica.
“You never know,” She beamed.
I laughed, “Nah… I guess we have to make some kind of delivery and fly back with some politico or other. My boss, as it were, thought it’d be a good final qual for me to fly it. Long range flight. I figured what the H, it’s a few hours out of my life.”
As Sol slid gently below the rim of the world and the evening wound on, I took a great deal of pleasure in it. The food was great, the drinks cold and the company excellent.
More than once I looked around the table at my friends as they talked and laughed together. That was what life was about. That was something worth protecting. For the first time since I’d agreed to become part of Grayson’s little organization, I felt that I’d truly made the right choice. It was another chance for me to help people and to help keep good folks secure from those in the world who would do evil to further their own goals.
I think I share that desire with my distant relative, Catherine Cook. A young woman whose heart was so strong and who’s will so indomitable that she managed to push through the prejudices and pre-conceived notions of her time to become a person who made a difference. I would’ve liked to have met her. I think we’d have gotten along famously.
While I couldn’t do that, I could walk in her footsteps. The story of her rise to receiving a commission in the Royal Navy was only the first of many tales she’d written about. I had many hours of reading about her ahead of me. And hey, maybe Pops was right… maybe there was a book or two in them.
And hey… who knows? Maybe I’ll appear as a character in a Shelby Delaney novel someday?
Epilogue 1
December 3rd, 1819
The sun glittered on the placid surface of Cartagena Bay as the barge glided across. Her dozen oars sending tiny droplets of water high into the air where they became diamonds that glimmered in the late afternoon light before being swallowed by the medium from which they’d been born. It still appeared odd for many to see so much shipping in the bay, much of which was now English, American and a variety of other nations with the notable exception of Spain.
Of course, out in the Caribbean, the captain who now sat in the stern sheets of the barge knew that at least two or three battleships prowled. The situation since the second declaration of independence was likely to grow more inflamed over the next year or so. England’s position on the matter, as it had been for over twenty years, was that the independence of South American states could only be a good thing for her interests.
As the coxswain guided the boat up to the landing stage, the Captain stepped from the boat as nimbly as ever. A few gold coins were handed out for the men’s enjoyment in a convenient tavern while the business of the evening was conducted.
The guards who stood at the Puerto Del Reloj, looking bored and dissatisfied with their sentry duties did a double take when they saw the tall lean Englese approach. They recognized an officer at once, naturally. The gold lace on the coat and hat were obvious enough, as was the gold of the two epilates on the shoulders of the blue coat. The addition of a very fine looking sword along with a ribbon and star indicating a Knight of the Bath certainly denoted distinction. Several other medals were displayed as well. This captain, or maybe an admiral? They couldn’t be sure… except that this was a person of eminence.
What startled them was that the prestigious personage now approaching their gate was in fact not a tall lean man, but a tall and very beautiful woman!
“Buenos dias,” The officer said. “Commodore Catherine Cook, at your service. Permission to pass?”
The woman, at least six feet tall and not quite forty, had lost nothing in the way of her youthful beauty. Her body was long and lean, with breasts that swelled beneath the coat and shirt. A narrow waist and rounded hips bespoke of a very good figure. Her arms and legs, though covered by broadcloth and cotton, were long and strong. The only hint that she might not be a girl of twenty was the suggestion of laugh lines around her mouth and the barest suggestion of lines near the corners of her eyes. Her long brown hair was tied into a cue and her sea-blue eyes alight with vitality.
“Uhm…” the first guard, almost struck dumb with awe stumbled. “Buenos dias, Excellency. By all means, please enter.”
His fellow, a man somewhat
older and more in control of himself managed to recover with a bit more aplomb, “Welcome to Cartagena, Capitan. May I offer you guidance?”
“Thank you,” Catherine Cook said with a smile. “I wish to see the governor. I have important news for Senor Bolivar.”
“Government house is straight up there,” The first guard said, pointing to a large building a little further up the hill and inside the walls.
“Shall I arrange for a guard of honor to escort your Excellency?” The second guard inquired eagerly.
Kate waved that away, “Don’t trouble yourself, I beg. It’s but a short walk. Gracias.”
As the two men watched the long-legged post captain stride away and up the high street, they both very much regretted her lack of desire for company.
“Ay dios mio,” The first guard submitted.
The second guard had to agree. Although the idea of a woman officer was somewhat bizarre, he couldn’t ignore how magnificent she was. Her carriage, her dress and of course the eighty-four gun two decker anchored in the harbor certainly cemented her authority.
Kate was shown into the governor’s mansion and into a large office. In it stood a burly man dressed in the uniform of a general in the Columbian army. A man of middle height sat behind the desk seeming to suffer from a large stack of papers set before him. The man was in his middle thirties and handsome in his open way.
“Senor Presidente!” the porter announced as he led Kate in. “El Englese Comodoro Cook!”
The look of surprise on Simon Bolivar’s face was nothing new to Kate. The range of emotions that crossed the general’s face, while less appealing, was also nothing new to her. First shock, then confusion and then blatant disapproval bordering on anger. The President, apparently the office was genuine and not simply a rumor, recollected himself and rose.
“Welcome, Comodoro Cook,” he said, coming from behind the desk to offer his hand. “We are very pleased to receive you. You… you have been knighted as well? Shall I refer to you as Dame Catherine?”
He knew something of European honors after all.
Kate waved that off, “Nonsense. No ceremony, I beg.”
Kate shook the offered hand and Bolivar was again surprised by it. While the hand was feminine in its elegant form, it also had the firmness of someone used to hard work and a strength that hinted at even more.
“I understand, gentlemen,” Kate said disarmingly. “A lady officer and Knight of the Bath, what is the world coming to, eh? A bit beyond your experiences, no doubt. However, I am in fact a post captain in the Royal Navy and currently in command of a British squadron. I am also in fact here to deliver some news which you may find quite useful.”
The general muttered something under his breath. Not inaudible enough for Kate to have missed it. With her command of Spanish, she’d not misunderstood the meaning of his reproachful words. By the look on Bolivar’s face, he hadn’t either.
In spite of their harshness and the rather vulgar suggestion contained within them, Kate chose to ignore the brute’s bad manners. She looked into Bolivar’s eyes instead.
“If you feel my presence here is inappropriate,” Kate said firmly, casting a glare in the direction of the middle-aged man beside the desk. “Then I’ll be on my way. I’m accustomed to how my position and my sex can discommode some. However, I will not be insulted. You’ll find that I too can put aside good manners. I didn’t earn this gold lace by being a paltroon, gentlemen. Mark ye, I don’t brook truculence from any quarter.”
“Please forgive General Ortega,” Bolivar said, moving back to take his place behind the desk. “He is a soldier. He’s used to the harsh conditions of battle and dealing with the common man.”
Before Kate could utter a reply indicating just how easy this must be for the general, a side door swung open and a very lovely woman in her early forties swooped in. Her gown flowed and her lustrous black hair flowed down her back like a mane.
“Simon, my love,” She said in Spanish, carrying a tray on which sat a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese. “You must take a little something! You skipped your dinner again and…”
The woman saw Kate and stopped, staring. It took several seconds for her eyes to grow huge and her mouth to form into a shocked O. She set the tray on the desk and rushed over, reaching for Kate’s hands.
“Catalina!” The woman exclaimed in delight. “Ay dios mio! I can’t believe it! You haven’t changed at all! You’re still so tall and beautiful! And look at you, gold lace and a ribbon! Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
Kate was equally surprised. Recognition finally dawned and her face split into a smile as well, “God’s my life! Helena! Contessa de Lerida! You look lovely… how come you to be here?”
“I am Helena Bolivar now,” She said. “No longer a Contessa… for obvious reasons, mija. Simón, this is the girl I told you about. The one that saved me all those years ago from the French.”
Bolivar grinned, “I half believed it was a tall tale. Yet the proof is certainly hard to ignore, eh my love?”
“Well, I’m damned!” Kate cried, embracing the woman. “The world gets smaller every day, upon my word!”
“Mida!” Helena exclaimed, clapping her hands. Instantly, two servants entered, a young man and a young woman. “More wine!”
“This is a celebration indeed,” Kate said. “As such, I think I can add to it, Helena. I just so happen to have a gift for you.”
The older woman’s eyes sparkled and her smile was equally bright. When Kate reached into her coat pocket and brought out a golden necklace with a large pendant dangling from it, however, Helena’s shock overcame her and tears began to flow. With trembling hands she reached out and gingerly accepted the offered gift.
“Oh… oh… Catalina…” Helena gushed. “You don’t know what this means… after all these years…”
“Oh, as to that…” Kate attempted to diminish the emotional power of the situation. “It’s nothing, Helena. You asked me to mind it and I minded it. Nothing more. I’m glad for the opportunity to return it.”
“Simón!” Helena showed the necklace to Bolivar. His face glowed as well and he beamed at Kate.
“Thank you, Comodoro… Excellency…” Bolivar said. “You may not know this, but this simple bauble carries a tremendous worth to us. Not so much in itself, but what it represents. An ancient claim to this land… Gracias… gracias!”
Kate was taken aback by all of the praise and the warmth of their response. For over twenty years, the necklace had simply been a keepsake to her. She had no true understanding of its value until that moment.
“The symbols on the face,” Bolivar explained. “Are ancient Indeo. They represent a great dynasty of the Inca and the Musca. A coat of arms, you might say. Equivalent to a Royal signet. This is a gift for which there is no amount of praise, thanks or repayment that can ever equal it.”
“Well… I’m heartily glad for it,” Kate said. “Now then, if I may provide you with something else useful…”
She told them of the Spanish squadron prowling just outside Boca Grande. About potential plans that King Ferdinand had for re-taking Venezuela and Columbia. While they listened intently, especially the general, the Bolivars could hardly take their attention away from the gift of the medallion.
As a result of the gift, however, the city and all of its resources were thrown open to Kate and her ship. Shore liberty, victualing to her heart’s content, anything she desired from the dockyard, free issues of tobacco and rum and gratis shore lodgings for any of her officers. The taverns and bawdy houses were remarkably obliging as well. Her liberty men were charged very reasonably for their entertainments, if at all.
It was a nine days wonder to the captain of the eighty-four gun Invincible. A relatively new ship, laid down only five years earlier, she soon took on the appearance of a brand new ship. After her time being hauled out and her weedy bottom scraped, her yards freshly blackened, new cordage rove and a river of gold filigree to adorn her figurehead and g
ingerbread work she took on more the appearance of a royal yacht than a simple workaday man o’war.
If a simple necklace could engender such generosity, then Kate reflected that she’d probably better note it down in her journals. Perhaps history would make something of it. For her part, she was as pleased as Pontius Pilate to receive such treatment without having to dip deep into her own pockets.
Epilogue 2
December 2020
Although much of the land was raw, it was so vast that there was plenty of fertile ground for growing. It was extraordinary to those who now possessed the land that in all the centuries, no one else had ever settled there or developed it.
At least, no one of European descent. There were signs of ancient villages, especially along the river that ran down from the snowy peaks of the Andes and into the fertile valley itself. Yet even into the twenty-first century, the hand of modern man had yet to touch this ancient and, as some believed, haunted land.
At least, until very recently.
Within two weeks of staking the claim and receiving official government title to the property, the hand of modern man was at work. Thus far, the impact was small. A hectare of trees and brush cleared by a deep bend in the river, a few portable dwellings for the owners and handful of workers and a hard packed section of ground with portable lights strung about for night helicopter landings. There was also an odd, squat structure set far back from the river. A freshly poured concrete bunker-like thing ten feet on a side, its low roof only four feet above ground because the small storage facility was half-buried. The walls were six inches of solid concrete and access could only be gained from above.
The structure wasn’t a bunker for the protection of people. There was little need of that, for one thing. It was more accurate to say that the structure was made to protect people who were outside of its walls. To keep what was within from endangering them. For within the small and heavy structure were a dozen concrete cylinders. Each slightly more than a foot and a half wide and each about four feet in height. Within these seemingly harmless containers was a layer of glass that sealed in a rich nutrient bath filled with billions of tiny bacteria. Bacteria that, if released would quickly spread, multiply and cause slow and agonizing death if not treated immediately.
