Buccaneer (Dane Maddock Adventures)

by David Wood

  “Hey guys, check this out,” he said to Bones and Avery who were seated behind him. “You see how, right at the top of the ceiling in both of these places, there’s this pie-shaped carving?” He clicked between the images to illustrate his point. “They aren’t exactly the same, but don’t they look like pieces of a map?”

  “You might be on to something,” Bones agreed.

  “Each one is about one third of a circle. I’ll bet, when we find the last chamber, we’ll find the missing piece.”

  “And that will lead us, where?” Bones mused.

  “I don’t know. I’m going to message Jimmy and ask him to see if he can match it up to any known locations.” Just then, Tam arrived.

  “All right. Here’s what I’ve got.” She took the seat next to Dane. Bones and Avery listened in, as did the others, who were seated all around.. “Locke is former MI6. He was a rising star with an exemplary record, but he left unexpectedly to go to work for this woman.” She held out a photograph of a blue-eyed blonde woman of early middle years.

  “Smoking hot!” Bones said.

  “Oh, is that what you like?” Avery snapped.

  “I just like women.” Bones smiled at Avery who made a face at him.

  “Morgan Fain. She is the director of the British History Museum in Truro. The same museum that owns the Bailyn.”

  “Wait a minute.” Avery cupped her chin, thinking. “One of the biggest treasure hunts on Oak Island was conducted by the Truro Syndicate back in the mid-1800’s. Could there be a connection?”

  “Hers is an old and powerful family, so maybe.”

  “Truro. That’s kind of off the beaten path, isn’t it?” Dane asked. He’d imagined any powerful players in England would be based out of London.

  “It works for her.” Tam said, returning the photograph to the folder and pulling out a sheet of paper. “She has political aspirations, and she’s set herself up as an outsider. She’s never held public office, but she writes editorials for the biggest newspapers in Britain, and makes guest appearances on news shows. Ninety percent of the time, she’s talking politics, not history. When she does talk history, it’s about England’s past greatness.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Avery said.

  “Her underlying message, and I’m paraphrasing here, is that the lowlifes and scum are dragging all of the United Kingdom down, and they’ve got to go. She wants all the resources that go to supporting the bottom feeders to go toward re-establishing their military strength and political influence. She even thinks Ireland should bend the knee and join the United Kingdom. I won’t go so far as to say she sounds like Hitler, she’s too smart to talk like that, but I don’t think she’d be too disappointed if the people she thinks are not ‘true Britons’ vanished off the face of the earth.”

  “Plenty of American politicians talk that way,” Dane observed.

  “True, but there’s more here than meets the eye. I don’t know for sure how the pieces fit together, but here’s what I’ve got. People have been begging her to run for Parliament for years, even talk about her being a shoo-in for Prime Minister, but she won’t do it, even though it’s obvious that’s her long-term goal.”

  “It’s like she’s waiting for something,” Dane said. “What else do we know about her?”

  “She’s also got people working hard to strengthen her royal bloodline. There’s no question she has royal blood but, rumor has it, she thinks she has a better claim to the throne than the current monarch or her heirs.”

  “Who is she tracing her roots back to that she could make such a claim?” Avery looked puzzled.

  “Arthur,” Dane said, half to himself. “Think about it. If she can produce Arthur’s weapons as proof that he was an actual, historical figure, and as evidence that she’s his heir, wouldn’t that capture the minds and hearts of the British people?”

  “It’s not enough,” Avery said. “Even if she could convince people the weapons aren’t fakes, that won’t prove she’s descended from Arthur.”

  “But if she finds his body, DNA testing certainly could,” Bones said. “Hey, if he really lived, and it looks like he did, that means his body’s got to be somewhere, doesn’t it?”

  “Even then, the Queen’s not going to abdicate,” Avery argued.

  “Not voluntarily.” Tam’s tone was dark. “If half of the rumors we’ve gathered are true, Morgan’s reach is broad, and she’s got people in all segments of society who are devoted to her. The Dominion agent we captured mentioned something called “The Sisterhood,” but clammed up when I mentioned her name. He seemed scared. Anyway, she lives in a castle, a compound, really, outside of Truro, and her private staff is all ex-military or ex-intelligence. Guys like Locke. When I put this all together, it paints a grim picture.”

  “You think, once she’s got her connection to Arthur established, she’ll move into the political arena,” Dane began, thinking it through as he spoke, “become Prime Minister, and then...”

  “She uses her connections to make sure something terrible and permanent happens to the Queen,” Bones continued.

  “Not long afterward, it’s revealed that the beloved Prime Minister is descended from the legendary King Arthur,” Dane finished.

  “I’m not convinced she’s going to wait that long,” Tam said. “She’s hosting an event this weekend at her estate, and the Queen will be there.”

  “Only the Queen?” Dane asked. “What about the rest of the Royal Family.”

  “Morgan might act now and step into the gap later. She might figure if she cuts off the head, the monarchy will fall. Who can tell?” Tam shrugged.

  “Have you notified the British authorities?” Dane asked.

  “I’ve told our people what I suspect, but I did not tell them anything about King Arthur, which makes my suspicions pretty flimsy. What do I really have but a bunch of theories about a politically connected woman who doesn’t seem very ambitious? On paper, she looks like an upstanding citizen, if maybe a bit too conservative for some people. She gives a lot of money to charity. She supports genetic research to fight all sorts of diseases. They even named the reptile house at the London Zoo for her because of all the money she gave them. She ain’t bulletproof, but she’s close.”

  “Queen and Prime Minister,” Avery said. “And if she can find a way to harness the power of Arthur’s weapons, replicate it, even, there’s no telling what she could do.”

  Tam nodded thoughtfully.

  “An army that can become truly invisible. Objects that can amplify rays of light into powerful energy weapons.”

  “You’d never have to reload,” Willis said.

  “And we haven’t even found the final piece of the puzzle,” Matt added.

  “Okay, you’ve convinced us she’s up to no good. But what have you found out about Angel?”

  “We’ve got her arriving in England, alive, with Locke.” Tam handed him a grainy printout of a frame of security footage. “We’ve got her being put in a van.” She handed him another printout. “And a van like this one showed up at Morgan’s headquarters an hour ago.” She took a deep breath. “I can get you in and out of the country, and I can give you what you need to pull off this rescue, but I can’t be directly involved and neither can my people. It’s on you.”

  “I understand,” Dane said. “Now, tell me all you know about this compound.”

  Chapter 29

  “Who the hell are you?” Angel said to the man who opened the door. He was a solidly built black man with a shaved head. As he stepped into the room, she revised her opinion. He wasn’t just solid, he was built like a rhinoceros.

  “Jacob.” His soft voice stood at stark odds with his build. He stopped in the center of the room and stared at her. There was no kindness in his eyes, nor was there cruelty. He was a blank slate.

  “You don’t look like a Jacob. You look more like a Rufus.” Perhaps she shouldn’t cop an attitude with these people, but she was resigned to the fact that they were going to
kill her, so she really didn’t care what they thought of her. If her needling made them kill her sooner, fine. She was tired of being held captive.

  Jacob didn’t answer. He hoisted her to her feet and walked her toward the door.

  “You don’t say much. Are you stupid or something?”

  “No,” he replied, just as softly as before. He steered her along a featureless hallway of gray stone that ended at a suit of armor.

  “How the hell do you get lost in a freaking hallway? Remind me not to let you navigate next time. You probably don’t even stop to ask directions, do you?”

  This time she didn’t even get a one-word answer out of him. He pushed up the face guard on the helmet, revealing a number pad, punched in a code, and stepped back as the suit of armor swung forward, revealing an elevator.

  “Where am I, some kind of Scooby Doo haunted castle?” She realized her chatter was covering for a rising fear she thought she’d worked past early in her captivity. Truth was, she wasn’t eager to die, no matter what she told herself.

  “You’re at Modron, on Bodmin Moor near Truro,” Jacob said as the elevator door closed and they began to descend.

  “Okay, now I wish I’d paid attention in Geography class.” She’d hoped that might have elicited a smile or a chuckle from Jacob. Any sign of emotion would be welcome at this point. “So, where are you taking me?”

  “Morgan wants to see you.”

  “Captain Morgan? I could go for a drink right now.” Still no emotion.

  The elevator came to a stop and the door opened onto an octagonal room with blue carpet, a television, and a rack of nasty looking weapons. Angel stepped out onto the soft carpet and looked around.

  “Cool dungeon, bro.”

  “It’s merely my exercise room.” She hadn’t noticed the woman standing off to the side. She was about Angel’s height, but fair and blonde. “This is where I hone myself to a fine edge.”

  “I take it you’re Morgan.”

  “I am. And you are no longer of use to us.” Morgan stared at her as if expecting a reply.

  “Yeah, I don’t play well with others, especially when they kidnap me.”

  “Fortunately for you, that time is at an end.”

  Angel’s stomach lurched and she looked at the weapons rack. Was this where she was to die? She swallowed hard.

  “Cool. So I can go, right?”

  “Yes. After you fight me.” This time Morgan did smile, but there was neither laughter nor guile in her eyes. She was serious.

  “That’s stupid. If you’re going to let me leave, just point me to the door and I’ll be gone. No need for anybody to get hurt.”

  “That is my condition, the same one I give everyone who is of no use. Fight me. If you win, you leave by the front door. If I win, you leave by the back door. It’s all very simple.”

  “Right. I win and your lackey shoots me in the back, I suppose.”

  “No. I meant what I said. Leave with honor or leave in disgrace, but you will not leave until you fight me. Locke thinks you might afford me a challenge.”

  “You’re crazy. I guess you want to fight with those swords and spears and crap?” Angel hoped the answer was “no.” Knife fighting she could handle. Maybe a spear, if it was anything like a bo staff. But a sword? No way. And she didn’t even recognize some of the weapons, which looked medieval and more than a little sinister.

  “If you wish. I prefer hand to hand fighting,” Morgan said.

  “Mano a mano, huh?” Angel stared into Morgan’s eyes for a full five seconds, waiting for any indication that this was all a big joke. No dice. As she stared, she reminded herself that this woman was apparently the boss, which meant she was the one responsible for Angel’s kidnapping. Now she stood there, the arrogant cow, wanting to fight her. Fine. If there was one thing Angel knew how to do, it was fight. “All right. Take these cuffs off of me and let’s do this.”

  Jacob removed her cuffs and Angel took a moment to rub her wrists and work the kinks out of her shoulders. This wasn’t an ideal situation. She’d been captive for a few days now, and her body wasn’t at its best. There was nothing for it now. She took a deep breath, turned, and faced Morgan.

  “Say when.”

  Morgan raised her fists and flowed gracefully into a fighting stance. Despite her beauty queen appearance, she looked like she knew what she was doing. They circled one another, eyes locked.

  Angel snapped a quick jab which Morgan evaded with ease. She’d obviously done this before. Angel had better take her seriously.

  Morgan whipped a roundhouse kick that Angel checked and answered with a kick of her own that just missed. If she was fit and warmed up, she’d have landed it. Morgan grabbed Angel’s leg and tried to take her down, but Angel kept her balance and fought free. They traded kicks, to little effect, and Angel missed with a jab.

  Now Morgan sprang forward with a flurry of punches. Angel blocked them, landed an elbow that split Morgan’s cheek, and followed with a back fist that Morgan sprang back from. Angel pursued her backpedaling opponent, knocking her into the wall with a front kick, but Morgan danced away before Angel could close the gap.

  It became a chess match. Morgan kept Angel at bay with kicks and jabs, always circling. She had correctly assessed that Angel was a brawler who hated this kind of fight, and thus refused to get in close. Angel’s lip was bleeding, her eye was puffy from taking several solid punches, and she was wearing down. Her arms felt like they were made of lead.

  Morgan feinted a jab and, when Angel raised her hand to block, drove a side kick into Angel’s ribs, sending her sprawling to the carpet.

  Knowing she was in serious trouble, Angel rolled to her feet before Morgan could pounce. Okay, time to get to work.

  She stalked Morgan, watching the woman’s footwork, the way she held her hands, the movements that indicated she was about to strike, looking for a pattern. Morgan pivoted her back foot, a sign that a roundhouse kick was on the way.

  As Morgan’s weight shifted to her front leg, Angel lashed out with a kick of her own that smacked into Morgan’s kneecap. Morgan grunted in pain and tried to circle, but her leg betrayed her and she staggered.

  Angel leapt into the air and drove a knee into Morgan’s gut. Morgan absorbed the blow and caught Angel on the chin with a left hook, but there was no power behind it. Angel barely felt it as she grabbed Morgan by the back of the neck, held her head down, and punished her with a flurry of knees to the face and body.

  Desperate, Morgan struck blindly, clawing at Angel’s face, but scratches weren’t going to stop her. And, if Morgan could fight like a girl, so could she. She grabbed a handful of blonde hair, slammed Morgan’s hair into the wall, and followed with three hard punches to the side of the head that wobbled Morgan, followed by an uppercut that put her on the ground.

  Morgan struggled to rise, made it to her knees, and fell again. She raised her battered and bloodied face, glared at Angel, and whispered two words.

  “Kill her.”

  Chapter 30

  “Here comes one.” Bones stepped into the roadway and raised his hands. The delivery van slowed to a halt and the driver rolled down the window. Willis approached the vehicle, holding a clipboard.

  “Is there a problem?” The driver sounded annoyed. “I’m already behind schedule.”

  “Modron security,” he said in a lame British accent. “We need to inspect your vehicle.”

  “But Modron’s another kilometer down the road. Why are you stopping us out here.”

  “Only following orders.” Willis shrugged as if to say, What are you going to do? “We’ll need to inspect the cab as well as the cargo bay. If you’ll step out, we won’t waste any more of your time than necessary.”

  The driver frowned, and Bones wondered if the man had picked up on Willis’ fake accent. He looked Willis up and down, taking in his plain, black clothing and the radio clipped to his belt. Finally satisfied, he nodded, and he and his father climbed out of the cab.

&
nbsp; Before the men knew what was happening, Bones and Willis had them stunned, bound, and hidden near the side of the road. Later, they’d make sure the authorities got an anonymous tip on the men’s whereabouts, and they’d be sure to implicate Morgan’s security staff. Matt and Corey, who had been hiding nearby, joined them.

  Matt took the wheel, and Willis joined him in the cab, while Bones and Corey climbed inside the cargo area, which was packed almost to the ceiling with tents and folding chairs for the upcoming event, and rolled the door down behind them. As the truck lurched into motion, Corey fired up his laptop and prepared for his part of the job.

  “This had better work,” Bones muttered.

  “Think positive.” Corey’s words rang hollow. He hated these types of situations, and much preferred to remain somewhere safe and make his contributions from a distance. Bones had to hand it to his crew mate. Corey had really stepped up the past couple of days. Perhaps his confidence would grow. “They don’t have any reason to turn us away, or even inspect the truck closely. Matt and Willis have the driver’s paperwork. That should be enough.”

  “But if they do turn us back, we’re going to have to find a way past motion detectors, over an electrified fence, and past whatever other security measures they’ve put in place.” Bones gripped his pistol and imagined how he might put it into use. Ever since Angel’s abduction, he’d tried very hard to remain optimistic. Things always seemed to work out for him and Maddock, and he figured it would be the same for her. He’d even managed to block the worries from his mind, until now. He was angry and a little afraid— not for himself, but for his sister.

  “Getting past those things is Maddock’s job. Besides, when did you turn into a rain cloud?” Corey asked. “Usually he’s the one talking about everything that could go wrong.”

  The truck made a sharp right, then came to a stop. They waited in tense silence, straining to hear the conversation outside, but all Bones could make out was the muffled sound of voices. His fingers itched, and he felt the sudden urge to jump out of the truck and start fighting. He stilled his rising ire and waited.