The Dane Maddock Adventures Boxed Set Volume 2

by David Wood

  “Aren’t you sweet?” She reached out and gave his arm the gentlest touch. “I’d like you to meet Corey, he’s my graduate assistant.”

  Sweeney’s smile, which had faltered when he saw Corey, returned immediately.

  “Good to meet you.” He shook Corey’s hand and turned back to Avery. “I thought for a minute he might be your husband. I was afraid I was going to have to get jealous.”

  “Nope. Single as they come.” Avery wriggled the fingers on her left hand, calling attention to her bare ring finger. She hated this girly-girl crap, and the guy probably deserved better than to be manipulated, but this was too important to let feelings get in the way.

  “Well, if you’re ready to see the lighthouse, we’ll go on in.”

  Seven Foot Knoll was like no lighthouse she’d ever seen. The squat, round metal building, painted barn red, was supported by a stilt-like metal framework and topped by a short beacon.

  “It looks like some Wisconsin dairy farmers tried to build a UFO,” Corey observed.

  Sweeney flashed him an annoyed look, but quickly forced a smile.

  “It’s called a screw pile lighthouse. The supports, or piles, are screwed into the sea bottom or river bottom and the lighthouse is built atop them. It’s not the design most people think of, but it’s not uncommon. This is the oldest screw pile in Maryland.”

  Avery could tell by the look in Corey’s eyes that he was about to make a really bad pun, and shook her head. She had no doubt this was Bones’ influence.

  “I guess these have the advantage of not needing to be waterproofed against the rising tides?” Avery asked, feigning interest.

  “Very astute,” Sweeney said, leading them up a staircase to the deck that encircled the lighthouse. “Of course, the primary advantages were their relative cheapness and ease of construction. Here we are.” He opened the door and ushered them inside.

  The interior was well-lit by the sunlight streaming through windows all around. Avery gushed over the various displays, asking detailed questions about the model ships and other exhibits, while Corey wandered around pretending to take notes.

  Their plan was simple. Avery would keep Sweeney distracted while Corey found the chest and removed the map. She’d told him how to open the compartment, and hoped he wouldn’t be too clumsy about it.

  “Is that the Mayflower?” She pointed to a model high on a shelf.

  “Good eye. She doesn’t really belong in a Maryland museum, but she’s a personal favorite of mine.” He shrugged and gave her an embarrassed smile.

  “I thought I detected a touch of Massachusetts in your accent.”

  “Wow. Nothing gets past you. You ought to be a federal agent.” Sweeney winked.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Corey had found the chest, and her pulse quickened. Now was the moment. Cursing herself for what she was about to do, she pulled Sweeney’s head down and kissed him, at the same time turning him around so his back was to Corey. He tensed, then relaxed and put his arms around her and kissed her back. It wasn’t the worst kiss in the world, but she’d never been one to use her sexuality to manipulate a guy, which made this all the more uncomfortable. That, and she sort of had a thing for Bones, and hoped Corey wouldn’t say anything to him about this.

  Hurry up Corey.

  The kiss stretched beyond all natural and comfortable limits, and Sweeney started to pull away. Avery tangled her fingers in his hair and held on.

  “Ahem!”

  Avery broke the kiss and saw Corey standing beside them, an amused smile on his face.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a plane to catch.” He tapped his watch. “We need to head out.”

  “Oh.” Sweeney was clearly disappointed. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”

  “That’s good of you, but we’re flying out of Dulles, and we’re in a rental car.” She gave his arm a squeeze. “Thank you so much for showing us the museum. I’ll text you next time I’m in town.”

  “Sounds good.” He still seemed a bit dazed. “I’ll email you. You know, so we can keep in touch.”

  They left as quickly as they could without rousing suspicion. It wasn’t until they were crossing the Harbor Bridge Walk that she felt comfortable asking the question that was foremost on her mind.

  “Did you get it?”

  “Yep.” He unzipped his jacket, pulled out a brass cylinder, and handed it to her.

  The smooth metal was cool to the touch and she held it in trembling fingers, excited by the thrill of discovery. She couldn’t wait to take a look. She removed the end cap and withdrew the paper inside. Passing the cylinder back to Corey, she unrolled the paper, revealing another map. She wanted to take time to examine it, but suddenly felt a keen sense of vulnerability. She was standing in a very public place, and Locke’s men could be anywhere.

  “Hold this, and don’t you dare drop it!” She handed Corey the map, took out her phone, snapped a few pictures of it, then uploaded them to a private album. “Better safe than sorry,” she explained. Before she could return it to the cylinder, Corey frowned and looked over her shoulder.

  “That guy keeps staring at us.”

  Avery glanced over her shoulder and gasped. It was one of the men who had chased them at St. Paul’s church. She looked away, but not before their eyes met. She saw recognition in his face, and he began walking toward them.

  “Get out of here!” Corey gave her a push in the back to get her moving, and then followed along behind her.

  “What do we do?”

  “He sees I’ve got the cylinder. When we get to the next bridge, I’ll lead him away. You blend in with the crowd and make your way back to the street and meet up with Matt. You and the map need to stay out of their hands.”

  “But, you...”

  “There’s the bridge. Go!”

  Before she could protest, Corey took off in the opposite direction. Avery hated to leave him to the mercy of Locke’s men, but what could she do? Cursing him under her breath, she weaved through a crowd of college kids who were poking along, taking in the sights. When she reached the end of the second bridge, she stole a glance behind her.

  Corey’s ruse had not worked. The man was after her.

  Maddock stood on the deck of the U.S.S. Constellation, a nineteenth-century sloop-of-war. The last remaining intact Civil War ship and one of the last sailing warships built by the United States Navy, she had also seen action in both World Wars prior to her final decommissioning in 1955. She was now a National Historical Landmark and served as a floating museum and attraction.

  “Right on time, I see.” Locke seemed to materialize out of the crowd. The man was good. He stopped a few feet from Maddock. “Do you have them?” His tone was relaxed, as if they were two friends engaged in a casual conversation.

  “Where’s Angel?” Maddock hated feeling he was at Locke’s mercy. Hopefully, their plan would turn the tables.

  By way of answer, Locke pointed toward the harbor, where a speedboat floated fifty feet from Constellation’s stern. A man stood guard over the hunched figure of a dark-skinned young woman. She was gagged, her hands were bound, and her face was a mask of bruises. Anger surged through him.

  “You bastard. I’ll kill you for that.”

  “Not today, unless you want your girl to meet the same fate. Now, give it here and don’t try anything foolish.” He held out his hand.

  It was only by supreme force of will that Maddock did not knock the man’s teeth down his throat. He looked again at the speedboat, and spotted an odd disturbance in the water by its stern. Good!

  “Fine. But I want Angel released now.” He slid off the backpack he’d been wearing over one shoulder, and handed it to Locke.

  “Of course.” The lie was evident in his eyes. Locke opened the backpack just enough to expose the dagger’s white hilt. He fished deeper into the backpack and withdrew a clear plastic bag that held the map. “Very good. Now...”

  He cut off in mid-sentence as two men, so pal
e they looked almost like albinos, converged on him. Somewhere in the crowd of tourists, someone yelled, “Stop right there!”

  And then it all went to hell.

  Bones hauled himself over the speedboat’s stern, careful not to make a sound. At his hip, the dagger gently vibrated, concealing him from sight. He wondered absently if someone who looked in his direction would see water dripping from... nothing. He wasn’t about to waste time finding out.

  There were two men in the boat: one at the helm and the other standing behind Angel. He wore a pistol at his hip, but his arms hung loosely at his side. Both were staring up at Constellation, where Maddock and Locke should be making the exchange right about now.

  Bones crept up behind the guard and, fast as lightning, slipped the gun from its holster, clamped his free hand over the man’s mouth and nose, and pressed the gun to his temple.

  “Don’t move and don’t make a sound,” he whispered, quiet enough not to be heard by the man in the helm over the sound of the idling engine. The man froze. If the barrel of a gun against his temple wasn’t enough to guarantee his cooperation, the shock of being held by an invisible enemy did it. “Down on your knees.”

  The man complied instantly. Bones clubbed him across the back of the head with the pistol and he crumpled to the ground.

  Angel still sat slumped forward, and hadn’t seen him. Even though she was gagged, if he frightened her, she might cry out and alert the man at the helm, so he reached down and pressed the dagger, turning off the cloak.

  “Angel, it’s me.” He kept his voice soft. “I’m getting you out of here.”

  Angel sat up fast and jerked her head around.

  It wasn’t Angel.

  “Who are you?” Bones whispered, forgetting for a moment the danger and that the girl couldn’t speak. “Never mind. Let’s go.” He helped her to her feet,removed her gag, and led her to the stern.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  Just then, chaos erupted on the Constellation. An instant later, the boat lurched forward as the man at the helm made a beeline for the sailing ship’s stern.

  The woman was thrown off balance and tumbled into the water. For a split second, Bones considered letting her swim for it. If he waited on the boat, maybe he could ambush Locke, but the woman had sunk out of sight and showed no sign of surfacing.

  His decision was made for him when a bullet zipped past his head. Someone on shore had spotted him. Cursing his luck, he dove into the dark water.

  Avery hurried on, looking back on occasion, only to see the guy gaining on her. Every time she thought she’d lost him in a crowd, he turned up again- sometimes ahead of her, sometimes behind her, but always closer. She looked around for a police officer, security guard, anyone who might offer some help, but there was no one.

  As desperate panic welled inside her, her eyes fell on an oblong, modern building of gray metal and glass. The National Aquarium. Surely they’d have a security staff there. She made a beeline for the front door. Let them bust her for gate crashing. She’d be safer in custody than out here pursued by Locke’s man. She circled around an arguing young couple and there he was again. He stood twenty feet away barring her way to the entrance, smiling.

  “No more of this foolish chase. Give it to me and you can be on your way.”

  She didn’t even think. She just ran. Behind her, she heard him call out, more in annoyance than surprise, and then she heard his feet pounding the concrete, hot on her tail.

  She rounded the building and saw a man in a work uniform unlocking a side door.

  “Hold on!” she cried, adding a burst of speed she hadn’t thought she had at her disposal. The man gaped as she sprinted past him, crashed through a set of double doors, and clambered up a staircase to her left.

  She had only a moment to consider where she might be. It definitely wasn’t any sort of public area. At the top of the stairs, she brushed past a girl in a polo shirt and khaki shorts, causing the girl to spill her bucket of chum or something equally stinky.

  “Hey! You can’t go that way! That’s...”

  Whatever it was, Avery didn’t know because her pursuer chose that moment to take a shot at her. Avery and the girl both screamed as the roar of the gunshot filled the stairwell and the bullet tore through the ceiling. The door in front of her was propped open and Avery dashed through.

  Big mistake.

  She had only a split second to realize her mistake and then she was flying through the air. She flailed her arms and legs as if she could take wing, and then she splashed down into deep water. As momentum and the weight of her sodden clothes dragged her down, she kicked and paddled, trying to arrest her descent. When she finally got herself headed back up to the surface, she opened her eyes. Another mistake.

  The cold salt water stung but that wasn’t the worst part. A dark gray shape swam into view, bearing down on her. A shark! She had run right into one of the tanks. She opened her mouth to scream as the creature came closer, and choked on a mouthful of salt water. If the shark didn’t get her, she’d likely drown.

  She watched in horror as distance between her and the fierce aquatic predator shrank. Ten feet. Five feet.

  And then the shark veered to the side at the last instant, its rough hide brushing her bare arm. And then it was gone. For a moment she hung there, shocked into immobility by her close call. Looking down, she saw the ghostlike shapes of aquarium visitors watching her through the glass. She wondered if they thought they were seeing a performance, or if they realized what was really happening.

  And then she looked directly beneath her. There wasn’t one shark in the tank, there were a half dozen, and they were circling. All thoughts fell away except the need to get the hell out of that tank and fast. The map, the man with the gun, Maddock and Bones’ attempt to save Angel, all forgotten. She fought for the surface with everything she had, but no matter how hard she swam, it seemed to come no closer. She felt as if an invisible hand were holding her underwater, inches from precious air and a chance at safety.

  Suddenly, she broke the surface, gasping for air. Half blinded by the salt water, she swam for the edge, wondering when the feeding frenzy would begin. Her vision cleared as she reached the side and found herself staring at a pair of shiny, black shoes. She looked up into the barrel of a gun.

  “Dead end,” the man said. “Now, give me the map.”

  The map! What had she done with it? She remembered tucking it into her bra when Corey first hurried her away from their pursuer.

  “It’s right here.” She reached her numb fingers into her shirt and pulled out a sodden wad of brown paper. “It got a little wet.” She held it up to the man, wondering if she might be able to pull him down into the water when he reached for the map, but he stood stock-still.

  “You carried it into the water?” He trembled, either from shock or rage, and his finger twitched on the trigger.

  “I didn’t exactly plan to jump into a shark tank. It might not be ruined. Take it.”

  “You’ve bloody well ruined it, I’m sure.” He chewed on his lip, thinking for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. “But you got a look at it.”

  “No,” Avery said immediately. “I didn’t have a chance before you came after us.”

  “We’ll soon find out. We have people who are very good at getting answers. Now come on.”

  She heard a sick thud, and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head. His knees buckled and he tumbled into the tank. Jimmy stood there, smiling, holding the lid of a toilet tank.

  “I passed a bathroom on the way up. It was the only heavy thing I could grab.”

  “I’m glad you did. Here, pull me up.” She was surprised at the strength with which he hoisted her up. He’d never seemed very physical. “Thank you.” She gave him a quick hug. “Now, let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m afraid you will be leaving,” said a voice behind Jimmy. Two police officers stood, weapons drawn. “But it’s going to be with us.�
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  Chapter 27

  As the two men converged on him, Locke whirled about and made a dash for the stern rail. Surprised by the sudden chaos, Maddock was an instant late with his attempt at tackling the fleeing man. Three strides and Locke vanished over the edge. Maddock regained his feet in time to see Locke swimming for the speedboat, which was on its way to pick him up. Angel was no longer aboard, and he soon spotted Bones helping her swim to shore.

  Relieved, he turned around just as shots rang out. One of the attackers was firing wildly into the crowd, which broke apart as everyone fled for safety. His partner had gone over the rail after Locke, but he wasn’t a strong swimmer and was losing ground with every stroke.

  Maddock didn’t know who these guys were, and what he really wanted was to get the hell out of there, but he couldn’t let this madman kill an innocent person. He sprang onto the gunman, pinning the man’s arm to his side as he wrestled him to the ground. He wound up on top of the man, one hand pinning his gun hand to the ground, the other at his throat.

  “Who are you?”

  The man’s blue eyes, so pale as to almost be white, shone with icy contempt. He worked his lips and then spat on Maddock. Maddock raised his fist, intending to turn the guy’s nose into a waffle, but a sharp voice rang out.

  “Hold it right there! CIA!”

  Maddock froze as three men, weapons trained on him, came running up.

  “Put your hands in the air,” one of them barked.

  “I will as soon as you relieve this guy of his weapon.” He wasn’t about to give the albino a chance to take a shot at him or anyone else.

  In an instant, the government agents, all clad in plain clothes, had him and the other man cuffed. They were patting him down when a familiar voice rang out.

  “Oh no! Oh hell no!”

  As he turned his head to face the music, he couldn’t help but smile.

  Tam Broderick was an attractive woman, with a solid, athletic build, dark skin, and big eyes. At least, she was pretty enough when she didn’t look like she was about to waterboard someone. They’d met under unusual circumstances and forged a temporary alliance. Since then, they’d spoken a couple of times, but only to discuss a situation he and Bones had stepped into the previous winter. She marched up to Maddock, her hand resting on the Makarov he knew she carried, and stopped, her face inches from his.