The Dane Maddock Adventures Boxed Set Volume 2

by David Wood

  Chapter 9

  Of all the various parts of the galleon, the cargo hold had suffered the most from the intrusion of soil and water. Toward the bow of the ship, where the hull had been split when the ship ran aground, the dark mud lay knee deep, descending to a depth of several inches toward the stern. But it did little to cover the crates that lay all around, scattered and broken by the wreck so many centuries ago.

  Carly clapped her hands and Dave let out a whoop of triumph as the beam of Bones’ light glinted off blocks of gold and silver bullion and scattered gold chains. Here and there, jewels sparkled like stars in the dark mire. Trying but failing to suppress a grin, Slater discussed the find at length for the benefit of the camera.

  “Why so many gold chains?” Dave asked.

  Bones knew the answer to this one. “Tax evasion. The Spanish crown placed a tariff on precious metals, but jewelry was exempt. Europeans didn’t do much in the way of fine craftsmanship in the New World, but they could make rough chains and rings like what you see here, and that was good enough to get around the law.”

  “Why not make it all into jewelry?” Carly asked.

  “I guess it’s one of those things you can only take so far. The crown would look past a certain amount of circumvention as long as it made its share from the transportation of New World treasure, but if it got out of hand, they’d have eliminated the exemption. Nobody wanted to be the one that killed the goose that laid the golden egg.”

  “Speaking of eggs,” Slater said. “Have you seen anything like this before?” She pointed to a small crate filled with dirt, straw, and mud-encrusted egg-shaped objects caked in mud.

  “I’ve never seen one up close, but I’ve read about them.” He knelt beside the crate, took out his recon knife, and scraped away the mud that encased one of the strange objects. “These are bezoars.”

  “You’re kidding,” Dave and Carly said in unison.

  “What are bezoars?” Slater asked.

  “Somebody hasn’t read Harry Potter,” Dave said.

  “A bezoar is a sort of stone formed from material found in the digestive tracts of two-stomached animals. Given that this is a Spanish ship, we’re probably looking at stones from a llama or alpaca since those were found in the major Spanish colonies. And, just like in Harry Potter, people believed a bezoar could absorb poison. Somebody rich enough to buy one would dip it in his cup of wine before drinking it, just in case his enemies had tried to poison his cup.”

  “I take it they were pretty valuable?” Slater asked.

  “Very, and not just because of their supposed properties. Being able to afford one was a status symbol. People would have them carved, mounted in a gold setting, and would wear them as jewelry.”

  “Did they work?” Dave asked. “I mean, do they really absorb poison?”

  Bones chuckled. “Tell you what. When we get back to town, we’ll put rat poison in a beer, drop one of these in, and you can drink it. Sound good?”’

  Dave laughed. “I’ll pass.” With that pronouncement, he cut the camera. “Does this mean we get, I don’t know, salvage rights or whatever?”

  They all looked at Bones, the only treasure hunter in the group.

  “If we were three leagues out in the gulf waters or three miles off the Atlantic coast, things would be a lot simpler. On land it’s a little more complicated.”

  “But, finders keepers, right?” Carly asked.

  “Not necessarily. A lot depends on who owns the property. If we’re still inside the state park, Florida treasure trove law says that whatever we find belongs to the state.”

  “That’s not fair,” Dave said.

  “That’s just the way it is. The good news is, the common practice here is for the government to keep everything of historical value and give the finder seventy-five percent of the intrinsic value of the find.”

  “What if we’re on private property?” Carly asked.

  “It probably goes to the owner. There would definitely be a legal battle.”

  “And since we’re doing this under the auspices of the television show, there are other ownership angles to consider,” Slater said. “This could be a mess.”

  “So, maybe we’re rich and maybe we’re not,” Dave said. “It’s Schrödinger’s treasure.”

  “I’m sure this will sort itself out eventually,” Slater said. “But for now, I say we cover up the holes where you two klutzes fell through, and get back to the job at hand.”

  Bones nodded. “I want to track down whatever it was that attacked us.”

  “You think it was a ‘what’ and not a ‘who’?” Carly asked.

  Bones merely nodded.

  They made their way back up to the crew deck and Bones helped Slater and then Carly climb out. Both were light and agile so it required little effort. Getting himself and Dave out would take a little more creativity.

  “Let’s gather all the boards and crates we can. We’ll pile them up and climb out that way. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to dig up enough dirt to make a mound that we can get up on, and hope it isn’t so heavy that it causes the floor beneath it to collapse.”

  He waited for Dave to reply, but no response was forthcoming. The young cameraman knelt by the old fire pit, poking at the bones that lay there. “Take a look at this.” He held up a thick leg bone—a femur if Bones didn’t miss his guess. “It’s got cuts all over it—signs that the meat was butchered. We’ve seen this before on the show. Cannibalism.”

  Frowning, Bones took the femur from Dave and gave it a close look. “Maybe not cannibalism.”

  “But the cuts...”

  “You’re not wrong about the cuts,” he said. “But I don’t think this is human. At least not human as we know it.”

  Chapter 10

  “Let me get this straight,” Slater said. “You think this is a bone from a primitive form of hominid?” Slater asked. She turned it over in her hands, scrutinizing every inch of its length. Nearby, Dave kept the camera rolling.

  “That’s what it looks like to me. Of course, it’s the actual bone, not just a fossil, which means it’s not very old.”

  “About as old as the ship?” Dave offered.

  Slater nodded. “Mister Gambles did mention the theory that the skunk ape is, in fact, a form of human ancestor. Between the footprint and this bone, we should be able to put that theory to the test.” She looked directly into the camera, her jaw set and her gaze hard. “We now have to consider the possibility that the stranded crew sealed their own fate by killing and eating one of the local population of whatever hominid the skunk ape might be.”

  Quieted by dark thoughts, the group retraced its steps and waited while Bones searched around until he picked up the trail of the fleeing attacker. He found no clean prints, but more than enough sign to guide them in the proper direction. As they followed the tracks, the dank swamp began to dry up, and eventually gave way to forest.

  It was early afternoon when Bones spotted something in the distance. “Somebody lives here.”

  Up ahead, in a clearing, stood an old mobile home. A sagging, makeshift covered porch sheltered the front door. A rusted out 1968 Camaro stood on blocks amidst a patch of tall weeds. Behind the trailer, a decrepit outbuilding hugged the tree line where the forest resumed. To the south, a rutted dirt road wended its way into the dense foliage and vanished from sight.

  “I wonder who lives here,” Slater whispered.

  “I don’t know, but it’s a shame they didn’t restore that Camaro. What a waste.” Bones moved a few steps forward, still scanning the ground. “The tracks end here. Whatever we’re chasing, it must have skirted the clearing.”

  “We’ll see if anyone’s home,” Slater said. “They might have seen something.”

  “Does anyone have dueling banjos playing in their head right now, or is it just me?” Dave whispered.

  Carly giggled. “I’ll bet you’d be good at squealing like a pig.”

  Dave raised his middle finger and kept the came
ra rolling.

  Tension cramped Bones’ shoulders as they strode across the intervening space between the tree line and the old mobile home. His eyes flitted about, keeping alert for danger. Slater noticed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “It’s just a house.”

  “I’ve got a feeling that, any second now, some dude in a John Deere had is going to jump out of the woods with a shotgun and start blazing away.”

  Slater chuckled but Dave missed a step and Carly’s eyes grew wide.

  “I was kidding about the banjos. Do you really think it’s dangerous?” Dave asked.

  “Probably not. It’s just that redneckish places like this put me on edge.”

  The sagging steps up to the front porch creaked under Bones’ weight, but they supported him. Just as he reached the porch, Slater grabbed him by the arm.

  “Let me. I don’t look as intimidating as you.” She winked and slipped past Bones, who backtracked down the steps and moved to stand beside Dave.

  Slater knocked, a dull sound in the quiet clearing

  No answer.

  She knocked again.

  “I don’t think anyone’s home.” A note of hopefulness rang in Dave’s voice. “Let’s just keep following the trail.”

  “Third time’s a charm.” Slater raised her fist to knock again, but the door flew open and an angry face poked out.

  “This is private property. What are you doing here?” The speaker was a white-haired woman no more than five feet tall. Sharp blue eyes gleamed in the midst of a craggy, sun-weathered face.

  Slater introduced herself and explained that they were a television crew investigating local legends. If she thought her fringe Hollywood credentials would earn her any points with this woman she was mistaken.

  “I don’t know no legends. You need to get on out of here before I call the sheriff.”

  “I done called him, Granny.” A familiar figure appeared in the doorway. “He’ll be here any second.” Jack froze when his eyes fell on Slater. “What are you doing here?”

  “You know these people, Jack?” The old lady rounded on her grandson, eyes flashing.

  “He tried to kill us,” Bones said.

  “I didn’t!” Jack took a step back, but his grandmother snatched him up by the hair and hauled him out on the porch with surprising strength.

  “Were you messing around with that rifle again? I done told you, it’s for hunting and nothing else. If you can’t be responsible I’m going to take it back from you.” She glanced at Bones. “I’m surprised the big fellow didn’t take it away from you and whoop your butt with it.”

  Bones chuckled. He decided he liked this lady.

  “Actually, he directed us right into a tiger trap,” Slater said.

  Jack held up his hands. “I didn’t know that pit was there. Ow!”

  His grandmother gave his hair a twist and then let him go. “You knew. Now go fetch me a switch.” As Jack trudged down the steps and toward the woods, head hung low, she folded her arms and addressed the group. “I hope none of you have any objection to some old-fashioned discipline. The boy ain’t got no mama and someone’s got to teach him to mind.”

  “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been switched in my life,” Bones said. “Even now I think my grandfather would whip me if I stepped out of line.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Slater began, “have you seen anything unusual here?”

  “Unusual?”

  “Something attacked us in the woods. We followed its trail which led us here. I’m just wondering if you saw who or what did it.”

  The old woman shook her head. “Just me and Jack here.”

  “The pit we fell into, what’s it for?” Slater asked.

  The sound of a car approaching drew their attention and they turned to see a police cruiser rolling slowly up the driveway.

  “You’ll have to ask him.” That ended the conversation as she stepped back inside and closed the door.

  The car rolled to a stop and Deputy Logan stepped out and closed the door behind him. He pocketed his sunglasses and took a seat on the hood of his car.

  “You mind telling me what you’re doing here?”

  “We’re doing an investigation,” Slater said, coming down off the steps. “Something attacked us in the park. We followed its tracks which led here.”

  “What do you mean by attacked?” Logan’ kept his tone level but something in his eyes suggested alarm, even fear.

  “Something was chunking rocks the size of my fist at us,” Bones said. “Any one of them could have killed us.”

  “Don’t you mean ‘someone’? There’s not an animal around here that can throw a rock, unless the gators have figured out how to slap them with their tails.”

  Slater cocked her head. “Isn’t there?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Logan snapped.

  “Deputy,” Bones began, “there’s not a man alive who could throw a rock that big with the velocity those things were flying at our heads.”

  “We also found footprints.” Dave piped up.

  Slater turned a hard eye on her cameraman, whose face reddened.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to turn over anything you collected,” Logan said. “Video, photographs, cameras, cell phones and especially any castings you made of tracks.”

  “On whose authority?” Bones resisted the urge to get in the deputy’s face.

  “The county sheriff’s department, that’s who.” Logan rested his hand on his sidearm. “Don’t make me arrest you.”

  Slater moved between Bones and the deputy. “First of all, you and I both know the law. You don’t have probable cause to confiscate our property. Second, everything is already uploaded to the cloud—photos, video, audio, all of it. Taking our belongings would be a waste of your time and ours, and it would make unwanted publicity for your department.”

  Logan’ jaw worked as he stared past Slater at Bones.

  “We might as well tell them, Pa.” Jack’s voice broke the tension as the young man slunk out of the woods, trailing a long, thin stick behind him.

  “He’s your kid?” Bones asked.

  Logan nodded.

  “Tell us what?” Slater asked.

  “Nothing.” Logan said.

  “Just go on and tell them.” Jack’s grandmother called out the front window. “You knew it couldn’t last forever.”

  Logan’ shoulders sagged. “I suppose you’re going to find out sooner or later. Turn your camera on and let’s get this over with.” He flashed a rueful grin at Slater, who stared at him with a bemused expression. “You ain’t figured it out yet?”

  Slater shook her head.

  “The skunk ape is just a myth. We’ve been faking it.”

  Chapter 11

  Slater appeared poleaxed. After a few seconds of stunned silence, she found her voice.

  “Who is we?”

  “Me and my boy.” Logan pointed at Jack. “But before we go any further I have to ask that you don’t show my face or give my name. Don’t show my house, either. I want that in writing.”

  Slater sighed. “Fair enough. I’ll even change your voice. Hold on a minute.” She dug a few papers out of her backpack and she and Logan took a few minutes to complete them. When all was ready, Logan led them to the outbuilding behind the trailer.

  “This is where we keep our stuff.” He unlocked a metal gun cabinet and took out a pair of false feet. They were made of some sort of rubber, and were intricately detailed. All the lines and creases one would expect to see in an actual foot were carefully rendered. The big toe was angled downward so it would bite deeper into the earth than would the other toes. Velcro straps extended from the rubber on either side. Presumably the wearer could strap them to whatever shoes he had on.

  Bones took one and looked it over. It was about the size of the other prints they’d seen. It certainly could have been the source.

  “What about weight distribution?” Slater asked. “If so
meone with an average sized foot wears this, the weight will be too close to the center.”

  “It’s got a metal frame inside. It distributes the weight but still has a little flexibility.”

  “Where’d you get it?” Slater asked.

  “I had it made, but that’s all I’ll say. I don’t want to bring anyone else into this”

  Slater nodded. “But why go to all this trouble? What did you hope to gain?”

  Logan smiled sheepishly. “I could tell you it was about publicity for the town, or to keep a favorite legend alive, but it wouldn’t be true. The fact is, I did it because I thought it was funny. It started out as a way of messing with campers. Rattle the bushes, leave a couple of tracks, and get out of there.” He chuckled. “I got bored with it, but then I started hearing about a fellow named Gambles who was taking the skunk ape thing way too seriously, so I decided to mess with him too.”

  “We met him,” Slater said. “He’ll be disappointed when he hears.”

  “Don’t bet on it. He’s one of them true believers. If he doesn’t want to hear it, it’ll just bounce right off of him.” Logan looked down and scuffed the dirt with his booted toe. “Anyway, I started feeling bad about that, but then Jack got curious, so I let him do it sometimes.”

  “What about the strong smell?” Carly chimed in.

  “Bobcat urine, fox urine, whatever the store’s got in stock.”

  “You can buy that stuff?” Dave asked.

  “People use it to keep pests away,” Bones said. He handed the false foot to Slater, turned, and took a few steps back to the shed door where he leaned against the frame and gazed out at the late afternoon sun. Jack was approaching, walking gingerly and grimacing. Apparently his grandmother had put the switch to use. The sight of the boy sparked something in his mind.

  “So, which one of you attacked us today?”

  “It must have been the boy.” Logan spat on the ground. “I’m sorry about that. I’m sure he wasn’t trying to hurt you; he just has bad aim with that sling of his.”

  “A slingshot couldn’t throw a stone as large as the ones that were hurled at us, much less achieve the velocity,” Slater said. “Those things were really flying. It’s no exaggeration to say we could have been killed.”