The Pandora Box

by Lilly Maytree

  They sat quietly for a few moments, each unwilling to let go of the other.

  Finally, Hawk brushed the side of her face with a kiss, squeezed her tight and got to his feet again. “I better go change our heading. Then we should have that hot meal you were talking about, because on top of everything else, the barometer’s still dropping.”

  “I’ll make that spaghetti,” Dee replied.

  He walked out the door but after a few seconds, returned long enough to stick his head back in again. “And after that, you can move the rest of your things into here, Mrs. Hawkins. Pandora’s doing a pretty good clip, so I think we can count on at least eight hours before they catch up with us, even if they are under power. We ought to be able to snatch a couple of those hours to ourselves.” He winked, flashed her that winning smile and left.

  Because of the change in course, it was well after ten by the time a sleek-looking forty-eight foot sloop with a broken mast finally limped up alongside Pandora. Since they were so far north, it was barely after sundown. The name Seascape painted in dark lettering along the hull could still be made out in the gathering dusk.

  “Ahoy the boat!” a shadowy form with a man’s voice shouted to them as the three stood watching warily from the cockpit. “I say, could you give us a hand? We’ll toss a line over.”

  “Not so fast,” Hawk held the rifle in the crook of his arm. “We’re not taking on boarders.”

  “Oh, come on, man, can’t you see we’ve had a rough time of it? Lost our mast in the storm. We’ve had a terrible accident, and one of our crew was injured!”

  “Oh, no,” Dee whispered, “we’ve got to help!”

  “Lay off about fifty yards,” Hawk said firmly. “We can talk in the morning.”

  “But we’re taking on water! Knee deep in it over here and I’ve only got two women aboard.”

  “Hawk, please.”

  “Shhh.” Then loudly, “You’re not sinking, and we don’t have anything in our medicine box you wouldn’t have over there. So lay off and we’ll talk in the morning.”

  “How about just taking the injured girl aboard?”

  “Not a chance.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of Starr spitting over the lee rail.

  “Not very decent of you, captain,” the stranger spoke again, “seeing we used most of our fuel to get over to you.”

  “You should have called first.”

  “We tried VHF but you didn’t seem to be monitoring. Can’t you see we’re desperate over here? You’ve at least got to let us raft alongside. I’m throwing you a line.”

  “You throw anything over here…” Hawk raised the rifle to his shoulder, “and I’ll shoot you right off that deck, mister.”

  32

  Gunfire

  “It was too dark to see each other, but I know our faces were the picture of dismay. “ ~ Nellie Bly

  After a long and uncomfortable silence, the sloop backed off. The three of them stood there, watching the distance between the two boats widen, as if by some magic the intruder might change into a thrashing sea monster should they take their eyes off it.

  “All right,” Hawk said when they were a safe distance away. “I’ll take the first watch. I want a gun on deck all night long.”

  “I feel just awful turning them away,” Dee pulled the hood of her jacket up to keep off the cold wind.

  “It’s too shady, Dee,” he replied. “Any self-respecting yachtsman would have limped his way into the nearest port, not waste time chasing another boat around. They weren’t sinking and they never called in a mayday. It’s our fellow treasure hunters trying to move in because they can’t keep up with that kind of damage. And if they tried motoring all the way, they’d run out of fuel.”

  “How do you know they didn’t call in a mayday? We didn’t have our radio on.”

  “It’s common practice for anyone in the area to aid another boat in distress. Since we were closest, White Fox would have informed us if they knew about it. They didn’t.”

  “I’m with Hawk.” Starr turned toward the companionway. “That’s the oldest trick in the book, pretending you’re in trouble. They’re either pirates or crazies. You wouldn’t want either kind coming aboard. I’m going to make a pot of chili and put it in thermoses. It looks like we’re going to be back on cold sandwiches again before long, and I need something to do.”

  “See if you can get Marion to eat something,” Dee suggested. “She hardly ate a bite all day.”

  Hawk went to sit on the top of the cabin house where he could see the sloop as it lumbered along behind them, under reduced power. He rested the rifle across his knees while he put up his hood against the wind. “Marion’s not coming around as fast as she should be. What’s she so upset about? It can’t still be the way I treated you that day.”

  Dee was startled that the dreaded subject had come up so casually. Especially since she had subconsciously pushed even the desire to know those answers to the back of her mind. Her complete acceptance of Hawk during the last twenty-four hours had given her an alliance with him that she dared not undermine. She had been given a second chance, and she was determined not to fail, this time. No matter what things looked like, she would believe nothing other than the fact that God was in control. Working things out for them, in spite of all her mistakes. Whether she saw any evidence of it or not.

  Yet, she knew that honesty, no matter how difficult it might seem at the moment, was always best in the long run. She settled herself into the corner seat below her husband, where she could be close enough to talk but still out of the wind and decided to come right to the point.

  “That blanket you gave her came from Wyngate,” she finally replied. “It has the name stamped on the hem. She thinks you must have worked there or something. That you’ve been using us all along.” She sighed and turned to glance at the other boat, but couldn’t see over the canvas windbreaks from where she was sitting. “That you may even have been the person who was blackmailing Peterson, right from the beginning. That’s how she thinks you got the yacht’s papers.”

  He was so quiet Dee looked up at him. But the dark and the hood of his jacket hid his face from her.

  “What do you think?” he finally asked.

  “I can’t think anymore, Hawk.” She leaned her forehead against his knee with a sigh. “I just know I love you, and you wouldn’t hurt any of us. No matter how much money is involved.”

  She could sense his relief in the reassuring way he put his hand on her head. “I don’t know how that blanket got here,” he said. “Peterson must have brought it aboard himself, somehow. On a pass maybe, I don’t know. I never noticed it before. As for the papers, I found them with the logbook, and I just wrote my name in. What does she think I am, some new version of Dr. Frankenstein?”

  “Something like that.” She replied with his own familiar phrase.

  “No wonder she turns white every time I go in there.”

  “Oh, Hawk, this whole thing has brought the absolute worst out of all of us. Suspecting each other like this. I don’t know if it’s even worth it anymore. What good is all the money in the world if something happens to any one of us?”

  “We’re not exactly in a position we can turn back from, sugar. We’re locked into this thing now. Especially with White Fox telling us what to do. Did that guy who asked for help look familiar to you?”

  “I don’t know. It was too dark to tell. But don’t you think he acted more scared than dangerous?”

  “He was too pushy to be that scared. Something odd about him. And they didn’t have any lights on down below when they pulled up alongside.”

  “Neither did we,” she reminded him.

  “We have our nav lights on. You can always see a red glow from the ports if they’re on. They don’t have any.”

  “Maybe they lost electrical power. They definitely lost their mast.”

  “I think the storm caught them by surprise. Otherwise, they’d have waited
until we got the diamonds to make their move. This way…” He set the rifle aside and slipped down onto the seat beside her. “Dee, listen to me. If anything happens and things get out of hand…”

  “Oh, Hawk!” She shook her head at the thought. “I’m not even going to think like that!”

  “Listen now. I want you to stay with Pandora. White Fox will find the boat. But it’s almost impossible to find someone in the water. You understand me, sweets? You’ve got to promise me.”

  “What makes you think I have any more chance than the rest of you? I wouldn’t take it even if I had it. I wouldn’t! This whole situation is my fault, and I’d rather—”

  “You’re the one with the information they want. Hear me? And you may be able to buy yourself some time with it.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t. And I refuse to talk like this, Hawkins. We’re all in this together, you said so yourself.”

  “We have to talk like this, sugar. There has to be a plan B.”

  “Radio for more help, then. Tell White Fox what’s going on.”

  “They’re on their way. Making radio contact now would only spook our visitors into doing something hasty. I don’t, for a minute, believe he’s only got two women with him over there, and I don’t want to get anyone killed. They’ve got to be monitoring. Which means they probably even heard our conversation with White Fox, this morning.”

  “Oh, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to any of you. And when we get out of this mess, I promise—”

  “Shhh.” He pulled her close. “We’re all consenting adults here, Dee. Responsible for our own decisions. You just made things a little more hair-raising, that’s all.” The spicy aroma of Starr’s chili began to waft up from the companionway. “Cheer up, sugar. At least we bought ourselves a little more time for White Fox to get here.”

  “Till morning anyway.”

  ****

  At dawn, Dee went below, with orders to stand by the radio to call in a mayday in case anything went wrong, as Hawk and Starr began to catch lines thrown over from the other boat in order to pull the sloop up alongside. Seascape had taken on so much water during the night that Pandora could no longer refuse assistance. But Hawk was still cautious. He insisted the sloop’s skipper come aboard first so that Starr could hold him at gunpoint while he made an inspection of the other craft. If the situation turned out to be irreparable, he would let the remaining crew aboard Pandora. The man readily agreed.

  As the two boats drew together, Hawk could see he was in his late fifties. Though wearing a hooded jacket, the trim gray mustache indicated someone of meticulousness and distinction. Hardly the pirate or thief variety.

  “I’m Robert Stevens,” he said formally as they helped him aboard. “My wife, Ellen, is below with the injured girl. I gave her morphine for the pain but she’s been delirious ever since the accident.”

  “I’ll be back in a minute.” Hawk motioned Stevens to sit down. Then he looked over at Starr. “If he moves, shoot him.”

  “This is really most distressing!” Stevens complained. “To be treated in such a manner after what we’ve been through. We’ve had a miserable night, as you can see, and I assure you, we only—”

  “Save it.” Starr spat nervously over the rail and watched Hawk disappear down the sloop’s companionway. “The less I know about people I might have to plug, the better.”

  “We’re sailors, the same as you!” Stevens breathed the words out in a frightened whisper and then was quiet.

  Aboard Seascape, Hawk eased himself down into a foot of water and floating debris.

  The salon and galley were dark and cold, with no effort having been made to clean up or restore the comforts of light and heat. He turned one of the stove burners on until he heard the hiss of escaping fuel, then turned it off again. It wasn’t empty.

  There was a heavy odor of cigarette smoke, and as he moved through the dark corridor, he began to feel the overpowering urge to leave. “Mrs. Stevens?” he spoke the name before he opened the first cabin door.

  It was empty, with only a black duffel bag swinging slowly back and forth on a nearby hook to signify that it had been occupied.

  “In here!” A woman’s voice called from the forward cabin.

  The door opened before he had time to turn the handle.

  An older blonde-haired woman stood there, dressed in blue foul-weather gear and black gloves. Her hair, pulled back into a once fashionable knot at the back of her neck, was now damp and coming undone. Her face showed the strains of cold and stress.

  “Jenny’s in the forward berth.” She motioned him inside. “Maybe you can help?”

  Hawk bent down to draw back the blankets. It was difficult to see well in the meager light that filtered in through the porthole, but he could tell the young woman was unconscious. He brushed back a tangled mass of dark hair to lay a hand on her forehead.

  It was cold.

  “All right, what the devil’s going on here?” His hand moved instinctively to feel for a pulse at her throat. “This girl’s dead.”

  He heard the cabin door snap shut behind him and then the click of a lock. He reached to open the porthole and shout a warning, but it had been tightened down with a tool and would take a tool to loosen it. It faced the open sea and not Pandora, so he quickly looked for something to break it out with, yelling, “Shoot him, Starr—shoot!”

  “He’s asking for the medicine box. Could somebody please get it for him?”

  Dee couldn’t see the woman but heard the request from below and with a sigh of relief, headed for Hawk’s cabin to retrieve the medicine box. Just as she opened the door, she heard scuffling on the decks above. Seconds later, she caught the unbelievable sight of Starr’s body tumbling past the stern windows and splashing into the water, right in front of her.

  She froze. One, two, three seconds… before she could overcome the shock enough to turn and race back to the radio, grab the mike and press down. “Mayday—mayday—mayday! White Fox, this is Pandora. White Fox, this is Pandora, do you—”

  “Put it down, Miss Parker,” said a familiar voice. “Move away from the radio and sit down.”

  Dee turned and found herself face-to-face with the woman from the other boat, whom she now recognized as the head nurse from the sixth floor at Wyngate.

  She was holding a gun and motioned with it toward the settee. “Where is the journal?”

  “What have you done?” Dee’s voice shook with emotion.

  “Leveled the playing field, obviously. Your friends are”—she withdrew a cigarette and lighter from her pocket with her free hand and paused long enough to light it with a practiced ease—”lost at sea, I’m afraid. So I suggest you be sensible and cooperate.”

  33

  Intercept

  “The doctor looked clever and I had not one hope of deceiving him.” ~ Nellie Bly

  The words fell on Dee like a crushing weight, and she suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Then the hatchway darkened for a moment as Stevens came down.

  “We’re all set.” He unbuttoned his jacket and threw back the hood to reveal close trimmed gray hair. “Our things are aboard and we’ve cast off the other boat.”

  Dee recognized him immediately as the older gentleman she had seen several times in San Francisco. But the woman he was always with had been gray-haired, not this nurse she would have recognized immediately.

  “Bring the medical case down,” the woman replied, “we haven’t much time.”

  “So. This is the notorious D.J. Parker.” He looked Dee over with a cold calculated scrutiny. “I am Dr. Eric Von Hayden, young lady. The latest victim of your poison pen.”

  Dee couldn’t help the sudden gasp as she recognized the name of the head surgeon at Wyngate, who had received the full brunt of her accusations, in the final installment of her series. She had never actually seen him.

  “She doesn’t look anything like Jennifer.” He studied her as if she were an object instead of a person. “But with a head
injury we might be able to get by.”

  The name triggered the memory of the young aide in the elevator, and the smell of night-blooming jasmine. Dee realized her intuition had been right, and the girl must have been working with them all along. From the very beginning. Then a thought flashed through her mind that Peterson could have been collaborating with them, too, for all she knew. And now she had dragged her friends (and her husband) into it all—to be killed and tossed into that deep, cold sea.

  “We’ve got to do more than get by, Eric!” the woman snapped, revealing the telltale signs that her nerves were not as cool and controlled as they had first seemed. “Nothing must seem out of place when we’re boarded!”

  “Calm down, Anna,” he replied. “We’ve faced worse. You’re just tired.”

  “It’s that horrid storm!” She blew smoke out as she sighed. “This whole set back. As soon as we get underway, I’ll—”

  “Turn this boat around!” Dee cried out against the casual, mind-numbing chatter. “Go back and get them.”

  “Take off your jacket, Miss Parker,” The nurse ground her cigarette out in the galley sink. “And roll up your…”

  “If you want the journal…” Dee glanced after the retreating back of Dr. Von Hayden as he climbed out of the companionway and up on deck again. “Then you turn this boat around. Otherwise, you’ll never lay your eyes on it.”

  “We’ll see. We have a little something that will make sure you cooperate with us. And we will have that journal, Miss Parker. Probably in less than ten—”

  Dee darted toward the aft cabin, and the gun went off. It sounded like a cheap firecracker. But the telling thud of the bullet into the bulkhead just as she slipped into the passageway was real enough. She raced into Hawk’s cabin and slammed the door, only to realize there was no lock on it, so she ran for the adjoining bathroom.

  Only a half-louvered door separated the small room from the main cabin, and Dee was horrified to find there was no lock on that one, either. The best she could do was wedge herself between the solid half of the door and the commode, stay low to the floor, and pray she could avoid any flying bullets that came shattering through the louvers.