“So long, Lucky! I’ll drop her off for you out where they found the mother lode!”
Lucky dropped the gun and dove into the water.
∨ Key Lucky ∧
56
Sara
Sara coughed up some seawater when she came to the surface, then looked for the boat. She knew both of her hands were in bad shape, but started swimming towards the boat anyway.
But the boat was moving faster now, and she didn’t have a chance of catching it. Then she saw the Reverend knock Lydia to the deck, pick up Skunk, and toss him overboard.
Sara started waving her arms. Blood was running down her left arm as she screamed.
“Come back here you fucking coward! I’ll rip the heart out of your chest and shove it down your throat!”
The Reverend only glanced in her direction before taking the wheel of the old cruiser. Sara didn’t know if Skunk could swim, so she started that way, trying to spot him each time she came to the top of a wave.
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57
Slip
Slip was getting scratched and bit something terrible. Trying to keep Josephine from throwing herself into the water was like trying to put an angry wildcat into a sack. He’d been yelling at the hysterical young woman to hold still so he could go after Sara himself, but when he saw Lucky and then Skunk go into the water he turned Josephine towards him and slapped her hard across the face.
Instantly the dark-haired beauty stopped struggling and stared at him in shock.
“Josephine! I’ve got to get Sara! Stay here on the dock so you can pull her up when I get her!”
Before she had a chance to argue, Slip ran for the water, tearing off his raincoat just before he jumped.
“Sara!” He couldn’t see her with the waves so bad, so he kept swimming. “Sara!” He looked back at the dock and Josephine was frantically pointing to his left. He turned, and then he saw her.
Sara had Skunk by the hair, but they both kept going under. Slip swam as hard as he could, but he didn’t think he could make it in time. He was still fifty feet from where he’d last seen Sara and Skunk when he saw Lucky had them both and was swimming his way.
∨ Key Lucky ∧
58
Rescue
Slip got his head knocked against the concrete a couple good ones while getting everyone up on the dock, but Sara was the only one with any serious injuries. Josephine showed amazing strength pulling people up onto the dock and then did a quick CPR number on Skunk, who’d swallowed a lot of seawater.
By the time they’d grabbed everything to leave, a few tourists were watching from a safe distance. Slip took charge.
“We need to get out of here before the cops show.” Skunk was still unsteady, but on his feet. Sara held a bloody cloth to her left hand and Josephine was still so wired she looked like a wild animal. “Let’s get to the truck. It’s just a couple of blocks up Whitehead. Josephine, take Skunk and your sister, I’ll be right behind you.”
Josephine put a protective arm around each of her charges and headed for the truck. Lucky stood on the dock looking in the direction the old cruiser had gone. Slip put a hand on his shoulder.
“Come on, partner. There’s nothing we can do here. We need to get a hold of Taco Bob and tell him what happened. Maybe they can catch up with the bastard.”
Lucky turned and faced Slip. “Yes, tell Taco Bob what happened here. I can’t come with you, I’ve put all of you in enough danger as it is.” He smiled just a little. “Besides, I have an idea of my own.” The young treasure pirate gave Slip a strong handshake, turned, and sprinted away.
The rain had stopped, but the wind still blew and the sky still boiled with storm clouds. He’d put his raincoat back on when he got out of the water, so when Slip noticed a couple of tourists still looking his way, he pulled the hat down and hurried after Josephine.
∨ Key Lucky ∧
59
Chase
Taco Bob punched the number again and this time someone answered. He’d tried Sara and Lucky several times already, and even Josephine. It was Josephine’s phone that finally answered.
“Josephine? What’s going on? Did you get Lydia?”
There was stuttering and crying, and then Sara came on the phone. In a few minutes he had the story, and the news was not good. The Reverend now had the treasure as well as Lydia. Skunk was safe after being thrown overboard, but the Wilbur with the Reverend and Lydia still aboard was gone. Then Slip came on.
“We’re at your truck now. He took the Wilbur south, down the shipping channel.”
“Drive the truck down to the south side of the island, see if you can spot ‘em. There’s binoculars in the glove box of the truck.”
“I’m on it. Where are you now?”
“We’re just coming up on Mallory. Shark has this bucket wide open, so if it don’t bust up on the waves we might be able to catch the Wilbur.”
“Right. I’ll call you as soon as we get to the south side.”
The old boat pounded by the Mallory Docks with Shark Hunter at the wheel, Taco Bob and Consuelo on deck, and the Seer up top. All were looking intently into the distance for any sign of the Wilbur. They were almost to Fort Zachery on the southwest point of Key West when Taco Bob’s phone rang.
“We got ‘em, Taco! He’s running west up the Keys about a mile offshore. We’re rolling up to Smathers Beach next, see if we can spot ‘em from there.”
“We’re coming around the fort now. Give me a call if you see anything.”
“I will. Taco, there’s one other thing. The Wilbur didn’t look right, like she might be riding a little low in the waves.”
Taco Bob didn’t need to hear this. It meant the old cruiser was taking on water, and there wasn’t a float switch to turn the bilge pump on. There was another thing nagging at him too – the flashlight he’d gone to get for Skunk wasn’t on the Sandy. It must have already been on the Wilbur, which meant he never needed to leave Skunk by himself in the first place.
“Call me if you see anything from Smathers.”
Taco Bob relayed the information on the Wilbur’s location to Shark Hunter who yelled up at the lookout and pointed. The Seer looked hard to the east as they came around the point, but shook his head when he looked down at them.
They still had an hour before sunset, but it was getting dark early from the solid layer of storm clouds. Taco Bob knew their chances of finding the Wilbur would be next to zero in the dark.
Not to mention those waters were some of the most treacherous in the world. If the Reverend didn’t know what he was doing he could get in trouble mighty fast. The biggest question now was where did the Reverend think he was going?
∨ Key Lucky ∧
60
Lydia
She didn’t have any idea where this crazy reverend was going, and Lydia had no intention of sticking around to find out.
After Skunk went overboard she’d gone limp hoping the Reverend would get careless, and it worked. He must have decided she was out of it and did a sloppy job tying her ankles and hadn’t even bothered with the gag before he threw her in the forward berth. In spite of getting knocked around, Lydia was recovered enough from the gas fumes to work on the rope around her wrists. All those years of practicing magic tricks would be worth it if she could get the ropes off.
But she couldn’t. She swore on Houdini’s grave if she got out of this she’d work on card tricks less and escapes more. Finally she started to make some progress on one of the knots on her wrists, but the Reverend picked that moment to stick his head in the cabin door and see her struggling.
“Settle down in there!” He pointed the big chrome gun at her. She knew he wasn’t crazy enough to take a shot at her with the boat bouncing around so badly, but she was wrong. The bullet hit the side of the boat a foot above her head and blew wood splinters all over her face.
∨ Key Lucky ∧
61
The Reverend
The Reverend
knew where he was going, he had it all worked out. He’d looked at a map back in his room that morning and located a marina in Marathon across the street from the airport. The airport was small but had three convenient car rental agencies to choose from.
And Marathon wouldn’t be that hard to find. It was on the first island after the Seven Mile Bridge. He just hoped he could get there before dark. Not much chance of missing a bridge seven miles long, even in the dark, but the Reverend didn’t have much experience with boats and sure as hell didn’t want to fuck up now. Not with over a million dollars worth of treasure on board. Just take it easy and let The Song sing to him while his thoughts touched briefly on the small woman back at Mallory who’d jumped in the water and tried to climb aboard. What the fuck was that all about?
Looked like more channel markers of some kind a little further out, so the Reverend turned the boat further away from shore. He seriously doubted Lucky would be trying to follow him on land, or any other way, since Lucky should be having other problems by then. Cop problems.
The Reverend had used Lydia’s phone to call the cops while killing time waiting for four o’clock. Too bad he wouldn’t be around to collect the reward for giving up the name and address of one of the people who’d broken into the museum and made off with all that gold and silver. The Reverend looked down at the coins and gold bars on the deck and smiled.
With the wind at his back and following seas the boat wallowed down at the bottom of the bigger swales some, but the storms had cleared the water of nearly all other boats so at least he didn’t have to worry about running into anyone. Slow and steady would do just fine.
The sturdy old cruiser wasn’t fast, but it sure was set up nice. Easy to steer, a full tank of gas, and several pieces of electronic equipment he didn’t know how to operate. And one piece he did know how to operate – a cd player. When the Reverend first saw the cd player he knew things were going his way. And now it was time.
He always carried a very special cd in his pocket. He took it out and put it in the player. It was a loop of The Song – the version where the USC marching band came in with the drums and horns. But before he hit play, he did a quick check of the woman up in the forward berth.
“Settle down in there!” He pointed the gun at her, but she didn’t look scared, so he squeezed off a shot. Looked scared now. Maybe he should go ahead and toss the girl. Or maybe he should keep her to play with. Nah, when he got to Central America he could have a new woman every day if he wanted. He’d toss her before he got to Marathon, let the sharks have some fun.
The Reverend Earl W. Sharkey pushed play and after a few tries got the song in the player in sync with The Song in his head. He held the wheel and threw his head back in rapture. The darkening sky full of swirling clouds and the boat crashing through the waves went with the music to perfection. Tears were streaming down his face from the beauty of the moment and just as the horns came up he closed his eyes. He felt down and was delighted to find his first boner since the terrible torturing at the hands of the bulldog. A second later he saw a flash of white light as his nose exploded. He opened his eyes and gripped the wheel to keep from falling. The woman had hit him in the face with something heavy and jumped overboard.
There was blood all over his shirt and he had double vision from the blow. He thought seriously about turning around and running the bitch over with the boat, but it was dark enough he doubted he’d ever find her in the rough water, so he steered closer to the markers offshore while he tried to clear his head and stop the blood streaming from his nose.
In spite of the shock and pain he had to laugh when he looked down at the deck. Now there were two beer kegs and twice as many coins and gold bars.
He shook his head to clear it and got blood all over everything, but he didn’t care. He was still laughing when he scooped up a few of the coins. He stuck them in his pocket but kept one in his hand. He realized his vision was already clearing when looked at the coin. He laughed long and hard as the music blared and the boat crashed through the waves. He kissed the coin and started to send it down into his pocket with its brothers, but noticed a tiny word on the coin. In the failing light he could just barely make out the word: copy.
He stared at the coin for a long time and only looked up when he noticed one of the markers near the boat. It also had a word written on it: ROCKS.
∨ Key Lucky ∧
62
Time To Go
By the time Lucky got there he was out of breath. While making his way around the bar and heading for the back room, Joey, one of the night bartenders and former marine, grabbed his arm.
“Lucky, hold on a sec. You in some kinda trouble? Cops were in here sniffing around a little while ago, asking about you.”
“No, it’s cool. I got a couple of books overdue at the library, you know how cops are.” But Joey didn’t let go of his arm. He gave the still-wet barback a hard look.
“You don’t mind me saying so, you look like shit.”
“Look, Joey, I just need to get something of mine in back, okay?”
More hard looks before Lucky got his arm back.
“You better not be in any trouble. Ron will kick your ass a good one you aren’t here in the morning.”
“I’ll be here, don’t worry. You got customers.” Lucky pointed at two couples of thirsty Duval Street t-shirt shop bargain-hunters vectoring in on the bar. Joey gave Lucky a hard look to take with him before turning to the tourists.
“What can I get for you folks?”
Into the back room. Say howdy to Doug the barback sitting on a keg reading a motorcycle magazine. Dig out the emergency backpack from behind the ice machine, then take a peek around the doorway to make sure Joey is busy. He is, talking to a couple of guys with cop written all over them. Out the back door.
Lucky had some contingency plans – he knew where the cabbies loitered in case he just needed to get off the street quickly. He’d also memorized the schedule for the ferry to Ft. Myers, and knew a couple of charter boat captains who could probably be persuaded to take a detour if the price was right. But what he really wanted was a boat of his own, and that’s what he’d been working on.
Of course he couldn’t afford a big speedboat, and speedboats aren’t exactly the kind of things people left sitting around with the keys in the ignition. But there were several of the locals who liked to motor over to the bar to show off their boats and have a few drinks. So he’d bought a key-making machine off the internet a few weeks ago.
There were several keys in his backpack. He’d been covertly making copies of keys he’d borrowed off the bar. Each key in the backpack had a tag with a description of the boat it went to. He only needed one, but there were actually two he had keys for moored at the dock.
He jumped in what looked like the fastest of the two and had the engine started and the lines off just before the two cops came out of the bar and started running his way. He gave the big engine some throttle and didn’t look back.
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63
The Wilbur
Taco Bob had been filling Shark Hunter in on the latest as they beat through the stormy seas looking for the Wilbur. The old captain grunted and nodded at the kidnapping account, and showed a spark of interest at the mention of treasure, but what he was most interested in was the college football game blaring away on the boat’s radio.
“I swear, if Miami let’s them damn Gators score on this drive it’s gonna be a long afternoon!”
There was murder in his eyes and the stub of a soggy cigar stuck in his mouth as the craggy old captain yelled over the roar of the boat’s straining engine. He’d already been upset about the game being played a day early for television, and now he had to listen on the radio. “Watch the long ball! They’re gonna goddamnsure pass on this down!” And they did. And scored. The extra point missed, but Shark Hunter was so wrapped up in his screaming tirade eviscerating the Miami coaching staff that he didn’t even notice.
T
he boat rocked enough in the pitching seas Taco Bob had to hold onto the railing to stay upright in the cockpit. He glanced up at the lookout staring into the darkening horizon, then at Consuelo standing next to him on deck gazing out over the water. She hadn’t said much since they’d left the abandoned marina, and looked close to tears.
He instinctively reached an arm out and pulled her close. As soon as her face touched his chest she was sobbing and trembling. He’d never seen her like this before. He held her tight and tried to reassure her that everything would be all right.
When the radio broke for a commercial, Captain Hunter looked up at the Seer.
“It’s getting dark, too dark to see!”
“I can see very well.” Then a few seconds later, pointing, “There’s a boat on the reef with a broken back!”
Everyone looked at the Seer, then in the direction he pointed. Consuelo scrambled up on top of the cabin. “Taco, it’s the Wilbur! She’s going down!”
Shark Hunter brought the boat around towards the reef. “She’s on the rocks! We can’t get too close or we’ll hit ‘em ourselves!”
That’s when Taco Bob saw a light off the port side.
“Captain! There’s a light in the water at ten o’clock!”
“I got it! Man the boat hook and we’ll take a look!”
The light kept going behind the waves but before long they were close enough to see it was a person with a big marine flashlight wearing an orange lifejacket. Consuelo saw who it was first.
“Lydia!”
She didn’t even hesitate, just jumped from the roof of the cabin into the water. She landed only a few feet from her sister and swam to her while Shark Hunter tried to position the boat so he could get them aboard. Consuelo was laughing and crying and hugging Lydia while Taco Bob used the long pole to get them up to the side of the boat. Consuelo finally let go of her sister long enough for Taco Bob and the old man to pull Lydia aboard and get her sitting on the deck. Consuelo came in next and jumped on her sister, hugging and laughing and crying all over again. Shark Hunter went back to the helm and gave Taco Bob a big wink.
Key Lucky Page 13
