Chapter Thirteen
Sebastian Shaw
It wouldn’t be long until we reached the coastal town, just as it wouldn’t be long until the growing ominous gray clouds above roared into a thunderstorm. If, on the slimmest of chances, Amanda was somehow right, and somehow the next clue would be found at the lighthouse, then we were running out of daylight.
I put my finger in my collar again and pulled my shirt away from my neck. I was sweating something chronic here; the heat had been on full bore for the last half hour. Though I wanted to turn it off and open a window, I noted Amanda was still huddled, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looked cold, so I kept them on, because maybe I wasn’t that much of a bastard after all.
We spent the next 20 minutes in complete silence. Soon the road before us opened up and a clear view of the coastal town opened out below, the headland visible beyond, a small white and red line indicating the lighthouse.
Though my first choice would have been to drive to the site where the scales had been manufactured, I decided to go to the lighthouse. We had half an hour before the heavens opened up and things got wet and rumbly. While it wouldn’t bother me to work in the rain, I wasn’t entirely sure I could do that to Amanda, not after what she been through today.
It took us less than 10 minutes to negotiate the narrow road up past the town to the headland, and we hardly passed any vehicles on the way. As we drew closer and closer to the coast, the road on my right dropping off to the sea below, I couldn’t help but notice how choppy the waves were getting. With the promise of a storm brewing, and the wind whipping up, pushing the car as I drove, the sea below was getting ever more violent. That was another fact against us: not only were we running out of light here, but lighthouses were built to resist storms, people weren’t so much. If the next clue was buried at the point where the shadow crossed the light (notwithstanding that that could be any point on the circumference surrounding the lighthouse), then I didn’t want to be digging during a freaking storm.
Amanda had her face turned toward the sky above, her lips opened slightly, her eyes blinking occasionally as they fixed up at the racing clouds. She looked cold, she looked thirsty, she looked tired, and she didn’t look as if she was prepared to go digging for a clue at a lighthouse in a storm.
Not for the first time I checked my rear-vision mirror, twisting around in my seat to ensure I got a full view of the road both in front and behind. So far I’d seen precious few vehicles and none that piqued my interest or elicited any concern. This was a good thing, because I didn’t need more company. I could imagine battling a crew of criminals in a lighthouse as a vicious storm whipped up waves on either side. I could imagine what would happen to Amanda in such a situation, too. She would either drown, be captured, be shot, or worse. Dammit if I hadn’t promised to keep her safe.
As we neared the lighthouse, I wanted to turn back toward town. As far as I could tell, no one had followed us and no one should know where we were. It meant that I could book us into a hotel for the night and we should be fine. Amanda could get her shower, get her meal, and get a soft bed for the night. And I could jolly well get a beer.
She picked up the closer we got to the lighthouse, her shoulders angling toward the window, her cheeks pressed against it as she tried to get the best view of the building.
I’d seen my fair share of lighthouses over the years, not because I was an aficionado or anything, but because I’d been to many places and plenty of coasts. It was always popular to bury your treasure on the coast. Probably because it was the first point of contact with land after lengthy sea voyages, and also the point at which sunken treasure might wash ashore after a storm.
The lighthouse before us was built into the rock behind it. The first two-thirds of the tower looked as if it almost grew organically from the cliff face itself; being made from the same light-colored stone. In familiar style, reinforced windows appeared along the length of the tower, spiraling around so they could match the internal staircase that spiraled around inside, leading to the powerful lamps above.
Though the clouds were gathering faster and faster, there was still enough light that the lighthouse cast a shadow, and I had to admit my eyes were drawn to it with keen interest. Though I honestly didn’t think that any of this would work and that this wasn’t the real solution to the clue, I couldn’t deny the tingle of exhilaration that jumped across the back of my arms and down my back. Dammit if I wasn’t a treasure hunter, and dammit if I didn’t love my job.
These days most lighthouses were automated, and I was thankful not to see a car as I pulled up on the bare gravel parking area on the cliff above the lighthouse. There was a serious rail that ran around the edge of the cliff, splitting only at one point as it led onto stairs that descended down the side of the cliff and onto the wide stone ledge that led around the bottom of the lighthouse, a rusted green, copper colored door visible at the base of the building below. The stairs that led down the side of the cliff looked sturdy; massive metal bolts securing them to the rock.
I turned off the engine, this time pulling the handbrake on; while I had to admit that we might require a quick getaway, I didn’t want to see my car roll off the side of a cliff and into the sea.
I got out of the car, face turning to the sky above, those clouds racing ever quicker.
Amanda got out too, and I watched her wince, pain obvious as she put weight on her feet.
I turned, shook my head, and motioned with my hand back to the car. “You can stay in the car.”
“I know I can stay in the car,” she said as she straightened her back, “Just as I know I can get out of the car and join you in trying to solve this clue.”
I didn’t bother repeating myself; it seemed as though she had made her mind up. Though she winced with every step she took on the hard and rough stone of the parking area, I turned away. I considered taking off my own shoes and offering them to her, but I could plainly see that I was a few sizes larger, and I didn’t want her to trip while she was walking down the stairs and fall into the raging sea below.
Then I remembered something. Damn, I had a pair of high heels in my boot, and no, they were not mine. Let’s just say they were left over from a one night stand.
I rushed to the boot, searching around my junk until I found them. I had intended to drop them off at the owner’s office – a fiery redhead who had been ridiculously good-looking. With one thing and another, mostly running into Amanda Stanton and trying to secure the Stargazers before every criminal in the world managed to beat me to them, I hadn’t managed to drop the heels off. When I produced them triumphantly from my boot, you should have seen the look on Amanda’s face. Her chin dimpled with amusement as she took a quick look at the heels then down at my feet.
“They aren’t mine,” I said, voice too forceful. “They are from a one night stand,” I clarified.
The look on her face didn’t improve. She crinkled her nose in disgust.
“Look, if you want to come along, you’re going to need some shoes, and this is all I’ve got.” I dangled them in one hand.
She didn’t look pleased, and she still looked insulted from the one-night-stand comment, if insulted was the right word. But she limped over and took them from me, turning them over in her hands.
“Do they pass?” I said, voice sarcastic.
“They will do, not too high that I’ll break my neck going down the stairs.” She checked the thick and not-too-high heel with her hands, trying to pull it apart as if she was testing the strength. She shrugged, put one hand on the car to support herself, and wriggled into them.
I tried not to watch, though she was showing an appreciable amount of leg from the slit in her skirt; despite my nature, it didn’t seem right. So I turned, played with my jaw, and took the opportunity to survey the road. It was a one-way road that terminated at the small area I’d parked in. The only way out was along the way I’d come in. It meant it was fantastic to see oncoming traffic, and bad if we’d to
get away, because if someone was blocking the road further up and was waiting for us, there was no way past. Not for the first time, I got the distinct feeling that the best thing to do was to get the hell out of here and find a hotel to stay in for the night.
Something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the fact this clue of Amanda’s was shaky, or maybe it was more. I’d been in this business long enough to realize you had to trust your gut, even though your gut didn’t speak in easy-to-understand, full sentences. Speaking of guts, Amanda’s stomach took the opportunity to rumble, and she clutched a hand to it, looking embarrassed.
She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and while Elizabeth’s breakfasts were massive, that had been a long time ago. She wouldn’t have drunk anything either. She kept swallowing uncomfortably, even patting a hand to her throat.
“Let’s get it over with as quick as we can,” I mumbled.
She walked away from the car, and though she was slow, and had an obvious limp, she managed to stay upright and stable. Rather than pay attention to her injuries, she took the opportunity to stare across at the lighthouse. Playing with her lips, she walked closer to the rails, latching her hands onto them as she leaned forward and tried to track the path of the shadow.
“Do you think the lighthouse is open?” she asked.
No, I didn’t. You didn’t leave a lighthouse unlocked, unless you had a big butch lighthouse operator who lived there. The thing about tall abandoned buildings was that every kid in the local district would find some way to vandalize them.
Amanda, one hand on the railing, moved the other around, her fingers drawing a circle in the air. It was obvious she was trying to track where the probable shadow would move and where the light from the flood lamps could cross it.
I stared at a section of the cliff face below us, right near the railing. The railings, though sturdy, looked old. Even if they’d been replaced once or twice since the lighthouse itself had been built, the section of cliff they were dug into looked as if it hadn’t changed.
I walked over to the top of the steps, teeth grating as something distinct caught my eye. With a quick glance across to the lighthouse, I realized that the thing catching my eye happened to be in direct line of the lighthouse, both in line with its shadow and with one of the windows its powerful lamps shone through.
Without a word, I took to the stairs, feet dancing out in front of me, metal grating ringing from the impact of my steps.
Amanda asked what I was doing, even came to follow me, but I was too focused to answer. I didn’t want to lose sight of what I’d seen: that glint of metal near the stairs.
I stopped, dropping to my knees and latching a hand onto the railing and pulling myself out from the steps until I was leaning as far from them as my arms could manage. To my left, just in reach, was a metal trinket. It would have been innocuous was it not for the fact it was lodged into the stone, a crack having been formed in the rock by some fashion, and the metal trinket being shoved tightly down it.
I leaned out as far as I could until my fingers brushed against it.
Amanda stopped several steps above me, both hands on the railing, her body pressed into it, her face tense as she watched me. She didn’t ask what I was doing; apparently it was obvious. When I managed to latch my fingers over the trinket and began to pull, I recognized it was an impossible task to yank it out of a stone. I gave it my best shot, grunting all the time, but it didn’t work.
I drew myself back in, swearing forcefully.
Amanda stepped down, hovering close to me.
I straightened up, cracked my shoulders, and shook my head.
Amanda grabbed the railing and pressed against it as far as she could, obviously trying to get a better view of the trinket. “Do you think that’s it?”
No, I honestly didn’t. It had caught my eye, yes, and technically it was in a place where the shadow met the light. That didn’t mean it was our next clue. It was just a shiny trinket that had managed to catch my attention, but god dammit if I wasn’t a treasure hunter; when I saw shiny, I tended to move heaven and earth to get to it.
“You know, I think I might be able to reach it.” She stood up on the step above, grabbing the railing with both hands and leaning forward.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I said, stepping in.
She’d had a big day, and just like you weren’t meant to drive heavy machinery when you were drowsy, you sure as hell were not meant to lean over railings on a cliff when you were dead fatigued.
“Do something useful, and hold my arm,” she said as she brought one leg up and tried to haul herself over the railing.
“No, you don’t,” I snapped, “Get back over here.”
It was too late; she’d already managed to climb over the railing, still holding on with both hands, one foot on the edge of a step, one wedged onto a tiny rock ledge.
“Amanda,” I snapped, voice even angrier, “Get back here.” I moved in to grab her, to secure an arm around her and to latch my free hand onto the railing to ensure she couldn’t fall. As I did she let go of the railing with one hand, using the other to span the gap and grab hold of the trinket. It was the most precarious of positions, and I had to say my heart beat frantically seeing it.
“Amanda.” I latched one hand onto the railing. I put my other arm flat against her forearm as she held the railing, securing it in place with perhaps the most determined grip I’d ever mustered.
“It will be fine,” she said, voice shaky as she tried to yank at the trinket sunk into the rock.
“No, it won’t be fine. Now get the fuck back here.” Keeping my arm where it was, I pressed into the railing further, letting go of it with my other hand and leaning out to grab hold of the back of her skirt.
She fidgeted but kept her stance, and kept trying to yank the object free.
“Amanda.”
There was a monumental clap of thunder from above, accompanied by a massive flash and, you guessed it, the powerful drive of rain.
Neither of us was expecting it, and though Amanda only tensed, flinching a fraction at the surprising sound, it was enough to see her footing slip.
I launched against the railing, grabbing her arm and skirt as I tried to yank her backward.
Though she tumbled down the rocks, her shoes sliding and scampering wildly against the rough stone, I managed to secure her in place, somehow wrapping my arms around her waist, though I dangled half over the railing myself.
Her breath was sudden and shallow, her diaphragm pressing up against my arm in puffs and spurts. Dammit if I couldn’t feel her heartbeat reverberate through my arm as it pressed so closely to her chest.
She hadn’t even screamed, though now she started to whine, somewhat like one of those old klaxons from World War II that warned people of air raids.
I pulled her back in until I had her back secured against the railing, but before I could try and pull her back over, she crossed one of her arms over, grabbed the railing, turned and faced me. She clambered over herself, despite the fact I hardly wanted to let go of her. She somehow wriggled free, and before I knew it, jumped back over the railing and stood beside me, pressing her back into the metal, taking several massive breaths.
I shook my head, it was literally the only thing I could do.
She offered me an awkward, toothy grin. “Thanks.”
I kept shaking my head. This girl was crazy.
The rain began to drive down harder now. I was already sopping wet, and I watched as rivulets ran fast down Amanda’s face, pooling off her chin and dribbling down her neck.
She shivered, drawing her shoulders in and shuddering, because hell it had gotten cold.
Blinking hard and trying to hide under my eyebrows as I attempted to stare through the driving rain, I turned back toward the object still embedded in the rock. That would be when Amanda thrust a hand in front of my face, a small metal chain dangling there. Brow clicking down, lips pulling apart, I grabbed it from her, somewhat like an excited chil
d grabbing a cookie from the cookie jar.
Even through the storm whipping around us, I managed to bring the chain right up to my face, brushing a finger over the surface of the pendant at the end. I couldn’t make out any writing on it, not in this light.
I looked up to see Amanda walking down the stairs.
“Amanda?” I had no idea whether she could hear me over the driving force of the gale and the thunderous sound of the rain as it drove into the metal gangway we walked on.
She didn’t stop; she kept walking down the stairs, head held at a curious angle.
“Amanda?” Pocketing the trinket, I went after her.
The clouds above were so damn gray it was getting almost pitch black out here. The crashing wild waves below as they roared up and broke against the side of the lighthouse and the cliff didn’t help things at all. They gave this situation more of a dangerous feel, and I didn’t need any more danger today. I was damn certain that Amanda didn’t either. Several weeks ago she would have been an ordinary girl, and ordinary girls do not spend their days being shot at by criminals outside of libraries, being chased through forests by soldiers, and spending their evenings trying to get into lighthouses in raging storms.
So I picked up my pace, and I had to admit it wasn’t the thought of how cold my neck had become from the river of water rushing down my back, over my head, down my arms, and soaking my body in a chill, frigid wash. Though I was pretty sure I was still a bastard, I couldn’t help but want to get out of the rain for Amanda’s sake. Ordinary girls like her couldn’t hack situations like this; they weren’t made for it. She was probably the kind of girl who spent all of her nights at home with a cat on her lap, some inane romance novel in hand, with a plate of home-baked cookies beside her. She was definitely not the kind of girl who was used to guns, treasure, wild weather, and wall-to-wall danger. So yeah, it was my prerogative and my duty to get her out of here. Even if it was to stave off the screaming and whining I knew would happen later.
As I rushed down to get to Amanda before the crazy girl could slip on the steps and tumble into the raging sea below, I bloody well saw something. Out in the surf, not too far from the lighthouse, was a light, and it obviously belonged to some ship. We weren’t talking an oil tanker here, or a fishing ship, or even a yacht too damn stupid not to berth before a storm. No, because where this thing was, it was moving fast, damn fast toward the lighthouse.
I swore, and I swore hard and loud, but not loud enough to make it over the cacophony of the waves and wind.
I ran toward her, keeping a hand hovering over the rail, not wanting to slip, collect into her back, and push the both of us into the sea below. I caught up with her, grabbed her arm unceremoniously, and pulled her back.
“Hey, what are you doing?” she screamed at me, but she didn’t look that angry, she was obviously trying to be heard over the gale, the rain, and the waves.
“We need to get back to the car,” I shouted back, never letting go of her arm.
“There’s a light out there.” She pointed toward the light narrowing in on the lighthouse.
When I glanced in the direction she was pointing, to confirm it was still there, it wasn’t.
Fuck.
Amanda whipped her head around too, apparently searching this way and that for the light, and she sucked in a surprised breath that even I could make out over the gale as she clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, I think there was a ship out there, god, has it sunk? We have to call the authorities.”
Oh no we didn’t. I was 100% sure that while there’d been a ship out there, it hadn’t sunk, and it hadn’t been an ordinary ship at that. I tugged on her arm and tried to pull her back. “We have to get back to the car, Amanda, we have to move.”
“Shouldn’t we go and check—”
“Amanda. Trust me, there’s no one out there who’s in trouble,” I screamed back, “Except for us.”
She obviously didn’t understand, and with the acute trouble I was having trying to be heard over the storm, I didn’t have the ability to tell her. It was pretty simple: the light she’d seen hadn’t belonged to some simple fishing ship or some brave and stupid pleasure cruiser. It had been fast, and it had been brave enough to head straight toward a rocky coast in a wild storm, apparently unaffected by the chop of the waves. Yeah, I’d been in this business long enough to know an experimental vessel when I saw one. I had damn well been in this business long enough to know that with the Stargazer Globes on the line, every army, every mercenary unit, every crime lord would try everything they could to get their hands on them. Yes, that meant cracking out the highly-sophisticated boats, helicopters, spy satellites, weapons; we weren’t playing with boy scouts here.
“But,” Amanda began to protest.
I kept scanning the horizon as I latched my hand onto her wrist and started to pull her up the gangway. It wasn’t as if there was any chance of me seeing anything considering how dark it was and how driving and complete the rain was around me, but I kept trying anyway. I knew they were out there, somewhere, probably crawling up the freaking cliff beside us. Who they were, well I didn’t know. I did know one thing – they would be after Amanda, and through her, the Stargazers.
Not for the first time, and not for the last, I started to berate myself over how much of a bastard I was for not dropping her off at the authorities when I’d had the chance. While she’d been extremely useful, and I didn’t want to give up on her, the longer she was with me and the longer she wasn’t in the protective custody of Maratova, the more danger she was in.
Amanda pulled back on her arm. “Where are we going? What’s going on?” she kept asking.
“Anywhere but here,” I answered as loudly as I could.
Though she resisted for another moment, she slackened her arm, but rather than let me pull her along, she began to run in her own right, despite the fact she was in heels and despite the fact the gangway was wet and slippery.
Perhaps I’d underestimated her. As that treacherous thought wound its way around my cerebellum, a fucking bullet ricocheted off the step above me, slamming to the side and lodging itself into the cliff on my left, flakes of rock exploding from the impact.
Amanda tensed, pulling back automatically, grabbing with both hands at the rails and crumpling down until she was on her haunches. I threw myself down on the steps, as another bullet zinged past me.
God dammit, we were obviously too late. I didn’t have my gun on me, for some stupid reason I’d left it in the back of my car, erroneously assuming that nobody was following us. Well wasn’t that about the stupidest idea I had ever had, because clearly someone was following us.
I felt the metal stairs shake as the weight strain on them changed. Somewhere, whether it was above or below, someone had stepped onto the gangway. Gritting my teeth, I raised my head. The one thing I could be thankful for was how damn hard it was to see through the driving rain and dark, and that was probably the only reason I hadn’t been shot yet.
I had zero idea of who was out there and how many of them there were, but sure as hell I knew they were armed and they weren’t frightened to start a fight.
We had two options: try to make it back to the car or head back toward the lighthouse. I didn’t need to turn around to be able to tell that the waves were so wild and violent that they were crashing up and over the railing that ran all the way round the bottom of the lighthouse and led to the single door below. Hell, and it would be locked. In other words, heading to the lighthouse was suicide.
As I decided to make a run for the car, I felt more shakes through the stairs, and they were coming from above me. There was no doubt there was somebody on the gangway and that they were walking down toward us. Well, I say walking, I mean stalking; that peculiar quick, tensed movement that you get when you’re tracking prey.
I didn’t think. I stood up, whirled around, grabbed Amanda as she still sat huddled against the railing, and pulled her downstairs. This time she didn’t resist at all, and
I felt my grip on her slacken as she matched pace beside me. If there was one thing Amanda could do, it was run away.
She wasn’t screaming either, which was another thing I had to admit about her; apart from the occasional lungful of air she’d given me last night at her great-uncle’s manor, Amanda couldn’t be classed as the damsel in distress from a B-grade ‘50s flick. While she was obviously out of her depth here and had never faced a situation as dangerous and perilous as this before, she was hardly hanging off my arm and waiting for me to protect her from all the bad guys.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but now wasn’t the time to reflect upon it.
The wind took that opportunity to blow even harder, and I was forced off my feet as a gust slammed into me. As I swayed on my feet, Amanda turned her side to the brunt of the wind, ducked down, grabbed the railing, and kept running. Seriously, it didn’t seem as if there was anything on this green earth that could stop Amanda from trying to get away when she wanted to.
The closer we neared the end of the stairs, the more the intense spray of the waves lashed us. While neither of us was dry, the seawater as it raged and broke against the cliff and rock below wasn’t like the rain; the salt water ran over my face, forcing my eyes to blink in pain, and collecting at my tersely closed lips with a horrible salty tang.
It was suicide. I could see the door below, but our chances of making it there were pretty damn slim. While we might be able to force our way there through the water, what we would do once we got there, I didn’t know. It wasn’t as if I had a crowbar on me or some awesome explosives. And what did I think I would do once I was in the lighthouse? I doubted there was a fine selection of automatic weapons stashed in the kitchen, or a nice thick blast door we could hide behind until the mercenaries got bored and too cold and went home.
The only thing the lighthouse could offer us was the fact it wasn’t out here; there would be less rain, waves, and mercenaries in there. While the rain and waves could be kept at bay, the mercenaries would find a way to get in.
The funny thing about danger was it rarely offered you a safe alternative.
Trouble and Treasure (#1, Trouble and Treasure Series) Page 13
