Maroon Rising (30 page)

“Nanny!”

I waited until all was quiet to make sure nobody else was there, and then with a deep breath I rushed toward the light coming from a partially cracked door. I pushed the door wide and lit into the room—right into a couch. This ended me up on the floor, which was a jumble of fast food cartons and empty water bottles. In the middle of it all was Nanny, blindfolded, shaking like a mountain flower in a stiff breeze. Pierce had skidded to a stop at the other end of the couch.

“Nanny! It’s me, Buck.”

On my knees, I removed her blindfold.

“Did you figure out my clue?”

I collapsed onto the couch next to her and started laughing while Pierce undid the ropes from her feet and wrists.

“No interest in treasure hunting, huh?” I said.

Wearing the same clothes she’d had on the day she was snatched, she looked rumpled, but her eyes were clear and her smile an incredible relief.

“I just don’t want those bastards to get it,” she said. “I hope you found the treasure.”

My smile answered her question. I threw my arms wide. “Gunner and his goons showed up so we had to leave empty-handed. Haven’t been back, so we don’t know the status.”

The smile left her face. “What are we going to do?”

“I have something in mind. Let’s get out of here before your hosts return with help—or beat us out to the cave.”

S
trawberry Hill once again provided respite, but this time Clemens installed us in the owner’s home behind the spa. After a long shower, a fine Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and a frothy reunion in the master suite, Nanny had succumbed to a deep sleep in my arms. Once my heart had settled, my brain labored into the wee hours over the logistics I’d set in motion. And though I wasn’t a believer, Tarrah’s prediction that somebody would die before this was over didn’t help me sleep.

The morning view of the Blue Mountains was enhanced by the aroma of coffee named for the same range where the beans were grown. Nanny had said her captors, who were always masked, had not hurt her in any way but had shotgunned ganja smoke into her face until, high as a kite, she revealed the details of the cave drawing and the canoes suspended in the trees.

She was upset with herself, but I did my best to assuage her concerns with the fact that so far as we knew, Morgan’s stash remained intact.

“And who would you bet on?” I said. “Jack and Gunner, or me?”

Her face brightened. “You, Buck Reilly. Anytime.”

“Is there anything you can tell me about the men in the masks?” I said. Definitely Jamaican—she was certain of it thanks to their accents and speech. She never sensed any more than three men in the room where she was tied up, and having met Gunner was sure he hadn’t been there.

Nancy Von Merveldt fed us at dawn, and now as the sun cast long shadows over the peaks of the Blue Mountain foothills, the unmistakable loud sound I’d been anticipating cut the air as if tearing it apart. One of the strategic benefits of Strawberry Hill was the helipad built on the edge of the cliff behind the owner’s house. Nanny, Pierce, and I watched Michael Portland’s green helicopter steer for the pad and set down hard.

I grabbed my backpack. Pierce ran ahead, followed by Nanny, then me. Keith was already aboard, and as we lifted from the helipad I spotted Clemens saluting us from the ground. I took that as a positive omen.

The pilot vectored west and we swung around the mountains as we gained altitude. A vast sea of green was bifurcated by the central north-south highway below us, then gave way to the countryside that led to Cockpit Country. I spotted Albert Town and was searching for the small building I’d convalesced in when I felt a squeeze on my arm. Nanny smiled at me. She was a mind reader, all right. I smiled back.

Once in the middle of the conical mountains it felt like I was looking at one of those magic eye pictures—if you squinted just right, a word or a face might appear. I squinted and saw the valley Pierce had marked on a GPS when we were there. I scanned the ground and spotted several ATVs with trailers behind them and men watching us begin our descent.

I used my binoculars when one of them waved to us. Colonel Stanley Grandy. Within a few minutes we were on the ground with our gear and the helicopter was rising into the sky.

The plan for how best to handle extracting the treasure was based on the quantity of material Ray and I had assessed when we discovered the stash. It was too massive for the helicopter or the narrow submersed passage. Stanley had brought in the ATVs with trailers early this morning, and a truck awaited us at the trailhead where we’d last left the Jeep. Pierce, Nanny, and two of the ATV drivers—trusted young men from Moore Town—hiked up and got in position while I found the water source that led into the cave system.

Speed was critical at this point. Our entire operation, from the truck at the trailhead to the ATVs and trailers sitting outside the caves, was totally exposed. Almost certainly Johnny had shared the details I told him with Gunner. And even if he hadn’t, Gunner’s contacts back in Key West would no doubt have told him by now that I wasn’t with Ray on the plane. That being the case, he’d most likely come back here.

No way I could see Gunner expend the effort it would take to find the submerged cave, so he had no way to find the treasure. We just had to get it out before he sniffed
us
out.

With the tripod and pulley system set and anchored into the rock, I switched on my headlamp, snapped the rope into the caribiner on my harness, and placed my legs on both sides of the three-foot-wide black hole.

I smiled at the three men and Nanny, who was still climbing into her harness.

“Don’t forget about me,” I said.

With that, I let my feet slip into the center of the hole and into the stream of cold water, which immediately soaked me. I descended into the blackness, letting rope slide through my gloves as I went. The chute was longer than I expected—I descended maybe six feet before entering the cavern. With over a thousand caves on Jamaica and hundreds of karst hillocks here in Cockpit Country, it was no wonder this treasure had never been found. Had it not been for the carved circles and Jamaican coastline on Henry Morgan’s mantelpiece at Firefly, we’d have never discovered the cave system, much less the hidden chamber. Based on the water pouring through the opening and the pile of rocks below, my guess was that this entry hadn’t even existed when the Maroons hid the treasure here.

I spun in a slow circle. The light on my headlamp circled around the vast enclosure.

Where’s the treasure?

I swallowed—hard.

Had Gunner found the mask? Had someone else—

There! I just hadn’t descended quite enough. When the light caught the heaping mound of glowing metal, I exhaled the breath I’d probably held since the start of the descent. I moved around—it looked gargantuan, even bigger from above. And there were a few canoes Ray and I had missed.

A long exhale made my lips flutter.

“Yes!”

The sound of my voice echoed around the cavern and up through the shaft.

Euphoria had every nerve ending in my body tingling. When I touched down, I unclasped the caribiner and pulled twice on the rope, which promptly disappeared back up the hole through the roof. As arranged, I waited until Nanny joined me in the cavern before I touched anything.

“O
h my God!” Her voice echoed in the chamber as her feet touched down.

“Nothing in the world feels like finding missing treasure—millions of dollars worth of treasure,” I said. “Especially your first time.”

She spun into my arms and pulled me into a tight hug.

“This would have never happened without you.”

“We make a good team,” I said.

She stared up into my eyes a moment, when—clunk—the metal basket we would use to send items back up landed hard on the cavern floor.

“I need to document the mass before we start sending any of it up.” Nanny began walking around the mound, photographing it from multiple angles. “Make it quick,” I said, and a few seconds later she pronounced the job done.

As we loaded basket after basket after basket, I couldn’t help but compare this haul to others I’d discovered. It was a massive cache, maybe the largest I’d ever found. Dozens of gold and silver bars, sacks of silver cobb coins and gold doubloons, a set of twelve gold- and jewel-encrusted goblets—the emeralds and rubies on the goblets had to be five carats apiece. There were also silver-plated ornaments, gold bejeweled crosses—I lost track.

When the last basket was lifted, we stood in the musty chamber, the walls dripping with moisture and our backs aching.

“I feel guilty,” Nanny said.

“Don’t. This isn’t helping anyone down here. Your aspirations are a hell of a lot more noble than what anybody else’s would be—mine included.” I shined my light along the cave wall, above the stack of old canoes. “What’s that?”

Nanny leaned in close to see what my light had illuminated.

“It’s the crest of Henry Morgan.”

“That makes sense.”

“Look at the canoe underneath the crest.” She glanced back at me. “It has ‘Akim’ carved into the bow. Njoni’s father.”

She took a picture of the wall carving and canoe, then I strapped her into the harness and pulled hard on the line.

She pulled me close, kissed me quickly, then rose like an angel, spinning slowly in a circle as she disappeared into the shaft of light and water.

I waited for the rope to be lowered back down.

It didn’t come.

“Pierce!” My voice echoed in the hollow chamber. “Nanny!”

I called again and again, but there was no answer. The bones I’d found in the chimney up in the central cave came to mind.

Son of a bitch!

I
’d been in the cave so long the light on my headlamp was growing dim. I searched around for a way to reach the hole in the roof of the cave, but there was nothing—no way to prop the canoes into a ladder, no way to free-climb. I found myself back at the water-filled tunnel Ray and I had first arrived through.

It was too far to swim with one breath, in the dark.

But there was no choice.

They wouldn’t leave me here.

But they’d left me here.

I took three deep breaths to expand my lungs and lowered myself into the water. I shivered—from the cold, or the very real possibility that I might not make it through the long, pitch-black tunnel.

I tried to picture the course Ray and I had taken. Couldn’t recall how far it had been, but it seemed endless. I closed my eyes and tried to approximate the distance to where the tunnel turned up toward the main cave—maybe twenty feet through the narrow jagged rock chute. I opened my eyes knowing it was time to move.

My light no longer had the strength to penetrate the water and it wasn’t waterproof, so I took it off and tossed it aside.

I took one last breath, submerged, and started pulling myself through the cold, dark water, counting as I went. My body shook from the chill and I scraped my shoulder against rock. I glanced back—the dim light from the chamber was fading …

MOVE!

My head struck rock. My lungs burned.

I pulled myself forward using the sharp edges on the rocky bottom of the tunnel into the blackness. Where was the damn turn up?