Clive Cussler - Pirate

“For what?”

“You’re the one who was kidnapped. It must have been horrible what happened to you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m only glad that Mr. and Mrs. Fargo found me right away.”

“Yes. Very lucky.”

“The phone?” Remi asked Larayne. “We should probably call the sheriff’s office. They’re going to want to know if you’re okay.”

“There’s a couple of portable handsets around. Should be one in the hallway by the stairs.”

Sam left to find it. He was speaking with the dispatcher when he returned to the kitchen. “Yes,” he said into the phone. “I understand. We’ll be here.”

He disconnected, then set the phone on the counter. “They’re sending someone from investigations out here.”

Bree nodded, and Remi asked, “What about the suspects? Any word on if they caught them?”

“Maybe we’ll find out more when the investigator gets here.”

Larayne eyed the vodka bottle, then asked Sam, “Why are they sending them here?”

“The police? To take our statements and to gather evidence.”

She seemed shocked at his answer. “What sort of evidence?”

“Prints, I expect.”

Larayne downed her vodka, then set the glass on the counter. “What a nightmare this has turned out to be.”

Bree reached out and grasped her cousin’s hand. “They’ll find who did this. Maybe they even have them now.”

Her cousin’s response was to pour more vodka into her glass. Not that Remi could blame her. After all, she’d just lost her father, and now this. Remi pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, saying, “Maybe we should all sit down. Try to relax.”

“Good idea,” Larayne said, bringing the bottle with her. “Bree, get yourself a glass and join me.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. They almost killed you. Have a shot.”

Bree filled a glass with water instead, then took a seat next to her cousin. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff.”

“It grows on you,” Larayne said, taking a long sip.

Remi, worried that the woman would be in no condition to speak to the police by the time they showed up, decided it couldn’t hurt to ask a few questions of her own. “I hope you don’t mind my prying, but what exactly is going on here?”

Larayne shook her head. “I wish I knew.”

“Something to do with your father’s map book?”

Larayne exchanged glances with Bree. “Maybe if my father had sold it to the buyer I found, none of this would have happened.”

Remi asked, “You found him a buyer?”

“I did,” Larayne said. “Someone who was willing to pay way more than he could have gotten for that book.”

“Who?” Remi asked, trying to ignore Sam’s pacing as he went from window to window, then down the hall to the front of the house.

“I don’t remember his name.”

“I do,” Bree said. “Someone named Charles Avery.”

“Whoever.” Larayne eyed her drink. “All I know is, my father suddenly backed out and he wouldn’t say why.”

“He was worried,” Bree replied. “He’d received those phone calls asking about his copy. And then that strange visit from someone asking about it. I think it was the timing of it all.”

Sam had returned to the kitchen and was peering out the window down the long drive. “Timing?” he asked, turning toward them.

Bree nodded. “My uncle learned about the theft of the endpapers from other first edition copies. I think he started to suspect that someone might be trying to target him for the same reason.”

“Reasonable assumption,” Sam said. “How was it we became involved?”

“When I started working for your wife, I told him about the Fargo Foundation and the charities that benefited from your treasure hunting. That’s when he suggested that if his book could go to someone like the two of you, it would take a great weight off his shoulders.”

“That explains it,” Larayne said, sounding none too happy. “He wouldn’t sell to the collector because he was looking to sell it to you.”

Remi thought about the circumstances leading to her visit at the store, telling Bree, “He didn’t seem to be expecting us when we arrived.”

“Sorry about that,” Bree replied. “I called the morning you left for San Francisco, but he was so distracted when I told him you were coming. He’d received another call, this one threatening.” She gave an apologetic smile. “I guess I thought once the book was out of his store that everything would be fine.”

“Right,” Larayne said. “And now he’s dead.”

Bree laid her hand on top of her cousin’s. “I tried to go see him that night after I found out about the robbery.” Her eyes shimmered. “I’m so sorry. I never made it. They ran me off the road on the way to the airport. Next thing I knew, I ended up here at Larayne’s.” She brushed the tears from her cheeks, trying to smile at Remi. “They said they were going to kill us if we didn’t get the book. I thought they meant it. I would never have—”

“Bree,” Remi said. “I don’t doubt for an instant that you did what you had to do.”

Sam started pacing past each window again, looking out. And each time he neared them, both Bree and Larayne turned worried glances his way. Remi smiled at the two women and stood. “I think I’ll get a glass of water.”

She walked over to the cupboard, found a glass, then filled it, moving to Sam’s side. “What are you doing? You’re making them nervous.”

He turned his back to the women, lowering his voice. “With only one gun, we’re easy targets out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Lightning flashed so brilliant, it lit the kitchen, followed by the rumbling of thunder overhead that shook the windows. Bree’s hand flew to her chest. When the handset on the table rang right after that, the cousins stared at it in shock.

Larayne finally reached for it, answering, “Hello?… Hello?” She disconnected and dropped it to the table. “Maybe it was a wrong number.”

Remi and Sam looked at each other. Apparently he was thinking the same thing she was. The bad guys were calling to see if they’d returned to the house. Remi checked the back door to make sure it was locked.

Sam drew his gun, then turned to Larayne and asked, “Do you have any other weapons in the house?”

Every creak in the house seemed magnified. The rain lashed against the windows, the crack of thunder made Bree and Larayne jump.

The police were just a few minutes away, but Sam wasn’t about to relax until they arrived. The odd phone call had rattled the two women, and while it could have been a coincidence, the timing set everyone’s nerves on edge.

Armed with a rusty shotgun that belonged to Larayne’s late husband, Sam gave Remi his revolver, then had everyone sit in the front room while he stood where he could see out the window to the road beyond.

Remi was doing a great job keeping their minds off the interminable wait by peppering them with questions about the map book. And when Larayne was ready to flee the house — an idea that Sam was against — Remi distracted her by asking, “Why is everyone after this book?”

Larayne looked at Bree, saying, “I–I heard them talking about it. These — these people who showed up at my house. It was right before they brought Bree here. Before they forced her to call you about sending us the book.”

“What exactly did they say?”

“That once they got this map from it, they’d have everything they needed to find the key. If it was there, they’d get their money and they’d let me go.”

Bree nodded. “That’s what they told me, too. That they were going to let us go when they got the book and their money. But they were going to have to find the key somewhere. Honestly, my heart was beating so fast, I may have misunderstood.”