Clive Cussler - Pirate

“The book,” Remi said to Larayne. “What made them think it was the book?”

“Bree knows more than I do about that.”

Clearly, Sam thought, they were missing some important detail regarding this book’s history. And the one man who might know what that could be was now dead. “What did your uncle have to say about it?”

“He said more research needed to be done. He was in the midst of doing that when Larayne first approached him about selling the book to Charles Avery.”

Charles Avery… The name seemed familiar to Sam, but he couldn’t place why. There were other factors that bothered him as well. The timing and location of this kidnapping. Why drag Bree all the way across the nation to get this book? Maybe it had more to do with the isolation of Larayne’s house, but that was another point that bothered him. “Larayne,” he said. “Is there any reason you can think of that you were singled out for this?”

“Of course. My father owned the book.”

“Beyond that, even. Did you speak with this Charles Avery personally?”

“I’ve never met him. He sent someone here to the house.”

“Has anyone else come to the house or contacted you about the book?”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“I just think it’s strange that all this happened here, of all places.”

“You don’t think that Charles Avery’s behind this?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. But it’s worth looking into.”

Larayne leaned back in her chair, then glanced at Bree. “Couldn’t it have been someone else that my father may have contacted? You were closer to him, Bree. Did he say anything to you?”

“Not about anyone in particular. He did mention that he’d found something. But he said he wanted to check into it some more.”

Sam looked out the window, saw headlights in the distance coming their direction. He glanced at Bree, then back out the window. “When was this?”

“Around the time those articles came out about the theft of the endpapers from other first editions.” She looked down at the water glass in her hand, turning it in her fingers. “But then the robbery happened, and—” She turned an apologetic smile toward Remi, saying, “I never meant for any of this to happen. Not to you. I would never have mentioned the book to you if I’d known. I swear.”

“Do not,” Remi said, “blame yourself for what happened.”

The detective arrived and took their statements. He seemed particularly interested in the man Sam had shot. Probably because the body was gone by the time they got to the warehouse. “You’re sure you shot someone?” he asked Sam.

“Positive.”

“Whoever’s involved in this didn’t want him identified.”

In the midst of all this, a CSI arrived, and Larayne, more nervous than ever, sipped at her vodka while she watched the woman dusting for prints. In Remi’s opinion, Larayne had had far too much to drink — not that anyone could blame her.

It was nearly five in the evening when the detective completed his investigation, then offered to give Sam and Remi a ride to their rental car since they were going to tow the SUV for evidence.

Sam accepted, and Remi turned to Bree, asking, “Would you like to fly back to California with us?”

Bree seemed torn as she eyed her cousin. “I don’t want to leave Larayne alone.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Larayne said. “I’m gonna have a friend come get me. Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m not alone,” she said, nodding to the woman dusting for prints. “If my friend doesn’t get here by then, I’ll get a ride to his place with the CSI. If that’s okay. He’s just a mile up the road.”

The CSI agreed, saying it wouldn’t be a problem.

“Then, yes,” Bree said to Remi. “I’ll go with you.”

Two hours later, they arrived at the hangar where the jet awaited.

Sam and Remi changed out of their damp clothes that were covered in glass dust from the SUV’s broken window. While Sam was up front in the cockpit discussing their travel plans with the crew, Remi sat with Bree at the table in the main cabin.

Bree was talking on the phone. “Why don’t you try to get some rest. I’ll call as soon as I get home… Talk to you then.”

When Bree disconnected, Remi asked, “Everything okay?”

“I just wanted to check in with Larayne to see if her friend had picked her up. He did. She’d had quite a bit to drink by the time we got out of there.”

“I noticed. Speaking of, would you like something to drink before dinner?”

“Yes,” Bree said. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“What would you like? Coffee, tea, or something stronger?”

“You know…” Bree took a deep breath. “I think something stronger. As long as it’s not vodka. Maybe a little sherry.”

Their flight attendant, Sandra, appeared with a tray bearing cheese and crackers. Remi thanked her. “Two glasses of sherry will do nicely,” she said. “Actually, pour a scotch, too. Sam will undoubtedly join us.”

Sandra returned shortly with the sherry and scotch, then faded into the background. Remi lifted her glass. “So glad to have you back.”

“Thank you.” Bree gave a tired smile, then sipped, catching her breath as the alcohol hit her mouth. “That’s… more than I’m used to.”

Remi smiled as Sam joined them at the table, taking a seat next to her. “So,” he asked, “how is Larayne doing?”

“Fine, I guess. She was pretty upset, apologizing for what happened, saying it was her fault, that she brought Charles Avery into all this.”

Sam picked up a couple of crackers from the tray. “We don’t know yet if he’s behind this.”

“Larayne seems to think he is. She said she remembered one of them talking to someone named Charlie on the phone about looking for these markers.”

“Markers?” Sam said.

“Something to do with the map book. I have to assume it was related to this key or something.”

“Did she say where?” he asked.

“Something about some pit or oak on some island? Larayne was pretty blitzed,” she said as Sandra walked back from the cockpit.

Sandra smiled at Sam. “Excuse me for interrupting, Mr. Fargo. We’ve received clearance for takeoff.”

“Hold up a sec,” Sam said, then looked at Bree. “Is it possible your cousin was talking about the Money Pit at Oak Island?”

“It could have been. It was hard to understand her.”

“What do you think, Remi?” Sam asked.

“Nova Scotia?” She wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery, but she was worried about Bree’s well-being. “Only if Bree is up to the trip.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.”

He turned to Sandra. “Inform the pilots we’ll need a change in flight plans. Halifax International. We’ll arrange to get Bree home from there.”

“Very good.”

When she left, Bree said, “What if they’re still out there? I’m not even sure I want to go home.”

Remi gave her a sympathetic smile. “You can stay at our place in La Jolla until this is all over.”

“Trust me,” Sam said. “That house is a fortress. You’ll be safe there.”

Bree shook her head. “I can’t possibly impose—”

“You won’t be,” Remi replied. “Between you and Selma, we may very well get to the bottom of this mystery. Speaking of, Larayne was saying you knew more about the history of this book…?”

“A bit. I know that Uncle Gerald bought it during an estate sale from a distant cousin on my father’s side. The so-called family history that was guarded by the male line of the Marshal family since the time of King John.” She gave a cynical laugh. “Of course, that can’t possibly be true because the book was written in the late seventeen hundreds. And, really, a book on pirates and privateers being passed down from generation to generation?”