Clive Cussler - Pirate

Remi’s brows went up. “Am I missing something here?”

Even Sam was stumped. “How does that help us?”

“Lazlo thinks the stolen cipher wheel was a copy and that the ship’s captain scuttled his vessel to keep the wheel from being captured. Which means the original cipher wheel’s still out there. Narrow down where and when that ship was made, we might be able to identify its owner through manifests. We find its owner—”

“—We find the original cipher wheel,” Sam said. “Send us what you have.”

“It should be waiting in your in-box. Along with travel information that I’ll be passing on to your flight crew for the trip to Brazil.”

He dropped the phone into the cradle, got out of bed, and joined Remi in the other room. “That sounds promising.”

“Is that an apology?” she asked, walking toward him.

“I can’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe.”

“You’re wrong about Bree. She’s not sitting there with Charles Avery on speed dial, relating our every move.”

Something was going on. He just didn’t know what — not that he was about to ruin the moment with his suspicions. “I apologize for making it seem I didn’t believe in you. That was never the case.”

She draped her arms over his shoulders. “Apology accepted.”

“Off to Brazil, then?” he asked.

“I love Brazil this time of year.”

Sam and Remi flew in to Miami first, where they picked up the supplies that Selma had requisitioned for them, as well as clothing more suited to tropical weather. After spending the night, they flew to São Paolo, Brazil, landing around seven that evening.

The following morning, Sam left to meet with government officials for the necessary permits to search around Snake Island. Remi remained behind at the hotel, using her tablet to skype with Selma about the boat and crew Selma had found for them at the Port of Santos.

“All considering,” Selma said, “they appear very capable.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“There must be something going on. Maybe because it’s a weekend. Every charter is booked. But their references checked out. And it was, literally , the last vessel available in that area that had the minimum requirements you requested and could accommodate an overnight stay on the water.”

Remi, seated at the desk with her tablet propped up on its stand, smiled at the screen, knowing that Selma had done her best. She went over her equipment list one more time, among the items a portable side-scan sonar system, metal detectors, underwater camera and lights. “It looks like you’ve sent everything we need.”

“Then I’ll send word that you’ll be contacting the boat owner this evening or tomorrow. I’m assuming you both looked over the papers Lazlo sent last night?”

Remi had them on the table. “We did. The coordinates of the two known wrecks off the southern tip and their documentation.” Or, as Sam put it, a “crapshoot.” While the mysterious map may have been hidden for the last couple of centuries behind the endpaper of the Pyrates and Privateers book, the two documented wrecks had been found and looted long ago. Based on the few artifacts recently discovered, the first wreck was most likely of Spanish origin. Selma was certain that they were looking for a ship with English ties. That was the main reason Sam decided they should be searching the second wreck in the shallower waters at the very southern tip of Snake Island. Very little had been documented beyond its location — at the end of a rockslide at the island’s tip. “Lazlo’s certain of the translation to the key on the map?”

“He feels confident that the words sea and serpent are in the mix.”

“Too bad it couldn’t have been something like sea and dolphins . I’d much prefer that to pit vipers .”

“It does, however, strengthen Bree’s suggestion of Snake Island as a possible location. I was looking over the map again this morning and it’s…” Selma lifted the transparency she made, holding it over the map of Snake Island. “Well, it’s definitely a stretch. But who am I to say that it is or isn’t the right location? That’s something that you and Mr. Fargo will have to determine once you get out there.”

“How is Bree?” Remi asked, glad that Sam wasn’t there. She knew in her heart that Bree would never betray them, but she also understood Sam’s position and was still hurt that he was angry over the matter.

“She seems fine,” Selma replied. “At the moment, she’s helping Lazlo research the illustration of the cipher wheel next to the map. She seems fairly knowledgeable about that period of history.”

“Glad to hear it. Did Sam talk to you about her?”

“Just to find out how she’s getting on.”

“Nothing else?”

Selma paused a second. “Is there something I should know, Mrs. Fargo?”

“No. But do me a favor. Keep an eye on her, would you? Sam… worries about her.”

“I’ll do that.”

They ended the connection. Remi had never known Sam to throw an accusation out if there wasn’t something to base it on — not that he had actually accused Bree, merely pointed out the possibility after that RCMP captain had suggested it. And even though she was almost certain that her friend wasn’t conspiring with the enemy, now that the seed was planted, she couldn’t shake the thought that there were a few too many near-fatal coincidences.

If she was wrong about Bree, it put both her and Sam in danger. Not about to take a chance, she picked up her cell phone and called Selma back. “Are you somewhere you can talk in private?”

“In my office, yes. Let me close the door.” A moment later, Selma was back. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about Bree.” Remi explained Sam’s concern. “Personally, I don’t think it can be true, but Sam’s right. There are just too many things that can’t be explained away. If he’s wrong, I don’t want Bree to be hurt. But if he’s right…”

“I understand, Mrs. Fargo. She hasn’t acted unusual, but I’ll certainly keep an eye on her.”

Having informed Selma about Sam’s concerns lifted a weight from Remi’s shoulders and she was able to concentrate on preparations for the next leg of their journey. By the time Sam called to say he was heading back to the hotel with the proper permits in hand, she had the entire trip mapped out.

Sam walked into their hotel room about an hour later, handing her a bouquet of bright sunflowers. “Apparently it’s good luck to start a trip with yellow flowers.”

“Is it?”

“Today it is. It was that or purple iris. It’s all I could find for the girl who has everything including a husband who comes up with some not-too-brilliant plans every now and then.”

She took the flowers, laid them on the table, then put her arms around Sam. “You’re always brilliant.”

“Then I’m forgiven?”

She kissed him, then leaned back and studied his face. “Would this be the right time to mention that I passed on your concerns about Bree to Selma?”

“Are you saying I’m right?”

“I’m saying your concerns are valid enough to let her know — which is not the same as making everyone think we were dead.”

“So that makes me almost right?” His brown eyes sparkled.

“Don’t push it, Fargo.”

Remi hired a car to take them to the Port of Santos to meet with the captain and the crew of the Golfinho . They stepped out of the hotel at dawn, the sky a mixture of vermillion red brushed across bright turquoise.

Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.