Clive Cussler - Pirate

He leaned down, shined his flashlight into the bushes, and saw Nigel, blinking against the light. “I found him!”

Nigel struggled to sit, looking confused. He touched the back of his head, then winced.

“You okay?” Sam asked as Remi joined them.

“I think so. Did we just talk?”

“On the phone.”

“Right.”

Sam held his hand out, and Nigel grabbed on, allowing Sam to help him to his feet. “Think you can walk?”

“Yes.” He took a step, then swayed.

Remi reached out at the same time Sam did. “Maybe we should call an ambulance,” she said.

“No. I’m fine. Just give me a moment.”

“She’s right,” Sam said. “You need to get checked out.”

Nigel smiled, as if to prove he was fine. “What I need is a good stiff drink.”

Sam helped him navigate the uneven terrain to the pedestrian path while Remi stood guard on the other side. As far as Sam could tell, he didn’t look too injured. No blood, just dirt, leaves, and damp hair from being out in the fog.

After they climbed over the cable barrier, Nigel brushed some of the debris from his gray suit, looking somewhat dazed.

Remi cocked her head at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Going to have quite the headache for a while,” he said.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“Not sure. I ended my tour at the warehouse and was going back to meet up with you. Someone came up and told me there were some shady types on South Quay, so I figured I’d take a shortcut through the alley to avoid them. Don’t think I got much farther than this when someone whacked me from behind.”

“Sounds like a robbery,” Sam said.

He patted his pockets, then gave a slight laugh. “Got my wallet. They’re going to be disappointed. Not sure I had more than five pounds on me.”

Sam was about to suggest they call the police when he heard a low growl coming from the direction of the quay. The other two heard it as well, and they all turned as a large, dark dog appeared like some apparition in the mist. It stood there, its head low, its teeth bared as it growled.

Sam put his arm out, moving Remi behind him.

Together, the three backed down the path, Sam keeping an eye not only on the dog but on the silhouette of the broad-shouldered man that appeared behind it.

Remi?” Sam said quietly. “Do you have—”

She handed him a small canister of pepper spray.

“Run,” he said.

Remi and Nigel turned and ran. Sam aimed the canister, but the dog, as though sensing trouble, backed off. Instead, Sam sprayed a shot toward the man, then ran after the others, not waiting to see if he hit his mark. The dog started barking just before Sam heard the sound of heavy footfalls as someone chased after them. Either he missed the dog handler or the man had an accomplice.

Remi and Nigel were up ahead, racing beneath the same arch they’d gone under earlier in the day, Devil’s Alley.

Aptly named, Sam thought, as he caught up to his wife. He glanced back but couldn’t see anyone in the fog.

“This way,” Nigel said, turning to the right. “The police station isn’t that far.”

In less than five minutes, they were pushing through the door of the police station, then reporting the attack. The officer on duty took Nigel back to an interview room while Sam and Remi waited in the lobby.

Remi took a seat in one of the chairs. “A good thing we happened along when we did.”

Sam paced the room, keeping an eye out the door. “What are the chances the one man we’re waiting to see is robbed?”

“Too much of a coincidence.”

“After everything that’s happened to us so far? Definitely.” He stopped and looked at her. “That whole Black Shuck story from Devil’s Alley…”

“You think Fisk or Avery wrangled some old lady to stop and tell us some legend about the Devil’s dog just to set up this whole robbery? That part could be coincidence. But the robbery…”

“What good does robbing him do?”

“Stop him from talking to us.”

Remi gave a tired sigh. “Who knew associating with us could be so hazardous?”

Eventually the officer came out and took a statement from Sam and Remi as well. When Sam mentioned the man with the dog, the officer shook his head. “Black Shuck and the Devil, right? Can’t tell you how many complaints we have anytime anyone walks their dogs on the quay. Last year, it was Rupert Middlefield walking his mastiff. Seemed to think it was funny. Lucky he doesn’t get shot, I say.” The officer closed his notebook and gave a bland smile. “If there’s nothing else?”

They thanked him for his time and left. Outside, after receiving assurances that Nigel did not need medical assistance, Sam offered to buy him that stiff drink. They ended up at a nearby pub, finding a fairly quiet corner to sit and talk.

Sam waited until their drinks were served before moving on to the real purpose of their visit. “About that translation. Have you had a chance to take a look?”

“I have,” Nigel said, placing his scotch on the table, then reaching into his inside suit coat pocket. A worried look came over his face and he checked another pocket, then stood, reaching into his pants pockets. “Maybe my wallet wasn’t the only thing taken.”

Sam and Remi exchanged glances. No doubt in Sam’s mind who was behind Nigel’s attack. “Were you contacted by anyone else about translating Old English phrases?”

“How did you know?”

“A guess,” Sam said. “It’s likely the robbery was a cover-up to get to your notebook.”

“But it wouldn’t take me that long to translate it again. The original text is on the email that Lazlo sent. So why steal it to begin with?”

“Maybe to keep us from getting it.”

Remi asked, “Do you remember any of it offhand? The translation?”

“Something about castles, rocks, holes… I can’t remember exactly what it was. Some of it didn’t make any sense. But it seemed harmless enough.” He shrugged. “Definitely not something I’d expect to be robbed for. So what exactly is going on? Why me?”

“Are you familiar with Madge Crowley’s alternative history on King John’s Treasure?”

Nigel reached for his drink, sipped it, then finally met Sam’s gaze. “Not my finest moment, taking her papers. Put it this way. I was young and stupid and very arrogant. But, short answer, yes. What’s that have to do with what happened to me?”

“Someone else we know believes this alternative history. Enough to go after anyone who has what they want or who gets in their way.”

“I’m sorry. You’re saying that the translation I was asked to do by your friend — no. That’s ridiculous. Madge’s theory, though clever, is all wrong. The treasure was lost in the wash. Everyone knows it.”

“And what if everyone was wrong?” Remi asked. “What if it was really out there? Hidden somewhere on purpose?”

“That’s… You can’t be serious.” He waited for Remi to say something, deny it, and, when she didn’t, he turned to Sam. “King John’s Treasure?”

Sam nodded. “Bottom line, we have no idea if it’s out there. But there seems to be enough evidence on this alternative history that makes it worth looking into. And it seems that your translation of the Old English phrases found on this map could be of value to our search.”

The waitress returned, asking if they needed anything. Nigel held up his near-empty glass, and Sam ordered another round for the table. When she left, Sam said, “We’ll understand if you’d rather not involve yourself. Obviously, we’re dealing with some unsavory characters. But this may be the opportunity of a lifetime.”

“ May be?” Nigel said. “It is the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m in. What, exactly, do you need from me?”