‘Then what?’ Claudia asked, wanting to slap him, to shake him, to say, This happened almost two hundred years ago. Why am I gonna get killed over this?
‘The stories vary. Some say he went to Yucatan and died of fever. Some say he went to Cuba and died in a sea battle. Some claim he tried to rescue Napoleon from St Helena. One man, a supposed descendant of Laffite’s, claimed Laffite returned to America under an assumed name, and lived out his life in small-town Missouri.’ This last option was pronounced with sarcasm dripping from every word. ‘But no one knows. Of course, so many say that he buried a treasure, worth millions, somewhere in Texas or Louisiana.’
‘Treasure,’ she repeated, thinking of Ben talking yesterday at lunch about Stoney. He’s financed some treasure dives in the Florida Keys… Crazy-ass way to risk your money.
‘Imagine the scene, Claudia. The government Laffite served so well in a time of need has completely betrayed him. He left as he promised, but the American navy shadowed and harassed him all the way down the coast. He would have had reason to believe the navy might board or attack him at any time. Or the British or the Spanish might attack him. Remember, he was being evicted, leaving his base, leaving nothing behind. Nothing.’ A pause. ‘His only option to keep his treasure from falling into others’ hands would have been to bury it so he could return when the heat died down and retrieve it.’
‘It seems risky,’ she said.
‘Laffite knew the shallows and reefs in getting through the barrier islands and the bays. The American navy couldn’t follow him there.’ Danny cleared his throat. ‘The proof was in the journal – real, actual documentation – that Laffite buried a fortune near St Leo Bay. Before Stoney stole it from me. Like you said, you help me, maybe I help you?’
He’s inviting you in. The trickle of sweat began between her breasts, down her ribs. It was the only chance she saw; Stoney knew who Danny was, which meant a trail could be followed back to Gar and Redhead. She and Ben were guaranteed dead, unless she could make herself valuable.
Make it good, girl. ‘Tell me more about this journal. Maybe I can figure out where Stoney hid it. I’m pretty familiar with his house.’
‘Looks like an old diary, brown, leather-bound, small pages. Written in the 1820s by Dr John Fanning. He was the ship’s surgeon on the navy schooner Lynx. According to Fanning, Lynx detained Laffite after he left Galveston, boarded his ship outside St Leo Bay, searched it for traces of loot from a Spanish treasure ship, Santa Barbara, which had been lost barely a week before. Lynx escorted Laffite to Mexico, dumped him there penniless, pardoned his crew. One of Laffite’s crew, a drunk, told Fanning Laffite went ashore with a few other men and buried a trove from Santa Barbara at Black Jack Point – but that only Laffite returned. Of course the historians have it wrong, the Fanning journal rewrites Laffite’s history. And I had it. It was mine’
Claudia bit her lip.
‘If the journal’s right, the treasure might be worth several million now, on today’s market. The historical value alone would be astonishing. Actual, provable buried pirate treasure. Think what the museums would offer, Claudia. The Smithsonian, for instance. Millions. And there was supposedly a great emerald aboard Santa Barbara – a huge Colombian gem called the Devil’s Eye. It would be of… particular value.’
‘So you approached Stoney about helping you find this treasure? And Stoney stole this journal from you so he could locate this treasure himself?’
‘Yes.’ He sounded completely serious, for a moment completely sane. If you ignored the words.
‘But Stoney has money. He doesn’t need a bunch of old gold that might not even exist.’
‘He has money that anyone else can have. But a treasure, that’s one of a kind. His ego can’t resist it. And I don’t think it’s buried anymore. I think he’s got it.’
‘You think he dug it up?’
‘I don’t think he’s been waiting around with his thumb up his ass,’ Danny said. ‘He came to New Orleans, where I live, when I was out of town, and he took the journal. He killed my cousin, who was house-sitting for me. A bullet to the brain. A cowardly way to kill.’
‘I’m sorry your cousin was killed,’ she said. ‘Truly. But what happens to me if I help you? If I can get you this journal? Or this treasure?’
‘Well, Claudia, I’ll let you go.’ Easy, like he was suggesting they grab an ice cream cone down at the beach.
Right. But she pretended to believe him. ‘What about Ben?’
‘Oh, I’ll let him go, too. I don’t have a quarrel with either of you. I have a sense of honor.’
‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘Your sense of honor’s why I’m tied up and blindfolded with a broken toe.’
A silent minute passed. Then there was a gentle downward tug on the chamois blindfold. It slipped down to her shoulders, like a scarf. The light in the cabin was dim, and she blinked, but now she saw Danny sitting across from her. His thick dark hair was shot with salt, combed back from his temples, his eyes an earthy brown but feverish and bloodshot, a drunkard’s eyes. Crazy-man eyes.
In his hand – aimed at her heart – he held an automatic pistol.
‘If we’re gonna help each other, I gotta trust you, you gotta trust me, right?’ he said.
‘That’s true. And I would like to trust you, which is hard for me if I think you’re going to kill me or Ben or even Stoney. Even if he’s a killer and a thief.’
‘I’m not the monster Stoney is, Claudia. I won’t kill him. I just don’t want him to have the treasure. It’s mine. It belongs to me, in every moral way.’ Heat colored his voice, his hand slapped down on the tabletop, emphasizing the last three words. ‘I’ll let him live if I get the treasure. I swear on my family’s name.’
Then that makes it all just fine, buddy. ‘You don’t know me. Why would you trust me?’
‘I don’t trust you. You don’t trust me either, I know. But I don’t want to have to kill you. I want the treasure, I want to be shed of these two assholes now, and I don’t want to go to jail. You get me into Stoney’s house, you live. It’s your choice.’
She said nothing for a minute. The hunger in his eyes made her skin crawl. Fine. It’s his weakness. Use it against him to save you and Ben.
‘So we got us a deal?’ he asked.
Claudia nodded.
15
‘I’m begging you not to hurt my brother,’ Stoney Vaughn said over the speakerphone. ‘Please. Let me explain.’
‘We just called the banks. Ain’t no money streaming in,’ Redhead said. No giggle now. ‘Where’re those scissors?’
‘Jesus, Stoney, please,’ Ben yelled. ‘Give them what they want.’
Stoney’s throat cleared. ‘I can’t. The transfers couldn’t go through. The computer systems at my investment firm are down. We got a virus. They aren’t going to be up until tomorrow.’
A moment’s silence. ‘Stoney, Jesus…’ Ben said, his voice barely above a whisper.
‘A virus, you know. Like that Anna Kournikova picture that got e-mailed around. It wasn’t a picture, it was a virus. Our servers are down.’
Gar sprung up from the couch, pacing, angry little hums coming from him. ‘So move it via another bank.’
‘I can’t. This server’s got to work first. My accounts are all locked and accessed through here. Please, you got to give me more time.’
‘Wrong answer,’ Redhead said.
Ben felt the tickle of scissors moving along his jaw, his throat, downward along his chest. ‘Stoney, please, they’re gonna kill us! Give them what they want.’
‘Stoney,’ Gar said quietly. ‘You understand our position. It’s not negotiable.’
‘Let me talk to Danny,’ Stoney said. ‘Let me suggest an alternative.’
‘He’s not here right now,’ Redhead said. ‘You can talk to us. We’re all partners.’
‘Oh. Well. I don’t have this journal or this emerald he’s talking about, okay? That whole idea, that’s just fucking crazy, man. I don’t have it. I’ll give you the money. But you got to give me time.’ He paused. ‘As a sign of good faith, I raise the pot.’