During the long trip back to Manila, Maddock had outlined the next phase of the operation. He and Professor would travel to the United Kingdom where, presumably, they would be able to get a little more information about the mysterious Lord Hancock and hopefully figure out why a team of mercenaries — to say nothing of the Secretary of the Navy — wanted him found. Bones and Willis stayed behind in the Philippines to resume exploring the wreck, only this time instead of diving, they would be using a remotely operated vehicle, equipped with a camera and a metal detector, provided of course that they could secure such a unique piece of high tech equipment.
Bones had made a few discreet inquiries and a meeting had been arranged at a bar near the port. With a little luck and a lot of discretionary funding, they would get the ROV, find the remains of the much sought after Hancock, and return for that long postponed victory drink.
Still…one more now couldn’t hurt, right? He waved to the bartender and nodded.
“You the guy looking for a ROV?”
The high-pitched voice came from beside him but when he turned to look he saw no one.
“Down here?”
He lowered his gaze about forty-five degrees and saw her; a slight figure, five feet tall if she stood on her tiptoes and perhaps ninety pounds if soaking wet and wearing winter clothes. She wasn’t wearing winter clothes now however, just a grubby T-shirt and cut off denim shorts that showed off a lot more of her chestnut skin than was concealed. Her short black hair framed a pixie-like face that was cute in a juvenile way.
He found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
“You wanted to rent my ROV, right?” she repeated. She spoke clear English, but with a sing-song Filipino accent.
“I…uh… I wanted to rent a ROV.”
“Cool, because it just so happens that I’ve got a ROV.” She hoisted herself onto the barstool next to him. “Buy a girl a drink?”
“A girl,” he echoed, still a little tongue-tied.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, I’m twenty-two. Never mind.” She reached over, grabbed the bottle that the bartender had just set before Bones, and knocked it back.
Bones shook his head and found his voice. “Slow down, little one. A lightweight like you should pace herself.”
She slammed the half-empty bottle down on the bar. “Lightweight? I’m a university student. Binge drinking is practically part of the curriculum.”
“A student? Back up. I thought you said you had an ROV for rent?”
“That’s right.” She stuck out a hand. “Gabrielle Sandoval. Call me Gabby; everyone does.”
Her proffered hand disappeared inside Bones’ massive paw, but he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m Bones. Call me Bones, everyone does. So, how did you recognize me?”
“You kind of stand out in a crowd, Bones. Literally.”
He accepted that with a nod. “Tell me about your ROV.”
“I call her ‘Baby;’ built her from a Sea Perch platform. She’s good to three hundred meters, with a five hundred meter tether which will allow for plenty of maneuverability. She’s a workhorse. I built her for my research, but sometimes we rent out for odd jobs. I designed her to be a multi-purpose instrument platform; plug and play, as it were. Speaking of which, what kind of instrument package are we talking about here?”
“Metal detector.”
“Ah.” Gabby’s smile was both knowing and accusatory. “So you’re a treasure hunter.”
“No. I—”
“Hey, I don’t judge. As long as you pay up front and don’t ask me to do anything illegal, I’m your girl.”
“Nothing like that,” Bones assured her. “And I’m not a treasure hunter. I just don’t want to call a lot of attention to what I’m looking for.”
“It’s your money. Besides, treasure hunting sounds like a lot of fun. When do we start?”
“We?”
“Baby and I are a package deal. She’s the Remotely Operated Vehicle, and I’m the remote operator.”
Bones frowned. He didn’t want to involve a civilian, especially not when there was a good chance of another attack from the mercenary thugs, but time was of the essence. They needed to get back on the site, ASAP. “This won’t exactly be a pleasure cruise. Rough accommodations. Lousy food. And the company won’t be so great; me and one other guy, and I’m the better looking one.”
She gazed up at him, the devious twinkle in her eyes undiminished. “Well, you’re not too hard on the eyes. I like tall guys.”
Bones let that pass. “Listen, I’ve used ROVs before. You don’t need to come along.”
She shrugged. “I want to.”
He drummed his fingers on the bar. “Fine. It’s your funeral.”
“Hey, why so serious?” She scooped up the bottle again and emptied it in a long guzzle. She set it down on its side and gave a whoop of triumph. “The night is young. Let’s have some fun, and tomorrow we’ll go treasure hunting!”
Bones placed a hand over hers. “Let’s save the celebration for after we find it.”
She smiled again. “Is that a promise, Bones?”
“You have my word on it.”
CHAPTER 8
Alex stepped down off the bus into Baldock, a small town near the edge of Hertfordshire, and as close to her destination as public transportation would take her. Over the past five days, she had used planes, buses, and trains to get from the District of Columbia to London and ultimately to this place. The actual cumulative travel time was only about fourteen hours, but with a killer on her tail, she was traveling cautiously. It had taken her two days just to establish a false identity for getting out of the United States. She had spent another full day walking around London checking to make sure that she wasn’t being shadowed, eventually crashing in a youth hostel near Piccadilly Circus for the night.
She was now, at last, satisfied that no one was following her, but if her suspicions were correct, she might very well be walking into the lion’s den. A few miles up the road lay the manor house where Trevor Lord Hancock had lived until, at age twenty-six, war had taken him away forever. That much, at least, she had been able to learn from her initial Internet searches in Washington, searches which had, she now realized, led the killer right to her. But if Hancock was as important as she believed him to be, his ancestral home would be a likely target for surveillance. Instead of the killer finding her, she might very well find him or his accomplices.
Or she might find nothing at all. All of her suppositions were predicated on the belief that everything that had happened — Don’s murder and the attempt on her life at the hotel — was a response to that one specific piece of information. If she had deduced wrong, then this trip would be a colossal waste of time.
Using her tourist map, she oriented on the road which would lead her to her destination, and struck out on foot. She considered trying to hitch a ride, but doing so might attract unwanted attention. Instead, she set a brisk pace walking along the roadside, careful to stay well clear of the lanes, particularly when the occasional vehicle sped by. She took this latter precaution partly to avoid being hit but mostly so that she could bolt for cover or make a hasty overland escape if trouble found her.
Trouble did not find her though. Two and half hours after leaving Baldock behind, she reached an unpaved road that led off into the countryside. Forty-five more minutes, in which she saw no cars and very little evidence of human habitation, she reached the gated entry to the Hancock property. The gate was unlocked and she slipped through, continuing down the gravel road toward a small manor house that had perhaps once been elegant but now looked almost run down.