"Only eight more feet to the treasure chamber," Neidelman murmured as he watched the bucket recede into the circle of light overhead. "Ninety-six inches."
He turned to Streeter. "I want all nonessential personnel off the island. Everyone. Say whatever you want, use that protest or the storm as excuses, if you like. We don't want a lot of extra bodies around rubbernecking during the actual extraction. When the shift changes at two, send the diggers home, too. This next shift should see the job finished. We'll winch the treasure up in the bucket, and I'll carry the sword myself. We need to get it out as soon as possible. Can Rogerson be trusted?"
"He'll do what I tell him, sir."
Neidelman nodded. "Bring the Cerberus and my command vessel close to the island, but keep them well clear of the reef. We'll use the launches and split the treasure between the two boats, as a precaution." He fell silent a moment, his eyes far away.
"I don't think we're through with him," he began again in a low voice, as if his thoughts had never left Hatch. "I've underestimated him all along and I may be underestimating him now. Once he gets home, he's going to start thinking. He'll realize it might take days, even weeks, to get a legal injunction against us. And possession is nine tenths of the law. He could cry clause nineteen until he's blue in the face. But by that point, everything would be academic."
He touched Streeter's lapel. "Who would have thought a billion dollars wouldn't be enough for the greedy bastard? He's going to think of a plan. I want you to find out what that plan is, and stop it. We're only hours away from Ockham's treasure, and, by God, I don't want any nasty surprises before we get to it." He gripped the lapel suddenly. "And for Chrissake, whatever you do, don't let Hatch set foot on this island again. He could do a lot of damage."
Streeter looked back impassively. "Any particular way you want him handled?"
Neidelman released the lapel and took a step back. "I've always found you to be a creative and resourceful seaman, Mr. Streeter. I leave the matter to your discretion."
Streeter's eyebrows rose momentarily in what might have been anticipation, or perhaps merely a muscle spasm.
"Aye, aye, sir," he said.
Neidelman leaned forward and switched the comm set back on. "Keep in touch, Mr. Streeter."
Then he was back on the lift and descending once again. Streeter turned back toward the ladder array. In a moment, he, too, was gone.
Chapter 42
Hatch stood on the wide old porch of the house on Ocean Lane. What had been merely a weatherman's threat the day before was fast becoming reality. To the east, a heavy swell was coming in over the sea, creating a torn line of breakers on the reefs of Breed's Point. On the opposite side of the harbor, beyond the channel buoys, the surf flung itself again and again up the granite cliffs beyond Burnt Head Light, the boom of the rollers carrying across the bay in measured cadences. The sky was slung across with the ugly underbelly of a massive foul-weather front, the clouds churning and coiling as they raced across the water. Farther offshore, an evil patch of surf seethed about Old Hump. Hatch shook his head; if the swell was already smothering the bald rock, it was going to be a hell of a blow.
He gazed down toward the harbor, where a few vessels from the protest flotilla were already returning: smaller boats, and the million-dollar craft of the more cautious trawler captains.
Closer to home, movement caught his eye: he turned to see the familiar stubby form of a Federal Express van nosing into the lane, wildly out of place as it bumped down the old cobbles. It stopped in front of his house, and Hatch came down the steps to sign for the package.
He stepped back into the house, tearing open the box and eagerly removing the thick plastic packet inside. Professor Horn and Bonterre, standing beside one of the pirate skeletons, stopped talking when they saw the package.
"Straight from the Smithsonian's Phys Anthro lab," Hatch said as he broke the plastic seal. Pulling out the bulky computer printout within, he laid it on the table and began flipping pages. There was a heavy silence as they leaned over the results, disappointment palpable in the air. Finally Hatch sighed and flung himself into a nearby chair. The professor shuffled over, eased himself down opposite Hatch, rested his chin on his cane, and eyed Hatch meditatively.
"Not what you were looking for, I take it?" he asked.
"No," Hatch said, shaking his head. "Not at all."
The professor's brows contracted. "Malin, you were always too hasty to accept defeat."
Bonterre picked up the printout and began flipping through it. "I can not make foot or head of this medical jargon," she said. "What are all these horrible-sounding diseases?"
Hatch sighed. "A couple of days back, I sent off bone sections from these two skeletons to the Smithsonian. I also included a random sampling from a dozen of the skeletons you uncovered in the dig."
"Checking for disease," Professor Horn said.
"Yes. As more and more of our people began to get sick, I began to wonder about that mass pirate grave. I thought the skeletons might be useful in my examination. If a person dies of a disease, he usually dies with a large number of antibodies to that disease in his body."
"Or her body," said Bonterre. "Remember, there were three ladies in that grave."
"Large labs like the Smithsonian's can test old bone for small amounts of those antibodies, learn exactly what disease the person might have died from." Hatch paused. "Something about Ragged Island—then and now—makes people sick. The most likely candidate to me seemed the sword. I figured that, somehow, it was a carrier of disease. Everywhere it went, people died." He picked up the printout. "But according to these tests, no two pirates died of the same illness. Klebsiclla, Bruniere's disease, Dentritic mycosis, Tahitian tick fever—they died of a whole suite of diseases, some of them extremely rare. And in almost half the cases, the cause is unknown."
He grabbed a sheaf of papers from an end table. "It's just as mystifying as the CBC results on the patients I've been seeing the last couple of days." He passed the top sheet to Professor Horn.
COMPLETE BLOOD COUNT
TEST NAME RESULTS UMTS
ABNORMAL NORMAL
WBC S.50 THOUS/CU.MM.
RBC 4.02 MIL/CU.MM.
HGB 14.4 GM/DL
HCT 41.2 PERCENT
MCV 81.2 PL
MCH 34.1 PG
MCHC 30 PERCENT
RDW 14.7 PERCENT
MPV 8 FL
PLATELET COUNT 75 THOUS/CU.MM.
DIFFERENTIAL
POLY 900 CU.MM.
LYMPH 600 CU.MM.
MONO 10 CU.MM.