David Wood
Solomon Key
Prologue
Peter Archer, or Red Pete as he was known to his crewmates, crept silently across the deck of the Blue Crane, which lay at anchor in sight of Port Royal. It was a moonless night, and the crew lay in drunken slumber after a night in port. Even the captain had imbibed to excess. This might be Pete’s only chance.
He crept belowdecks, making his way down to the hold where Blue Crane’s human cargo was bound. His heart raced. Could he really do this? Why was he risking his life for someone he barely knew?
“He’s your friend,” he whispered to himself. “Maybe your only friend.”
He smelled the cargo hold long before he reached it. The foul odor of humans kept at close quarters for a prolonged period. The foul stench of sweat mingled with the stink of feces, urine, and stale air. He retched as he unlocked the hold and clambered down into the midst of the Africans who would soon be sold at auction.
Caesar was awake. His dark skin rendered him nigh invisible down here in the blackness of the hold. He sensed, rather than saw, Pete.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. His English was improving rapidly, but his accent remained heavy.
“Don’t talk.”
Pete unlocked the chains that bound Caesar’s wrists and ankles, and helped the big man to stand.
“Follow me.” He led Caesar out of the hold and up to the next deck.
“We’re getting out of here,” he said softly. “Everyone’s drunk. Even the captain. We’ll steal a boat and lose ourselves in Port Royal.”
“What will we do?”
Pete shrugged. “I don’t know. Sign on to a pirate’s crew, maybe? They won’t care who we are or where we’re from.”
Caesar nodded.
“I must have my ring.”
“Your what?
“My ring. The one the captain took from me. I must have it back.”
Pete remembered the ring. It was very old. Not worth anything, the captain had said, yet he had worn it ever since taking it from the captured African warrior.
“The captain has it.”
“Show me the way,” Caesar said.
Pete ran a hand through his stringy red hair. What was Caesar thinking? “Are you mad? If he wakes, we’re both of us done for.”
Caesar grabbed him by the arm. Damn, the man was strong. “He will not wake. Show me.”
Trembling with fear, Pete guided Caesar to the captain’s cabin and stood watch, determined to leap overboard if anyone discovered him. After what felt like an eternity, Caesar returned. He wore his ring and a satisfied smile.
“He will not wake again. Let us go.”
Every little noise sounded like a gunshot to Pete. The soft pad of their feet on the deck, every breath. He was certain his heart must sound like a snare drum to everyone on board.
Finally, blessedly, they found themselves in the dinghy rowing for port. Caesar had never rowed before, but he caught on quickly, driving them through the water with powerful strokes Pete could never hope to match.
Just as he was beginning to relax, the moon broke through the clouds, and he saw movement on board Blue Crane.
“There they are!” a voice called.
A shot rang out, the slug splashing in the water just feet from their boat.
Caesar stopped rowing.
“What in the Seven Hells are you doing? They’re shooting at us!”
Caesar stared at the ship, seemingly unaware of Pete’s presence. He touched the ring on his hand and whispered something.
Pete jerked upright as a cloud of mist surrounded them. Shouts from the ship told him the crew members were as confused as he.
The wind began to rise, whipping the calm waters into a frenzy of whitecaps. Pete grabbed hold of the gunwale and began to pray.
A roar filled his ears, the shouts of the crew turning to screams. He heard the sound of ripping canvas, the snap of broken boards.
And then silence.
He opened his eyes to see calm waters. No sign of Blue Crane. He turned to Caesar, unable to speak.
“Now,” Caesar said, returning to the oars, “we will go be pirates.”
Chapter 1
The sun beat down on his bare shoulders as Dane Maddock broke through the tree line and stepped to the edge of the water. The spring-fed sinkhole was impossibly blue, its steep sides running straight down into the dark depths. He stood there, staring down, wondering what secrets it might hide. He would soon find out.
“Now this is my idea of a dive site.” Bones Bonebrake, Maddock’s partner and former colleague in the Navy SEALs, looked around, nodding approvingly.
“Bones, you are not even looking at the spring.”
“You look at what interests you; I’ll pay attention to what I’m interested in.” The powerfully built, six and a half foot tall Cherokee grinned as his eyes swept the shore, taking in the many bikini-clad young women. “Matter of fact, I think we should skip the dive altogether. There’s plenty of treasure up here.”
“You are all class, Bones,” Maddock said.
“And you’ve been even more curmudgeonly than usual since you broke up with my sister.” Bones held up a big hand, forestalling Maddock’s retort. “Look, I get it. The two of you broke up, the chick you were hot for turned out to be a bad guy. That would piss me off, too. But all the more reason to avail yourself of the local hospitality.”
“That’s not exactly how it happened,” Maddock said. But, Bones was essentially correct. He and his fiancée, make that ex-fiancée, Angel Bonebrake, had agreed to take some time off from their relationship. The breakup had happened after Isla Mulheron had abandoned them in Scotland. He supposed he was splitting hairs with that distinction.
Bones was paying him no mind. He was grinning at a pair of brunettes clad in Confederate flag bikinis. The girls were smiling back, clearly enjoying the attention. “Did you say something?” he asked.
“I thought you didn’t like rednecks,” Maddock said, casting a meaningful glance at the women’s attire.
“Usually I don’t, but I suppose I could make an exception.” He turned and arched an eyebrow. “Live a little, Maddock. Who knows? One of them might be into short little blond dudes.”
Maddock smirked. Sturdily built and just a hair over six feet tall, he was hardly short or little, but most people looked small when standing alongside Bones. “Don’t be so cocky. You know how cold these spring-fed pools are. Those girls might not be so interested in you once you come back out of the water, Mr. Shrinkage.”
“You know, that’s not cool. Besides, that was a long time ago.”
“But it did happen. I’ve got witnesses.”
“Screw you, Maddock. Let’s dive.”
Chuckling, Maddock strapped on his dive gear and checked his equipment while Bones did the same. He had been looking forward to this dive ever since hearing about Caesar’s Spring. Located in the Florida Panhandle, the spring had been kept a secret by the owners of the land upon which it was located, and had only recently been open to the public. To Maddock’s knowledge, no serious divers had investigated it. The odds of anything of value being found there were slim, but that was not at the top of his list. For him, it was the chance to be the first to explore the underwater passages that fed the spring.
“Why do you think they call it Caesar’s Spring?” Maddock said aloud, not really asking.
“Beats me,” Bones said. “The only Caesar I’m really interested in is Caesar’s Palace.”
“Philistine.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Bones moved to the edge of the water and jumped in feet first. Seconds later, his head broke the surface. “Holy freaking crap. How cold is this water?” he sputtered.