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“I still think the zombies have something to do with it all,” Bones said.

Maddock shrugged. “Maybe we are overlooking something there. I’ve got an idea. Fabi, where’s the phone?”

“Hopefully whoever busted in here didn’t cut the line.” Willis narrowed his eyes.

Fabi led them into the kitchen where a cordless digital phone lay overturned on the counter, as though it had been knocked from its charging cradle. She picked it up, held it to her ear and pronounced there was still a dial tone. She handed it to Maddock and he dialed a number. While it was ringing, he explained to Fabi.

“Calling an old friend, Jimmy Letson. He was in the SEAL BUDS training with us, but he dropped out halfway through — they call it ‘ringing out’ because you literally ring a bell to formally quit. He’s a good guy, though, went on to be a journalist, has done a lot of research and knows about a ton of things. I gave him a heads up earlier that I might need his help. Hopefully…”

Maddock cut himself off and held up a finger, indicating someone had picked up on the other end.

“Hey, its me. You find anything?” A brief pause. “No, of course I don’t take you for granted.” Another pause. “Two bottles? You got it.”

Maddock turned to Fabi and made a scribbling motion, meaning he needed to take notes. She found a pad and pen on the floor that had been tossed out of a drawer and gave them to Maddock, who set the pad on the counter and began to write.

For the next few minutes, she and the others heard him say a lot of, “Uh huh… okay… yeah…” punctuated by occasional requests for clarification, such as, “And that perspective is unique to Haiti or more universal?”

When the topic of conversation had run its course, Maddock thanked him and hung up the phone.

Willis wasted no time. “What’d he say?”

Maddock took a deep breath and eyeballed his notes for a moment before speaking. “He knows a lot about zombies in general, not all specific to Haiti,” he said, directing the last part of the statement to Fabi. He didn’t want to offend her by requesting outside help besides her local contacts, but Maddock and Bones had relied on Letson more than once to get them out of a jam, and he had always come through for them.

“Out with it, Maddock,” Bones prompted.

Maddock nodded, looked at his notes one more time, then summed up what Letson had told him. “So basically there are different takes on the classic zombie myth depending how you look at it. For example, a psychologist might see a zombie as simply a personification of a mental condition where a person feels overworked. Slaves, for example, reported feeling like dead men walking, merely going through the motions of being alive without actually living. A pharmacologist, on the other hand, would suspect a drug-induced state responsible for feeling dull and causing a general lack of vitality.”

Fabi looked impressed. “Makes sense. There is of course a strong slave history in Haiti. Many of the first African slaves were brought to Hispaniola.”

Maddock nodded. “But zombii can also be considered from other angles, such as scientific. There is biological basis for zombiism, including in the animal world, like ants that are taken over by fungi and other examples of extreme parasitism. “

“Cool,” Bones interjected.

“And of course, there’s the occult.” Maddock looked at them to make sure he still had their attention, then consulted his notes again. “The word ‘occult’ basically means secret or hidden, and there are many spiritual practices that fall under the occult…”

Willis cleared his throat and looked at Fabi. “As we saw with your friend, Rose.”

Fabi smiled. “Thought you might like her!”

Maddock continued. “She was helpful, and in fact I think I see how something she said ties together with what Jimmy told me about the occult.” Maddock got three blank stares, so he went on. “Rose mentioned that only evil practitioners of vodou will create a zombie. Jimmy told me that a person put into a voodoo trance will meander around in a lifeless daze. So it makes sense to me that, here in Haiti, there could possibly be a group of people creating zombies on purpose — but that the exact definition of zombii may be subject to interpretation.”

Bones shook his head. “That doesn’t give us a lot to go on, Maddock. We need a direction, here.”

“That’s only the background. You know Jimmy. His research is deep, and he gets very specific, especially with a bottle of Haiti’s finest rum on the line.”

No one said anything, prompting Maddock to continue. “Jimmy says he’s still working on this, so I’ll stay in touch, but he uncovered a few interesting things already. For instance, he found mention of our crazy Spanish sailor’s name, Alonso Sanchez, in reference to a man living in Cap-Haitien around the same timeframe.”

Fabi and Bones raised their eyebrows while Willis furrowed his brow. “He also discovered that there has been a rash of zombii reports in Cap-Haitien.” Maddock let this hang until Bones asked, “Has been, as in recently?”

Maddock nodded. “As in the last three years.”

Willis looked happy. “Here’s some voodoo for you: I sense a road trip to Cap-Haitien in our near future.”

Fabi held up a finger. “I’ve got an idea. My supervisor at the clinic where I volunteer asked me if I’d be interested in possibly going full-time at one of the larger clinics, and I know one of those happens to be in Cap-Haitien. So what I could do is take him up on his offer — I was seriously considering it anyway as a way to expand my professional reach — and then while I’m there maybe I’ll be able to learn more about these zombii attack rumors.”

Maddock looked agreeable to this. He nodded to Bones and Willis. “Jimmy also gave me a list of landmarks around Cap-Haitien that might lead to treasure clues, so we can go up there together and while Fabi is setting up shop, we can follow up on those.”

Chapter 18

Cap-Hatien

Odelin picked up his cellular phone on the first ring and flipped it open. The voice on the other end was no-nonsense, instructing him to be on the lookout for Fabiola Baptiste, who had just taken a new job in Cap-Hatien.

“You ought to be able to keep tabs on her, and anyone with whom she might be working.”

Odelin translated “you ought to” as “you had better”. He smiled. For once he was ahead of his boss.

“I’m already on it.” He ended the call and peered over his local newspaper at the front door of the health clinic. He’d been staked out here for some time, watching for Fabi, but was surprised to see the three American men emerge from the front door. He scowled, wondering what they were up to, and then he placed a call on his phone.

When his contact answered, he said, “I need you to follow someone, and I need you to make it fast. Listen carefully…”

* * *

The old Jeep Wrangler rolled to a halt in front of Sans Souci Palace, Maddock at the wheel with Willis having won the ro-sham-bo for the shotgun seat, Bones in the back.

“Cool place.” Bones admired the expansive, multi-story stone and brick structure. The former residence was set atop an expansive grassy hill, with a dirt switchback traversing part of it.

“Jimmy told me it was built in 1813 as the home of Haiti’s king at the time, Henri I. It was built by slaves, many of whom were reported to have died during construction. Once it was done, it became known for hosting elaborate parties.”