“Morgan was a well-traveled man. Perhaps he ventured further afield.”
Jensen stared at Alicia once more, and then at Crouch. His mind looked to be working overtime.
“If there’s something you gotta say,” Alicia said. “Do it now. ’Cause I can’t promise I won’t treat that mouth to a knuckle sandwich before bed.”
Jensen understood the reference. “My situation,” he said. “Is impossible. If I do help I won’t get to see the outcome. Listen, have you really completed all your Henry Morgan research?”
Caitlyn sat up for that one. “Everything I could find on the Web. Why?”
“Well, there’s a wealth of information not on the Web, Miss, I assure you. Only that which aggrandizes, embellishes or tarnishes is usually deemed worthy of repeating. Many a tome exists on the great captain, and only a few cover every single detail. The Pirate King and Morgan, the Privateer Pirate’s Treasure are the best. Read them. I delve thoroughly into the background of my targets. We both do, right Michael? It’s how we were trained.”
“What is it that you have?” Crouch pushed.
“These books speak briefly of a stronghold that Morgan set up. Not a staging point, resting place or halfway stop for the pirates but a secure sanctuary he visited rarely and stayed at only briefly.”
“You know of this stronghold but did not visit?” Crouch frowned.
“Not when we had the maps in our hands.” Jensen shrugged. “Why would we?” He took a sip of water.
“All right,” Caitlyn said. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth. Where is it?”
Jensen bit his lip. “Well, that I don’t know. It’s another reason I left it alone for what I thought was the easier option. The published books don’t say where it is but…” he paused, thinking.
Crouch leaned forward. “What?”
“There’s a maritime museum in Key West, some of which is devoted to Henry Morgan and his life and the stories that were written about him. Through research, through books,” he shot a glance of disdain Caitlyn’s way, “I learned that a first edition of The Pirate King is stored there and contains a later-removed, rather drab passage that describes exactly where the stronghold lies. I think that’s our way to the treasure. At least, now I do.”
Crouch considered it. “Even if you’re telling the truth I’m not so sure,” he muttered. “As you yourself said — the maps and this hunt had to have some kind of reason. Was it merely the baubles? Or something deeper?”
“Wait,” Caitlyn said. “I can corroborate his claim. There should be a copy of The Pirate King online.”
“And you’re going to read it all now?” Jensen scoffed. “Spare me.”
Caitlyn held up her cellphone and the screen showing a Word app. “It’s called technology,” she said. “I can search for the word ‘stronghold’ and be taken to the right page in about, oh, half a second. But cheers for doing the grunt work.”
Jensen grumbled. Alicia smiled at Caitlyn’s effrontery. The girl was clearly annoyed with herself too. Within five minutes she had validated Jensen’s claim.
“Well, the passage exists,” she said. “But no mention of Key West. I checked the rest of the book.”
“What makes you believe they have a first edition?” Crouch was looking tired now. Russo came out of the woods and Healey spotted him for a while. Jensen explained that they should check the museum’s online records, and Caitlyn found that it did indeed list a first edition of The Pirate King among its own treasures.
“That’s some clever research,” Crouch told Jensen. “And thorough. A shame you couldn’t bring yourself to put it to good use.”
Alicia finished her meal. “I don’t trust this ass one inch.”
“Of course not,” Crouch said. “But do we stay here and admit defeat…” He paused.
“Or do we go?” Caitlyn finished with a grin.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Key West sits at the southernmost tip of the Florida Keys, popular for its Duval Street attractions, its port and its blood-red sunsets. Alicia had initially felt gratified when Crouch called in the authorities and gave Jensen over to them; now as she walked the hot, tropical sidewalks of Key West, she found several moments of second-guessing. And when she voiced her concerns to Crouch the look he gave her only spoke to the fact that he shared her misgivings.
Still, the mission at hand was an attractive one. A quest that they had thought over still held promise. It wasn’t unusual for newer versions of old tomes to be edited, cut down and repackaged. Publishers tried to make them more marketable, easier on the brain. Jensen had taken the time to research Henry Morgan to the full, but clearly hadn’t trusted any one of his lieutenants enough to send them on this mission.
A small light bulb went off.
Where were his lieutenants?
They hadn’t been present at the Viejo battle. Why not? Something more important was afoot. And Jensen himself had sent the Gold Team on this diversion. Still, they were here now and she wanted to see the outcome.
Time enough to worry later.
Tourists thronged the streets, aimlessly wandering between shops and bars, and trying to fit their cars into the tiny parking areas. Palm trees swayed happily in a light breeze. The smell of salt was in the air, tinged by diesel fumes. Colorful music spread from all corners and through shop doors, merging with the colorful locals and besotted tourists. The atmosphere galvanized a smile even from Russo.
“Feels like we should stay and play,” he said in a rare moment of levity.
Alicia slapped his back. “There we go. I knew there was a party animal under that rough and ready exterior.”
“Less animal.” Russo had never been more flippant with her. “More warrior.”
“The Party Warrior?” Alicia said. “You could probably market that.”
Crouch led them down a side street and stopped in front of a pair of canons and a clean, tall gray building with lots of windows. Alicia remembered this place from a few years ago when she’d been flirting with the enemy. The memories weren’t happy; the days since much better than those long past. She was thankful now for the change. She’d turned her life around and stuck with the motto: One life, live it.
We might all be dead tomorrow.
If she had learned one lesson, achieved one instant of enlightenment, that was it. They were living, they were there right now, so make the most of every moment in which you lived and loved and breathed.
Because death didn’t care one bit. It didn’t care who you left behind, who cried and who laughed, who missed you every single day. It didn’t care who raised a glass or drove a mile or played a song for you. Alicia had stared death in the face a hundredfold, and told it to go fuck itself every time. She would do so again until that fateful moment finally came when she no longer wished to escape the cold embrace.
Crouch led the way up the steps and into the cool interior of the museum. In addition to its books it carried one of the largest collections of seventeenth-century shipwreck and pirate artifacts in the world. Just what they were looking for. Crouch nodded in satisfaction as he read as much aloud.
“We came to the right place.”
“Or were directed here,” Alicia said.
“Don’t be a pessimist. This is all part of the hunt. Be excited.”
“Oh, I’m excited.” Alicia sniffed as she looked around the well-presented and purposely shady interior. “Can’t you tell?”
Artifacts gleamed from glass cabinets and low, polished pedestals. Maps and manuscripts glowed on the walls. Huge canons pointed the way to more impressive treasures. Crouch sought out the solitary guide among the numerous rooms and asked about the book they had come to see.