He considered the standard advice to steer into a skid and concluded that the admonition never anticipated this maneuver. Instead he fell back on two far more instinctive actions. He slammed on the brake and prayed.
He had no idea which of the two was more critical, but the end result was that they came to a stop, still on the blacktop. They were facing back toward the disappearing Sprinter, which had not yet shown illuminated brake lights in the darkness. It was just possible that Jamison had no clue about the escape.
“Hang on.”
He said this mostly for Bones’ benefit as he did a one-eighty and accelerated. Step one was to put as much distance as a possible between himself and the van. Step two was find a decent size cross road to take. Then another one, to create more options for pursuit than Jamison could chase down. The cart appeared to have a top speed of about twenty-five, which is plenty fast on the golf course but death when trying to escape from one hundred-fifty horses of internal combustion.
Darkness was in their favor, though there were no streetlights so he couldn’t turn off their lights entirely. He discovered a set of fog lights and used those instead. Fortune continued to smile on them, as he actually turned on three paved cross streets in succession over the course of about five miles. Rolling to a stop about fifty feet down a dirt road lined with trees, he felt that they were as safe as they could be under the circumstances.
Bones popped out of the back onto his feet and let out a whoop. “Man, that is what I call an adrenaline rush! We have got to try that again sometime. But I get to drive.”
After multiple nights of no sleep combined with the recent adrenaline-laced escape, Maddock didn’t have the energy to laugh.
“Okay Bones. Next time we propel a cart out the back of a moving vehicle, you drive.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.” He turned to gaze down the darkened street. “I guess that’s that. What do we do now?”
Maddock grinned. “The Sons might have the journal, but they don’t have all of it.”
Sterling frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I took a page out of Billy Lee’s playbook. Pun intended.” He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
Sterling folded her arms. “You didn’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Don’t take it personally. We’ve learned not to trust people.”
The look in her eyes said that Sterling didn’t find the answer satisfactory, but she kept her silence.
“I actually translated the last page before I worked on anything else, and it contains a clue I think is worth following.”
“What’s that?” Bones asked.
“We’re going to find the Queen Anne’s Revenge.”
TWELVE
Edmonia Jennings Wright picked up the phone with some hesitation. She hated having to keep someone else informed. Her alliance with the individual on the other end of the line could never be a relationship of equals. Still, she was fully prepared to go it alone if the balance of power skewed any further in the wrong direction.
The phone rang and was answered on the other end.
“Hello, Edmonia.”
Even the familiarity of the greeting served to highlight the power of the speaker. Wright had spent decades honing the ability to push aside irritation and even dissipate it the instant it appeared. No trace of frustration adorned her voice.
“I have a status update. We recovered the journal. It’s in code, but that won’t be a problem.”
“Excellent. How long do you anticipate it will take to translate it?”
“Not long. The cipher is a common one used during the colonial period. I expect it will be complete in a few days at the most.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “The two SEALs have escaped with the park policewoman.”
The man on the other end paused. “I thought you said you put your best man on it.”
“I did. He failed.”
“Perhaps he needs replacing.”
“Perhaps.”
Another pause. “Do I need to get more involved?”
“That is of course up to you. This sort of endeavor never proceeds without setbacks. We have the journal, which is what matters most.”
“You don’t think your escapees will cause more problems?”
The emphasis on your grated at her nerves.
“Let them try. There’s no way they had time to translate the entire journal, assuming they managed to break the code at all. If they want to continue the chase, they’ll have to take it back from us, and that isn’t going to happen.”
“I have to go. Inform me the minute you have more information that gets us closer to the prize.”
It was a typical ending to these conversations. Wright decided then and there only to make another call when discovery was imminent. Perhaps not even then.
Jamison’s loss of Maddock and Bonebrake was disappointing, but she wouldn’t be too hard on him. Men like Jamison were hard to come by, and disposing of everyone who made mistakes only sounded good in the movies and at Congressional hearings. The fact was that they had the journal, putting them one step closer to their goal.
Soon, her search would be at an end.
A single beam of golden light sliced through the dusty air in Hunter Maddock’s private library and shone on the antique map spread out on the desk. Elizabeth never missed a chance to comment on this room’s need for a thorough cleaning, but Hunter liked it this way. It reminded him of the old library he’d frequented as a child, devouring books like Treasure Island and Journey to the Center of the Earth. Besides, it was nice to allow himself one aspect of his life that wasn’t shipshape and Bristol fashion.
His eyes drifted from the map to the framed photograph on his desk. He took out a handkerchief and brushed the dust from the glass. Three faces smiled back at him. Hunter, with fewer gray hairs; Elizabeth, looking as beautiful as the day they’d met; and Dane in his Full Dress uniform. As always, Hunter’s chest swelled with pride at the thought of his son.
The phone rang, jolting him from his thoughts. As always, he picked up on the first ring.
“Hunter Maddock.”
“Dad? How’s it going?”
“Dane. I thought you were off mountain climbing with that…interesting friend of yours.” Hunter still wasn’t sure what to make of the big, roguish Cherokee whom his son had befriended. He had to admit, the man had a certain charm, and Dane vouched for him, so that was something.
“We were diverted.”
Hunter thought he detected a note of hesitation in his son’s voice.
“Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” Dane said too quickly. “I wanted to ask you about your pirate research.”
A chill ran down Hunter’s spine, and for one irrational moment he wondered if Dane knew about… No, it was impossible.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes. I’m just surprised that you’ve finally taken an interest in treasure hunting.”
Dane laughed. “Sort of. It’s hard to explain.” He cleared his throat. “I know Captain Kidd is your thing, but do you know much about Blackbeard?”
“How much time do you have?”
“Not much, though I’d be happy to hear all about it next time I’m home for a visit. What I’m specifically wondering is, do you have any idea where Queen Anne’s Revenge went down?”