“It’s a little meager for a man of your means, wouldn’t you say?” she asked.
Sean remained standing. Both guards stood a few feet away from him, blocking the exit. “I like to keep it simple sometimes. It’s best not to mix business with pleasure,” he answered.
She crossed her long, tanned legs and seemed to relax a bit. Her eyes scanned him up and down. She didn’t seem to approve of his cargo shorts and the long-sleeved, white button up shirt he wore. “This is how you dress for work?” she asked curiously.
“It’s casual Thursday,” he answered with a smirk. The response caused her to smile slightly. “You’re not here to talk about my room or how I’m dressed, Lady. So, if you don’t mind, I’d just like to skip to the point. Who are you and what do you want?”
“Hmm. Very well, Mr. Wyatt. Since you wan to dispense with the pleasantries. I know you are looking for a ship. I seek to find the same.”
“There are a lot of ships around. Are you sure we’re looking for the same boat?” Sean asked sarcastically.
The woman nodded at thicker of the two guards and he immediately delivered a punch to Sean’s kidneys. The blow caused him to collapse to the floor, grimacing in pain. He grabbed his lower back as if that would somehow help.
She stared at him casually, unmoved. “Mr. Wyatt, you really should be more polite to me. I’m a very powerful woman. I see no reason why we can’t work together on this. In return, I will spare your life. I may even let you come work for me.”
“I have a job,” he said through clenched teeth.
She cocked her head to the side. “No matter. Perhaps I can persuade you to change your mind.” She arose from the bed and stood over him. Her black high heels were inches from his face. “Tell me what you know about the ship.”
Sean pushed himself up onto his knees, still trying to catch his breath. Pain throbbed across his lower back. “You probably know more about it than I do, Lady. I’ve just got here yesterday.”
“You met a man, earlier this morning. Who is he?” she pressured.
“He’s an old golfing buddy. I haven’t seen him in years. We just wanted to catch up on old times,” he only half-lied.
Her response was swift, a black shoe smacked across his face, sending him sprawling back onto the floor. The blow had caught him off guard and sent stinging pain across his cheek and mouth.
She wagged a finger dramatically in the air, and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Now, now, Mr. Wyatt. You shouldn’t tell lies. I’m not a woman to be trifled with.”
“I don’t even know who you are,” Sean spat as he pushed himself up off the floor for a second time. “And I don’t care. I told you, I just got into town yesterday. All I know is that there was a boat. I don’t even know what it looked like.”
Her other foot came up just as quickly as the first, but this time, Sean was ready for it. He grabbed it and spun her down to where he knelt, instantly wrapping his arm around her neck. The two goons pulled out their guns, but they didn’t have a shot. Sean had placed their employer squarely between him and them.
“Boys, if you’d be so kind,” he said and motioned to the weapons. “Just set those on the ground and I won’t break the little lady’s neck.” For a moment, the two men looked as if they didn’t know what to do.
“Drop the guns, you idiots!” she yelled. They did as she ordered.
“Now, go ahead and take a few steps back and get in the bathroom,” Sean ordered. “Nice and slow.”
The two did as he said and slinked back into the bathroom. Sean eased forward a few feet with the woman then shoved her towards the bathroom door. In the same motion, he reached down and grabbed the two guns, bringing them up quickly.
“Go ahead,” he motioned with one of the weapons. “Get in there with your little friends and close the door.”
“You are making a big mistake, Mr. Wyatt,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Maybe,” he shrugged. “But you don’t know when I’m going to leave. If you so much as crack open that door while I’m here, I’ll shoot that pretty foot of yours for kicking me in the face.” She said nothing, but moved into the bathroom with her two bodyguards. “Atta girl,” he prodded. “Now close the door, please.”
She obeyed and closed it shut. As soon as it clicked, Sean moved quickly over to the workstation. He shoved his laptop into its backpack style case, along with a few documents.
“You guys might want to turn on the vent in there,” he said loudly. “Her perfume is a little strong.” He imagined her scowling at his comment inside the bathroom.
Sean opened the front door of the room and exited silently, making sure not to let it close completely. They wouldn’t know when he left. Eventually, he knew that the woman would force one of her guards to risk opening the door. Maybe it would be five minutes, maybe more. It didn’t matter. He only needed two to get out of the building.
He just hoped they didn’t know where he was going next.
Sean parked his gray Maxima next to a row of old brick buildings on the outskirts of downtown, near one of the many inlets that surrounded the area. He could hear the dinging of sailboat rigging nearby. The tall masts reached high above the one-story buildings.
The outside of Earl’s pub was decorated in an old world style. There was no way to know it was a bar. The only sign hanging out front was metal with the picture of a bird. He figured it was the right place for a pub called The Raven’s Nest.
It was still early in the afternoon when he walked in to the dimly lit tavern. As he looked around, Sean felt like he was walking back in time. The entire room was decorated with historical relics from both sea and land. Civil war antiques, pictures of boats and their captains, oars, and dozens of other things from the south’s past adorned the walls and pillars.
Behind the bar, a black man who looked to be in his mid-forties, was stocking a shelf with beer glasses. He was strong, broad shouldered, and around six feet tall, give or take an inch or so. As Sean entered the pub, the man glanced over for a second then went about finishing his task.
Sean eased up to a stool at the bar as the man placed the last glass from his rack onto the shelf. “What can I get for you?” he asked in a booming, southern accent. The man turned around and put his hands on the counter, smiling broadly.
“My name is Sean Wyatt. I’m looking for a man named Earl Forrester. Do you know him?”
The man’s grin turned curious. “Yeah, I know him. What you want with him?”
“I work for the International Archaeological Agency, based in Atlanta. My friend Porter Sanders told me that Earl is an expert when it comes to southern history. Do you know where he is?”
The smile never left the man’s face. “Sure. I know where he is. International Archaeological Agency? That sure is a mouthful.”
Sean grinned. “I know. I didn’t come up with it. I just work there. Would it be possible to talk to Mr. Forrester?” he asked.
The man lifted his hands off the bar. “Possible? You’re already talkin’ to him. I’m Earl Forrester. Welcome to The Raven’s Nest.”
He extended a strong hand out to Sean. He shook the man’s hand and apologized. “I’m sorry. Porter didn’t tell me anything other than a name and a place.”
Earl shook his head. “No worries. Porter’s funny like that. So, he said I was the expert? I don’t know about all that.”
Sean looked around at the décor of the room. “I don’t know. You sure do have a lot of old stuff in here.”
“Nah,” the barkeep passed it off. “You can get that stuff at flea markets and salvage yards.”
Sean seemed dubious but didn’t press that issue. Instead, he got right to the point. “I am here to investigate the whereabouts of a ship that went missing during the civil war. It was a side-steamer called The Oconee.”