“What’s your assessment, Cal?”
“Lots of places to set up an ambush. But there are a dozen ways to sneak on board, too.”
“You’re going to have to be the ‘sneakee.’ Marzak is expecting me, and he’s got Cait.”
“I’m going to like being back in my natural habitat. H. 2. O.” Calvin tightened his lips and turned to Sutherland. “You got an overview showing where the boat is in relation to its surroundings?”
A satellite photo of the Maryland shore appeared on the screen. Sutherland zoomed in until the outline of a peninsula appeared.
“Kinda looks like a lollipop,” she said.
The narrow section of the peninsula was a causeway leading to the widening, roughly circular tip of land. It was surrounded by shallows between the upland and the darker open water. The elongated lines of the yacht became visible. “Newspaper story says a hurricane pushed the yacht onto land and washed in silt that made it impossible for boats to come in and tie up.” Sutherland enlarged the image up, showing a long dock sticking out into a marsh.
Calvin said, “You come in by land, I make it by water. Classic pincers maneuver. You distract him here.” He pointed to the dining room. “I come up through the marsh, sneak aboard the boat here and come in the kitchen. Might even stop at the bar to order a rum coke.”
“You really think it will be that easy?” Hawkins said.
“Naw. I was kidding about the rum coke.” Calvin asked Sutherland for a geological survey chart of the Eastern Shore. The water showed only a foot or two of average depth close to shore.
“There’s almost no water close to the upland,” Hawkins said.
“If this wetland is anything like a Louisiana bayou, it’ll be mostly mud. No way to walk across it. And no telling what shape that dock is in, but it’s sending off real bad vibes.”
“Marzak vibes?’
“He likes to play with explosives and he’d expect us to try something funny. If I were him, I’d figure you to come in across the causeway. But he knows you’ve got back up with me, so he’d booby trap the only other access.”
“Makes sense. What about placing explosives in the swamp?”
“Be tough to lay down charges in the water. Big area to cover and he’d figure it’s too shallow for a boat and too muddy for walking.”
Hawkins pictured the scene in his mind. Driving across the causeway. Climbing onto the yacht. Looking for Marzak, who’d lay down a trail for him to follow to a trap.
“Let’s use Marzak’s MO against him.”
He outlined his thoughts.
“Might work,” Calvin said. “It would depend on precision timing, no margin for error and luck, but it would make a hell of a distraction. What if the dock isn’t booby-trapped?”
“Then you’ll have to come up with your own distraction.”
Abby had been listening to the back and forth.
“Is this as close to surgical precision as you can get?”
“ ’Fraid so, Abby. A lot can go wrong. But we’ll look at all the eventualities and build layers of backup. That’s all we can do.”
She nodded, but the expression on her face showed she was still worried.
“Matt, there’s something I have to say to you.”
“Uh-oh,” Calvin said. “I feel another one of those tender moments coming on. Hey Sutherland. Let’s get us a couple of muffins.”
Sutherland grinned, the computer cover snapped shut, then she and Calvin headed for the galley.
“I’m waiting,” Hawkins said when they were gone.
“Matt, I’ve really grown to like Cait and I’d hate to see anything happen to her.”
“Same here, Abby. That’s why we’re going to make this work.”
“I know you will, but I’ve got to ask you something that sounds really stupid. You’d be willing to give up the scepter for her. Would you do the same for me?”
“No,” Hawkins replied, his mouth widening into a grin at her crestfallen expression. “I’d exchange the whole Prester John treasure for you.”
Abby smiled. “Damn you, Hawkins!”
He threw his palms wide. “What?”
She leaned over, kissed his lips and headed for the front of the cabin. Then, abruptly, she turned and said, “Excuse me. I’ve got to make some phone calls.”
Hawkins watched with a puzzled expression in his eyes as Abby settled into a seat with a phone against her ear. Then he punched out a number on his own phone and when a voice answered, he said, “You were right about the snake pit, Commander Kelly.”
“Hawkins! Damn. Hope you had plenty of snake repellent.”
“We used so much that we ran out.”
“That bad?”
“Worse, commander.”
“Sorry, Matt. What can I do to help?”
Hawkins told him what he wanted and when he was arriving in Washington.
“I’ll have it waiting at the airport,” Kelly said. “Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Good luck, whatever you’re into.”
“Thanks,” Hawkins said, “I’m going to need it.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Calvin backed a pick-up truck up to an abandoned boat ramp, and Abby and Sutherland unloaded a five-foot-long black rubber raft from the bed and carried it to the water’s edge. Calvin tied a nylon tow line running from the prow of the raft to his air tank. He stripped down to a body-fitting Speedo bathing suit and got into his custom-fitted black neoprene wetsuit.
He waded into the water and tested his closed-circuit re-breathing SEAL rig which was designed not to emit bubbles like conventional SCUBA gear. Then he and his helpers loaded a waterproof zipper bag onto the raft. He gave them each a quick peck on the cheek, and donned his mask, hood and flippers.
Abby watched him breast-stroke ahead of the raft, pulling it from shore, and as soon as he submerged, she called Hawkins to let him know that Calvin was on his way.
Hawkins acknowledged the message with a thank you, clicked the phone off and waited.
He was sitting in a car parked a quarter of a mile from the turn onto to the yacht driveway. A chart of the local waters was spread out in front of him. He tried to picture where Calvin would be, but he knew he could only guess at his friend’s progress. He broke into a broad smile of relief at the chirp of his hand radio.
A slow drawl came over the phone.
“Fish ain’t bitin’ on the crab meat I’m usin’ for bait. Anybody got any suggestions?”
Calvin was telling him that he had arrived at the boat dock.
“Try hangin’ a night crawler on your hook,” Hawkins said in lazy tone that had more Maine than Maryland in it.
“Thanks, Cap. Let you know how it goes.”
The cornball code may have been overcautious, but with Cait’s life at stake, Hawkins didn’t want the faintest possibility of a screw-up.
Now it was his turn.
He started the car engine and drove to the restaurant driveway, turned in at the No Trespassing sign and bumped along the cratered road to the weed-grown restaurant parking lot. The old yacht that loomed in the headlight wash was in even worse shape than the boat in the photo Sutherland had dug up.
He snapped the lights off, re-checked the load in his Heckler and Koch P-9 and slid the pistol back into the carbon fiber hip holster that was concealed by the hem of his long-sleeve black T-shirt. He slipped the strap holding a thermal imaging monocular around his neck and pulled on a navy baseball cap.
He got out of the car and reached into the back seat to open the ebony case. He removed the scepter, tied a nylon rope around the nexus of the relic’s arms, and slung the loop over his right shoulder. The scepter hung at his left side like a sword.