Black Jack Point (9 page)

Gar carried Claudia out onto
Jupiter’s
deck. She was still blindfolded, and the heat of the sun touched her face and legs. He lurched and for a freezing moment
she thought he was throwing her overboard. But then he settled her feet on deck, held her by her shoulders, and she realized
he’d crossed the railing to the
Miss Catherine. We haven’t really moved,
Claudia realized. She wondered how cold a watery grave would feel, the sky forever denied, your flesh drifting off your bones
over the weeks, your leg bones and hipbones and ribs settling into the ooze, like artifacts, for the slow dissolve into muck
itself.

‘Don’t do this,’ she said. ‘Please.’ She balled her hands into fists, but she knew with a sick sinking feeling he was much
stronger than she was. She needed a weapon to even the odds.

‘He’s not going to hurt you.’ Danny’s voice came from behind her. ‘I just want to talk to you a minute.’

So this wasn’t about rape, at least for the next five minutes.

Gar steered her – walking made her broken toe throb even worse – into a galley that reeked of burned pizza, with a thin odor
of rum and sweat souring the air. He steered Claudia into a vinyl booth and pushed her into the seat.

‘Now, Claudia,’ Danny said. ‘We can talk for a few minutes. While we wait to be sure Stoney’s cooperating.’

Breath tickled Claudia’s ear. ‘If this deal sours,’ Gar whispered, ‘I’m gonna have fun with you. Pour some Wesson oil between
your legs and have us a little marathon.’

Her heart struck her ribs like a hammer hitting piano wire.

‘Let her be,’ Danny said. ‘Go back to the other boat.’

‘Behave,’ Gar said, presumably to her. Claudia heard a door close, the smell of the rum moved closer, vinyl crackled as Danny
slid into the booth’s other side. She put her hands – still bound in front of her – on the table. The linoleum was Sticky.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ Danny said.

‘Yeah, right.’ Gar’s threat wriggled in her ear like a worm.

‘I don’t think he’ll rape you. He’s all talk. Those two boys, well, they slept in the same stateroom last night and I heard
groaning. Don’t think they had upset stomachs.’ The barest hint of moral outrage colored his voice.

‘He broke my toe because he didn’t like what I said. And frankly, you’re not in control of him or what he does.’

‘I am.’

‘You’re not,’ she said. ‘I can hear it in their voices. Those two freaks are just using you to get at this cash. You’re too
gentle. You don’t have the stomach for this or what it might take. You’re as dead as me and Ben if this doesn’t work out.’

‘I’m sorry you’re in this mess, but you picked your friends badly. You thirsty, hon? Want some water?’

‘Please.’

A tap gurgled. Then he pushed a glass into her hands. She drank. He moved against the vinyl, making it squeak, trying to get
comfortable. ‘Tell me what you know about Stoney.’

‘Nothing. I know Ben. I barely knew Stoney in high school.’

‘High school. Before he was a millionaire.’

‘Yes.’

‘He much different now?’

‘He has more lunch money.’

A match scratched, she smelled the flash of fire. Cigarette paper crackled its whisper and silky smoke brushed her nostrils.
‘So in high school did he run roughshod over people? Kill anyone who got in his way?’

‘Talk is cheap,’ she said. ‘What proof do you have he killed anybody?’

‘Because only he knew about the journal,’ Danny said. ‘I told him about it, he decided he wanted it, and he killed to get
it.’

The journal. The emerald. She’d heard him refer to both before. But this was about more, about stealing millions of Stoney’s
cash. ‘Forget that for a minute, since he says he doesn’t have it. Y’all can’t get away with stealing his money electronically.
Transactions leave electronic trails. You’ll get caught within days.’ She leaned a little toward Danny and smelled rum. ‘Having
a little liquid courage?’ she asked.

‘You want some?’

‘Sure. For medicinal purposes. I get seasick when I’m uncomfortable. These ropes really hurt and my foot’s aching.’ Let him
think she was delicate and helpless.

A dribble of rum trickled into her glass. ‘Where you work, Claudia?’ Danny asked, as though he were a bartender making conversation.

‘I’m a secretary,’ she lied. ‘I work for a justice of the peace in Port Leo. Judge Whit Mosley.’

‘You didn’t work today?’

Today was Thursday. She had taken Wednesday, today, and Friday off. She would not be missed at the police department until
Monday. But the pirates didn’t know that.

‘I took off today,’ she said. ‘Just today because Fridays we have juvenile court. It’s always a zoo.’

‘Damned kids.’ She heard the soft puff of his cigarette. ‘How about I call this judge? Tell him y’all ran into motor trouble
down near Padre. You’ll be out another day. I’ll say I’m the mechanic fixing it. I’m sure he’ll understand.’

She prayed, silently, that if Danny made the call Whit would have the presence of mind not to blurt,
What the hell are you talking about? She doesn’t work for me.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. ‘He won’t accept a stranger calling and making excuses for me. I’d have to talk with him.’

‘We’ll discuss that with my colleagues.’

‘Colleagues. That’s generous.’

Ten seconds of silence. She couldn’t see his face. Frown of anger, smile of indulgence, scowl of disbelief? Or maybe ready
to stub that cigarette out on her forehead.

‘They breaking a deal with you?’ she asked. ‘They care about the money, not about punishing Stoney or this emerald or whatever
it is you care about.’

‘Hush now.’

‘Maybe I can help you.’

‘Why would you help me, honey?’

‘Because I want to live. I’ll get you what you want, if you’ll get us out of this alive.’

She heard only the hard rasp of his breathing.

‘You’re not like those guys, are you? You’re a little older, a little wiser. They’re in this for the money. You’re in it because
you want the money
and
you hate Stoney. That’s a big
and.’

Now the silence stretched for half a minute. She couldn’t stand it, so her words came out in a flood.
‘Look. All I know about Stoney is he’s got a big-ass house full of security. And I can get you past that security. Ben showed
me the codes for the house last night, ’cause I might do some house-sitting for him and his brother when they go out of town.
But I’ll only help you if you don’t hurt me or Ben or Stoney.’ She wished she could tear the blindfold off, see his reaction
to this lie. How did the blind navigate the emotions of the world, gauge human reaction? She listened for the quickening of
his breath, for nervous tapping fingers against the table, for uneasy shifts in posture. But there was only the silence.

Then he said, ‘Do you know why Stoney Vaughn’s boat is called the
Jupiter?’

‘Because he thinks he’s a god?’ She spiced a little bitterness into her tone, figuring she might as well play into his resentment
of Stoney by faking anger.

She heard him tap ashes. She sensed him leaning his head close to hers, his breath smelling of garlic, rum, tobacco. ‘What
do you know about Jean Laffite?’

‘Who?’

‘Laffite. The pirate Laffite.’

The words were so unexpected she didn’t answer for a moment. ‘Well, uh, he was a famous pirate in the Gulf a long time ago.
I guess the last of the great pirates. There’s all sorts of legends that he buried a lot of gold along the coast.’

‘Jean Laffite had a schooner in his fleet called
Jupiter.
Stoney named his boat after Laffite’s. He even has that picture of Laffite in his stateroom. Not nearly as good as the paintings
I have, but still an okay one.’

She remembered the print. Yes. Laffite the pirate, confident and cocky.

‘And do you know why this boat is the
Miss Catherine?’

‘Tell me.’

‘Laffite’s great love was a woman named Catherine Villars. She was a New Orleans quadroon – part black, mostly white – a legendary
beauty. Skin like yours, Claudia, perhaps a bit darker.’ He ran a finger along her hand but it didn’t scare her.

‘So you and Stoney are pirate wannabes,’ Claudia said. ‘Rent an Errol Flynn movie and get it out of your system.’ This talk
of pirates made her nervous. Pirates cut throats. Pirates made victims walk planks. Pirates raped and killed.

‘Do you know what happened to Jean Laffite?’

‘I don’t imagine he ended up in a rest home.’

‘No one knows. Terrible and beautiful, the not knowing.’ His voice took a strange tone, one of slow, sickened anger that goose
pimpled her skin. ‘Here’s the basics. Laffite used Barataria Bay in Louisiana as a base. Made his fortune attacking Spanish
shipping. He sold his booty – mostly slaves and luxury goods – in New Orleans. His pirating kept New Orleans fat and happy
in black-market merchandise, except Laffite didn’t pay taxes.’

‘They had IRS agents then?’

‘Laffite’s the social god of New Orleans, but he’s an outlaw to the American government. So during the War of 1812, the British
navy makes Laffite an offer: help the English capture New Orleans, and they’ll give him gold, land, a high commission in their
navy. Think how different our history might have been if the British had taken Louisiana.’

‘Yorkshire pudding with jambalaya.’

‘But Laffite tricks the British. He warns the governor about the British plans. Know what the Americans did to repay him?’

‘What?’

‘The Americans attacked Laffite’s base, burned his operations to the ground. All for warning them. There’s a goddamned sweet
thank-you note.’

‘Well, that wasn’t very nice,’ Claudia said.

‘But Laffite’s a patriot. A man of honor.’ The heat in his voice rose. ‘When Andrew Jackson arrived to defend New Orleans,
Laffite offered his pirates to help defend the city. Jackson badly needed experienced fighters and weapons. So Laffite armed
New Orleans – he still had more guns than the government, even after they destroyed his camp. With Jackson’s blessing, Laffite
and his pirates took charge of key positions as the British attacked.’

‘And Laffite helped win the day,’ Claudia guessed.

‘He fucking dominated the day for them,’ Danny corrected, battle in his own voice. ‘His cannons shredded an overwhelming British
force. The pirates became national heroes. President Madison pardoned Laffite and his men of their past crimes.’

Maybe Laffite just didn’t want to lose his market,
Claudia thought, but instead she said, ‘And they all retired to Club Med.’

‘Well, he wasn’t gonna take a nine-to-five job. Once a pirate, you know. Eventually he left New Orleans for Texas.’

‘And ended up on Galveston Island.’ This part of the history Claudia knew – standard lore of growing up on the Texas coast.

‘Imagine. A thousand, pirates on Galveston, working all the waters of the Gulf, bringing Laffite their booty, funneling the
goods to Louisiana. But one of his ships attacked an American merchantman. Laffite hanged the captain responsible on a beach
gallows so that the American navy, from their ships off Galveston, could see the body dangling – but the US government wasn’t
appeased. They ordered Laffite out of Texas, out of the Gulf.’

Laffite sounded like ninety-percent asshole to her, barely a hero, but Claudia sensed Jean Laffite burned as real as the sun
for Danny.

‘The man had saved New Orleans but they forgot about that. Typical American arrogance. But Laffite obeyed. In spring of 1820,
he sailed away, leaving Galveston burning to the ground.’ He stopped, as though picturing the scene, a fading shot of an old
black-and-white movie in which the cutthroats were the gallant heroes.

‘Then what?’ Claudia asked, wanting to slap him, to shake him, to say,
This happened almost two hundred years ago. Why am I gonna get killed over this?

‘The stories vary. Some say he went to Yucatán and died of fever. Some say he went to Cuba and died in a sea battle. Some
claim he tried to rescue Napoleon from St Helena. One man, a supposed descendant of Laffite’s, claimed Laffite returned to
America under an assumed name, and lived out his life in small-town Missouri.’ This last option was pronounced with sarcasm
dripping from every word. ‘But no one knows. Of course, so many say that he buried a treasure, worth millions, somewhere in
Texas or Louisiana.’

‘Treasure,’ she repeated, thinking of Ben talking yesterday at lunch about Stoney.
He’s financed some treasure dives in the Florida Keys … Crazy-ass way to risk your money.

‘Imagine the scene, Claudia. The government Laffite served so well in a time of need has completely betrayed him. He left
as he promised, but the American navy shadowed and harassed him all the way down the coast. He would have had reason to believe
the navy might board or attack him at any time. Or the British or the
Spanish might attack him. Remember, he was being evicted, leaving his base, leaving nothing behind. Nothing.’ A pause. ‘His
only option to keep his treasure from falling into others’ hands would have been to bury it so he could return when the heat
died down and retrieve it.’

‘It seems risky,’ she said.

‘Laffite knew the shallows and reefs in getting through the barrier islands and the bays. The American navy couldn’t follow
him there.’ Danny cleared his throat. ‘The proof was in the journal – real, actual documentation – that Laffite buried a fortune
near St Leo Bay. Before Stoney stole it from me. Like you said, you help me, maybe I help you?’

He’s inviting you in.
The trickle of sweat began between her breasts, down her ribs. It was the only chance she saw; Stoney knew who Danny was,
which meant a trail could be followed back to Gar and Redhead. She and Ben were guaranteed dead, unless she could make herself
valuable.

Make it good, girl.
‘Tell me more about this journal. Maybe I can figure out where Stoney hid it. I’m pretty familiar with his house.’

‘Looks like an old diary, brown, leather-bound, small pages. Written in the 1820s by Dr John Fanning. He was the ship’s surgeon
on the navy schooner
Lynx.
According to Fanning,
Lynx
detained Laffite after he left Galveston, boarded his ship outside St Leo Bay, searched it for traces of loot from a Spanish
treasure ship,
Santa Barbara,
which had been lost barely a week before.
Lynx
escorted Laffite to Mexico, dumped him there penniless, pardoned his crew. One of Laffite’s crew, a drunk, told Fanning Laffite
went ashore with a few other men and buried a trove from
Santa Barbara
at Black Jack Point – but that
only Laffite returned. Of course the historians have it wrong, the Fanning journal rewrites Laffite’s history. And I had
it. It was
mine’