LC 04 - Skeleton Crew (49 page)

"Nate, tell me, did you kill those two?" Bowers asked.

"No. Can't you see what she's trying to do?"

"You found Denton here getting copies of diary pages from
Mike-who stole them from us. Denton was giving them to Eva
Jones. You couldn't have that, could you? Denton told you Jones
was close, that she had something. She had a letter addressed to
Valerian, didn't she? It was in code, the code the pilot of the
Concepcion wrote in to Valerian, telling where the ship was. Jones
found out that the diary from the Estrella mentioned the name
Valerian and that it was written in code. She thought it was the same code. That's why she wanted the translation and a few pages of the
diary-a little Rosetta stone to allow her to translate her letter."

"Nate," said Tom, "what the heck is she talking about?"

"She's just delirious. I told you, it will be easy just to make her
look drunk. Come on." He grabbed her arm.

"Denton didn't just tell you about the letter," she yelled as he
pulled her across the kitchen. "You had to hold his head under
water in the warehouse to force him to tell you. You know, don't
you, they found sugar water in his lungs?"

"Shut up." He started to slap her and she ducked, pulling away.

Tom came up behind her and held her. Lindsay kicked at his
shins and screamed. He put a hand over her mouth.

"Hush now. I don't want to kill you, but I will hurt you to save
myself. I know what you are going to say next. You're going to tell
me that I haven't killed anyone, so now would be a good time to
cut my losses. After all, I only took an underwater shot at Nate and
that was for a good cause-to keep looters away from the area. I'm
right, aren't I? That's what you were going to say?"

He was right. That was exactly the argument she was going to
present to him.

"But you see," he continued, holding her so tight her ribs
ached. "That's a lot of money on that ship. And Nate says he can
see to it that we get a share. I know there are all kinds of guards
there now, and a big portion has already been packed up by you
guys, but Nate here is on the inside. He also tells me that there is a
king's ransom still on the bottom that the ship dropped before it
washed ashore."

Lindsay tried to break away again. Tried to stomp his feet. He
squeezed her around the middle so hard she thought she would
pass out from the pain.

"I have a sister like you," Tom said. "I love her. She's a great sister. She's smart like you. She values her brain more than any part
of her body. I'll bet you're like that. I won't kill you, but I can put
you in a choke hold and cut off the blood supply to your brain for
just a few seconds. Do you know what that will do?" Lindsay nodded. "Good. You aren't going to struggle any more, are you?" She
shook her head. He let go of her mouth, but held her upper arm in
a hard grip, her injured arm, which was now throbbing from lack
of circulation.

"See, Nate, you don't have to kill people."

"You can't let her go," began Nate.

"Dammit, Nate. I've never killed anyone and I'm not going to.
I don't really want to hurt her. Now, our original plan will still
work. She has no proof of anything."

"You don't understand. She is very persuasive. You should
have heard her today. She convicted the pilot of the Estrella after
440 years."

"That's interesting, isn't it?" asked Lindsay.

"What?" said Nate.

"Both you and Bellisaro had the same motive for murder-your
careers."

"You are such a bitch. Why couldn't you take that message to
heart?"

"Stubbornness, I suppose."

"I'll bet you wish you had."

"Considering how things are right now, yes."

Lindsay was searching her brain for a plan. She had none. Help
was so close-several people were in the house, the National
Guard was down the beach, the Coast Guard was patrolling the
water, and she might as well be in the middle of nowhere. Each of
them took an arm and escorted her out the back door. The moon
was waning and there were clouds. It was dark, but not as dark as
pitch, not as dark as a cave. But dark. Perhaps she could do something with the dark. Her gaze roved over the area. They were on a
wooden walkway that led to the second-floor kitchen. She and
Bobbie had carried groceries in that way. There was a parking lot
ahead just beyond the shrubbery. To the right was sand and palmettos. To the left were a ten-foot expanse of sand and the alligator pond.

"You won't be able to get any treasure," said Lindsay. "It will be
so well guarded that even Nate can't get to it. I've talked with
Lewis and it's all spoken for."

"That's a little lame," Tom countered.

"Nate is not an expert in artifacts. He's an excavator and a
diver. His academic speciality is geography-that's what his master's is in. There's no reason whatsoever for him to have access to
the treasure. If he tries too hard to gain access, Lewis will become
suspicious. If any turns up missing, he'll know. Don't think for a
minute that it won't be inventoried and Nate won't be a suspect.
You can still get out of this."

"Will you please just do that choke hold thing and shut her
up?" said Nate.

"Nate knows I'm telling the truth. He's stringing you along so
you'll do what he wants. But now you know about the murders.
That makes you an accessory after the fact."

"Then I've got nothing to lose by killing you?" Tom rasped at
her. He was losing patience. That was a bad sign.

"Yes, you do. Simply turn him in-then you're not an accessory
and not a murderer."

"I'm also not rich."

"You're not going to get rich. You can forget that."

Nate swung his fist to hit Lindsay in the face. She ducked her
head, and his fist connected with Tom, knocking him sideways
and loosening his grip on her arm. Lindsay bolted. Nate grabbed
her and started to swing again. Nate wasn't a fighter. He took a lot
of time swinging his arm back to get momentum for his punch.
Lindsay kicked him in the groin and he doubled over. Tom rushed
for her. She ran. He was about to grab her, she felt his hand on her
shirt. She ducked sideways through the railings, sprinted across
the ten feet of sand, slipped into the alligator pond, dove under,
and swam.

She came to a clump of vegetation and surfaced just long
enough to take a breath and in time to hear Tom call Nate an idiot
and tell him to get Robert to help them hunt. She thought about
swimming to the front to get Dale. But Dale might not believe her
and let Nate drag her off, telling Dale they were taking her to the
hospital. Or worse yet, Dale could be in on it with them.

Where could she get help? The meteorologists? Could she dash
past Dale and get to William, or lock herself in Lewis's office and
telephone the barge? Or dash up to Harper's room? Could she be
fast enough? Would they come after her? Would they kill everyone, or simply run away? She hurt-her ribs, her legs, her arms.
She hurt so bad she shook. Her brain was growing dull again from
the pain. She surfaced. It was quiet. A flashlight, like a spotlight,
swept across the water. She ducked just in time and swam farther
into the pond, waiting until she could hold her breath no longer
before she surfaced. She heard them. Someone was around in front
of the house. Robert? Tom was still sweeping the flashlight back
and forth in a search pattern. She heard the splash of a boat and the
rhythmic splashing of oars. Nate had put a rowboat into the water, probably the one he used to move the bodies. No doubt he was
armed and dangerous-and had a flashlight.

Think, think, think. The National Guardsmen were just a cDu-
ple of miles down the beach. A couple of miles-they may as well
have been a hundred. She couldn't make it. Could she? What if she
went through the woods?

She heard the boat and went under the water again, swimming
farther into the pond. How big was it? It was fairly deep where she
was. Around the front of the house it had come up to John's chest.
The marsh was shallow where Harper took a bath after falling in
the quicksand. She wished one of them would fall into a pi ` of
quicksand.

She heard the boat coming and saw another light sweeping the
water. She ducked the light, hoping the ripples wouldn't give her
away. When she had surfaced last, she saw a clump of marsh grass
to her left. She swam for it until she felt vegetation, and resurfaced.
Perhaps she could just avoid them until daylight. It was more shallow here. Her feet touched the bottom. Her eyes were getting better adjusted to the darkness. She rubbed the water from them. And
looked for the light.

That's when she discovered she was face-to-face with an all igator. It lay in the water not four feet away, its nose and brow ridge
above the water. She started shaking so hard, the water quivered.
She never thought she would prefer to be back in the ocean in a
hurricane. Stay still, don't move. Alligators are active at night. She
knew that about them. Please have already eaten. The alligator
didn't move, but stared at her, or seemed to. How many more were
in here? This was not a good plan.

She heard the splash, splash, splash of oars in the water. Nate
coming for her with a gun. Surely he couldn't hope to get away
with killing her? Maybe he would-"saw her leave the house ana followed her. She fell in the water and was attacked by an alligator, meant to
shoot him, not her. Sorry." What kind of story would that make? The
question was, would Nate think it would make a good story? Yes,
he would. He had two witnesses to back him up.

Splash, splash, splash. He was closer, shining that light. Light
was death if it fell on her. Lindsay was afraid to move, close to
panic, terrified. Surely the alligator must hear her heart beating,
surely Nate must, it was so loud in her ears. It pounded up in her
throat, in her ears. Thump, thump, thump, splash, splash, sp,'ash. Nate was almost upon her. The light would hit her in a moment,
the alligator would attack, she would die a terrible death. She
slowly ducked under the water, trying to make nary a ripple. She
felt the boat move over her, felt an oar just miss the top of her
head. She came out of the water under the left side of the boat
and pushed with all her might, capsizing it. Nate fell into the
water, splashed, cursed, yelled, then screamed. She heard running, saw the wiggling beams of the flashlights that Robert and
Tom carried.

Where could she go? She swam away from the commotion, trying to filter out the screams and the enormous splashing of the
water, which she knew was the alligator. Suddenly she was hauled
out of the water and a hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled.

"It's me, Mike Altman-and James Choi."

They pulled her back into the brush, into the sharp palmettos,
away from the lights. She heard gunfire and grimaced. Mike led
her through the brush and down a narrow trail until she thought
she would faint. She saw lights ahead and pulled back.

"It's all right," said James.

It was the ranger station. They rushed her up the stairs and into
the kitchen.

"My God, what happened to you?" Lindsay looked up at Tessa.

Gretchen came into the kitchen. "What was that shooting!"

"Don't shout," Lindsay whispered. "Lock the doors."

"What's going on?" asked Tessa.

"Nate's gone berserk," said Mike, going to all the outside doors
and locking them.

Tessa left the room a moment and came back with a blanket and
put it around Lindsay's shoulders.

Lindsay's teeth chattered and she started shaking uncontrollably.

"Can we move to the interior of the house?" she asked.

"Good idea," said Mike, returning from his rounds.

"What is going on?" asked Gretchen.

They took her to what appeared to be a den, with no windows.
Lindsay briefly explained what had happened.

"He was trying to kill you?" Gretchen asked. Lindsay nodded.

"Call the ranger station on Cumberland," Mike told Tessa.
Tessa picked up the phone and dialed.

"Thanks," said Lindsay. "You saved my life."

"You were doing okay," James said.

"What were you two doing out there?" asked Lindsay. Then she
saw that James held a pair of night goggles.

"I'm observing the night animals-alligators, too. We would
have helped sooner, but we couldn't figure out what was go:.ng
on.,,

"I'm sorry about the alligator," said Lindsay.

"He might make it. They're hard to kill."

"You killed an alligator?" Gretchen looked incredulous.

"No, she fed him Nate," said Mike.

"Please point me to the bathroom," said Lindsay. Tessa showed
her the way.

Lindsay made it to the commode and threw up. When he
finally came out, there was a sudden loud knocking at the door.

"Stay here," Mike said. He opened a closet and got a gun off the
top shelf and went to the door.

"Yes," he yelled through the door.

"My name's Tom Bowers. I'm looking for one of our archaeologists. She was hurt in the hurricane and suffered a concussion. I'm
afraid she may have wandered away."

"Is it that Chamberlain woman?"

"Yes, that's her. Is she here?"

"No, but if she comes, I'll shoot her head off. The bitch cost me
my job."

"If you see her, please give me a call. My name's Tom Bowers."

"Yeah, sure. What's that shooting I heard? You're not supposed
to be shooting on the island."

"I think that was Miss Chamberlain. She's really in a bad way."

Mike came back into the room. "I guess you heard that?"

"I didn't really cost you your job, did I?" asked Lindsay.

Mike looked at her amoment. "No, I just made that up."

"Do you think they'll break in?" asked Gretchen.

"I don't know. What did the rangers say?" he asked Tessa.

"They're coming. They're calling the National Guard."

"The National Guard?" said Gretchen, wide-eyed. "Is it that
bad? Who are those people?"