Trouble and Treasure (#1, Trouble and Treasure Series) (24 page)

….

No. I had to do the right thing this
time.

“
They’re going back to Arthur Stanton's
place; Amanda managed to convince him that the globes are back
there.”

“
Convince him?” Mark asked.

“
They aren't there,” I said, voice
tense.

“
Shit, Maratova will—” Mark
began.

A raised a hand to silence him. I didn't
need anyone to paint the picture I was already painting in complete
and horrible details for myself. That was why I was going to stop
this. That was why I was going to brave the storm outside, drive
like a maniac, and fix everything I had fucked up in the first
place.

“
I will call the army when I get out of
here; my phone’s back in my car,” I said with a nod, “But if I
don't—”

“
I'll say something nice at your funeral,
and I will call them myself,” Mark said with a low nod.

Right, well this was it then. I, the
bastard, was growing up.

Sebastian Shaw

Somehow, somehow I made it across the
path. If Amanda and I had thought the storm had been bad before, we
were dead wrong. From the second I opened the door, I realized how
stupid and suicidal my plan was. The sound of the waves alone as
they broke against the stone wall was bad enough. The water swamped
the path in a shifting wave of death.

I didn't
hesitate, gritting my teeth and plunging ahead. It
was so god dammed dark that the only light that made it through the
complete shadow of the clouds above was the powerful beam of the
lighthouse itself. Somewhere along the line the lamps had obviously
turned themselves on, content to do their real job despite the
shenanigans occurring down below.

I began my slow and treacherous walk to
the metal path above. I had no idea if my car was still there, but
had a feeling it would be. Hopefully untouched, hopefully my gun in
the back seat, and ever so hopefully Arthur Stanton's journal there
with it. I was half sure I still had a suit in the boot that I was
meaning to take to the dry cleaners, too.

Maratova had come with the army, and they
had come, like the crazy bastards they were, by rappelling from a
helicopter. It appeared the criminals Maratova worked for had come
in the same way. Hopefully that meant they’d never even seen my
car, let alone had a chance to run it off the cliff. If they had,
Amanda and I could kiss the hope of finding the rest of the
Stargazers goodbye; the journal was the only real clue.

I held onto the hope my car was fine as I
moved, hand over hand, inching along the rail, stopping every
single time a wave battered over the wall, which was every half
second.

Mark could have been shouting his
encouragement from the kitchen window above, but there would be no
way I could hear it over the waves. Mark could equally have been
shouting at me to watch out for the multiple goons and criminals
milling around out here, but, again, there would be no way I could
hear it above the storm.

I had to keep a look
out myself while trying not to
drown.

Though the salt water gushed over my face,
I forced my eyes to keep open. Wave after wave crashed over the
wall, slamming into me as I held onto the rail. Each time I was
flung against the rail, and each time I somehow managed to keep my
hold. Slowly, so painfully slowly, I made my way over to the metal
staircase.

Rather than stop and shout
hallelujah
when I
reached it, I threw myself at it. By now the ebb of the water along
the path was so damn strong it created a roaring waterfall between
me and the staircase. I didn't think, because I didn't have time
to; I let go of the railing and hauled myself towards the
staircase. No longer holding onto anything, the force of the waves
hit my legs, pulling me down, my body crumpling against their
strength. In the confusion and rush as I began to slip with the
water towards the gap between the staircase and the path, I lashed
out with one hand. I managed to grab the edge of the staircase. I
held on harder than I had ever held on in my life. Showing strength
they don't teach you in law school, I managed to pull myself up. My
mouth and throat and nose were inundated with salt water, and I
choked like an emphysema patient on his last legs.

I managed to pull myself up.

I made
my way up the stairs, hand clutching tight to the rails
until I pulled myself into a standing position. It didn't matter
that I was possibly more tired than I had ever been in my life; I
couldn't rest, I had to get to Amanda, I had to get to Maratova. I
had to end this.

So, lungs burning from the effort, chest
so cold I fancied my heart had stopped, I ran up the stairs. The
rain was still wild, the wind even wilder as it whipped around me,
chilling my frozen body even further. I steeled myself; I kept a
hand on the rails and kept running up those stairs.

I managed to crest the top of the stairs,
and before I could cheer at my achievement, I saw the van parked by
my car. It was heavy, it was black, and it had two unfriendly
looking guys in it.

I could make them out through the driving
rain, and it was a good bet they could see me too.

As I heard two car doors slam, I gave it all
I had and ran for my car. A shot blazed past me, lodging itself in
the dirt further up, but I kept running, and I managed to make it
to my car. I dodged down low, even rolled and brought myself up to
the driver’s-side door. I grabbed it, opened it, and hauled myself
in.

A bullet slammed into the back of my car
somewhere, probably the boot, and hopefully not one of the fucking
tires. Rather than reach around and grab the gun somewhere under
the back seat, I keyed in the ignition code and the car revved into
life. Yes, I had an ignition code, not because I was lawyer and I
could afford a car without keys, but because I was a goddamn
treasure hunter, and that was how we rolled.

I didn't bother to put my lights on, just
flung the car into reverse, tires skidding hard against the rough
gravel. I kicked at the accelerator, shooting onto the road. I
could barely see it through the sheets of rain smashing against the
windscreen and the turgid clouds blocking the moonlight.

I turned my lights on with a flick, using
a free hand to wipe down my face, water pooling off my fingers and
splattering on the dashboard.

My breathing was ragged, fast, and uneven,
but I let out a short laugh. Somehow, somehow I’d made it. True,
there was a van full of armed bad guys on my tail, but I hadn’t
drowned and I hadn’t been shot, and I was in my car. These were all
good things, well, apart from the bad guys on my tail. But I could
deal with them.

They were in a van; I was in a fast car.
It was my chance to show just how fast I could go. Flooring my foot
on the accelerator, eyes wide and plastered on the road, I drove
like a bat out of hell, trying to ensure I didn’t hit a turn too
fast and freaking flip my car.

While I
could still see the lights of the van behind me,
there was no doubt I was putting distance between them. I had to
keep it that way, and though I wanted to rifle through the back
seat and ensure Arthur Stanton's journal was still there, I kept my
eyes on the road.

So I kept focused, and I kept my foot on
the a
ccelerator, car
growling like a tiger.

After a few tight turns, I could no longer
see the lights.

I didn't relax until I joined the main
road, entering the highway that
would lead me back to Amanda's.

The first thing I did was call my contacts
in the army. I didn’t hold anything back, because yes, I would like
to think I’d learned my lesson.

I didn’t end the call until I’d confirmed
the cavalry were
making
their way to Arthur Stanton's manor. But they sure as hell weren't
going to have an easy time of it. Maratova and his men were not
playing games, and they were not new hands at this. They would be
equipped, and they would be ready to repel attackers. This wasn’t
going to be a simple matter of the army flying in and everything
working out; no, it was far more likely to end up as a siege, or a
hostage situation, depending on what angle you wanted to view it
from. The point was, it wouldn’t solve itself easily, and it
wouldn’t be quick.

I was still wearing the sopping track
pants and checkered top I’d found in the lighthouse, and I didn't
bother pulling in at a service station to change. Hell, I still
hadn’t looked in the back seat to ensure my gun and the journal
were still there. I didn't have time because I doubted Amanda had
time. The more I thought about her, it hit home how much of a
bastard I’d been. This was all my fault, but at least I wasn’t the
kind of guy to leave it at that. I had fucked things up, but I was
in a fixin' mood.

Generally, at legal speeds, it would have
taken around two hours to make it to Amanda's, more considering the
road conditions tonight.

It took about an hour and 15 minutes until
I hit the countryside. I came to the edge of Arthur Stanton's
estate up on the hill to my left through a row of swaying poplar
trees bending under the ferocious winds. It wasn't as if I could
see from this distance whether the place was already overrun with
helicopters, guns, soldiers, and bad guys. I could bet it was, or
at least not far from it. That was why I didn't turn up the
driveway. I took the turn to Elizabeth's instead.

If Amanda had ended up there, it
meant
she’d found her
way through the woods, despite the fact there would have been
serious surveillance on them last night. Maybe that gave me a
chance to make my own way through those same woods.

I took the long driveway that led up to
Elizabeth's. Due to the size of the properties around here, she was
a fair distance from Arthur Stanton’s estate, far enough that the
army wouldn’t bother her, and far enough that she would have no
idea what was going on down the road.

I pulled up as close as I could to her
house, and had the opportunity to check my back seat. I could have
pumped the air with a fist when I latched a hand on both my gun and
the journal. Something was finally going right for me.

I looked up at Elizabeth’s house: there
were no lights on and her car wasn’t parked up front as it usually
was. She didn't look as if she was at home, and that was a good
thing. She didn’t need to be brought any further into this
mess.

I took the opportunity to change into the
crumpled but dry suit I had in the back of my car, stuffing the gun
down the back of my pants. Before I slammed the door shut to head
to the woods, I remembered something. I dropped to my feet and
grabbed the pants I’d let fall there and I searched the deep
pockets like a man possessed. Heart beating in my ears, teeth
clenched, I found it. The small pendant from the
lighthouse.

Fuck, wi
th one thing and another, I’d forgotten about it.
Ever since Amanda had been taken, I hadn’t thought about it once.
Somehow I hadn’t lost it in my mad dash to and from the
lighthouse.

The second thing that was going right
today. I closed my eyes and closed a hand around the pendant. It
bloody well better lead to one of those Stargazers.

I didn't have time to read the inscription
on the back yet; I had to save Amanda. It was time to get my
priorities straight. It was the last time I was going to bring
somebody innocent into one of my games. First save Amanda, then
retrieve the Stargazers.

I put the pendant into the inside pocket of
my suit jacket.

Then I ran to the woods behind Elizabeth’s
house.

The weather was still wild, and while it
wasn’t raining here, the wind blew through the forest with a
violent howl. The clouds above became as dark and brooding as
they’d been at the lighthouse. I had no doubt that soon they’d dump
the exact same storm on me again. At least it meant one thing:
above the wind no one would be able to hear what was going on at
the Stanton estate, and with the brooding dark clouds, no one would
be able to see the lights of the helicopters. Hopefully it would
offer enough confusion that I could slip into Stanton’s house
unnoticed.

Third bit of luck today, but it bloody well
better not be the last.

Hold on, Amanda, I thought as I ran through
the woods in the dark, not wanting to draw attention to myself with
a light.

Hold on.

Amanda Stanton

I was stiff and cold, my clothes still
saturated. We managed to make it off the top of the lighthouse and
into a waiting helicopter somehow flying above us, despite the
winds and the storm. I’d never been so frightened in my life.
Climbing up a rope ladder in a storm off the top of a lighthouse
was an experience I never, ever wanted to repeat.

We’d already reached my estate by
helicopter, and for the third time since I’d led him into my manor,
Maratova turned on me, eyes hooded, face compressed with
anger.

“
Where are the globes?” he asked, tone
menacing.

I’d achieved what I’
d set out to achieve; Maratova hadn’t shot
Sebastian, and presumably Sebastian was still alive somewhere,
though with one hell of a headache. As for me, I’d never been in so
much danger in all my life.