Bluewater Bullion: The Seventh Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 7) Read online

  Bluewater Bullion

  By C.L.R. Dougherty

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  Copyright © 2014

  Charles L. R. Dougherty

  All rights reserved

  I offer a heartfelt thank you to my wife, Leslie Dougherty and her parents, Alan and Carol Rea for the assistance and advice that they contributed to this work. It is a far better book than it would have been without their participation. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. All places mentioned are either fictional or are used in a fictional way.

  Antigua and Barbuda

  Barbuda

  Antigua

  Chapter 1

  "These guys aren't on the level, Liz," Dani grumbled. "Gerald's whole story reeks of bullshit. Why not just tell us they're looking for sunken treasure? Something bad's going to come of this. I can feel it in my gut."

  "They've been down for a while," Liz said, looking at her wristwatch.

  "Maybe they found the wreck. They should be coming up soon, though. They'll have to allow time to decompress; it's 70 feet deep, give or take," Dani said.

  Vengeance was anchored about 14 miles west of Barbuda. Their guests were searching for the wreck of the Phaedra, lost in a storm during the U.S. Civil War. Gerald Yates, the man who had chartered Vengeance, was a well-to-do writer from an old Southern family, and Phaedra had belonged to an ancestor of his.

  According to Yates, the vessel was lost after she had run the blockade from Savannah, bound for Barbuda, where the Yates family had a plantation. Phaedra had been carrying family belongings to preserve them from the marauding Northern army when she foundered. Yates said he was less concerned with recovering the cargo than he was with verifying the facts for a book that he had in mind.

  "Gerald's kind of hot," Liz said, hoping to distract Dani.

  "Not my type," Dani replied. "He's a little too limp-wristed."

  "So you like Nick better?" Liz was referring to their other guest. Nick Thompson was a former Navy SEAL, employed by Yates to help him find the wreck.

  Dani shook her head. "Loser. My bet is he got run out of the Navy. He strikes me as a bully, and he's way too quick to tell you about his experiences."

  "He's sure built like a Greek god," Liz said.

  "Like they say in Texas, 'big hat, no cattle.' That body comes from too much time wasted in the gym — not useful muscle."

  Liz laughed. "There's no pleasing you. At least they're both easy to look at."

  "Sorry, Liz. I'm having some trouble with this whole situation. I don't trust either one of these guys. I'm feeling like we should find them a dive boat and refund their money. This isn't our kind of business. I'm not sure why Elaine booked them with us to start with. They need a research vessel — not a sailboat."

  "We can't do that, Dani. Elaine thought she was doing us a favor; she'd be upset if we backed out, especially at this point. We need her goodwill; she could make or break our business. Besides, if we backed out, she'd lose her commission for booking the charter with us."

  Their conversation was interrupted as the two men surfaced next to the dinghy tied alongside Vengeance.

  "Any luck?" Dani called to them as they climbed out of the water.

  "Well, it's a wreck," Gerald said, "but not the Phaedra."

  "Fishing boat," Nick added. "Pretty recent, too."

  "So you want to keep up the search?" Dani asked. "This area of shallow water drops off in the next mile or so, and then there's another lump on the bottom with 20 or 30 meters over it not too far out along the course line."

  "Nah," Gerald said. "Might as well call it a day. I'm still jet-lagged. This has been a good shakedown for us — not a bad first day out. We got all the gear aboard and working. There's a lot of this shallow water to search. I'm thinking Nick and I should reconsider our strategy. Now that we've seen how things are, we need to do a little homework."

  "So you're just after a memento of some kind?" Liz asked. "No family silver or anything?"

  Dani saw Gerald give Nick a guarded look before he answered.

  "Right. Just something to make it real. I'm not even sure what she was carrying; the old story was that her cargo was just the first load of stuff my great-great-grandmother wanted to send to her family to keep it out of Sherman's hands."

  "Probably her dishes and shit, huh?" Nick asked.

  "Yeah, maybe." Gerald shrugged and shook his head, grinning up at Dani and Liz. He sat in the dinghy while he removed his gear. Glancing at his watch, he said, "It's pretty late to start sailing another search grid, and we're out of air. Can you take us back to Jolly Harbour for the evening?"

  "Sure. No problem," Dani said.

  "Good. If we get in before five, we can drop the tanks off to be filled. Nick and I'll have dinner ashore and stay at the villa; it'll give you two a night off. Okay?"

  "You're the boss," Liz said, as she and Dani helped the two men heft their dive gear onto Vengeance's side deck.

  While the men went below to shower, Dani and Liz raised the anchor and got under way for Antigua, about two hours away. Once Liz secured the anchor in its chocks, she raised the mainsail and unrolled the staysail and the Yankee jib. As Dani shut down the engine, Liz joined her in the cockpit. Satisfied with the sail trim, they passed a few minutes in silence, enjoying the feel of the big ketch cutting through the gentle ocean swells.

  "Not sure I believe him," Dani said in a soft voice.

  "About the cargo?" Liz asked.

  Dani nodded. "He's going to a lot of trouble just to prove an old family tale. Why chase down some 150-year-old wreck just to say he'd done it?"

  "I don't know," Liz said. "He's a best-selling author; I guess he's got the money and the time, and like he said, maybe it's for inspiration. He's trying to write a historical novel about his family."

  Dani frowned and shook her head. "I think there's more to it."

  "Like what?"

  "I'll bet he's looking for something valuable. Nick Thompson's a pro; he's getting paid. I'm sure there's more to this than Yates has told us."

  "Why charter Vengeance instead of a dive boat, then?"

  "Low profile. Having us sail back and forth while they man the side-scan sonar and the magnetometer makes it look like we're fishing, to anybody who happens to notice."

  "But we're outside Antigua's territorial waters. The government won't care. Who else would he be hiding from?" Liz asked.

  "Hunting sunken treasure's a competitive business, if that's what he's doing," Dani said.

  "What else could he be looking for?"

  Dani shrugged. "Anything. Could be a lost drug shipment, for all we know."

  Liz smiled and shook her head. "You're a victim of your own devious mind. I think he's just a rich guy chasing down a family fable, like he said."

  "We'll see, I guess."

  ****

  Marilyn Muir settled into the aisle seat in first class and buckled her seat belt. She relaxed and closed her eyes, dozing off as the plane began to taxi. The pilot's announcement awakened her a few minutes later. She caught the end of it, happy enough that they were expecting a smooth flight and on-t
ime arrival to Antigua. She would have plenty of time to rent a car and get to the resort before nightfall. She didn't like driving in strange places after dark, especially places where they drove on the left side of the road.

  She amused herself during the two-and-a-half-hour flight by thinking about seducing Gerald Yates. He was a ladies' man. She didn't expect that he'd be much of a challenge, but then she'd always been able to have any man she wanted. She had been born beautiful, but rich would have been nice, too.

  When she was growing up, her mother had been bitter about their impoverished state. In her mother's view, her great grandmother's illegitimate birth had cut her out of the family's fortune. Instead of dwelling on the wealth and privilege that might have been hers, Marilyn was more pragmatic. She sublimated her bitterness, turning it into a resolve to take what should have been hers.

  A stunning girl, she had certain advantages when it came to making her way. At the age of 20, she had snared a wealthy, elderly husband. His remaining time had been short, his demise perhaps hastened by the pleasure that he found in his young wife. Marilyn had enjoyed her financial independence since then, but she had recently become bored. She needed fresh prey.

  ****

  "Vengeance is a beautiful boat," Gerald said, eyeing her as she swung to a mooring out in the harbor. Having dropped off the dive tanks to be filled, he and Nick were in a waterfront bar and grill in Jolly Harbour.

  "Yeah, but there's no privacy," Nick said. "Those two women can hear everything."

  "So? We don't really have anything to hide."

  "Bullshit, Gerald."

  "Well, okay, but I mean as far as the search goes. We can talk about that in the open with them. They bought my story."

  "Maybe, but trust me, you don't want word to get around that you're looking for any kind of old wreck, treasure or not. Too many curious people out there."

  "Yeah, okay. I don't think they'll talk, Nick. They seem pretty discreet to me."

  "Better not to find out," Nick said.

  "I agree. I think we've laid enough of a smokescreen, though. It's time to focus on where we think Phaedra really went down."

  "But that's inside the territorial waters; you're getting into a whole different game," Nick said.

  "We've established a pattern of beating back and forth like we're fishing. Hell, I've even caught fish while you sat down there staring at your screen," Gerald said.

  "Trust me, Gerald; I've done this before. Half a day of beating back and forth doesn't establish shit. Don't rush this, man. You'll blow it."

  "Nobody's gonna think anything about it when we move in a little closer to shore," Gerald protested.

  "The women will. What are you gonna tell them?"

  "I'll tell 'em we're just looking; we'll say we won't pick up anything without going through the permit process if it comes to that."

  "And what about when we find the wreck? How's that gonna work?" Nick asked.

  "One step at a time, Nick. You find the wreck; I'll handle the women. Remember, I make up stories for a living. I'll think of something."

  Chapter 2

  Dani was intent on sailing, enjoying the challenge of holding a steady course in the gusty wind that greeted them as they sailed out of the lee of Antigua. She and Liz were in the cockpit with Gerald, enjoying the morning. Nick was below, tinkering with his instruments and studying his personal collection of dog-eared, frayed nautical charts. He kept them to himself, arousing some curiosity on the part of his hostesses.

  They had just finished a round of coffee. Gerald was sprawled on the downwind cockpit seat, arms spread along the cockpit coaming. His legs were stretched out with his ankles crossed in the foot well. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, face to the early morning sun. Liz sat across from him, covertly admiring his profile, studying the way his soft-looking blond hair floated on the breeze.

  A puff of wind caused the sails to luff; the rattle of the canvas brought Gerald to full alert. Liz blushed when he caught her staring at him. Hoping to distract him, she cleared her throat and asked, "So what's it like, being a writer? Are you always collecting material for your next book?"

  "Well, I'm always collecting material for some book, if not the next one. It's one of those things I can't help, like breathing, I guess."

  He held her eye for a moment, trying to assess the level of her interest. "That's a tough question to answer, you know. What it's like to be a writer. It's ... let's see ... "

  "Like asking a fish what it's like to live in the water?" she offered.

  He laughed. "Very good. Yes, it's one of those questions that requires some soul-searching. All I've ever been is a writer, I guess, even before I put pen to paper for the first book. Are you artistic?"

  "Well, um, ... "

  "She's a painter," Dani offered. "A gifted one, but she won't admit it."

  "Uh-huh, I suspected as much."

  "That I was a painter?"

  "No, not specifically, but I could sense some creative talent. The insight in your answer to your own question gave it away."

  "I see. I know that you write fiction; what about this book about your family? Will it be fictional, or factual?"

  "I'm not sure. I suspect it'll be a bit of both. The interesting parts of my family history, at least the parts that interest me most, happened before every minute detail of our lives got recorded for posterity."

  "That's fascinating; the research must be a challenge," Liz said.

  "There are a few facts to work with but most of the good stuff is hearsay — you know, like family gossip and rumors."

  "So how far back in time will you go?" Liz asked.

  "Probably to America's colonial era. That's the part of my family lore that fires my imagination."

  "So your ancestors were colonists?"

  "That's right. They were some of the original settlers in Georgia; they came with General Oglethorpe."

  "That's impressive," Liz offered.

  "Not really; they were escaping debtor's prison. They probably didn't see that they had much choice."

  "But they prospered, didn't they?"

  "Yes, but that just means they were lucky and crafty. Probably a little more crooked than their compatriots." A self-deprecating smile split Gerald's face.

  "So what about Phaedra? She belonged to some of your ancestors, you said," Dani commented.

  "Yes. That was several generations later. My earliest ancestors established a plantation that thrived, and their children and grandchildren were loyal subjects of the Crown. When the colonies revolted, the family split into two factions. One stayed and fought the British; the other fled to the islands and established themselves as cotton and sugar planters. Over a few generations, they came to control most of the island of Barbuda, as well as large estates on Antigua."

  "Did the factions ever reconcile?"

  "Of course. They were merchants; there was money to be made. They were working together within a generation after the revolution. By the time of the Civil War, they were intermarrying and carrying on a brisk trade. When it became apparent that the South was losing, they decided to consolidate in the Caribbean, at least for a while."

  "So they were on Phaedra?" Dani asked.

  "Not personally. Phaedra belonged to the family. They had three small ships when the war broke out; she was the only one left. One of my uncles several generations back was a blockade runner; he was Phaedra's skipper. They lost that first shipment of their stuff when Phaedra went down in a storm."

  "How do you know even the approximate location?" Dani asked.

  "A couple of the crew survived. They were found by another ship a day or so later clinging to wreckage, and they made it ashore to the plantation. I found a reference to the wreck in one of the reports, and from what the crewmen said, they were somewhere up on this shallow shelf."

  "Makes sense," Dani said. "Even in normal conditions, this area gets rough when the swells pile up in the relatively shallow water. I wouldn't want to see it unde
r storm conditions."

  ****

  Nick Thompson sat below decks at Vengeance's chart table, fiddling with the knobs on his side-scan sonar display. He had an ear tuned to the conversation in the cockpit, and when he was satisfied that he wouldn't be disturbed, he made his way to the forward head and closed the door, taking out his satellite phone. He scrolled through the directory, pausing at one entry and pressing the green connect button. When the other party answered, Nick began talking with no introduction.

  "He's too damned eager. He's wanting to go straight to where he thinks it sunk. I gotta slow him down or the damned antiquities people will be all over us." He listened briefly. "Yeah, okay. I'll come up with something. Not sure about tonight, but I'll find an excuse to get us back to English Harbour tomorrow, maybe."

  Disconnecting, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and returned to monitoring his instruments. He didn't expect to find their target yet; the wreck of Phaedra wouldn't be this far from where Yates expected her to be. But this area was littered with wrecks, and he intended to mark every one. He could always come back after he was done with this gig.

  "Can I get you some juice? More coffee, maybe?" Liz asked as she stepped down from the companionway ladder, interrupting his thoughts.

  He turned to face her and grinned. "No, thanks, Liz. I'm okay."

  "Did you learn about all this in the Navy?" she asked.

  "Yeah, mostly. I learned about diving in the Navy, and some other stuff I can't talk about. Then I went to work for a professional treasure hunter."

  "So did you ever find a treasure ship?"

  He laughed. "No. For all I know, that guy was a first-rate con man. He was forever raising money from investors to fund his 'sure things,' but we never found squat. My job was to make the investors think we had the skill. I finally got bored and went to work for a salvage company."

  "So how'd you connect with Gerald?"

  "Known him since we were kids. We went to school together, then we kind of drifted apart when he went to college and I joined the Navy. I bumped into him in a waterfront bar in Savannah a few months ago, and he told me about looking for Phaedra. He didn't even know what I'd been up to until I told him."