Wicked Charms

  I turned the light on.

  “That doesn’t mean I want the light on,” he said.

  I turned the light off and went downstairs with Cat close on my heels.

  I made coffee, fed Cat, and toasted a bagel. I hung my tote bag on my shoulder, poured my coffee into a to-go cup, and took a bite of the bagel. Carl was asleep on the couch with a night-light on. I crossed the room, unlocked the front door, and was knocked back when the door was shoved open.

  Josh and Devereaux rushed into the room. Devereaux held me at gunpoint while Josh went to the kitchen and returned with the coin, the map, and the paper Diesel had copied the letters onto.

  “What the heck?” I said.

  “One hundred and ninety million dollars be a lot of money,” Josh said, heading for the door with the map tucked under his arm.

  It was so unexpected it took a beat for me to put it together. They were stealing everything and going after the treasure.

  “Diesel!” I yelled. “DEEEEZELLL!”

  I dropped my coffee, bagel, and tote bag and ran after Devereaux, grabbing him by the back of his jacket. He whirled around and caught me on the side of my head with the gun butt.

  Josh looked over at me. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I said. Blood was dripping off the side of my face onto my sweatshirt, and my ears were ringing.

  Devereaux raced toward a car parked half on the sidewalk in front of my house. “Get in the car,” he yelled at Josh.

  “Sorry,” Josh said to me. “Ye be a comely lass, but I best do this.”

  “Ye be an a-hole,” I yelled after him. “Best you get herpes.”

  “Aargh,” he said. And they drove away.

  Diesel came up beside me. “What’s going on?”

  “Devereaux and Josh just took off with the map and the coin.”

  I turned and looked at Diesel. He was naked.

  “Holy cow,” I said.

  “You got me out of bed.”

  A car drove by and beeped. Diesel waved and closed the front door and locked it.

  “You have a gash on the side of your head,” Diesel said. “How’d that happen?”

  I took my sweatshirt off, pressed it against the cut, and went to the kitchen. “Devereaux hit me with his gun. It stunned me long enough for them to get away.”

  “It’s disappointing that Josh threw in with Devereaux. I didn’t see that coming.” He moistened a kitchen towel and cleaned the area around the cut. “It’s not so bad,” he said. “It’s not deep, and the bleeding is stopping.” He got a giant Band-Aid from my kitchen first-aid kit. “Relax while I get dressed.”

  Damn. He was going to get dressed. Bummer.

  “That’s the sort of thinking that will get you into trouble,” Diesel said.

  “You’re reading my mind again!”

  “I wasn’t reading your mind,” Diesel said. “You were licking your lips and staring.”

  —

  Diesel was wearing washed-out jeans, a black T-shirt, and running shoes. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he had a two-day beard. He popped half a bagel into the toaster and helped himself to coffee.

  I was rinsing my coffee mug in the sink when I sensed someone at the back door. I looked over and saw Rutherford staring in at us.

  Diesel opened the door to him. “How’s it going?” Diesel said.

  “Well, the truth is it could be going better,” Rutherford said. “Mr. Ammon is upset that his map is missing. And he would like to have it back.”

  “Sorry,” Diesel said. “We don’t have it.”

  “Perhaps you might check around just to be sure,” Rutherford said. He was smiling and making patty-cake gestures with his hands.

  “Not here,” Diesel said.

  Rutherford kept smiling. “Here’s the thing…it isn’t that I doubt your word, but we have video of you taking it.”

  “That was yesterday,” Diesel said. “You’re an hour late. Someone just stole it.”

  Rutherford gave a short burst of polite laughter. “Ah! Ha-ha. Of course I believe you, but…ha-ha, Mr. Ammon might not believe it. That someone could, ah, just waltz in here and steal it?”

  “Everyone waltzes in here,” Diesel said. “It happens all the time.”

  “I was hit on the head with a gun,” I said, pointing to my Band-Aid.

  “I’m so sorry,” Rutherford said, looking at the Band-Aid, his face a study in agonized concern. “I’ll do my best to explain this to Mr. Ammon. Yes, yes.”

  Diesel closed the door after Rutherford left, and topped off his coffee. “You’re getting a lot of traffic in here today.”

  I set my mug in the dish drain. “Do you think Devereaux and Josh will be able to find the island?”

  “Devereaux probably always knew where the island was located. It was crudely drawn on the bottom of the map, and he had the map long enough to conduct research. Ammon has probably always known where the island is, too. And most likely both of them have searched every square inch of it and found nothing. They were dead-ended without the coin to read the message on the map.”

  “What about us? Do we know where the island is?”

  “Yep. I took a picture of the map last night and sent it to a guy I know who’s spent a lot of time sailing these waters. The cluster of small islands is in Penobscot Bay. My guy said it wasn’t hard to find the target island because it has a unique shape. It’s called Brimstone Island. And he also knew about Gull Rock.”

  “The name Brimstone Island doesn’t exactly conjure up thoughts of a tropical paradise.” I checked the time. “I have to run. I’m going to be late for work.”

  “Correction. You’re going to be missing. You need to call in for another ‘save the world’ day. We need to get to Brimstone Island before Devereaux.”

  “Can we do that? He has a head start.”

  “I’ve mapped it out. It takes about four hours to get to Rockland, Maine. From there it’s a two-hour ferry ride to the Fox Islands. Then it’s necessary to hire a boat to get to Brimstone. It’s about an eight-hour trip total. Fortunately we have resources that probably aren’t available to Devereaux.”

  “And that would be?”

  “A fast boat. Wulf is meeting us at the wharf in an hour.”

  I called Clara and told her I wouldn’t be in. Sunday was a slow day, and she’d be able to manage the cider doughnuts on her own. Glo could help her with cleanup.

  We took Diesel’s car to Pickering Wharf Marina, parked, and walked to the dock.

  “I don’t see Wulf’s boat,” I said.

  “It’s the orange one on the end.”

  “That’s not the boat I was on.”

  “The boat you were on is too slow for our purposes. This is a fifty-one-foot Nor-Tech 5000 Vee. It tops out at 120 miles per hour. We won’t be going that fast today, but we’ll be going faster than Devereaux.”

  “How many boats does Wulf have?”

  Diesel shrugged. “They come and go.”

  “Do you have a boat?”

  “I have a hammock and a surfboard.”

  The boat was long and low with an open cockpit. Wulf was at the helm. Hatchet was in the copilot seat. There were three seats behind them. I counted eighteen dials on the console and more to the left of the wheel. The hatch leading to below decks was also to the left of the wheel. Decking was teak. Seats were red leather. I got on board and took a seat. Diesel stood behind Wulf. Wulf hit the ignition switch and the boat rumbled to life. Wulf maneuvered us away from the slip and into the harbor. He was in his usual black. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. I wondered if he was wearing sunscreen. We reached open water, he pushed the throttle forward, and the boat took off. Diesel and Wulf looked like this was business as usual. Hatchet looked like he was going to throw up. And I was breathless.

  We reached Penobscot Bay at midmorning. The sea was calm and the sun was shining. Wulf slowed and cruised along, following the
coordinates from Diesel’s boat guy.

  “That’s Brimstone straight ahead,” Wulf said.

  It looked like a cupcake with green icing. In reality it was a massive hunk of rock with just enough topsoil for trees to grow. We circled the island, keeping our eyes open for Gull Rock. Most of the coastline consisted of ledges and boulders, but we found a small sand beach on the north side of the island and a larger beach on the west side. The west-side beach was packed with people. A tiki hut had been erected on the beach and music carried across the water to us. Small boats were moored a few feet from shore.

  “I thought this was supposed to be a lost deserted island,” Diesel said.

  Wulf scanned the beach with binoculars. “The sign on the tiki hut says BRIMSTONE BAR AND GRILL. It looks like a nudie beach for seniors.”

  Diesel took the binoculars from Wulf. “Whoa!”

  He grinned and handed the binoculars to me, but I passed. I was happy to have old age creep up on me. I didn’t want a full frontal preview.

  We returned to the north side of the island where there were a lot of rock outcroppings.

  “There,” Diesel said, pointing out to sea. “Gull Rock, according to my source. It’s the chunk of rock that looks like bird wings, and it’s filled with gulls. There’s probably good fishing around it.”

  Wulf motored around the rock, watching the fish finder and side-scan sonar. He enlarged his circle and found a wreck on the second pass. He cut the engine and dropped anchor.

  “What’s the depth on the wreck?” Diesel asked him.

  “Not deep. Looks like about twenty-five meters.”

  “In feet?” I asked.

  “About eighty,” Diesel said. “I could free-dive that, but I can stay down longer with tanks.”

  “They’re in the salon,” Wulf said.

  “Are you diving, too?” I asked him.

  “No,” Wulf said. “I drive, and he dives.”

  Wulf put out a dive flag, and Diesel changed into a wetsuit and scuba gear. He went over the side and disappeared into the dark water. He reappeared after twenty minutes and hoisted himself onto the boat.

  “It’s a relatively small wreck,” Diesel said, shrugging out of the scuba gear. “Looked like a fishing vessel that was intentionally scuttled. Didn’t look disturbed. Not much of value in it with the exception of this chest.” Diesel handed Wulf a net pouch with a small barnacle-encrusted box in it.

  Wulf took the box out of the net and opened it. “At first glance, I’d say I’m looking at the Blue Diamond.”

  Diesel took the diamond out of the box and put it in my hand. “Do you feel anything?”

  “A small vibration and some heat.”

  “It’s cold when it’s in my hand,” Diesel said.

  “It’s not glowing,” I said. “Devereaux told us it glows blue when it approaches the stone.”

  “I’m sure it needs to be closer to the stone to do that,” Diesel said. “There was nothing else down there, and clearly it’s empowered by the stone if you feel a vibration.”

  “Boat approaching, sire,” Hatchet said.

  We all turned our attention to the boat. It was a center console, about half our size, and it was traveling at a good speed, pushed by two outboards.

  Wulf had the binoculars up. “Professor Devereaux and a mate,” he said. “Hatchet, raise the anchor and stow the dive flag.”

  The boat came up on us, swerved, and sped away. It whipped around and came to a stop at some distance with its prow aimed in our direction.

  “What’s going on?” Diesel asked.

  “Devereaux is angry. The mate looks worried,” Wulf said, binoculars still trained on them.

  “I’m sure Devereaux isn’t happy to find we got here first,” Diesel said.

  Wulf moved to the wheel and hit the ignition. “Devereaux just shouldered a handheld rocket launcher. We need to move now. Hang on.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The twin turbines roared and our boat jumped forward. I saw the flash from the rocket launcher, and then I was flying through the air. I went underwater, kicked my way to the surface, and struggled to stay afloat. Debris from Wulf’s boat was all around me. A seat cushion floated by, and I grabbed hold. I was too stunned to hear the smaller boat approach, and still stunned when I was dragged out of the water. I lay on the floor of the boat, catching my breath, clutching the seat cushion.

  “What?” I said, jostled by the motion of the boat as it raced through the water.

  Josh was on his knees next to me. “Are you okay?” he asked. His face was white, and he looked shaken.

  I pushed myself up to a sitting position, and Josh helped me get to my feet and pivot onto the bench seat in the back of the boat.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “He blew you out of the water,” Josh said. “He’s nuts. He blew that boat to smithereens.”

  “Why?”

  “The treasure. He’s obsessed with it. I admit I joined up with him to get some money and go on a treasure hunt, but it’s like all of a sudden he’s nutso. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He said it would be a lark. A race to the finish with winner take all.”

  I looked back at the wreckage. “Diesel and Wulf…”

  “They’ve surfaced,” Josh said. “They’re floating on something. There’s a third mate, too.”

  “That would be Steven Hatchet.”

  I looked down at my hand. I was still holding on to the Blue Diamond.

  “Whoa,” Josh said. “What is that?”

  Devereaux stepped away from the console and looked at the diamond. “It’s the finder,” he said. “It’s the Blue Diamond of Babur. I never thought I would have this opportunity, but here I am. You were the critical missing element. And now I have everything I need to claim the treasure. And Ammon has nothing!”

  “Wow, that’s great,” I said. “Good for you. Maybe since you have it all we should go back and pick up the men who are floating in the ocean.”

  “I don’t need them. I hope they drown.”

  Not an unexpected answer since the man blew up our boat, but it sent a chill through me all the same.

  “You alone can find the treasure,” Devereaux said. “It’s in the diary. And it’s in the writings of Mammon. The guide will find the way. You’re the guide.”

  “I thought you weren’t a follower of Mammon.”

  “I’m not a believer. I’m a historian. When I find the treasure my name will be listed with the greatest historians and treasure hunters of all time.”

  “Not to mention, you’ll be shockingly rich.”

  Devereaux smiled. “That, too.”

  “If those three men drown back there you’ll also be listed as a murderer,” I said.

  “Who will accuse me? Josh? He’s an accomplice. And no one will believe you. You’re just a hysterical, delusional female.”

  I was soaking wet and shivering, and I worried that he might be right about the delusional and hysterical part. There was definitely an element of unreality to all this, and I could feel the hysteria twitching in my chest, ready to burst out at any moment.

  Devereaux returned to the controls and directed the boat toward shore. He had a semiautomatic pistol shoved into his pants pocket, and I thought he was wacko enough to use it.

  “Here’s how this will play out,” Devereaux said. “I’ve studied the map, and I’m going to beach this boat in the most likely starting point that will lead us to the treasure.”

  “How does the finder work?” I asked.

  “According to the diary, the finder will want to join with the stone, so it will emit energy as it gets closer.”

  “It will glow,” I said.

  “Yes, I thought the finder might be the Blue Diamond, but I wasn’t sure. I personally feel like Palgrave Bellows made this whole treasure hunt more complicated than it had to be, but it is what it is.”

  “Suppose I don’t want to do this?” I said.

  Devereaux looked at Josh. “I’ll
kill him.”

  “Aargh,” Josh said. “Best not be hasty.”

  “True,” Devereaux said. “I’ll just shoot off some fingers. Maybe an ear.”

  “It’s not good to be missing an ear,” Josh said. “I’m fond of them both.”

  Devereaux followed the rocky shoreline until he came to a small patch of sand in a protected cove. He nosed the boat in as far as he could, and when he started to churn sand he raised the engines.

  “Take a line and pull us in,” he said to Josh. “Secure the line to the tree at the edge of the shore. We’re at dead-low tide. The boat will be floating when we return.”

  Josh grabbed the line and jumped into the knee-high water. He pulled the boat in as far as it would go, waded out of the water, and walked to the tree. When he got to the tree he looked back at us and put his hand to his ear. No doubt thinking he didn’t want to lose it. He dropped the rope and ran off into the woods.

  “Oops,” I said.

  Devereaux fired off two shots, but Josh continued to crash through the brush, so I assumed he wasn’t hit…or at least not badly.

  “This isn’t going well,” I said. “Why don’t I give you the diamond, and you can find the treasure all by yourself?”

  Devereaux hung a beat-up knapsack on his shoulder and pointed the gun at me. “Because that might not work. It’s not clear if the diamond will glow for an ordinary person. Wade in to the beach and tie up the boat. I’ll be right behind you, and I’ll shoot you if you decide to follow him.”

  I tied the boat to the tree and set off on a path that led into the woods. I came to a fork in the path, Devereaux pulled a folded map of the island out of the knapsack, studied it for a moment, and told me to go left. I was still dripping wet and my shoes leaked water with every step. I looked at the chosen route and cringed. The rock-strewn trail wound uphill to a granite ledge.

  “What’s the finder telling you?” Devereaux asked.

  “It’s not telling me anything. It’s a little warm but that’s all.”

  “Keep moving,” Devereaux said.

  I was struggling to follow a narrow dirt path that was littered with rocks and sporadically overgrown with tangled vines. Thorny shrubs and stunted evergreens hugged the trail, obscuring the view. I could hear Devereaux laboring behind me. I reached the granite ledge, and the evergreens gave way enough for me to see the surf crashing onto the rocks far below me. The cove where we tied the boat was no longer in sight. I looked at the diamond and sucked in some air. The diamond was glowing. The light in the gemstone was very faint, but definitely there.