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The islanders looked at one another again and the captain frowned. “Money won’t do you any good here. I should never have come—this bay is cursed. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave and never return. If not, there will be more misfortune, and may God help you.”
Leonid barked a harsh laugh. “Come on, old man. Cursed? You don’t strike me as someone who scares easily.”
The captain fixed him with a cold stare. “I did as you asked, but no more. Pay me so I can get out of here. Just because you’re willing to gamble with your lives doesn’t mean I am.”
“Little dramatic, don’t you think?” Leonid said. The captain waited in silence as Leonid peeled off several bills and handed them to him. “Remember our deal. You tell nobody about this.” He fingered another bill.
“I won’t tell a soul. And even if I did, nobody will want to tempt fate. I heard about what happened to Benji. He lost a leg to the curse.” The captain paused. “There will be more. That’s just the start.”
Leonid passed him the larger-denomination bill and the man trudged back to the boat. He used the outboard to back it off the sand, and then the remaining two crew members trundled to the truck and took off, leaving Sam, Remi, and Leonid standing alone on the beach.
Remi glanced at Sam. “Did you see the old man’s face? He was terrified.”
“Native superstition. Mumbo jumbo. Nonsense,” Leonid scoffed.
“He’s heard of this bay before, though. It might be interesting to find out what the rumors are,” she said.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it? There’s a lost city right offshore nobody knows about and we’ve discovered it. Who cares what some childish legends say about it?” Leonid spat.
“There’s usually an element of truth to folklore, Leonid,” Sam chided. “Can’t hurt to ask around.”
“Well, if you want to waste your time, suit yourself. Sounds like I have to learn how to scuba dive in the next three days.”
CHAPTER 8
La Jolla, California
Selma looked up from her computer screen at the sound of the front door opening. Her assistants, Pete and Wendy, were at lunch, and Zoltán bristled at her feet at the intrusion. She reassured him with a stroke of her hand and then relaxed when she saw it was only Lazlo.
The bedraggled English academic had taken to stopping by regularly, she strongly suspected, because he had nothing better to do with his time now that his Laos expedition was formally over with and no treasure discovered. He’d been dejected by the outcome but had recovered when he’d gotten wind of a recently surfaced document that was purported to be written in the notorious pirate Captain Kidd’s hand—in code.
“Selma, my dear woman, may I say you look breathtaking this fine day,” Lazlo announced to her amused gaze. “And Zoltán, you handsome beast, what a fine specimen of canine corpulence you are.”
“He’s not even close to being fat,” Selma said, defending the dog’s honor. Zoltán tilted his head as he regarded Lazlo and then lay back down and closed his eyes, dismissing the visitor with the disdain only a purebred can master.
“Merely a term of endearment. I adore the bloodthirsty killer.” He looked at her screen. “And what are we working on?”
She pressed the power button and the monitor blinked off. “Nothing of interest to you, I’m sure.”
“One never knows. I suspect that if you’re involved, I could muster some enthusiasm.”
Lazlo had been increasingly flirtatious since returning from his trek, which amused Selma.
“Well, at your age, I suppose enthusiasm’s all one could hope for.” She paused. “What brings you by, Lazlo?”
“I was hoping I might help you. Do you have anything I could be of assistance with? Perhaps an unbreakable cipher? A riddle that’s baffled the brightest minds of our time?”
“Still haven’t decided whether you’re going to chase down the Captain Kidd thing, have you?” she said knowingly.
“I’m looking into it. The owner of the letter believes it’s somehow related to his lost pirate treasure, but I think that’s overly optimistic.”
“And of course those trying to convince others to buy obscure documents have been known to exaggerate the importance of the contents,” Selma observed.
“Which is why I’m not willing to trust and need to verify. Right now I’m hopeful, but cautiously so, absent any further substantiation. However, if it turns out to be what the owner purports it to be, it could be a magnificent opportunity—and a profitable one, to be sure.”
Selma shook her head. “Don’t quit your day job.”
“Yes, well, this rather is my day job.” He glanced away. “And how are our benefactors, the Fargos, faring? What are they up to now?”
