He bit a small piece off the butt end of the cigar and fired up the tip with Tom's lighter. He'd smoked cigarettes for a few years as a teen but the allure of tobacco, especially cigars, had eluded him.
He took a deep draw and let it out slowly. Tom was watching him with an expectant look.
"Well?"
"Tastes like roofing material."
It didn't taste
That was just the point—he couldn't claim the money.
Another idea: "Okay, have me declared dead."
"What?"
"Look, I disappeared more than seven years ago—twice that. Isn't that enough to have me declared dead?"
"But you're not."
"I am—at least as far as officialdom is concerned."
There—he'd said it. Hadn't wanted to, but there was no other way. He didn't want his inheritance moldering in some account when the other people in Dad's will could use it.
Tom grinned and slapped the tabletop. "Knew it! I
Tom leaned back. "I don't know. It might be possible. I'll hang around long enough to look into it."
"Do that. And no funny stuff."
Tom looked offended. "You think I'd gyp Kate's kids?"
"After what you've told me? What do you think?"
"I'd never—"
"Good. Because if I ever find out you've shorted those kids, I'll hunt you down and chop off your right hand."
Tom started to laugh but it died aborning as he looked in Jack's eyes.
"You—you're kidding, right?"
Their food arrived then. Jack sniffed his fish and chips—fresh from the fryer, all hot, crisp, and greasy.
"Let's eat."
"You do? How?"
Why was he acting so surprised? Tom knew he'd reserved that hotel room for him. Can't do that without a credit card.
"There are ways."
"You and I need to talk about rebirth real soon. But for now we have to find us a place to spend the night."
"Why not the boat?"
"Too far. Doesn't make sense to go all the way back to Somerset tonight, then come all the way back in the morning. Besides, lights and activity on the boat might draw attention. Better to stay here."
He was probably right.
"I saw a big pink hotel as we got off the ferry."
Tom made a face. "The Princess? Uh-uh. No can do."
"Why not?"
"That's where I honeymooned with the first Skank from Hell. No thanks." He shook his head. "I stayed at Elbow Beach my last few times here." Another head shake. "We'll find some other place. You'll have to cover the rooms."
"Figured that. And everything else, I guess."
"Not at all. We'll settle up tomorrow as soon as I withdraw my money."
"After which we head home, right? As in right away."
Tom gave a thumbs-up. "You got it. I want to get that money back and stashed in the States ASAP. And then you can show me how to disappear."
Sahbon .
He wore a wrinkled shirt and slacks—the best clothes he'd brought along—and had his backpack slung over his shoulder. The backpack probably wasn't a good touch, but its contents were too precious to leave in the truck.
The BB&T occupied a pink stucco building on the uphill side of Reid Street in Hamilton. The idea of a pink bank had put Tom off at first, but then this was Bermuda where it was no strange thing to see businessmen—bankers included—dressed for work in a jacket, tie, short pants, and knee socks.
Dawkes appeared, a slim, silver-haired gent in dark blue jacket and matching Bermuda shorts and knee socks. Tom had made a point of dealing with the same man on every visit he'd made to BB&T. He'd also made a point of calling the Gosling Brothers' store on Front Street and having them send Dawkes a bottle of their 150-proof rum every Christmas. Never knew when you were going to need a favor.
As they shook hands and exchanged greetings, he sensed tension in Dawkes. Maybe he was having a bad day.
Tom didn't have much time so he got right to the point.
"I'll be relocating to the West Coast soon, so I'm afraid I'll have to close out my account."
Now Dawkes looked even more troubled. "I'm sorry to tell you this, sir, but at this time that will not be possible."
Tom's stomach did a flip. "Why not?"
"Your government has been in touch with the hank and… I…"
With his knees going soft under him, Tom reached for a chair.
"May I sit down?"
"Of course, sir."
"What do you mean 'my government'?"
"I'm not sure, sir. Some agency approached the bank. The president, Mr. Hickson, dealt with them. He has not seen fit to inform me of the details."
Dawkes pursed his lips and sniffed, obviously slighted.
Tom didn't give a shit about this twit's wounded feelings. The feds! The feds had been here!
"What's the bottom line here, Mr. Dawkes?"
Dawkes looked embarrassed. "Your account has been frozen, sir."
Tom leaned back and closed his eyes. This was scary. No, it was beyond scary—this was fucking terrifying. How did they find out about it? How had they connected him to BB&T?
Chiram… the
"You're kidding."
"Never had a need to. Not a frequently called-upon skill in New York."
"I'll teach you. Nothing to it. We'll only be down about forty feet, so you can learn all you need to know in twenty minutes, tops."
"I can learn all I need to know in zero minutes because I'm not going."
"Jack, I need your help on this. I can't do it alone. You promised you'd help."
"And I will help. But not on a wild goose chase."
"The ship's there, Jack. I know it. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on the map. And if it contains anything of value, it'll make up for my frozen account."
"Let's be sensible here. This map's been around for four hundred years and no one decided to go looking for the ship before you?"
"Well, it was hidden away most of those centuries. And the few who understood it probably figured it was fake."
Smart folks, Jack thought.
"Everyone except you."
"Right. And Wenzel's research confirmed it. He had no interest in the ship; the map itself was his prize. He'd researched it thoroughly and believed whoever had made it was sincere."
"Crazy people can be sincere. Some of the most sincere people I've ever met have had their receivers off the hook."
"I won't argue that. But I've been to the spot on the map. Last time I was here I went out with a handheld GPS unit and found it. I dove it. It's a deep sand hole."
Jack couldn't hide his surprise. "If you've been there already, what do you need me for?"
"Because I couldn't find it."
"And you think
Tom raised a hand. "Swear to God, Jack, I absolutely do have a frozen account in that bank."
"Then why make such a big deal of the map on the trip out?"
Tom reddened. "I did
Bullshit or not? Jack could no longer tell truth from fiction with this guy.
Tom looked at him again. "But we're not talking bonus anymore. We're talking desperate necessity."