Joe held up a hand as if he were bidding at an auction. “And another ten thousand if you tell everyone you found us at sea.”
“Good thinking,” Kurt said. “Well worth it.”
The man looked at them as if they were crazy. Sunburned, scruffy, ripped clothing and a near-empty bottle of scotch confirmed it for him, but he couldn’t leave them there.
He ignored what he must have believed was fake gold and walked back to his boat. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll take you. But rooms are expensive. They may want you to pay up front.”
As they climbed into the boat, Kurt offered a sly grin. He had the scotch. Joe, Davidov, Timonovski and the flight engineer carried the gold. “I’m sure something can be arranged.”