Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)

“Is it them?” she asked as he lifted his binoculars for a better view.

“Sure looks like it,” he said and handed the glasses to her.

She adjusted the focus and watched as the boat maneuvered into the cove at the south shore of the island. One of the men got out, waded toward the shore with a shovel and a backpack, searching for something on the rocks. She recognized one of the two from the warehouse and their hotel in San Francisco. “Our book robber and one of the faux cops.”

“Clearly, they know something we don’t.”

After several minutes, Sam drew Remi from the crowd, not heading toward the pit but toward the outer bank through a stand of trees. He continued watching the men on the other island.

“They found something,” he said. “They’re digging behind that boulder.”

“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind them. “You’re not supposed to be over here.”

They turned and saw one of the tour guides standing a few feet away, his arms crossed.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “We didn’t realize . . .”

“You’ll need to rejoin the others.”

She and Sam followed the man back to the group.

Sam caught up with the guide. “That island back there?” he asked. “What’s the name of it?”

“That?” he said, glancing behind him. “Frog Island.”

Sam nodded, and Remi asked, “Is it part of the Oak Island mystery?”

“Find me something around here that isn’t.”

“Anything specific?”

He glanced over at her and she gave him her most charming smile. “Actually,” he said, “there were some claims that at one time there was some sort of connection between Frog Island to Oak Island. An underwater tunnel, though how anyone could have built one without it flooding is beyond me. Probably someone was digging there for treasure and a new rumor started.” He stopped and pointed toward the shoreline. “See that little cove where the boat is? By all accounts, that’s where the tunnel was built.”

Remi and Sam watched as the two men on shore waded back to the boat, tossing in their shovels and packs. “Do you think there’s any truth to the legends?” she asked.

He laughed. “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think how many people have spent millions of dollars digging a hole in the same spot looking for something that isn’t there.”

“Good point,” she said as he left them to join the group again. Through the trees, she saw the boat speeding away, and she looked over at Sam. “What now?”

“Come back tonight and figure out what they found so interesting on that other island.”

Thirteen

Sam skyped Selma on Remi’s tablet when they returned to their hotel.

“Good morning, Mr. Fargo,” she said from her desk. “You’ll be pleased to know that Bree is safely on her flight and will be landing in just a few hours.”

“Good,” Sam replied.

Remi took a seat on the sofa next to him, asking, “What fascinating theories have you discovered so far?”

“Lazlo believes the cipher wheel is for a simple substitution code.”

Lazlo’s face appeared on the screen behind Selma. “Good show, you two,” he said, his British accent evident. “Miss Marshall informed us of your timely rescue. That must have been frightful.”

“It was,” Sam said. “About the cipher . . . ?”

“Right-o. Actually, what I believe is that you’re looking for a shipwreck off the southern tip of the island, according to the hidden map.” He shuffled through some papers, then held up the photo of the map Professor Hopkins had found behind the endpaper. “I was able to translate part of the text,” he said, “but not all of it. To do that, I need to have the key. Unfortunately, the drawing of the cipher wheel on the map the professor found is merely an illustration of what we’re looking for. If I had to guess, an actual instrument. One hopes it wasn’t on paper because that supposedly was lost in said shipwreck.”