The Navigator (NUMA Files 7) - Page 130
“Odds are about right for a couple of tough old company men,” Flagg said. He opened the door to his car and reached under the seat to pull out a Glock 9mm pistol, which he handed to Austin. “This is a spare.” He patted his chest. “I’m already carrying.”
Austin remembered that Flagg was a walking arsenal.
“Thanks,” Austin said, taking the weapon. “Hop in.”
Flagg slid into the passenger side of the Bentley.
“Damnit, Austin,” Flagg said. “I had forgotten until now how boring my life had become since you left the company.”
Austin levered the gearshift into low and put the car into a tight U-turn.
“Hold on to your hat,” he said over the squeal of spinning tires. “Life is about to become very interesting.”
Chapter 49
“SHOULDN’T THEY BE UP BY NOW?” Saxon said, sounding a note of concern.
“Don’t worry. They’re both experienced divers,” Trout said.
He and Saxon sat in the rubber raft near the marker buoy. Trout was more worried than he let on. He had glanced at his wristwatch a few minutes before Saxon spoke. Gamay and Zavala were pushing their air supply to the limit, especially if they needed decompression stops. Dire scenarios materialized in his imagination. He could picture the divers lost or their tanks entangled in the unknown passages below the hotel.
Trout had been staring at a blue heron skimming over the lake when he saw a disturbance on the surface.
He pointed at the mounding bubbles. “They’re up!”
He grabbed his paddle and told Saxon to do the same. They dug in and were only a few yards from the first head to break the surface. Gamay. Zavala surfaced seconds later.
Gamay inflated her buoyancy regulator and floated on her back. She pulled the regulator mouthpiece from between her teeth and took gulps of fresh air. Trout tossed a rope to his wife.
“Hey, beautiful, how about a ride?” he said.
“That’s the best offer I’ve heard all day,” Gamay said in a weary voice.
Zavala hitched onto the line behind Gamay. Trout and Saxon towed the two tired divers into shallow water. The divers removed their tanks and fins and slogged onto shore. They dropped their weight belts, climbed to the edge of the grassy banking, and sat down to rest.
Saxon hauled the raft onto shore. Trout opened a cooler and passed around cold bottles of water. He was unable to contain his curiosity. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Did you find King Solomon’s mine?”
A faint smile came to Zavala’s lips. “He’s your husband,” he said to Gamay. “Maybe you should break the bad news.”
Gamay sighed. “Someone beat us to it.”
“Gold prospectors?” Trout said.
“Not exactly,” Zavala said. He got to his feet and retrieved the carrying bag from the beached raft. He pulled out the pewter box, which he handed to Trout. “We found this in the mine.”
Paul’s eyes blinked rapidly as he stared with speechless disbelief at the name embossed on the lid. He handed the box to Saxon.
Saxon was less restrained. “Thomas Jefferson!” he burst out. “How can that be?”
Gamay slipped a small knife out of a leg sheath and gave it to Saxon. “Why don’t you do us the honors?”
Despite his excitement, Saxon exercised extreme care as he picked away at the rusted fastener. The lid had been sealed with wax, but it opened easily. He gazed into the box for a few seconds, and then lifted out two soft squares of vellum, wrapped in stiff waxed paper and marked with lines and Xs and tightly written script. He put the squares together where their ragged edges matched.
“It’s the rest of the Phoenician map,” he whispered. “It shows the river and bay.”
Gamay took the vellum from Saxon’s trembling hands and studied the markings without comment before passing them to her husband.
“The plot thickens,” she said.
Source: readsnovelonline.net