The Treasure of El Patron (4 page)

He put his hand out, palm down, and rocked it back and forth, giving his friend the sign that meant
something is wrong
. Then he put both his fists up, indicating that he wanted Cowboy to wait.

Tag wrapped the buoy around the yellow package, swam across the reef to his treasure hole, and dropped it inside. Then he went back to his friend and gave the thumbs-up sign.

Through the water they could see the bottom of their boat. But they could see something else too: a grayish blur a few yards out in front of it.

A tiger shark.

The twelve-foot creature opened its mouth, exposing rows of saw-edged teeth as it swam in a wide circle around the two boats. One unblinking dark eye seemed to be looking at them but paid no real attention.

They knew better than to surface. The shark might think they were fish in trouble.

Suddenly the shark began thrashing and rolling in the water. Streaks of green spurted from its body.

Tag pointed up and both boys surfaced and climbed into the boat as quickly as possible.

Spear was standing near the edge of his boat with a handgun pointed at the water. He yelled over at them, “Saved your lives, squirts! You should thank me.”

“Nearly got us killed, you mean.” Tag was furious. He slipped his tank off his back. “In a few minutes, every shark within miles will be here to help finish him off. Watch this.” He picked up one of his salted fish and threw it out into the water. The ocean boiled furiously. Two or three fins were plainly visible.
A large shark took a bite out of the smaller one that had downed the fish.

“Diving’s over, Mr. Davis. It’ll be hours before their feeding frenzy ends. Besides, there’s nothing down there.”

Davis studied Tag’s face. “We’ll just have to see about that, son.”

Later that night, under cover of darkness, two figures hoisted a bundle wrapped up in yellow plastic into their boat and sped toward shore without using any lights.

Neither one uttered a word as they secured the small boat to an old makeshift dock and hurried across the beach and up a rocky trail toward an abandoned lighthouse.

Tag closed the creaky door of the lighthouse and snapped on a small flashlight. “All right. Let’s see what’s so important to those two guys.”

Cowboy cut the string from the buoy with his diving knife and pulled it away from the package. Then he made a careful incision near the top of the yellow plastic and pulled out a small, clear plastic bag containing white powder.

Tag turned the yellow package over and dumped the rest of its contents. Out fell nine more small bags. Each one was filled with powder.

They sat quietly for a while. It was Cowboy who broke the silence. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t know they were dope dealers. What do we do now?”

Tag rubbed his chin. “This looks like a big haul. I don’t think we’re dealing with amateurs here. My guess is someone made the drop from the air and Spear and Davis were supposed to pick it up. But somehow the buoy got a hole in it and the whole package sank to the bottom.”

“Do we take it to the police?”

“That’s the tricky part. It’s hard to make a move on this island without everybody and their grandmother knowing about it. These
kinds of people are mean, and if we don’t want their buddies coming after us, we’re gonna have to be real careful.”

“I’ve got it.” Cowboy started stuffing the bags back into the large yellow container. “We’ll put it all back where it came from and nobody will be the wiser.”

Tag looked at him.

Cowboy made a face. “Okay, so that was a bad idea. You have a better one?”

“No. But I know who will—Thomas.” Tag helped stuff the rest of the bags inside the larger one. “Help me hide this and let’s get the boat back to the marina. Tomorrow we’ll show Thomas what we’ve got and let him decide what to do.”

They hid the bag in a corner of the closet under the stairs and crept out to the boat. Tag rounded the tip of the island and expertly maneuvered the small craft through the reefs to the marina.

“I’ll meet you at the bait shack tomorrow afternoon,” he whispered. “We’ll go into town together.”

As the boys split up and hurried away, a
man stepped from behind one of the gas pumps on the dock. He flicked a cigarette butt into the water. His eyes narrowed as he quietly made his way back up the beach to the motel.

The sun was just coming up when Tag locked the back gate. “Sorry, Ghost. You have to stay here. Can’t have a monster like you running around loose down at the marina.” He put his hand through the ence and scratched behind his pet’s big, floppy ears. Then he turned and ran down the road past the dock and up the beach to the bait shack.

The door to the shack was hanging by one hinge. It had been kicked in. The counter was on its side and all the bait had been dumped in a pile on the floor. On top of the pile was a
crude homemade doll with sandy brown hair. A hatpin was stuck through its middle.

“Looks like somebody don’t like you much, mate.”

Tag whirled around. An older boy with ebony skin, a scar under one eye, and muscles bulging through his ragged shirt stood in the doorway laughing. Two other boys about the same age and size were behind him.

Tag had seen them before, hanging around over on St. David’s Island. The people up there were a close-knit group and usually kept to themselves, so he didn’t know these kids by name.

“Did you do this?” he demanded.

The big boy laughed harder. “Let’s just say, the boss man, he don’t like no double-cross.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The boss man says if he finds out you’re holding out on him, he’s gonna come visit you and your mama in the middle of the night.”

Tag clenched his fists. He rushed forward in a rage, but the older boy was ready. He punched Tag hard in the stomach, knocking him to the ground. Tag gasped for air and
crawled to his knees. He heard a click of metal.

The other boy had a switchblade.

Tag scrambled backward. The boy stepped menacingly toward him, waving the knife in his face.

“What’s going on here?”

Thomas was standing in the doorway. Tag had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

The boy closed the knife and slid it into his pocket before Thomas could see it. He turned to face the police officer. “No trouble here, man.” The three older boys moved around Thomas to the door.

The leader stopped. “By the way, little man,” he said to Tag, “the boss man hired him some real divers. Not scrap salvers, like you and your friend. He says you better hope they don’t come up empty.” The older boy’s eyes held a warning. “He also says to watch your mouth … or else.”

Thomas helped Tag to his feet. His trained eyes surveyed the damage in the room. “Did those hoodlums do this? I can have them picked up before they get across town.”

Tag shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Somehow I figured you would say that.”

Thomas picked up the straw doll. “Bush? Are you into something over your head, son?”

“I … I can’t talk about it right now. I need time to think about all this, Thomas.”

Thomas sat on the edge of the overturned counter. “Word is that you’ve been working
for some pretty tough-looking characters. That’s why I’m here.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

“No need to. Not much that happens on this island gets past the gossip chain. You know that. Want to tell me about it?”

More than anything Tag longed to tell his father’s friend about the contents of the yellow package. But he remembered the threat the older boy had made against his mother and decided to wait. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Thomas put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “These kinds of people are serious, Tag. They’re not playing games.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“So I see.” Thomas looked around the ransacked room, handed Tag the voodoo doll, and stood up. “I can’t make you tell me, Tag. But if you need me, call day or night. I’ll come.” The tall man limped to the door.

“Thomas?”

The officer turned and waited patiently.

Tag gulped. “Thanks. I mean for helping me out just now. I guess I was in a tight spot.”

“Watch your backside, Tag. It’s not over yet.”

“I don’t like it.” Cowboy stood on the dock trying to finish his lunch while he watched Tag get the boat ready. “And why are we taking Ghost?”

Tag sighed. “I’ve given this thing a lot of thought, and I think our best chance is to stick with our original story. We’re just a couple of kids who like to dive. When we worked for Davis and Spear we didn’t find anything. Now we’re going on with business as usual. Just in case, I’m taking Ghost because I don’t want him home alone.”

The big dog barked as if in agreement and licked Tag’s face.

“I still don’t like it.” Cowboy reluctantly stepped into the boat. “What if those guys who busted up the bait shack come after us out there?”

“Those St. David’s bums don’t know these reefs as well as we do. They wouldn’t have a prayer if they tried to outmaneuver us.” Tag started the motor and headed out across the open water.

“What are we going to do with the you-know-what in the yellow bag, which we supposedly didn’t find?” Cowboy asked.

“I’ve thought about that too. When the coast is clear, we’ll bury it somewhere on Harrington Sound Road near Devil’s Hole. They’ll never know what happened to it.”

“I hope you’re right about all this.” Cowboy sat down, double-checked his tank, and tightened his weight belt.

Tag anchored behind a reef not far from Tiger Head. He was hoping that if anyone was watching they would think the boys were diving in a new place.

Tag tucked a hammer and chisel into his canvas diving bag and lifted his harness over his head. “Ready to go find that treasure?”

“Past ready. Did you bring something for the moray?”

“Thanks for reminding me.” Tag reached into a box and took out two large bait fish. He held them in one hand while he pulled his face mask into place. “You behave up here, Ghost. Guard the boat until we get back.” Tag gave the signal to Cowboy. “Let’s do it.”