Unlawful Chase C.J. Schnier (readera ebook reader .TXT) 📖

meeting with the other four caciques on the island and hid the idol. Despite centuries of searching, it has never been located."

"I think I know where you're going with this. Let me guess, you want me to find this idol so you can add it to your collection?" I asked, gesturing at the multitude of objects scattered throughout the room.

"Yes. That is exactly what I want to hire you for."

"How am I supposed to find it if nobody knows where it is?"

"Lucky for you, I do know where it is. A researcher I employ from time to time has been trying to crack the secret of the Taino for years. Two days ago, he finally figured out the location and contacted me. The information was not cheap, but I could not let a priceless one-of-a-kind item such as this pass me by. However, I'm fairly certain he will sell the location to some others as well. I hardly have a monopoly on rare artifacts, which is why I need you Mr. Hawkins."

"Me? I seem like a terrible choice for this. Cuba is technically off limits to Americans. Why not hire a Brit or a Canadian, or even a Cuban for that matter? Surely a man of your means and profession knows several treasure hunters who would have a much easier time than me."

Pruitt curved his thin lips into a devilish smile. "There are several reasons, the foremost being cost. I will pay you three-hundred thousand dollars for bringing me the idol. I would have to pay a pro at least triple. Another reason I chose you is you're very good at keeping a low profile. With your sailboat, you can easily sneak in and out of Cuba. Cruisers are constantly exploring the island, and tourist money is always welcome. And last, I'm told you speak Spanish, which will of course be of immense help to our endeavor."

I laughed at the last part, "I speak bad Spanish. It's about time some of your information was wrong. Regardless, this is crazy. I don't know anything about treasure hunting. Hell, I don't even know what this idol looks like."

"I can help with that. Do you have a cell phone?"

"No. I've found that my life is much better without one." I replied.

"No worries, I'll have my associate, Mr. Liezer, give you a satellite phone when he drops you back off in Marathon. When you are ready to depart, call me. The number will already be in it. I will give you all the information you need. I'll also have him give you a small advance."

I didn't like this at all. It was bad enough this slimeball was extorting me, basically blackmailing me into working for him. But keeping me in the dark about the specifics was worse, and owing someone like Adrian Pruitt money did not seem like a pleasant situation to be in either. Debts got me into this mess to begin with. But debts were what I was going to have if I didn't take this job. And I'd be lying if I said the adventure wasn't appealing, too.

CHAPTER THREE

I rubbed my knotted shoulder muscles after climbing onboard from the dinghy and stowing the last of the provisions for the trip. The sun had sunk over the horizon hours ago, and the pale face of the moon shone brilliantly on the dark waters. The harbor was still relatively busy with activity, and from somewhere over to the west, the raucous laughter of a party occasionally made its way over to Paramour. I entertained the thought of joining them, but instead ignored the revelers. I had work to do.

There were jugs of diesel fuel to tie down, loose items to stow away, and the last chore on the list was to hoist my dinghy and lash it down tight to the deck. No small task for one person. The dinghy motor had to come off, and at nearly one hundred pounds I did not want to risk dropping it in the water while attempting to wrestle it onto its stand on the stern of the sailboat. Instead, I rigged up a block and tackle from the boom of the small mizzen boom where it hung past the stern, turning it into a rudimentary crane. The blocks creaked as I lifted the motor, swung it into place, and then lowered it down. Once it was secured to its stand, the real chore began. Getting the dinghy onboard.

It was a tedious and exhausting job, but I got the rigid inflatable boat on the deck by hoisting it in the air with the spinnaker halyard. Then it was a matter of wrangling it and orienting it so I could lay it upside down on the deck, taking care to leave myself as much room as possible to get by it. The next step was letting the air out of the pontoons, giving myself more room to maneuver on deck. Lastly, I tied the boat down tightly, using several lines crossing over each other to stop it from moving in any direction. The little boat was my car, my truck, my garbage hauler, and my sole way to shore. I did not want to risk damaging, or worse, losing it while on the crossing to Cuba.

The deck of Paramour was now clean of any clutter. Jacklines, nylon webbing I could clip my safety harness to, ran down each side. All of her other lines hung neatly from the pinrails, off the deck where they could not become a tripping hazard. I made sure the cockpit was cleared too, as was the inside of the cabin. The pantry and refrigerator were well stocked. The water and fuel tanks were full. All that remained now was to get some sleep before taking off fresh in the morning.

I stripped down to my boxers and crawled into my bed in the v-berth. For a few moments, I reveled in the feeling of the soft memory