Pirate

After a few minutes, Sam checked his phone again. Still no signal. Frustrated, he shoved it in his pocket, then stopped when he heard a faint but growing sound coming from somewhere up the hill. “Listen,” he said. The sound of tires rolling across wet pavement. “Someone’s got their car in neutral.”

There were two reasons he could think of that a car might be heading downhill in neutral. Someone was having car troubles or they didn’t want the vehicle’s engine to be heard.

The latter worried him.

He grabbed Remi’s hand and pulled her into the bushes.

Twenty-eight

Sam hoped they hadn’t been seen. As much as he’d been glad when the rain stopped, he found himself hoping for a sudden deluge, the better to limit visibility.

But the only water was that dripping off the trees and foliage. Within seconds, the car was upon them. He looked through the leaves just as a 1970s era, mud-covered yellow Jeep CJ5 came rumbling down the hill, still in neutral. Sam wasn’t about to move until he knew who was at the wheel — he wouldn’t put it past Avery’s men to hijack another car. As the Jeep neared them, the engine sputtered to life and the vehicle jerked forward.

Not one of Avery’s men.

Sam scrambled to his feet, slipping in the mud as he raced into the road waving his hands. “Help!” he shouted. “Over here!”

Remi raced to his side, waving and shouting herself, but the Jeep reached the bend in the road, brake lights coming on as it entered the turn. Too late, Sam thought, wondering if the driver had even heard or seen them. But then it stopped. And backed up the hill.

The driver, a tall, white-haired man with a goatee, his green eyes alight with curiosity, rolled down the window. “Need a ride?”

“We do,” Sam said.

Remi added, “If you don’t mind the mud?”

The man laughed. “Hardly a classic I’m driving here. A little dirt won’t hurt it any. But you might want to hurry. Rain’s coming back in.”

They walked around to the other side of the car, Remi opting to sit in the back. Sam opened the door for her, then climbed into the front seat. “Thanks. We really appreciate this.”

“No worries. My engine stalled when I had to slam on the brakes. Darn boa in the middle of the road. Good thing I was headed downhill.” He looked over at Sam, then back to the street. “Don’t see a lot of tourists way out here.”

“We didn’t start off that way. Forced by a couple of gunmen in Kingston.”

“Robbed you, did they? What part of Kingston were you in?”

“The Records Department. That’s where our car is.”

The man looked over at Sam. “Tourists aren’t usually kidnapped from public buildings.”

“It doesn’t matter now. They got what they wanted. And — well, we got away. That’s what counts.”

Remi reached over, putting her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Exactly.”

“So,” Sam asked when the silence took over, “you live in Jamaica? Or just visiting.”

“Visiting. My friend owns a coffee plantation. I keep this old Jeep just to drive up to his place. Muddy roads get pretty deep during the rainy season.”

For the remainder of the trip, they discussed the complexities of coffee growing, and, from there, the best places to fish around the island.

When he pulled into the parking lot next to their rental car, Sam checked for Avery’s men, relaxing when it was clear they were nowhere in the vicinity. He and Remi thanked him again, asking if they could pay for his gas or trouble.

“No need. Coming down here anyway to get a new alternator. I am curious, though. What sort of information were they after?”

“Ship manifests,” Sam said. “From the seventeenth century. The one we were looking for was missing.”

“Well, good luck.” He put it in gear and started to drive off, then stopped suddenly, leaning out the window. “Not sure if it’ll help. But it just occurred to me. You might check at the Fort Charles Maritime Museum in Port Royal. Quite a collection of artifacts.”

“Appreciate the tip,” Sam said. They thanked him again, only realizing after he left that they hadn’t gotten his name.

Any trip to Port Royal would have to wait until morning. Right now, they needed a long shower, some warm food, and a good night’s rest. And even though Sam took enough evasive maneuvers to ensure they weren’t followed, he didn’t relax until they were safely in their room.

Good thing the hotel minibar had a nice bottle of Argentinian Merlot. Sam poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Remi as she sat. He held his up. “Here’s to narrow escapes and Good Samaritans.”

Remi touched her glass to his. “And to finding what we need tomorrow in Port Royal.”

* * *