Seizure(34)

“Nothing is decided.” Kit handed Whitney his napkin. “We’re considering all options. Today I heard about a position in Scotland that sounds fascinating, and—”

My turn to overreact.

“Scotland? What?”

“We’ll talk later,” he said. “It’s a two-year gig in the Hebrides, the islands off Scotland’s north coast. The work sounds … interesting.”

Whitney’s shoulders and chest heaved. The expensive makeup was now an impressionist painting.

“Hey now, come on.” Kit was at a loss. “We can talk this out.”

“Was—” gasp, “—it—” gasp, “—something—” gasp, “—I did?”

I slipped inside as fast as my legs could carry me.





WE CLUSTERED AROUND the bunker’s only table.

It would’ve been more clinical to inspect the crate in Shelton’s garage, but we opted for secrecy. Plus, the bunker was a better venue for chewing me out.

“Flaring in public is dangerous!” Shelton sounded outraged. “You don’t know what could happen. What if you’d lost control in front of Bates? What if the virus had suddenly caused a new side effect? We don’t know enough to roll the dice like that!”

“You put us all at risk.” Ben’s finger stabbed in my direction. “You get caught, we get caught. You want to end up in a cage? Become a lab rat, like Coop was?”

Hi glared, arms crossed, content to let the others do the scolding.

I’d offered apologies on the car ride home, but no one was buying. Then or now. Finally, I’d had it.

“Enough! We’ve been over this. My actions were impulsive and risky. For that, I’m sorry. But we needed an edge against Bates, and it worked. Now can we please inspect our purchase?”

I didn’t tell them about my sniffing ability. Now was not the time. If the boys found out I’d also flared at a yacht club party, they’d flip out.

Scowls still in place, the boys let it go. They knew how stubborn I could be.

“Most of this stuff is junk.” Shelton shoved several items aside, including the eye patch, the hats, and the replica guns. Working quickly, we removed other worthless filler probably added by Bates to increase the price.

When we’d finished, what remained was a scroll of papers tied by a scruffy leather cord. Wrinkled and frayed, the documents had definitely seen better days.

“Hell-o!” Hi pointed.

The strange little cross decorated the very first page.

“Booyah!” Shelton unwound the cord.

“Don’t get too excited,” Hi cautioned. “Bonny’s treasure map is well known. A clever counterfeiter might’ve copied that symbol to dupe people like us.”

“True,” I said. “Let’s not lose our scientific objectivity.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Shelton moved aside for Hi, considered by all to have the best “science” hands.

“Which one of you is my assistant?” Hi raised both forearms, fingers splayed.

Ben shoved him a box of latex gloves. Properly garbed, Hi lifted the top sheet of parchment.

“It’s the first page of a letter,” Hi said.

I scanned the first few lines. “Addressed to Anne Bonny! Find out who wrote it.”

Hi checked the next sheet. I noted that both pages contained the strange cross.

The letter signed off with a bold set of initials.

“Somebody named M. R.” Shelton said. “Who could that be?”

“Mary Read.” I couldn’t believe it. “The letter is from Mary Read to Anne Bonny!”

“I kissed a girl, and I liked it!” Hi sang.

Shelton chuckled. “There’s no proof they had that kind of relationship.”

But even I laughed. Whatever. If the documents were genuine, we’d hit the jackpot. That letter alone could be worth thousands.

Moving gingerly, Hi leafed through the remaining pages.

“Three letters,” he said. “Two from Read to Bonny, and one back from Bonny to Read. All dated early 1721.”

“How did Bates get letters going both ways?” Ben asked. No one could answer.

“When was Revenge captured?” I asked.

“Calico Jack was hanged in 1720,” Shelton replied. “So these were written after they’d been caught.”

“While in prison,” I said. “But why write each other letters? Weren’t their cells in the same jail?”

“How about we read and find out?” Hi said.

Good point.

Back to page 1. We studied the document in silence.

The language was antiquated, the script faded and hard to decipher. Still, it was English. Eventually the odd prose started making sense.

“There!” My finger shot toward the page. “Read says that she’s ‘bored to tears’ now that Bonny ‘has gone so far away.’”

“Gone?” Shelton ear-tugged. “Where’d she go?”

“Shhh!” Ben hissed. “Some of us don’t read as fast.”

We waited.

“Next.” Ben glanced my way. “And no spoilers this time.”

Hi flipped the page. My greedy eyes devoured the archaic text.