“I told you he went for help!” Glo said.
“Long story short, since we weren’t having any luck bushwhacking on the island, we decided to go with the hunch that there was a cave with water access, and that the cave was the logical place to hide treasure. We took the boat to the area where Broom was floating, saw that there was a strong current under a rock overhang, and here I am.”
“The diamond led us to a tunnel that started at a high part of the island,” I said to Diesel. “Rutherford spotted us from the air and followed us in. Devereaux fell to his death attempting to shoot Rutherford, and then Rutherford and his gang forced me to take them to the treasure. They got the SALIGIA Stone and left us to die.”
“Was Martin Ammon with them?”
“No. Rutherford said he was too busy to be part of this treasure hunt, but I think he’s still having an occasional lapse into Bow Wow Land.”
“How’d Glo get here?”
“Rutherford brought her. He thought she’d be useful casting spells and whatever.”
“How’d that work out?”
“There was a r-r-rat in the water,” Glo said.
Diesel stood and pulled me to my feet. We got Glo standing up, and Diesel spotted the skeleton.
“Best guess is it’s Palgrave Bellows,” I said. “I had to pry the SALIGIA Stone out of his hand.”
Diesel hooked his finger into the empty eye socket and lifted the skull off the floor. “We’ll take this with us, so Nergal can talk to it.”
Glo found her tote bag and hung it on her shoulder, and Diesel put the skull in it.
“Is Broom okay?” Glo asked. “Were you able to rescue him?”
“He’s in the boat with Wulf and Josh.”
We clambered down from the ship and stood on the rocks. The sand was covered by the high tide.
“The fastest way out is by water,” Diesel said. “I’m going to tow you out one at a time. There’s about a two-foot clearance between the water and the ledge, so watch your head.”
He took Glo out first and returned for me. I closed my eyes when we passed under the ledge and opened them when a wave crashed over us. Ordinarily I’m a strong swimmer, but I was cold and exhausted, and happy to have Diesel ferry me to the boat that was bobbing beyond the surf.
They’d stolen a center console similar to the boat Devereaux had used. Josh was hunched on a bench seat, dabbing at a bloody nose. Glo was glaring at him from mid-ship. No explanation needed. That one was easy to figure out. No sign of Hatchet.
Diesel hauled himself out of the water. Wulf powered up the boat and steered around the island to the beach party.
“I thought we’d be heading for home,” I said to Diesel.
“We have a helicopter picking us up. Apparently there’s a flat patch of land that can be used as a helipad, and it’s not far from the beach party. This isn’t the off-the-charts island we expected.”
Wulf anchored in shallow water, and we all slogged ashore. Hatchet was waiting at the water’s edge, and he was naked, with the exception of his sword, which was in its scabbard and hung around his waist. He looked like a blob of marshmallow with stick legs and droopy doodles.
Wulf had his usual poker face, Diesel burst out laughing, and I thought I was going to have to pour bleach in my eyes to erase the sight.
“Welcome, sire,” Hatchet said to Wulf. “The bird has not yet arrived.”
“At least he has his sword sheathed,” Glo said.
“I thought it best not to call attention to myself by being clothed,” Hatchet said to Wulf. “If you are displeased you can whip me. I’ll make a switch from a tree branch. I live to serve you.”
“Lucky you,” Diesel said to Wulf.
“This is my cross to bear,” Wulf said.
“Sadly my garb hath disappeared,” Hatchet said. “These wrinkled old folk have a mischievous side.”
A helicopter buzzed the beach and disappeared behind a rock-strewn hill topped with a clump of trees. The beach party looked like it was winding down. The band was packing up, and the tiki hut was no longer serving drinks. Some of the partiers were sprawled on the beach, soaking up the last of the sun, and the rest were standing in small groups talking. They were still naked, and none of them were getting any younger. I saw a lot of gray hair, no hair, and skin cancer. The ravages of gravity on the human body over the years was sobering.
Several people waved to Hatchet when we crossed the beach to get to the helipad.
“Hey, Hatchet,” one of the men yelled. “How’s it hanging?”
“Yoo-hoo, Hatchet honey,” a little white-haired lady called out. “Come over here and show us your sword.”
“They be a wild and rowdy crowd,” Hatchet said.
We reached the helicopter, and Hatchet got in first, giving us a view of the Grand Canyon when he bent over to take a seat.
“I’m not sitting next to him,” I said to Diesel.
“Me, either,” Glo said.
“Me, either,” Josh said.