THE TREASURE SEEKER

 By Bill K.

 Part Four

  

It was then that Linda spotted Veronica.  She was sitting on the floor in her bathing suit, her arms behind her back and rope cutting across her chest.  Her legs were bound at the knee and ankle.  Next to her was the Cuban, his hand clamped over Veronica's mouth.  She locked eyes with Linda and the woman could see how red and tear-stained they were.
    Instructed to get on the floor, Linda complied and felt the weight of her assailant on her back.  He roughly brought her hands behind her back and she felt rope cut into the wrists for the second time in three days.  When her wrists were hopelessly constricted, he moved to her elbows, drawing them together in the center of her back and tying them off.
    "What--" Linda began to say, but she was cut off when the man on top of her grabbed a fist full of brown hair and jerked her head back.
    "If you must speak," said the Cuban calmly while Veronica writhed and screamed into his hand, "please do so softly."
    "What is all this?" whispered Linda.  She was dragged up to a sitting position and felt rope pull over her chest.  "What are you looking for?  Why are you following us?"
    "Why else?" replied the Cuban.  "Surely you didn't think you could dive for Spanish gold and not attract attention?"
    "What, those two coins?" gasped Linda.  She got a menacing glare from the blond, who was in front of her now looping rope around her ankles.
    "Oh, yes, I forgot," chuckled the Cuban.  "You expect us to believe those coins are all that is down there."
    "It was a troop ship," hissed Linda.  "There is no treasure!"
    "Sure," snorted the blond, pulling the loops around Linda's knees extra tight for emphasis.  "You two are going to all that trouble and expense to pull up a rusty old helmet and a couple of gun triggers.  Pull the other one."
    "It's true," whined Veronica after the hand over her mouth disappeared.  "This is an archaeological dig.  We're not treasure hunters!"
    "Ah ah," the Cuban replied, wagging a finger at her.  "Softly.  And of course you would tell us if you were treasure hunters."
    "They're not going to believe us, no matter what we say," scowled Linda.  "They've got the treasure hunter fever.  I can see it in their eyes.  I've seen it in the eyes of too many people.  They roll down here and think they can dive once or twice and pull a couple hundred million in gold off the bottom just because they saw it on TV!"
    It was the last thing Linda said for a while.  The blond pulled a strip of tape off of a roll and roughly pulled it over her mouth, plastering it shut.  Linda shook away angrily, but she was caught and she knew it.
    "Believe me, there's nothing down there besides armor and food containers," Veronica reiterated, appealing to their rationality one last time.
    "We shall see," the Cuban replied.  "In the mean time, we shall be staying the night, just to make sure the two of you do not slip out of our sight."  
He nodded to his partner.  The blond walked over, pulled off another strip of tape and stuck it over Veronica's mouth.  She whimpered, but didn't fight him.  Then he walked over to a phone and began dialing.
    "Who are you calling?" asked the Cuban.
    "Room service," said the blond.  "I'm hungry."

    "What a crappy hotel!" thought Linda as she watched their captors eat heartily from a room service cart.  They had called down and the cart had been delivered, no questions asked.  They probably didn't even check to see who was registered there, just as long as somebody signed for it.  "I guess what they say is true.  You can't get good help anymore."
    Linda stared at the two men as they dined.  She hadn't had anything to eat since around noon.  A glance at the clock told her it was after eight.  A glance at Veronica told Linda that her friend hadn't eaten in about the same time.  And the two intruders ignored them.  Veronica squirmed in her bonds, perhaps trying to attract their attention.  The blond gave her a sullen look and continued eating.
    The diver dropped her head and sagged back against the wall.  More than her stomach ached.  Her arms and legs hurt from being tied.  And one of the things she was finding out about being tied up was it was hard to find a comfortable position once you were.  Trying to ignore the growling of her stomach, Linda fell into reviewing their situation.
    Her first question was if they intended to kill them.  The first time they met, they'd only tied her up.  But that was a quick hit robbery; this was more involved.  Kidnapping and piracy were bigger crimes than simple robbery.  They might be planning to take "the gold", then tie them to their tanks and dump them both in the Atlantic.  Linda glanced again at the blond: he'd do it in a second.  She didn't know about the Cuban.  And there was no telling how they'd react when they found out there was no gold.  Linda was scared right down to the pit of her stomach and she didn't mind admitting it to anyone who'd listen.
    But her fright didn't affect her judgment.  Linda remained calm, her senses keen.  In a way, it was just like diving.  As beautiful as the ocean was, there was danger lurking at every turn.  Every diver who was honest admitted to diving with a little fear: that's what kept you alive.  That and working through your fear.  Keeping your head and using your senses to the fullest allowed you to control your fear and avoid the pitfalls that could kill.  And that's the way she felt now.  
    Veronica looked over to her, on the verge of hysterics.  Linda's calm, encouraging gaze seemed to reassure her a little.
    After dinner, the two intruders settled in for a few hours in front of the television.  They picked up a basketball game on cable and very loudly occupied their time.  Linda preferred baseball, so she concentrated on trying to reach the knot on the rope around her wrists.  Veronica had no interest in the game, either, and sat glumly at the side of the chair the Cuban was in, opposite from Linda and the blond.
    When the game ended, the pair of criminals decided to turn in.  Sadly, Linda had made no progress reaching the knot or at stretching the ropes enough to slip them.  Suddenly she heard a muffled gasp from Veronica.  Turning, she saw the Cuban with Veronica in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom.  She lunged forward, only to be hampered by the ropes around her limbs.  Then just as suddenly, she was scooped up into the arms of the blond.  Her mind raced through all the things she could do as he carried her into the bedroom.
    However, they were both put down on the floor beside the bed.  The Cuban produced some rope, tied a loop loosely around Veronica's throat, and tethered her to the foot of the bed with about an eighteen-inch length.  He repeated the exercise on Linda, leashing her to the bedpost at the head of the bed.  The two turned to one another.  The Cuban produced a coin.  The blond called heads.  The Cuban won and the blond reluctantly took the chairs in the other room.  The Cuban stripped down to his boxers.  Veronica turned away in embarrassment.
    "Ladies," he nodded with affected courtesy, then climbed into bed.
    Once she was certain he was asleep, Linda began looking for ways to get loose.  It was hard to see in the dark, but there didn't seem to be anything within reach that could cut rope.  Stretched out to the ends of their leashes, Linda and Veronica were still about three feet apart.  If they stretched, they could touch toes, which would accomplish nothing.
    Linda tried to reach up behind her for the knot that held her to the bedpost.  After a few attempts, she realized it was too high.  The ropes were too tight to slip and too strong to break.  Suddenly seized with an idea, Linda bent down to the metal support rail for the bed.  She rubbed the edge of the tape against the metal a few times, trying to turn it up.  If she could get the edge turned up, she could peel off the gag and then maybe reach the tether knot with her teeth and undo it, then wriggle over to Veronica quietly and untie her hands, then sneak out together.
    After about fifteen tries without success, Linda sighed and gave up.  The tape was stuck down too well.  Besides, there were too many lucky breaks involved in her "plan" for it to have any realistic chance of success.  She looked over at Veronica.  Her friend sensed her defeat and looked down.  Linda let her head come to rest against the mattress on the bed.  Things didn't look good.   
    Movement of the mattress brought Linda out of a cloying, restless sleep.  She looked around, foggy and unsure as to what was going on.  It was still dark out, though she could tell it wouldn't be for long.  What had disturbed her sleep, if that's what you called it, was the Cuban stirring from the bed.  He got dressed in the dim light without a word.  
    Linda glanced at Veronica.  Her friend was nestled against the bed and was beginning to stir.  If she'd been asleep at all, she wasn't now.  Linda was amazed she'd slept at all.  Being bound wasn't conducive to comfortable rest.  She must have really been tired.  The woman flexed her bound hands, trying to knock some of the numbness out of them.  A first attempt to rise up from leaning against the bed proved unmanageable.  Her hips and back didn't want to work.  Finally, with greater effort, she managed to sit up, but her body creaked in protest.
    Her eyes followed the Cuban into the next room, where he roused his partner.  What, she wondered, was the plan now?  The door closed in the other room.  Linda strained her neck to see what was going on.  After a few minutes, the blond entered the room.  He locked eyes with Linda and she drew back warily.
Satisfied that the prisoners were still secure, the man drifted back into the living room.
    Veronica's exhausted sigh drew Linda's attention.  She couldn't get a good look, but the light that filtered in from the next room exposed the dark circles under her friend's eyes.  Veronica seemed listless, almost broken.  It was likely she didn't sleep much last night.  It was also likely her limbs were terribly numb.  That and the gnawing hunger she probably felt was enough to erode the spirit and vitality Linda remembered her friend having just a day ago.
    The thought occurred to her that she should try again to get loose.  However, she just didn't have the energy.
    After a small interval, perhaps fifteen minutes, Linda heard the Cuban return.  There was the rustle of paper sacks and the murmur of the blond, speaking some sort of cro-magnon grunt that was unintelligible to her.  The Cuban entered, set two sacks on a dresser, then bent down to Veronica and undid her leash.  Veronica wasn't certain whether she should be scared or hopeful.
    "I'm going to take your gag off to allow you to eat," the Cuban warned her patiently.  "If you try to scream or attract attention, I'll gag you again and you can go hungry.  It's your choice."
    The tape peeled away from Veronica's mouth.  Veronica kept still.  The Cuban stood up, fished something out of the bag and set it down next to Veronica.  Pulling the wrapper away revealed it to be a fat bagel, toasted and lathered with some sort of spread.  Linda was instantly hungry just seeing it.
The Cuban got up and moved to Linda's side.
    "But," Veronica sputtered, "aren't you going to untie me?"
    "Not just yet," he replied.
    "But I can't eat this way," she moaned.
    "Then do without," he shrugged.  "It makes no difference to me."
    Pulling the tether from around Linda's neck, the Cuban wagged his finger at her in warning, then peeled the tape from her mouth.
    "Don't worry," Linda whispered.  "I get the game plan."
    The Cuban nodded, then spread her breakfast out before her.  Veronica watched him leave, then turned helplessly to Linda.  Linda had already rolled over onto her side and was gnawing on one of the bagel halves.
    "This is all too much," sobbed Veronica.  Then she set about imitating her friend.
    After a half-hour passed, their two captors returned.  The blond knelt down next to Veronica and began undoing the ropes around her legs.  The Cuban started on Linda.
    "Are you letting us go?" Veronica asked hopefully.
    "Yeah, right," snorted the blond.
    "We still have need of you both," the Cuban added.  "We're only removing the ropes because they would attract attention in the hotel lobby and out in public."
    "So what's the plan?" Linda asked.
    "We will all take your boat out to the dive point.  Your friend will show my friend where the wreck is.  We will get the gold and you will get to live."
    "But I keep telling you," began Veronica.  The blond viciously slapped her.
    "Stow all that!" he snarled.
    "Hey!" snapped Linda, her body surging forward, only to quickly halt as she felt the edge of the Cuban's knife press against her throat.
    "Ah ah," he said calmly.  "Cooperation ensures no one gets hurt."
    It took all her effort, but Linda pulled back.
    "I'm cool," she said through clenched teeth.
    Veronica was allowed to put on her red nylon warm-up pants.  The four then journeyed down to the lobby and out the door, the men with hard, yet subtle grips on the women's arms.  Linda thought about trying something, but decided the odds were bad.  She spotted Veronica about to say something and shook her head.  The word's died in the brunette's throat.
    The quartet drove in Veronica's rental car to Pier Four.  Even at this early dawn hour there were people out and about.  With enforced calm, the four walked to the boat and boarded.  The women were herded to the cabin.
    "Very nicely done," commented the Cuban once they were inside.  "You see how well cooperation works?  Now, you," he said directly to Linda, "will please put your hands behind your back again."
    Linda didn't want to.  Her arms and shoulders were still sore from being tied all night.  But she complied, realizing she had no choice.  The Cuban circled her crossed wrists with rope and tied the loops off, then pinned her arms to her torso with rope across her chest.  He knelt down and knotted her ankles together, then her knees as Linda teetered precariously.  Finally, her mouth was sealed with tape.
    "Go get the equipment," he said to the blond.
    Linda was guided to a seat on the cabin floor.  Veronica reluctantly put her hands behind her.
    "No, no, you may remain free," he smiled.  "Just remember to cooperate with my partner when you dive."
    "You're actually thinking of sending me down there?" Veronica asked, her brittle emotions bubbling over.  "I'm not going to be any good to anyone down there!  I haven't had a decent night's sleep!  I haven't had a decent meal since noon yesterday!  I'm sore all over from being tied up!"
    "You will try your best," the Cuban said, "because you will dive with the knowledge that your friend's safety depends on your performance below and the results you get."
    Veronica looked at her bound friend, stricken.  Then she sank to a bunk behind her and buried her face in her hands.
    "God, why won't you believe us?" she sobbed.
    "Because I know what gold can do to people," he replied.  "It can make an honest man crooked.  It can make a virtuous man sin.  And it can make an ordinary person give the performance of a lifetime.  I do not trust you because I do not trust anything except what I can see and what I can feel when it comes to gold."
    Veronica continued to sob.  Linda squirmed in the grip of her restraints.
    By the time the blond returned with two tanks and other diving equipment, Veronica was all sobbed out.  The Cuban left the two women in his charge, then left for the pilot house.  The Treasure Seeker eased out of her berth and into the Florida Straits.  Linda looked up at the blond.  He spotted her looking at him and stared back, challenging her.  They locked eyes for several seconds, Linda establishing that he didn't intimidate her, before she slowly glanced away.  She'd dealt with enough dock rats in her time to know that while one didn't openly challenge one of them, one also didn't dare show fear.
    She pulled against the ropes binding her wrists and they naturally held.  Linda didn't like being alone with the blond, particularly in a helpless state.  She didn't trust him.  The Cuban was after his imagined gold; because of that, she knew he had no interest in anything else and she could trust him so long as he thought he could achieve his goal.  If, by some miracle, they actually found gold down there, he would likely take it and leave them alive and unhurt.  This man, though, was just as likely to slit their throats even if he got what he wanted.  
    "So what do you do when you're not treasure hunting?" she heard him ask.  Linda looked back at him and saw the question was directed at Veronica.
    "I work with the State University," Veronica replied hollowly.  "I'm a marine archaeologist."
    "Yeah," he replied, a hint of contempt in his voice.  "Well, you don't look like any marine I ever saw."
    Veronica tried to surpress a laugh, but couldn't.  The derisive snicker thrust out into the room and instantly Linda felt red flags go up in her brain.  
    "Mmmph!" she said, trying to warn her friend as she saw the blond cross the room at a leisurely pace.  
    Veronica still had her head drooped into her hands and was oblivious to his approach until he was standing right in front of her.  She looked up, dimly aware of danger.  Suddenly he seized her under her right arm and effortlessly hauled her to her feet.  The man kept her up on her tiptoes, pressed against his solidly built frame, their faces inches apart.  She saw his mouth curl up into a mirthless smile, a smile that masked cruelty and violence.
    "You're pretty," he said, knowing he was in complete control of the situation.  For good measure, his knife pressed lightly against Veronica's stomach.  "A lot prettier than your friend.  She's too manly for my tastes.  Now you," and he smiled like someone who'd just bought a prize steer at auction, "I'm going to like diving with you."
    Veronica gazed deep into his eyes.  She was like a sparrow gazing into the eyes of a cobra.
    "You're going to kill us," she said softly, in a tone of fear mixed with resignation, "aren't you?"
    His grin widened as he drank in her despair.
    "Maybe.  Maybe not.  I may just take you with me."
    Then he jammed his mouth to hers.  He didn't kiss her so much as assault her lips.  Veronica couldn't retreat; his grip was too strong and she was too run down from her ordeal.  She could only endure as the man's mouth brutalized hers.  Faced with no other alternative, Veronica went limp.  
    Aching to do something, Linda watched the entire obscenity transpire.  She didn't protest; she knew it was futile even if she weren't gagged.  She didn't waste her energy with a lot of useless thrashing, though her tugging at her wrist bindings took on a new urgency.  Desperate to end this and to have some excuse to look away, Linda cast her gaze around for something she could use to free herself.  Nothing was on or close to the deck that could help her.
    When he finished taking his pleasure from her mouth, he released his hold.  Veronica slid down to the bunk and curled up, unwilling to look at him.  His point made, the man eased back to the door.  
    The rest of the trip to the dive point passed without incident, though the tension in the room was thick.  When the boat glided to a stop, Linda was almost relieved, if only to get out from under the watchful eye of their captor.  The Cuban entered, anticipation beginning to peek through the mask of calm he normally kept.
    "We're here," he announced.  Veronica didn't move.  "Time to dive."  Still nothing.  The Cuban walked over and nudged her gently.  "Come.  Remember what cooperation gains you."
    Veronica pulled out of her shell and looked at Linda.  Her friend nodded and the woman let out a sigh of resignation.  The Cuban handed her a mask and fins and she put them on.
    While Veronica and the blond donned their equipment, the Cuban opened a small storage closet in the cabin.  Without regard for neatness, he shoved out everything.  Veronica jumped at the sudden clatter.  He moved to Linda and hooked his hands under her arms.
    "What are you doing?" demanded Veronica.  "Leave her alone!"
    "I will be occupied on deck," replied the Cuban with infinite patience, "and I will feel much better if she is stowed away."
    Linda was dragged into the closet and the door closed over her.  No sooner had the door closed, though, then she was pressed against it, listening through the slats in the frame that provided small light and ventilation.  She knew her cramped quarters had nothing she could escape with.  She also knew that the door didn't lock and that she didn't have to stay there once the others were gone.
After a few minutes, during which Veronica and the blond donned their tanks and weight belts, she heard the three exit the cabin.
    Instantly Linda pressed down on the floor with her feet, trying to push herself up.  At the angle she was sitting, though, she wasn't strong enough.  She had to use her bound hands, braced against the wall of the closet, and finally her shoulders as well before she could lift her hips off of the floor.
Bracing against the wall with her shoulders, Linda scooted her feet under her inches at a time.  Twice she almost lost her balance and tumbled back onto her bottom, but she held on until her legs were doubled underneath her and she rested on the balls of her feet.  From there, it was a simple matter to push up to a standing position.
    Veronica and her guardian plunged into the warm ocean.  With no alternative left to her, she led him north of the boat in search of the wrecked 'Donna Bella'.  He easily kept pace with her, showing Veronica that she couldn't outswim him.  Maybe in a pool at one hundred meters, but not here while hungry, sleep-deprived and weighted down with the tank on her back.  She continued to search, but she found her mind wandering.  It was hard to concentrate, due to her lack of sleep.  
    Suddenly her guardian's hand clamped onto her wrist and jerked her back.  At first Veronica thought he was going to try to assault her under water.  However, he pointed angrily ahead.  Veronica followed his gesture and saw a shark.  She would have swam right into its path if he hadn't grabbed her.  The shark swam on, apparently not hungry or interested enough to attack them.  However, if she had collided with it, the beast might have thought she was attacking and responded.  Veronica began to tremble, forgetting to keep her fins moving so she would remain in place.  She sank a few inches before the blond caught her and pulled her back up.  He roughly shoved her ahead and it was enough to spur her on.
    However, she wanted to be anywhere besides here.
    Linda was able to back against the door and reach the knob once she attained full height, just as she had planned.  What she hadn't planned on was the boat lurching suddenly just as the door began to open.  Berift of support, Linda tumbled backwards and impacted hard on the deck, her shoulder and bottom taking most of the blow.  The woman lay there for a few seconds, letting the shock die out and mentally cursing life in general.  Then she looked around.
    "Damn it!" Linda silently cursed, looking and not finding her primary objective.  "They took the spear gun!"
    Wriggling around, Linda surveyed the cabin for something else.  Her diver's knife was with her diving equipment back at the shop.  Veronica hadn't had one.  For a moment, she thought about wriggling over to the port bunk and trying to dislodge the Captain's Clock she kept there.  It would be a sacrifice, but if she could break the face and get a shard of the glass, she could cut the ropes around her wrists.
    "Yeah, in about a million years," concluded Linda.  "Besides, if that Cuban hears it fall and investigates, he'll find you and you'll be worse off."
    Wracking her brain, Linda scanned the room again.  There was always a knife on board to use in cutting rigging.  Where was it?  Linda began to worm her way over to the port bunk.  She didn't think it was there, but it was worth a look.  If it was in the pilothouse, she was sunk.
    Squirming over, Linda rested on her side to gather her strength.  Straining, she managed to pull herself up to a sitting position, then bent forward and searched for the handle of the storage drawer that was under the bunk.  Once she caught it, she pulled it out enough to peer inside the drawer.    Nothing; literally nothing was inside.  Linda exhaled in frustration.  Her body was covered with perspiration in the stuffy cabin.  Her shirt was plastered to her chest, her shorts were riding up uncomfortably and the constant exertion was beginning to wear on her.  Still, she leaned on the drawer to close it, then began inching her way over to the starboard bunk to check that drawer.  
    Veronica swam down to the floor of the relatively shallow strait.  Amid the rocks was something alien.  She plucked it from a nest of undersea vegetation and examined it closely as the blond swam over to her.  It was a metal plate, corroded over so much as to be unreadable.  However, Veronica could feel lettering on the plate.  She used her fingers to trace and read the impressions like a blind woman reading braille.  
    "T-V-A-L-D-E-Z," Veronica spelled out mentally.  "Tomas Valdez was the captain of the 'Donna Bella'!"
    Excitedly Veronica scanned the vicinity.  There was a heavy rock and coral foundation about fifty meters to her right.  It was probably one of the main bedrock roots that anchored Cuba in place.  Holding the plate, which was probably a sign from the ship marking the vain Captain Valdez's quarters, against her hip, Veronica shot forward eagerly.  Startled, her guardian was left in the dust for a few moments.  Only as he caught up with her did they spot the wreck.
    She rested like a corpse in the darkest pit of the rock outcropping, forever shielded from the sunlight that managed to penetrate this deep.  There was a splintered gash in her starboard hull just along the keel, no doubt where the storm had thrown her helplessly against some rocks and she'd run aground, then sank.  Sank without a trace for almost five hundred years until now.  Until she, Veronica Anderson, had found it.  For a fleeting moment, all thoughts and fears about her current dire predicament vanished in the swell of triumph.
    Then the blond swam past her, angling down to the ship.  Veronica realized she was forgotten and began kicking toward the surface.
    Empty; the starboard bunk drawer was empty, too.  Where was that knife?  Linda knew there was one on board.  There was always one on board.  Where did she use it last?
    There was a screw loose on a rigging pulley.  She didn't have a screwdriver handy, so she got the knife, took the pulley into the cabin--and worked on it on the starboard bunk, then put the knife down!  Linda twisted to look around.  There it was, nestled between the bunk and the cabin wall, slipped between the cushion.  She leaned back and slammed her head back against the bunk.  
    Bracing her chin on the bunk, Linda pushed off of the bunk so she could gather her legs underneath her.  It was a tremendous strain on her neck muscles and Linda grunted beneath the gag, but she managed to get herself so she was kneeling with the balls of her feet curled underneath her.  Moving her head so that her forehead pressed down on the bunk, Linda pushed off to try to gain her feet.  Half way up, struggling to keep her balance, Linda felt the boat sway under her more than she anticipated.  Her balance lost, the woman teetered to her right and spilled painfully onto her hip.
    "Well," Linda thought after her face untwisted from its grimace, "maybe I can pull myself up onto the bunk from my knees."
    Veronica's head broke the surface and she pulled up her mask for a look around.  There was nothing but ocean around her, save the 'Treasure Seeker' due south of her and Cuba in the distance to the southeast.  What now?  She couldn't just tread water out here in the Florida Straits.  There was no way she could make it to Cuba on her own, even if she wanted to, let alone Key West.  And nothing but trouble waited for her on the 'Treasure Seeker'.  She pulled the regulator from her mouth.
    "Wait a minute," Veronica thought.  "Maybe I could swim around to the other side of the boat.  Maybe sneak in and free Linda, then we could overpower that Cuban guy and--"
    A marker balloon broke the surface behind her.  Startled, Veronica spun around to look at it.  Suddenly, to her right, something else broke the surface and Veronica felt a burly arm wrap across her throat.
    "Thinking of leaving?" asked her guardian.  She could feel his knife press against her stomach.  "Now let's just wait here like a good girl for the boat to pick us up."
    The boat lurched into action unexpectedly, spilling Linda back onto her back.  She craned her neck.  Why were they underway?  Had they found the wreck? Was Veronica still alive?  With a new urgency, Linda inched back over to the bunk, ignoring the protests of her fatigued muscles.
    Just as she was beginning to haul herself up onto the bunk, Linda felt the boat stop.  She wondered what was going on, but didn't let it stop her.  Pulling herself up onto the bunk on her side with her legs and her shoulders and her chin, Linda got just enough of a perch so she wouldn't slide off, then began blindly searching for the knife that was pinned between the cushion and the wall.  She felt around as far as she could reach and came up with nothing.  Realizing she would have to shift position, Linda shoved herself farther along the bunk with a loud grunt.  There was a burning sensation along her right shoulder blade.  Linda figured she must have pulled something during all of her twisting and squirming.
    "If I get out of this alive, I'm going to take a month off and soak in a nice hot tub," Linda thought as she felt for the knife, "with bubbles and perfume."
    Just then, the cabin door opened and Linda's blood froze.  Framed in the door was the Cuban.  
    "My, but aren't you resourceful," he said, walking over to her.  Linda frantically felt for the knife.  The Cuban gently shoved her legs up onto the bunk and reached for the knot at her ankles.  "Your friend and mine have found the wreck."  Then the Cuban spotted the knife wedged next to the bunk.    "Very resourceful," he commented, plucking the knife up.
    Linda looked away in frustration.  As she did, she spotted Veronica and the blond in the cabin now.  Veronica had her arms behind her, probably tied, and her mouth was taped.  An icy dread gripped Linda's stomach.  Her eyes shot to the Cuban and she suddenly realized that she'd drastically misjudged the man.
    "That is correct," he said evenly, reading her mind.  "We no longer have need of you two."
    Using the knife, the Cuban cut the rope around Linda's legs and hauled her to her feet.  They headed for the deck topside, Linda pulling and dragging her feet doggedly.  However, her strength was no match for the Cuban's.  Veronica was crying.  The blond was smiling.  At least the Cuban had the decency to be business-like about it.
    "Come," the Cuban said.  "Find some sort of weight to tie around their waists so they will sink.  Then we push them in and they may watch us get our gold."
    Just as the four made the deck, their attention was attracted by a United States Coast Guard patrol cutter coming up on them fast from the general direction of Florida.  The Cuban twisted around to get a good look at it while Linda fought to break free.
    "AHOY, THE BOAT!"    the cutter's loudspeaker boomed across the blue water.  "THIS IS THE UNITED STATES COAST GUARD!  YOU ARE UNDER ARREST!  HEAVE TO AND PREPARE TO BE BOARDED!"
    "They can't board us!" hissed the blond.  "We're in international waters!"
    "Warn them off!" said the Cuban, pulling the tape from Linda's mouth.  "Say we're on a holiday."  He turned to his partner.  "Get in front of the other one so they can't see she's tied up!"
    "It doesn't matter if we're in international waters," Linda grinned at them with feral triumph.  "This boat has a U.S. registry!  They can board her anytime they want any place in the world!"
    The Cuban cursed, but was intelligent enough to realize he was stymied for the moment.  His partner wasn't so inclined.  He scrambled for the pilothouse.
    "Give it up!" Linda bellowed.  "This tub can't outrun that cutter!"
    "To Hell with that!" he snarled, emerging from the pilothouse brandishing his diving knife.  Veronica tried to scramble away, but he caught her by her swimsuit and dragged her back.  
    "DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND HEAVE TO!" ordered the cutter.  Several hands were on deck, all armed with rifles pointed directly at the blond.
    "BACK OFF!" he bellowed a reply, the knife to Veronica's throat.  Her eyes were wide and fearful over her gag.  "You back away and let us go!"
    "Go where, man?" hissed Linda.  "They'll bust you in Florida!  You don't have enough fuel to make it to the Bahamas and if you head for Cuba, Castro'll probably blow you out of the water!"
    "Shut up!" screamed the blond.  "You guys back off or I'll kill her!"
    "DROP YOUR WEAPON AND SURRENDER!" replied the cutter.
    "Give it up, man," sighed the Cuban.  "It's over."
    "It's not!" bellowed the blond.
    "So what are you going to do, slit her throat?  The second you do that, they're going to put a couple of dozen .22 slugs into you and then toss you to the sharks so they don't have to do the paperwork.  It's over.  Learn when to cut your losses."
    He didn't want to do it.  It wasn't the macho thing to do and he didn't want to be a loser again.  But the blond glanced at the six military issue rifles pointed directly at him, with six crisp, clean Coast Guardsmen ready to pump him full of lead and he realized above all else that he was afraid to die.  His grip relaxed on Veronica.  She pulled away and ran to Linda, burying her face on her friend's shoulder.  The knife clattered to the deck harmlessly.
    In seconds the deck was filled with Guardsmen.  The prisoners were freed and the two kidnappers were handcuffed and led away.  As the Cuban passed, Linda shifted into his path to stop him.
    "There never was any gold," she told him.
    "Ah, don't tell me that," the Cuban grimaced.  "At least leave me with the illusion that all this was for something!"
    With a small amount of satisfaction, Linda let him pass.

    Linda walked out of the emergency room exam cubicle with prescriptions for salve for the rope burns on her limbs and a muscle relaxant for her pulled shoulder muscle.  The horror of her situation was already beginning to fade into one of those compartments the human mind stored bad memories in.  There it would wait until she least expected it, then pop up and spoil a perfectly good day.
    "Cynic," she whispered to herself.  She was alive and relatively intact and that was more than she expected a few hours ago.  In a way, it was just like making a successful dive in treacherous waters (and what water wasn't?): you enjoyed your good fortune until the next dive.
    "There you are!" crowed an unmistakable voice.  Linda turned to it and sure enough there was Ezekial Robinson ambling up, a broad grin on his deep black face.
    "Zeke!  I didn't think you ever left that hole of a shop of yours!" she grinned.
    "Only to visit sick friends," he replied, mirroring her mirth.  "So how are you, darling?"
    "Better than I could have been," she replied, massaging the twinge in her shoulder.  "Thank God the Coast Guard showed up when they did.  Did you hear about it?"
    "Heard about it?  I'm the one what called them!  I spread the word about them two fellas just like you asked.  Sure enough, Dub Holtzman spots you and the professor getting on the boat this morning with them and he hightails it over to the shop and tells me.  Well, don't need no house to fall on me!  I calls the Coast Guard and tells them what's going on."
    "Oh, bless you!" Linda said, hugging the old black man.  "I don't even mind that you made me pay for the stolen tanks now."
    "Heh heh.  So how's the professor?"
    "I'll show you," and Linda gestured with her finger for him to follow.  Laying in one of the cubicles, curled up on an exam table, was Veronica Anderson.  "Doctor's gave her a sedative to calm her nerves.  She went through a lot."
    "Oughta string those two up for even thinking of harming a couple of fine looking young things like you and her," muttered Zeke.  
    "That's the problem with the world," Linda said, turning and quickly pecking him on his cheek.  "Too many guys like them and not enough guys like you."
    "Damn straight."

    "And the most aggravating thing about it," Veronica continued as she and Linda ambled out of the hospital to a waiting cab, "aside from nearly being killed a half dozen times, is that I dropped the plaque when he surprised me.  I may never find it again!"
    "Want to go diving for it in a few days?" Linda asked.
    "You're going back in?"
    "Soon as the shoulder heals."  Veronica looked at her uncomprehendingly.
"Sure, I'll never be able to look at my boat in the same way again--or rope for that matter.  But you can't let fear rule your life.  If I did that, I'd never have become a diver."
    "Or the most imfamous juvenile delinquent in Eau Claire, Wisconsin," smiled Veronica.
    "Second most imfamous," Linda replied, glancing at Veronica.  "So how about it?"
    Veronica sighed.
    "You're not still having problems about what happened, are you?" Linda asked.
    "Well, it's not going to be one of my most cherished memories," Veronica replied.  "But I'm a big girl.  I'll handle it.  The thing is, after I show the salvage team where the 'Donna Bella' is, my job's done here and it's back to the university."
    "Oh."
    They walked along in silence.
    "You could always stay," Linda offered.  "You dive great and I could use a partner."
    "I can get tenure in a few years.  I get that, I'm set for life."
    "I guess."
    "You could always move up there," Veronica offered.  "It's near the coast."
    "I've got a business to run down here."
    They walked along in silence.
    "Of course, I could check it out," shrugged Linda.  "Since I'm my own boss, I can take a vacation any time I can afford it."
    "If it'll help," Veronica said with a shy smile, "you can stay at my place instead of a hotel."
    They walked along a little further.
    "I may just do that.  I kind of miss the pillow fights."

End
(c) 2000 by Bill Kropfhauser