Trouble & Treasure, Dave Moyer [ebook reader wifi txt] 📗

the second I opened the door, I realized how stupid and suicidal my plan was. The sound of the waves alone as they broke against the stone wall was bad enough. The water swamped the path in a shifting wave of death.

I didn't hesitate, gritting my teeth and plunging ahead. It was so god dammed dark that the only light that made it through the complete shadow of the clouds above was the powerful beam of the lighthouse itself. Somewhere along the line the lamps had obviously turned themselves on, content to do their real job despite the shenanigans occurring down below.

I began my slow and treacherous walk to the metal path above. I had no idea if my car was still there, but had a feeling it would be. Hopefully untouched, hopefully my gun in the back seat, and ever so hopefully Arthur Stanton's journal there with it. I was half sure I still had a suit in the boot that I was meaning to take to the dry cleaners, too.

Maratova had come with the army, and they had come, like the crazy bastards they were, by rappelling from a helicopter. It appeared the criminals Maratova worked for had come in the same way. Hopefully that meant they’d never even seen my car, let alone had a chance to run it off the cliff. If they had, Amanda and I could kiss the hope of finding the rest of the Stargazers goodbye; the journal was the only real clue.

I held onto the hope my car was fine as I moved, hand over hand, inching along the rail, stopping every single time a wave battered over the wall, which was every half second.

Mark could have been shouting his encouragement from the kitchen window above, but there would be no way I could hear it over the waves. Mark could equally have been shouting at me to watch out for the multiple goons and criminals milling around out here, but, again, there would be no way I could hear it above the storm.

I had to keep a lookout myself while trying not to drown.

Though the salt water gushed over my face, I forced my eyes to keep open. Wave after wave crashed over the wall, slamming into me as I held onto the rail. Each time I was flung against the rail, and each time I somehow managed to keep my hold. Slowly, so painfully slowly, I made my way over to the metal staircase.

Rather than stop and shout hallelujah when I reached it, I threw myself at it. By now the ebb of the water along the path was so damn strong it created a roaring waterfall between me and the staircase. I didn't think, because I didn't have time to; I let go of the railing and hauled myself towards the staircase. No longer holding onto anything, the force of the waves hit my legs, pulling me down, my body crumpling against their strength. In the confusion and rush as I began to slip with the water towards the gap between the staircase and the path, I lashed out with one hand. I managed to grab the edge of the staircase. I held on harder than I had ever held on in my life. Showing strength they don't teach you in law school, I managed to pull myself up. My mouth and throat and nose were inundated with salt water, and I choked like an emphysema patient on his last legs.

I managed to pull myself up.

I made my way up the stairs, hand clutching tight to the rails until I pulled myself into a standing position. It didn't matter that I was possibly more tired than I had ever been in my life; I couldn't rest, I had to get to Amanda, I had to get to Maratova. I had to end this.

So, lungs burning from the effort, chest so cold I fancied my heart had stopped, I ran up the stairs. The rain was still wild, the wind even wilder as it whipped around me, chilling my frozen body even further. I steeled myself; I kept a hand on the rails and kept running up those stairs.

I managed to crest the top of the stairs, and before I could cheer at my achievement, I saw the van parked by my car. It was heavy, it was black, and it had two unfriendly looking guys in it.

I could make them out through the driving rain, and it was a good bet they could see me too.

As I heard two car doors slam, I gave it all I had and ran for my car. A shot blazed past me, lodging itself in the dirt further up, but I kept running, and I managed to make it to my car. I dodged down low, even rolled and brought myself up to the driver’s-side door. I grabbed it, opened it, and hauled myself in.

A bullet slammed into the back of my car somewhere, probably the boot, and hopefully not one of the fucking tires. Rather than reach around and grab the gun somewhere under the back seat, I keyed in the ignition code and the car revved into life. Yes, I had an ignition code, not because I was lawyer and I could afford a car without keys, but because I was a goddamn treasure hunter, and that was how we rolled.

I didn't bother to put my lights on, just flung the car into reverse, tires skidding hard against the rough gravel. I kicked at the accelerator, shooting onto the road. I could barely see it through the sheets of rain smashing against the windscreen and the turgid clouds blocking the moonlight.

I turned my lights on with a flick, using a free hand to wipe down my face, water pooling off my fingers and splattering on the dashboard.

My breathing was ragged, fast, and uneven, but I let out a short laugh. Somehow, somehow I’d made it. True, there was a van full of armed bad guys on my tail, but I hadn’t drowned and I hadn’t been shot, and I was in my car. These were all good things, well, apart from the bad guys on my tail. But I could deal with them.

They were in a van; I was in a fast car. It was my chance to show just how fast I could go. Flooring my foot on the accelerator, eyes wide and plastered on the road, I drove like a bat out of hell, trying to ensure I didn’t hit a turn too fast and freaking flip my car.

While I could still see the lights of the van behind me, there was no doubt I was putting distance between them. I had to keep it that way, and though I wanted to rifle through the back seat and ensure Arthur Stanton's journal was still there, I kept my eyes on the road.

So I kept focused, and I kept my foot on the accelerator, car growling like a tiger.

After a few tight turns, I could no longer see the lights.

I didn't relax until I joined the main road, entering the highway that would lead me back to Amanda's.

The first thing I did was call my contacts in the army. I didn’t hold anything back, because yes, I would like to think I’d learned my lesson.

I didn’t end the call until I’d confirmed the cavalry were making their way to Arthur Stanton's manor. But they sure as hell weren't going to have an easy time of it. Maratova and his men were not playing games, and they were not new hands at this. They would be equipped, and they would be ready to repel attackers. This wasn’t going to be a simple matter of the army flying in and everything working out; no, it was far more likely to end up as a siege, or a hostage situation, depending on what angle you wanted to view it from. The point was, it wouldn’t solve itself easily, and it wouldn’t be quick.

I was still wearing the sopping track pants and checkered top I’d found in the lighthouse, and I didn't bother pulling in at a service station to change. Hell, I still hadn’t looked in the back seat to ensure my gun and the journal were still there. I didn't have time because I doubted Amanda had time. The more I thought about her, it hit home how much of a bastard I’d been. This was all my fault, but at least I wasn’t the kind of guy to leave it at that. I had fucked things up, but I was in a fixin' mood.

Generally, at legal speeds, it would have taken around two hours to make it to Amanda's, more considering the road conditions tonight.

It took about an hour and 15 minutes until I hit the countryside. I came to the edge of Arthur Stanton's estate up on the hill to my left through a row of swaying poplar trees bending under the ferocious winds. It wasn't as if I could see from this distance whether the place was already overrun with helicopters, guns, soldiers, and bad guys. I could bet it was, or at least not far from it. That was why I didn't turn up the driveway. I took the turn to Elizabeth's instead.

If Amanda had ended up there, it meant she’d found her way through the woods, despite the fact there would have been serious surveillance on them last night. Maybe that gave me a chance to make my own way through those same woods.

I took the long driveway that led up to Elizabeth's. Due to the size of the properties around here, she was a fair distance from Arthur Stanton’s estate, far enough that the army wouldn’t bother her, and far enough that she would have no idea what was going on down the road.

I pulled up as close as I could to her house, and had the opportunity to check my back seat. I could have pumped the air with a fist when I latched a hand on both my gun and the journal. Something was finally going right for me.

I looked up at Elizabeth’s house: there were no lights on and her car wasn’t parked up front as it usually was. She didn't look as if she was at home, and that was a good thing. She didn’t need to be brought any further into this mess.

I took the opportunity to change into the crumpled but dry suit I had in the back of my car, stuffing the gun down the back of my pants. Before I slammed the door shut to head to the woods, I remembered something. I dropped to my feet and grabbed the pants I’d let fall there and I searched the deep pockets like a man possessed. Heart beating in my ears, teeth clenched, I found it. The small pendant from the lighthouse.

Fuck, with one thing and another, I’d forgotten about it. Ever since Amanda had been taken, I hadn’t thought about it once. Somehow I hadn’t lost it in my mad dash to and from the lighthouse.

The second thing that was going right today. I closed my eyes and closed a hand around the pendant. It bloody well better lead to one of those Stargazers.

I didn't have time to read the inscription on the back yet; I had to save Amanda. It was time to get my priorities straight. It was the last time I was going to bring somebody innocent into one of my games. First save Amanda, then retrieve the Stargazers.

I put the pendant into the inside pocket of my suit jacket.

Then I ran to the woods behind Elizabeth’s house.

The weather was still wild, and while it wasn’t raining here, the wind blew through the forest with a violent howl. The clouds above became as dark and brooding as they’d been at the lighthouse. I had no doubt that soon they’d dump the exact same storm on