The Admiral's Mark (Short Story) by Steve Berry Read Free Book Online Page A

there and saw people racing down the cobbled path toward the parking lot. A quick glance behind and he saw no one else. So he followed, keeping a watch on his back until he rounded the first bend. High above the gate, on the parapet, he caught sight of Matt Schwartz.
    A wave from the Israeli said,
You’re welcome
.
    He returned the gesture.
    He knew the drill. The Israelis had flushed Simon out, but they would not risk anything more. Instead, they’d watch from their perch as everyoneleft. The lack of security or any law enforcement told him something else—the Haitian government had cooperated.
    Diplomacy.
    Ain’t it grand?
    He found the parking lot and still saw nothing of Simon or Rócha. He had to go back and find Dubois. But in the distance, still on the parapet high above the
citadelle
, Schwartz was gesturing for him to leave.
    Why?
    Then it occurred to him.
    He walked over, opened the driver’s door, and slipped behind the wheel of the car.
    Dubois’ face appeared in the rearview mirror, up from his hiding place.
    “I see my car and wait for you.”
    “You okay?”
    His friend nodded. “I good. Get going.”
    He agreed.

    Malone drove straight to where Elise Dubois taught school to let her know everything was okay. She was glad to see her husband unharmed and thanked Malone with a hug and kiss.
    “I knew you would do it.”
    He appreciated her confidence, since he hadn’t been so sure. The problem now was the Israelis, as they would want payback. But just as with Simon, he had no missing page to offer them. He decided to leave Haiti and report back to Pam, Ginger, and Stephanie Nelle. At least he knew how and why Scott had died. He also had the account number for the $600,000 on deposit in the Cayman Islands, which the Magellan Billet could easily obtain. Ginger deserved that money, and he’d make sure she received it.
    They left the school and stopped by the Hotel Creole, where Malone learned that Simon had checked out earlier. Most likely, the Austrian was now headed to the airport, unsure of what had happened at the
citadelle
but glad to be away. He grabbed his bag from the room on the third floor and left, riding with Dubois to the docks and his boat. Along the way, he called and secured a seat on a flight out of Cap-Haïtien to Miami that left in six hours. From there he’d shuttle home to Atlanta.
    “Sorry about getting you into all that danger,” he told Dubois.
    “I get myself into it. I want to help you.”
    “Fortunately, it’s all over, and I appreciate what you did.”
    He sat on the aft deck, beneath a canvas canopy, out of the sun. Most of the other boats were gone, out earning a day’s wage. He hadn’t really noticed much about the boat on the first trip, except for its struggling engine.
    “You need a mechanic,” he said to Dubois.
    “That be me. It makes a lot of noise and smoke, but works. Always has. Scotty help with that. He give me money for parts.”
    And he would, too, when Dubois dropped him at the airport.
    The least he could do.
    “He buy me GPS.”
    “Scott did?”
    Dubois nodded. “He say we need it. He use it some, then leave it with me.”
    He stepped into the forward cabin. Above the wheel, mounted to the old timbers, was a new GPS, wires snaking a path to a power source.
    He wanted to know. “What did Scott do with it?”
    “That’s how he found
Santa María
.”
    “But you don’t know if that wreck is Columbus’ flagship.”
    And nobody ever would. Most likely, Scott intended to use his find to work another con on somebody.
    “He mark the site with GPS numbers. That’s how I know where it is. He tell me that was secret-agent stuff. But I never believe he is an agent. Just a man who treat me good.”
    His mind swirled. Everything fit into place, except one thing. The paper Scott sent to Ginger. That had been bothering him for the past two days. Why do it? And why would Simon think it important enough to fly to Atlanta for a look?
    Then it hit him.
    How