“To those of you who seek lost objects of history, I wish you the best of luck. They’re out there, and they’re whispering.”
I glanced at my watch, took one more look at the fort, then turned and headed back in the direction I’d come.
If anyone knows about lost objects of history, it’s Cussler.
Fifteen minutes later, I crunched onto our seashell driveway and came to a stop under our stilted house. My heart pounded and my body was coated in sweat. After catching my breath, I completed a thirty-minute circuit involving a heavy bag, pull-up variations, various kettlebell exercises, and battle rope slams. By the time I was done, I fell onto my back. I was exhausted, but I felt great.
Once upstairs, I showered, changed into fresh clothes, then hung out with Ange for half an hour before the others began to stir. We whipped up some mango french toast, along with bacon and eggs, and ate them out on the balcony. After breakfast, Ange and I dropped Scarlett off at school, then cruised over to meet up with Jack and Pete at the marina.
The Conch Harbor Marina is located in “Old Town” Key West, on the northwest part of the island. Its two mooring docks are just down the waterfront from the Key West Express, a ferry terminal that shuttles people back and forth from Fort Jefferson in Dry Tortugas, and Fort Myers. The marina is just a short walk from the bustling downtown streets and some of the best and most historic restaurants in town. It’s also just a few blocks from Mallory Square.
We met up with the guys at the marina office, a small structure that was built into the dock and extended over the water. Jack showed me the status of a project he’d been working on for the past few weeks: a pavilion on the shore that had a few benches and, when finished, would display memorabilia from the marina’s history along with a statue of Gus Henderson.
The popular local marina had been founded and operated by the Henderson family since the early 1900s. Just a few months earlier, Gus, the most recent owner and a good friend of ours, had been murdered by a former comrade of mine who’d wanted to provoke me. With no living kin, Gus had left the place to Jack in his will. Jack had only taken control of the marina for a few days when he’d decided to pay a special tribute to the man who’d helped make the place what it was.
We spent the morning measuring and sawing pieces of cedar for the railing. The structure was nearly complete; we were just adding the finishing touches. The statue was being sculpted by a local artist up in Fort Pierce and was scheduled to be delivered the following week. Jack planned to hold a party in Gus’s honor once the memorial was finished.
At noon, we gathered in the office for a meal of lobster rolls that Jack’s girlfriend, Lauren Sweetin, had prepared. Lauren had moved to Key West from Tennessee years prior after a nasty divorce. She’d been running snorkel and sunset cruises ever since. When Jack took over the marina, he knew he’d need help. The conch beach bum was a hard worker and had operated his charter company since he was in his early twenties, but running charters and a marina proved too much. Lauren agreed to head up marina operations, and the two made a great team, working with each other’s schedules to allow Lauren to continue taking wide-eyed tourists out on the reefs on her catamaran Sweet Dreams.
Fortunately, it was summer, so the two had a whole slow season to figure things out before the northern cold fronts swept over the States and the real crowds showed up.
Ange and I fell back into our normal island “routine” for a few days. Most of our time was spent helping Jack at the marina, spearfishing, and going out on the Baia and exploring our island paradise. Though we’d lived here for over three years, there were still many new coves, inlets, islands, and reefs that we’d never seen.
Three days after taking care of Jake Shaw and his little band of wannabe neo-Nazis, I was walking back to the marina after enjoying a sunset celebration at Mallory Square when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Sliding it out, I saw that I was receiving a call from Jane.
“We found and raided the Aryan Order’s compound last night,” she said, getting straight to the point after I answered. “It was empty, but it looked like they left in a hurry.” She paused, then added, “Lynch uploaded a video this morning and we were able to trace it to an IP address near Orlando. It looks like he’s making a run for it.”
I shook my head. Of course he was making a run for it. The white supremacist leader had no other options.
“You find anything useful at their compound?” I asked.
“Not much yet,” she said. “But they left the pit bulls behind, so we’re taking care of them.” She said something to someone beside her that I couldn’t hear, then added, “We’ve got a good chance of nabbing him here, Logan. He’s not getting away this time. I wanted to thank you again for all you and Ange did.”
“No thanks necessary. And I’m glad to hear you’re all close to finding Lynch.”
She told me she’d keep me updated if anything new came up, then we ended the call. I pocketed my phone and looked down the sidewalk as my family and friends waved me to catch up with them.
With Lynch and his guys out of the picture, and with the new information that Scarlett had figured out, I thought that it was high time we
