The Columbus Affair: A Novel

the Dutch invasion of Brazil. He ended his life on Jamaica, searching for Columbus’ lost mine.

“Does the Simon know this?”

He shook his head. “He’s out of touch. Gone. Don’t know where. I swear, Bene. Don’t know. I haven’t told him yet.”

“And you not tell me, either. This deed you find. Still in the archives?”

A shake of the head. “I stole it. I have it at my place in Spanish Town. Your men know where dat is. Go get it. Beside my bed. I swear, Bene. Right beside my bed.”

He withdrew the gun.

His man digging in the grave had stopped and was motioning.

He needed time to think so he tossed the weapon to his lieutenant and walked over. In the shallow excavation he spotted a flat chip of stone. On its face was a symbol.

“Fetch it out,” he ordered.

His man lifted the fragment and laid it on the ground. He brushed away the dark earth and studied the etching. The Simon had told him to look for a pitcher on a grave marker and a hooked X.

The chip he stared at had once been part of a tombstone. He lifted the chunk and saw that it fit at the bottom right corner of the marker with the pitcher, its rough edges close enough of a match to convince him.

He propped the piece up so the prisoner could see the hooked X.

“You know wa dis bi?”

“I saw dat on the deed, Bene. On da deed in the archives. The one beside my bed. Simon told me to watch for dat X thing. I did. I did real good, Bene. It’s there. I can still do real good for you, too. I can.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t work like that. As a child his mother taught him something she’d been taught by her mother, and her mother before that. Maroons wrote little down. The spoken word had been their history book.

Speak the truth and speak it ever

,

Cost it what it will

.

His mother was always right.

And something else she said.

To hide a sin was to commit another.

Felipe was a minor government official who worked at the national archives in Spanish Town. He was somewhat educated and ambitious, but earned barely enough to survive. His main task had been to search the old records for anything on the lost mine. But, when offered the opportunity to work for someone else, this cheater had decided to bite the hand that first fed him.

Luckily, Felipe had a big mouth.

Which was appreciated, since knowing the situation had allowed Bene to cultivate a spy of his own.

He motioned for his man to bring him a phone. Reception in the mountains was excellent and he pressed one of its memory buttons, the number already programmed. Three rings and the man in Vienna answered.

“What is happening there?” he asked.

“It’s becoming … complicated.”

“Maybe it’s time you act.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“Then do it. All’s quiet here.”

“Good to hear.”

He clicked off.

He’d known for the past few days that the Simon was on the move. Things were happening in both Austria and Florida. As to what, he was not entirely sure, but he knew enough to know that his European partner was double- crossing him. To his great fortune, Bene had found a new cemetery, with both a pitcher and a hooked X. Now he had a deed. All of which helped ease the ache of betrayal, and the anxiety he felt for what had to be done.

His gaze locked on his man with the gun. He held his minion’s eyes for a split second, then gave a nod. The weapon was aimed down and a bullet to the head ended Felipe’s life.

Speak the truth and speak it ever, cost it what it will.

“Dump him in the grave and refill the hole,” he said. “Then go bury the don.”

His dogs never ate what they did not kill.

“I’m going to Spanish Town.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN