The Wreck Page 15

  “You better say somethin’, Nate, or she’ll keep shellin’ ya,” Hutch said, winking at Lucille.

  “You eat over here once a week?” Nate said.

  “Usually,” she said sitting down and cracking open a beer. “It’s my beer night. I’ll only have two though, max.”

  “Shall we?” Hutch folded his hands, looking at Lucille.

  “Good idea, Abner,” she said and they all bowed their heads while Hutch led them in grace.

  Nate took a bite. “Tasty, Hutch,” he said.

  “Better than your usual,” said Lucille. She turned to Nate, “and his usual is damn good.”

  Hutch toasted with his beer and then drank.

  A loud thump came from the garage.

  “What was that?” Nate said.

  “Bats,” said Hutch. “A royal pain in my ass. You closed the garage door, right?”

  “Yes,” said Nate.

  “Good. Don’t need any gettin’ in the house,” he said.

  Nate and Lucille nodded in agreement and continued eating.

  “They say you can tell a lot about a man from his garage,” said Hutch. “You’ve seen mine, Nate. What’s it say about me?”

  The furniture. The garment bags. The broken curtain rods. “That you keep things that mean something to you,” Nate said.

  “Very intuitive, young man,” Lucille said.

  “Or it means that I hang on to things and can’t let them go,” said Hutch. He sat back. “Maybe it’s time to move on,” he said looking at Lucille, “and I should clean that stuff out.”

  Lucille reached out and Hutch took her hand. He gave it a tender squeeze. Their hands released and Hutch began to eat again. She turned to Nate. “So, I’ve made up my mind, Nate.”

  Hutch shot Nate a look that said: whatever she says next, agree with it, because there’s no talking her out of it.

  “We’re all having dinner at my house tomorrow night, and your wife better be there,” she said. “It’s time I met her.”

  “I can’t pass that up,” said Nate.

  They devoured the fish, vegetables, and beer. Lucille put on coffee. Then, Hutch led the way to the library where the chest was on the floor next to the desk.

  “Dash o’ rum?” Hutch said to Nate.

  “Sure,” Nate said.

  Hutch poured two glasses over half full and handed one to Nate. “Cheers.”

  “Going to regale us with some Shakespeare?” Lucille said.

  “Not tonight,” Hutch said.

  “You read Shakespeare?” Nate said.

  “Every wonderful word, right Abner?” Lucille cut in.

  “I’m trying to brush up,” said Hutch looking at Lucille and then Nate. “My daughter is a Shakespeare fanatic.”

  “Finished with Macbeth yet?” Lucille asked.

  “Last week,” Hutch said as if it was old news. “That queen was one wacked out bitch.”

  “Yeah. We women can get fiery when you men try and overrun us,” Lucille smirked, her eyes narrowing. “Now you’re on to Hamlet, right?” She said, recalling the list they had made to prepare him.

  “Half way through. He’s even more messed up than Lady Macbeth,” Hutch said and started shaking his head back and forth. “People and their relationships.”

  Lucille said, “When are you coming over to ca—”

  “That reminds me,” Hutch said. “I need to call her.”

  Lucille smiled into her coffee cup.

  Hutch reached down and opened the chest. He took out the paper and unfolded it on top of the desk, then put a weight on each corner.

  Before dinner, Hutch had radioed Tyee and spelled out a few words for him. Tyee had determined that the letter was written in French. He and Mickey Leif would be over after they closed up their stores.

  “Why is Mickey coming over?” Nate said.

  “Because he’s a friend and I need him to help us with something tonight.”

  “How did you get to be friends?”

  “I’ve got this one,” Lucille said. “Mickey graduated with Tyee from Hampstead High School. He loved to fish and worked for Gary,” she took a drink of coffee, “my husband,” she said giving Nate’s arm a pat, “from the time he graduated until the time he opened the bait shop. Gary supported Mickey and convinced everyone to buy bait from him instead of from another local bait shop owner who kept raising his prices and was badmouthing Mickey. The other shop eventually went under. When Abner first came to Hampstead, he realized that Tyee and Mickey were honest brokers and they earned his respect.” She turned to Hutch. “That about sum it up?”

  Hutch tipped back his glass of rum, then exhaled. “Along with this fine lady and Tyee, Mickey and his wife helped me out when my wife, well—”

  Nate searched for the right words. “Sounds like a good guy.”

  “Yep,” said Hutch.

  “How are they getting here?” Nate said.

  “On Magnum, Tyee’s boat. Piece of trash if you ask me but he swears by her.” Hutch sat cross legged next to the chest. “Let’s see how much loot we’ve got before Tyee and Mickey get here.”

  Nate and Lucille joined Hutch on the floor and they emptied the coins onto a blanket Hutch had laid down.

  They divided the pile of coins into thirds. At first, Hutch would examine every few with his magnifier, looking for a mint mark in the same place he had found the ‘A’ on Nate’s coin. It was there on every one, and he stopped looking after a while. The final count was 2,684. They refilled the chest and closed the top.

  “How much is this worth, Abner?” Lucille said. “Is it crass of me to want to know right off?”

  Hutch was rummaging through a drawer in his desk for a calculator. That found, he took out his pocket knife and sharpened a carpenter’s pencil from a coffee can full of them on his desk. “Gimme a minute,” he said. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a yellow legal pad from a stack of at least fifty.

  “This is no time for poetry,” Lucille said.

  “This is not poetry, woman,” Hutch said. He walked over to the fireplace and pulled a book off the shelf over the mantle.

  “Poetry?” Nate said.

  “He writes beautiful poetry,” said Lucille. “When he takes his time.” She pointed at the stack of legal pads and then at the coffee can. “Those are his tools, only stuff he’ll use to write poetry. Coin business must be pretty serious for you to be bringing out the goodies,” she said.

  “That it is,” said Hutch. He sat down in one of his leather chairs by the fireplace and leafed his way through the book until he found the desired page. Putting the pad of paper on the opposite page, he started scribbling down numbers. Lucille left the room to refill her coffee cup. When she returned, she sat down in the other leather chair and watched Hutch.

  Nate swallowed a mouthful of rum and sat down behind the desk to study the old document they had found. The format appeared to be a letter, but all they had been able to decipher was a date at the top of the sheet, Septembre 20, 1679, and the signature at the bottom, Jean La Rousseau. Nate had correlated the JLR engraved on the chest to Jean La Rousseau. The rest of the script was faded and in some places illegible.

  Hutch punched away at the calculator, wrote more numbers on the paper, and then closed the book. “Ready for the tale of the tape?”

  34

  “Let’s have it,” Lucille said.

  Nate nodded and took another drink of rum.

  “When you first brought me your coin, I said that an authentic louis d’or in very good condition was worth about two hundred and fifty dollars and in extra fine condition around one thousand. Let’s put the number of coins in that chest at a nice round twenty-seven hundred. I’m no expert but most of them seem to be in better condition than ‘very good’. Again, assuming those are authentic and we can find a mint mark on the rest of them, here are the low end and high end estimates. I’m guessing the real value falls somewhere in the middle,” Hutch said motioning for them to gather around.

  Na
te and Lucille moved behind Hutch’s chair and gazed at the paper. The fire snarled and snapped, the ebb and flow of the flames putting Hutch’s face and the paper in the light and then in the shadows.

  Hutch had written two equations at the bottom of the paper:

  2,700 in VG ($250) = $675,000.00

  2,700 in XF ($1,000) = $2,700,000.00

  Nate looked at the numbers again. Before speaking, he did some quick math in his head by taking the worse case scenario of $675,000.00 and dividing it by his teaching salary of $40,000.00. After a few seconds of concentrating, he realized the chest no more than ten feet away from him was worth at least seventeen years’ pay.

  “That’s not bad for a few days of work,” Lucille said.

  “I’ll say,” Hutch snorted. “Nate, those numbers meet with your approval?”

  Seventeen years of salary. “Yes, they, do.”

  The door to the deck opened.

  “Evenin’,” Tyee said.

  Tyee was followed into the room by a short round man with a thick beard and a Bass Pro Shops hat on.

  Nate rose and shook hands with Tyee and was then introduced to Mickey Leif. Lucille gave Tyee and Mickey a hug as they entered.

  “How’d Magnum run on the way over?” Hutch said.

  “Same as always,” Tyee said.

  Hutch showed Tyee and Mickey the coins and then closed the chest while Tyee sat down at the desk with one of Hutch’s magnifying glasses.

  “You believe this shit, Mickey?” Hutch said.

  “You were due sooner or later,” Mickey said.

  Tyee inspected the letter, adjusting the light Hutch had placed on the desk for him and shifting the paper and glass for the best view. “This may take some time,” said Tyee. “I doubt if I’ll be able to get all of it.”

  “You know where the other glass is and my microscope. While you’re doing that, we’re going to go take care of this,” said Hutch picking up the chest. He poured a glass of dark rum and set it on the desk for Tyee. “Be back when we’re finished.”

  “Abner, where are you taking the chest?” Lucille said.

  “You know where I’m taking it,” Hutch said.

  “Why don’t you just leave it at my place?” she said.

  “Because if anything happens, I don’t want you messed with,” Hutch said. “Can you keep Tyee company until we get back?”

  “I can,” she said. “Your kitchen is a mess again. Mind if I tidy it up?”

  “Do as you please,” Hutch said.

  “I usually do,” she chuckled and headed for the kitchen.

  Hutch led Nate and Mickey down the steps from the deck and opened the storage room.

  “What are we doing, Hutch?” Nate said.

  “Making sure this doesn’t disappear on us,” he said putting the chest up on the workbench. “While I get this ready, you and Mickey load the RHIB with a set of dive gear for you and me and two underwater lights.”

  “We’re diving?” Nate said. Mickey was already starting to take the first load down to the RHIB.

  “Trust me, Nate,” said Hutch. “Off you go.”

  Nate made three trips with Mickey from the shed to the RHIB loading a tank, regulator, mask, weight belt, dive knife, fins, and a dive light for Hutch and him. Tyee’s boat was tied up behind Queen. It was dusk, but Nate could still see that Tyee’s boat had an all black hull with red letters spelling MAGNUM on the stern.

  “Hutch, do we need wetsuits?” Nate said as he returned to the shed.

  Hutch had his back to him and kept doing whatever he was doing at the workbench. “No,” he said, “but take these out to the boat.”

  Nate followed the imaginary line created by Hutch’s pointing finger to a pair of buoys with chain at the end of each. Mickey took one and he took the other. When they returned, Hutch was wrapping a sheet of 1 inch thick rubber around the chest horizontally. Once it was all the way around, he overlapped by a few inches and made a mark with a white pencil. He removed the sheet and cut it with a knife on a cutting board, which was built into the far end of the workbench. He took the measured sheet and wrapped it around the chest and then took two elastic cords and wrapped them around the rubber, sealing it to the chest.

  “Pass me the one over there,” said Hutch to Nate, pointing at a rubber sheet that was laying by the sink and was already cut.

  He took the sheet from Nate and wrapped it around the chest vertically, and then took two more elastic cords and wrapped them around the chest. Satisfied, Hutch moved the chest onto the cutting board. He reached up to the far right-hand side of the shelves rising up from the workbench and pulled a small handle which unhinged a section of the shelves. The section swung open showing a deep storage bin in the wall.

  From the bin, Hutch pulled out what looked like a square plastic suitcase. Nate could see two more in the bin. When the container was clear of the workbench, Hutch closed the shelf door, the handle clicking when it latched back into place.

  “What is that?” Nate said.

  “It’s a modified drybox,” said Hutch. “Your typical one at a dive shop isn’t very big, so I had Tyee pull some strings to get me three that could carry a lot more.”

  Hutch opened the box.

  “They don’t have any padding inside. The only features that are the same as a regular drybox are the outer shell and the rubber seal that keeps the water out.”

  Hutch placed the chest into the box and then took the scraps left from tailoring the rubber sheet and stuffed them all around, making sure the chest wouldn’t move. Then he closed the box. From the top drawer of the workbench he took out two keys and gave one to Nate. Using the other key, he locked the box and then put the key back in the workbench drawer.

  Nate picked up the box and held it away from the workbench as Mickey cleaned up the rubber scraps. Hutch turned off the lights and after the men were all out, he locked the shed. The temperature had dropped to around sixty as they walked down the dock. Mickey stepped down into the RHIB and Nate passed him the box.

  “Watch out. It’s heavier than you think,” Nate said.

  “About forty pounds,” Hutch said as he helped guide the box down to Mickey. Then, he boarded and they and secured it next to the dive equipment. Nate cast off the lines and hopped in. Hutch started the engine and pushed the throttle forward, propelling the RHIB away from the dock.

  The sun was below the horizon, and the water and sky were the same shade of gray.

  “Why don’t we have the running lights on?” Nate said, as the only evidence that the RHIB was on the water was the white wake behind it.

  “We don’t need anyone knowing where we’re going.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Diamond Crag,” Hutch said.

  35

  Nate remembered passing by Diamond Crag en route to the Sanisstey Islands. It was just a hunk of rock rising out of the lake.

  “Aren’t we being a little too cautious?” Nate said. “Why not just keep it at your house, or in your shed?”

  Hutch looked at Mickey and then back to Nate. “Anyone can break in and steal stuff from a house or a garage if they want to bad enough. Where we’re headed, no one can steal it.”

  Hutch pushed a button on the GPS unit next to the wheel. The LCD color display illuminated the bearing and range to the waypoint he had programmed in. He verified his course on the binnacle, adjusted, and then pushed the button again to extinguish the light.

  “What are the buoys for?” Nate said.

  “The buoys should keep the box manageable for us as we move along the bottom. We’ll each take a side,” Hutch said and pointed at Diamond Crag. “There’s a limestone wall that runs down from the surface all the way to the bottom. At the base, there’s a crack wide enough for a diver to fit through. We’ll go straight in for awhile and then it’s a steep angle up to the top. We’ll surface inside the rock. There’s a room twice the size of the one where we found the chest on Sanisstey.”

  “Have you been in there
where I’m heading, Mickey?” Nate said.

  “Once or twice,” Mickey said.

  Diamond Crag grew larger as the RHIB approached. Hutch checked the GPS monitor once more, made a slight course change, and then the monitor began to beep. Hutch turned it off and stopped the motor.

  “Go up forward and drop the hook, Mickey,” Hutch said.

  Mickey went to the bow and pulled the anchor out from a locker. He tied the end off to a cleat and dropped it over the side.

  “She’s set,” Mickey said.

  Waves pushed against the hull hard enough to force Nate to grab hold of the center console as he stood up. He estimated that they were about a hundred yards from Diamond Crag. Swiveling aft, he saw Hutch’s dark figure silhouetted against the granite sky.

  “How deep are we?” Nate asked as he moved to join Hutch in the stern.

  “Forty feet,” said Mickey.

  Hutch handed Nate a weight belt. “Mickey’ll watch the boat while we take care of the chest. Let’s gear up.”

  Both men put on their equipment while Mickey attached the buoys to the dry box.

  “All set, Mick?” Hutch said.

  “Ready,” Mickey said.

  “I’ll get in the water and then you and Nate hand me the box and buoys,” Hutch said, and then turned to face Nate. “I’ll sink to the bottom with them and turn on my light. Dive down to me, and then we’ll head for the crack. When we get there, I’ll back in with my buoy first and then you’ll follow me. Don’t let go because it’s a maze once we’re inside.”

  Hutch clipped an underwater light to his weight belt and breathed into his regulator. Satisfied with his equipment check, he pulled his mask down and jumped in.

  Mickey and Nate picked up the buoys and box and lifted it over the side. Hutch took hold and when they let go, left the surface.

  “How long should this take, Mickey?” said Nate as he motioned to Diamond Crag and put on his mask and checked his regulator.

  “Depends,” Mickey said, and handed Nate the other underwater light.

  Nate signaled okay and then dove for Hutch’s light. When he arrived, the box was floating just a few feet off the bottom. Hutch waved Nate over to a rock resting on the sea floor and motioned for Nate to dig underneath the rock. Nate did and saw that the bottom of the rock had been screwed into an auger similar to the one he used to anchor his boat to. He waited for the sand to clear and he could see Hutch again. Hutch pointed to his light and then to his mask, telling Nate to follow the light. Hutch aimed the beam at the sand, illuminating three similarly sized rocks in a row on the bottom ahead of them—a trail. They suspended the chest between them by grabbing the buoy chain in one hand and aiming their lights on the trail of rocks with their other.