Covert Pursuit by Terri Reed

know. Pick up the file again. Flip through it.” She slowly did as asked, to allow the camera to record the content. From what she could tell, they were photocopies of old handwritten pages, perhaps from a journal. Why did Jason want to have a record of them?
    “You better get back.”
    “You’re right.” She laid the folder down. Another notation on the calendar caught her attention but she didn’t take the time to ponder its meaning. She had to get back. They would be wondering what was taking her so long.
    Heart pounding, she cautiously opened the studydoor and peered out. The hall was clear. She slipped out of the room and shut the door just as Fred rounded the corner.
    “Ah, there you are. Mr. Corrinda was becoming worried,” Fred intoned with dripping censure.
    “Thank you, Fred,” Angie said with a smile and glided past him. Just before entering the dining hall, she whispered to Jason, “Now you be quiet.”
    “Ma’am?” Fred said as he reached past her to open the door.
    “It’s so quiet here. I can hardly hear the ocean,” she said quickly to cover herself.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
    Angie rejoined the Corrindas and noticed that Decker’s seat was empty. Her face must have shown her surprise.
    “Samuel had to get back to work,” Karla said, her gaze demure, and yet there was a calculating shimmer in the green depths.
    Without commenting, Angie took her seat, thanking Erik, who’d jumped up to pull out her chair.
    A small cart laden with plates of fruit and pastries had been wheeled beside the dining table. As soon as she sat a plate was set in front of her filled with delicious-smelling eggs Benedict.
    The conversation while they ate was congenial, with Mr. Corrinda regaling them with stories of his great-great-grandfather founding the island and the town of Loribel.
    “Where did the name Loribel come from?” Angieasked as she settled back, her appetite more than satisfied even if her professional curiosity wasn’t.
    “Named after my great-great-grandfather’s ship, the Loribel . You see, Sanchez Corrinda was captain of the Loribel flying under the Spanish flag and carrying the dowry of a English noblewoman to her betrothed, a Spanish prince. When the waters turned bad, Sanchez made to anchor in the New World to await the storm, only to be attacked by the pirate Rodriquez.”
    “Aha. I knew that name sounded familiar.”
    Angie leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair and put her hand near her ear, wishing she could keep Jason from commenting. “And what happened to the Loribel? ”
    Erik said, “There are some who say that Rodriquez sank the Loribel and took the dowry to the Caribbean, where he wasted the gold on wine and women.”
    “Ah, that’s what everyone thinks,” Horatio said with a gleam in his eyes.
    “You don’t believe he did?” Angie asked.
    “I know he didn’t. Rodriquez died a poor man, all right. Not because he spent the treasure. As I said, the weather had turned bad. The Loribel did sink, but Rodriquez sailed away empty-handed because my great-great-grandfather managed to escape with the dowry and washed up on the shores of this island. For hundreds of years my ancestors have searched Loribel Island looking for the treasure Sanchez buried.”
    “Interesting story, but irrelevant.”
    “How do you know this?” Angie asked, the handwritten pages flashing in her mind. She couldn’t wait to see what they said.
    “The story was passed down through the generations. My great-great-grandfather couldn’t read or write but he made sure his children could. On his deathbed, he dictated his life’s story to his youngest son.”
    “Can we get back to the matter at hand? Guns? Picard?”
    “I’m very interested in this story,” Angie answered Jason aloud. “It sounds like the premise for a movie.”
    Horatio snorted. “Where do you think the Hollywood types got the idea?”
    Angie smiled and found herself enjoying this old man. “Was the island populated when