conclusion like
that."
"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about what you said-about how
many people know about ... you know, and it worries me. I have
awful visions of this area becoming overrun with treasure hunters if the rumor of a silver galleon gets out. That TV interviewerwhat was her name? Grey? She asked about treasure. I'm sure it
was just because this was a galleon, and the discovery of the Atocha
in Florida is still on everyone's mind, but-"
"You explained to her that it would have been unheard of for
the Spanish government to send gold and silver over to the
Indians?"
Trey's mouth quivered into half a smile. "I think I made her
understand." He paused a moment. The tenuous uplift of his
mouth fell back to a frown.
"Someone told King-Smith-Falcon that there were irregularities
in the bidding process. They were the third bidder and are asking
for an audit of the process. I imagine we have Hardy Denton to
thank for that. If that isn't enough, Eva Jones had her lawyer send
us a letter ordering us to stop harassing and slandering her ... or
else."
"Then she must be feeling heat from the Coast Guard."
"Must be." He cocked his head as if just hearing what she said
about the skeleton. "You say he was murdered? Are you sure?"
"Unless the Spanish conducted executions by conking the condemned on the head-yes, I'm sure."
"Frank said you're good at this."
"Frank said I'm good at what?"
"Attracting anomalies, such as ancient murder victims. That's a
rare talent."
"Yes, and I have to keep in practice."
"Maybe if we get people interested in this, they'll forget about
the treasure angle."
"Don't count on it."
"I know. I wish I knew what Jones is up to-if she knows about
the other galleon."
"Maybe she doesn't. Is there anything about this galleon, the
Estrella, that has a lot of monetary value?"
Trey shook his head.
"How about mercury? Is it valuable? Didn't the Spanish send
supplies of mercury to the New World for use in the mining of silver? Maybe she thinks there's some in the ship."
"Mercury does have value. I'm not sure, but I think we're talking about less than $7,000 a ton. That's not enough for someone
like Jones."
"She collects artifacts, too. She may have buyers for astrolabes,
bronze cannons, and olive jars," Lindsay offered.
"Maybe." Trey shrugged. "Look, I am sorry about what I said.
It's not like me to be paranoid."
Lindsay patted him on the shoulder as she turned to go back to
her desk and close down. "Maybe it's the effect of the Bermuda
Triangle."
Lindsay hadn't seen the new warehouse that held the ship's
timbers. Before that day's debriefing, she walked down to the dock
to take a look at the huge brine tanks holding the beams and other
wood artifacts. The metal fabricated building was like an airplane
hangar-one large no-frills room. A front-end loader pulled the
metal tanks out to the dock to receive the day's excavated timber,
then took them back into the warehouse. They're going to need a
large building if they plan to restore the whole ship, thought
Lindsay. She had searched the Web for sunken ships and found a
site showing the reconstructed Mary Rose in its environmentally
controlled room. Something like that was probably what Francisco
Lewis had planned for the Estrella. She would like to see that. She
walked among the huge tanks, looking at the enormous pieces of
timber stacked in them. One tank had a large sign that read: Some
assembly required.
She walked the long distance to the other end near a wide double doorway that led out onto more decks. A tall, thin young man
in cutoffs and rubber apron stood in front of a large metal-gray
utility sink, not unlike the ones they had in the lab at Baldwin Hall
on campus. He was chemically sorting soil samples from the site,
looking for any plant remains.
"Finding much?"
He turned. "Hey, how you doing? Not a lot. A few charred
beans, some seeds, your basic charcoal. The seeds we might be able
to get
that."
"I'm sorry. I've been thinking about what you said-about how
many people know about ... you know, and it worries me. I have
awful visions of this area becoming overrun with treasure hunters if the rumor of a silver galleon gets out. That TV interviewerwhat was her name? Grey? She asked about treasure. I'm sure it
was just because this was a galleon, and the discovery of the Atocha
in Florida is still on everyone's mind, but-"
"You explained to her that it would have been unheard of for
the Spanish government to send gold and silver over to the
Indians?"
Trey's mouth quivered into half a smile. "I think I made her
understand." He paused a moment. The tenuous uplift of his
mouth fell back to a frown.
"Someone told King-Smith-Falcon that there were irregularities
in the bidding process. They were the third bidder and are asking
for an audit of the process. I imagine we have Hardy Denton to
thank for that. If that isn't enough, Eva Jones had her lawyer send
us a letter ordering us to stop harassing and slandering her ... or
else."
"Then she must be feeling heat from the Coast Guard."
"Must be." He cocked his head as if just hearing what she said
about the skeleton. "You say he was murdered? Are you sure?"
"Unless the Spanish conducted executions by conking the condemned on the head-yes, I'm sure."
"Frank said you're good at this."
"Frank said I'm good at what?"
"Attracting anomalies, such as ancient murder victims. That's a
rare talent."
"Yes, and I have to keep in practice."
"Maybe if we get people interested in this, they'll forget about
the treasure angle."
"Don't count on it."
"I know. I wish I knew what Jones is up to-if she knows about
the other galleon."
"Maybe she doesn't. Is there anything about this galleon, the
Estrella, that has a lot of monetary value?"
Trey shook his head.
"How about mercury? Is it valuable? Didn't the Spanish send
supplies of mercury to the New World for use in the mining of silver? Maybe she thinks there's some in the ship."
"Mercury does have value. I'm not sure, but I think we're talking about less than $7,000 a ton. That's not enough for someone
like Jones."
"She collects artifacts, too. She may have buyers for astrolabes,
bronze cannons, and olive jars," Lindsay offered.
"Maybe." Trey shrugged. "Look, I am sorry about what I said.
It's not like me to be paranoid."
Lindsay patted him on the shoulder as she turned to go back to
her desk and close down. "Maybe it's the effect of the Bermuda
Triangle."
Lindsay hadn't seen the new warehouse that held the ship's
timbers. Before that day's debriefing, she walked down to the dock
to take a look at the huge brine tanks holding the beams and other
wood artifacts. The metal fabricated building was like an airplane
hangar-one large no-frills room. A front-end loader pulled the
metal tanks out to the dock to receive the day's excavated timber,
then took them back into the warehouse. They're going to need a
large building if they plan to restore the whole ship, thought
Lindsay. She had searched the Web for sunken ships and found a
site showing the reconstructed Mary Rose in its environmentally
controlled room. Something like that was probably what Francisco
Lewis had planned for the Estrella. She would like to see that. She
walked among the huge tanks, looking at the enormous pieces of
timber stacked in them. One tank had a large sign that read: Some
assembly required.
She walked the long distance to the other end near a wide double doorway that led out onto more decks. A tall, thin young man
in cutoffs and rubber apron stood in front of a large metal-gray
utility sink, not unlike the ones they had in the lab at Baldwin Hall
on campus. He was chemically sorting soil samples from the site,
looking for any plant remains.
"Finding much?"
He turned. "Hey, how you doing? Not a lot. A few charred
beans, some seeds, your basic charcoal. The seeds we might be able
to get
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