The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) (20 page)

Nick scanned the page in front of him. It looked newer compared to the rest of the yellowed pages, and most of the writing was still legible. There were even some sentences in Latin alphabet, and others in old english, like something out of a literary novel. A blob of wax at the end of the page caught his eye. These had become more common in the latter entries of the ledger, probably signifying when official decrees were issued, or perhaps for counterfeiting purposes.
 

But Nick’s interest in this particular one was not its purpose, but the object hidden within it. He pried off the wax, breaking it. Before Excalibur could comment on what he was doing, Nick held up a tiny shard of wood.

“As I said, Select don’t think in terms of objects, but connections,” he explained. “This little thing right here is the key. Probably came from the
Belladonna
’s furniture or something. This is the only piece of that ship that’s not at the bottom of the ocean.”

Excalibur peered closer at the tiny piece of wood. “And you’re telling me that you can pinpoint the coffin using this?”

“Something tells me Finnegan didn’t burn everything,” Nick explained. “I mean, think about it. You’ve lived your whole life on a boat—you’re not gonna just set it on fire. You’ll take mementoes, little trinkets. And if I’m right, this little bit right here can lead us to the real jackpot.”

She stared at him. “Is this how all Select think?”

“Well, given that I’m the only one I know, then, yes, this is how we think,” Nick replied.

“So, where are we going?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out.”

“But I thought you said-”

“I said it can lead us there, not that I actually found out where the coffin is,” Nick said, cutting her off. “I need some time to tap into the connection. I was too tired until now, but I feel the buzzing coming back.”

There was a glint in her eyes, questioning him. “Are you sure you weren’t just waiting for me?” she asked.

Nick smiled in response. “Maybe. I don’t know if you noticed this, but we both have some trust issues to work through. Here, hold this,” he said, passing her the ledger.

Nick took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His hands squeezed the shard until it dug into the flesh of his palms. He relinquished all mental control, letting his instincts take over. The experience felt amazing—
evolution
, he thought. There were so many possibilities with the powers he had, and he was only just scratching the surface. How long before he went beyond data analysis and into more less-scientifically-proven areas?
 

How long before fact and fiction became one?

Pushing his thoughts aside, Nick forced himself to focus on the task at hand, on the shard of wood—the singular link to a sunken ship where his entire legacy had begun. Knowledge began trickling into his mind, slowly at first, before becoming more powerful, like the rush of a stream. Nick knew instantly what type of wood the shard was, tools used to make it, the furniture where it once belonged to—but it was all irrelevant. He needed to go deeper.

Suddenly, he felt as if he was part of the ship, rugged and rough from years of seafaring. The well-trained crew was never scattered, each one of them with a specific role. The atmosphere on this boat was one of family, and it all began from a single source: Finnegan. Nick felt himself connect with the captain and suddenly he was thinking like Finnegan, breathing like him, existing like him. Memories flooded his brain as he relived Finnegan’s entire life in a long flashback: the defiance of his orders, the journey, the pirate attack, discovering that Elizabeth Tier was a Select, the tribe on the island, and the subsequent duel.
 

The memories showed him the interior of the cave on that island, and the strange machines within. Nick felt the pirate’s terror and rage at the loss of his men. He felt the sadness of burning the ship, his home for years, followed by the joy of becoming a father.

The location of the coffin was an easy find. Nick felt himself looking through Finnegan’s eyes when he buried the logbook of the
Belladonna
inside an empty coffin.

But there was something else to this bond. Even with all his abilities, it impossible for one Select could tap into the memories of another and certainly not someone who was long dead.

No, this bond went much deeper, almost as if Nick was threading down his own family tree, and finding a common ancestor. A mixture of emotions threatened to disrupt Nick’s concentration.

Hello, great, great, something, grandpa
, he thought.
 

He felt the connection recede, having acquired the precise location of where Finnegan buried the coffin and calculated to the nearest factor where the coffin might have ended up today. Nick let go of the connect between them. There was no reason to remain stuck in the past, not when he had a future to attend to.

“Are you all right?”

Her voice was so real, so physical. Excalibur had her hand resting gently on his shoulder, watching as Nick clutched the tiny, wooden shard.

He blinked twice, his mind back to the present, and felt something warm and wet on his cheek. He realized he had been crying, and tears fell from his tilted head onto the back of Excalibur’s hand.

“Yes,” he murmured, before clearing his throat and wiping his eyes.
 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said in a more steady tone.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I got it,” he replied, taking the ledger from her and putting the shard back in its place. Having no wax to hold it in place, he used a piece of tape to attach it to the page until he could better secure it. “The location of the coffin, the island, the artifact, everything. I know everything. I know what Finnegan found there.”

“Is it bad?”

“It’s not exactly a picnic,” Nick said. “But I think it’s safe for us to enter. Provided we can actually get the proper coordinates to the location of the artifact. I tried finding out the precise route the
Belladonna
took but Finnegan wiped it from his own head.”

Excalibur’s face remained impassive, but Nick could feel the irritation and frustration building up inside her. “So, why go through all that trouble?”

“I got the location of the coffin,” he replied with a grin. “And the map to the artifact is in there for sure.”

“Oh.”

He extended a hand. “Your phone, please. Mine got destroyed.”

She obliged and handed him her smartphone. Nick closed his eyes and numbers flashed in his mind. He felt the phone in his hands—the moment it had touched his skin, he had acquired all the information about the make, model, software, applications, and encryption. With his eyes closed, he accessed the GPS application and entered the coordinates.

“Here,” he said once he finished. They both stared at the screen blankly as it showed a point in the Caribbean Sea, south of Florida. It was quite literally in the middle of nowhere.

“Thank you,” she said, as she took the phone back and began tapping it, no doubt sending the new intelligence to her superiors. Then she looked up at Nick, and for a second he was staring at his old friend, not the secret agent. “Do you want to tell me why had you in tears halfway through that? Or are you still struggling with those trust issues?”

Nick rubbed his eyes, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, we did promise to trust each other. Just never thought I’d cry in front of you, and just when I was starting to impress you.”

She smiled. “The first time you impressed me was when you beat the weather man’s predictions right down to the month, during my first year at the compound.”

He mirrored her smile as the memory replayed itself in his head. “Okay, then,” he said. “Turns out I was right. We Select are all about bonds, and I’ve experienced the strongest one out there—family.” He watched as her eyes widened. “Finnegan, Ollie, and I are all distant relatives. Same family tree.”

“Oh, wow.” She looked away, still unsure what to do with the information. “Are Select powers inherited, then?”

“I came to the same conclusion,” Nick replied. “I think if you look back far enough, all Select came from the same DNA strand. Maybe we all have the same common caveman ancestor or something.”
 

He stood up and rubbed his numb backside.

“Either way,” he said nonchalantly, as he flexed his shoulders with as much bravado as he could muster. “We have a location and a coffin to get to. Pack something warm and revealing.” He gave Excalibur a sleazy smile. “We’re going down south.”

She raised her eyebrows. “How is it that you manage to make everything sound so dirty? Is that one of your special talents, too?”

“Nah, that’s all me, baby.”

Chapter 30

The following two days were a mess of travel and weary conversation.
 

Agent Excalibur booked a flight to Florida—and immediately cursed the island of Malta. There were no direct flights, forcing the two of them to catch a flight to Heathrow, England, then another to Key West International Airport. Thirteen hours of flying, another five lurking around in airports, and neither one of them was feeling particularly happy.
 

Excalibur was used to this scrutiny; Nick was not. He got grouchy and snappy, and his mood only lifted when he was completely absorbed by the red book. He felt whole every time he perused those pages, mesmerized by the mysteries within.
 

Once at Key West, they both proceeded to find a motel room and a restaurant, although they ended up settling for a diner. “I don’t care so long as I get coffee and something not from a plane cart,” had been Nick’s only request. They spent their eating time in silence—she, using her NSA channels to obtain a vessel and sea permits for their trip, and he, browsing the nearest diving shop for their equipment.
 

Following that, they decided both of them deserved a good night’s sleep.

“Don’t come crawling in my bed when you feel lonely,” Nick joked as they both peeled their separate beds.
 

He stared as Excalibur unabashedly peeled off her shirt and pants, leaving her standing in a smaller tank top and panties. He watched her very intently as she bent over to stuff her clothes in her gym bag, together with the business suit she wore in Malta.

“You’re drooling,” she reprimanded.
 

Nick was suddenly self-conscious of his staring, but couldn’t mutter an apology. He was experiencing the stupefaction that all men went through when a very beautiful woman nonchalantly strips in front of them and prepares to sleep in a bed only an arm’s length away.

All he could manage was to look away and peek at her from his peripheral vision.

She cocked her eyebrows at him, before calmly reaching into the gym bag’s side pocket and extracted a small handgun.

“If you try anything,” she said, pulled back the slide, “I’ll blow your head off.” She shot him a dirty smirk. “Both of them.”
 

She tucked the firearm under her pillow and proceeded to slowly put one leg under the sheets of the bed and then the other, giving Nick a perfect view of how far she can stretch her long, smooth, creamy legs.

Nick forced himself to think of the gun, and the ease with which Excalibur can cause him harm. Still, he couldn’t help himself.

“Not the kind of blowing I was hoping for,” he murmured.

“Good night, Solomon,” she retorted.

Nick got into his bed and looked at the back of her head, mesmerized by the golden sheen of her hair, like a field of wheat from some fantasy-themed picture.

“Good night, Maddie.”

***

“Well, hell-o, Sailor,” Excalibur said as he stepped onto the deck wearing a wet suit.

They were in the middle of the ocean, on a small speedboat that was idly bobbing on the surface of the crystal blue ocean water, somewhere between the Key West islands and Dry Tortugas National Parks, and about an hour from the nearest shore.
 

Nick hated wearing wet suits—it was a gross misconception, thinking that a skin tight outfit will make your muscles bulge and emphasize the size of your manhood. That only happens in cheap erotica novels.
 

The reality was far more embarrassing—Nick felt himself being pressed in areas which had no business being pressed.
 

“It’s cold out here,” he replied half-heartedly. He saw her raise her eyebrows and decided to fight fire with fire. “You could have confirmed the authenticity last night.”

She smirked. “It’s okay, I prefer the gun. It never fails to perform.”

“You know,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “once all this blows over, you and I should get together. Share some stories, reconnect. Maybe at some fancy hotel back in Miami.”

Excalibur gave him a serious look. “You do know I’m the one who’s going to buddy-check you, right?”

A buddy was a diving partner, someone to rely on in case it all goes south. Before a dive, the buddy would check all their partner’s equipment—and that included making sure the oxygen tank was properly opened.

Excalibur ran her hands over Nick’s equipment, checking for leaks or loose clips.