Chapter Forty-Five
We could have taken a guided tour of Fort Jefferson, but they allowed self-guided tours, too. And that’s exactly what we wanted to do, roam around on our own, wondering to ourselves what we were looking at and why. But there wasn’t much more to the place than what we already saw. Fort Jefferson was only red brick, sand, and grass. Nothing ever really happened there other than the Army not completing it. The whole Dr. Mudd historical fact wasn’t even intriguing enough for a decent movie. It was better to walk around and let our imaginations run wild.
Most people came to Fort Jefferson for snorkeling. Surrounding the island fortress were shallow reefs and clear turquoise water. It was beautiful, and as Lockwood and I ventured outside the walls, I couldn't help but wish I actually was on vacation. Aside from stormy skies, the Dry Tortugas was paradise.
“That storm's gonna get us going back in,” Lockwood said. “They'll most likely cut it short here.”
“Then we better hustle.”
We walked a sandy trail going north between the moat and the beach. The tide was out, and we had access to Bush Key if we wanted. It was more of an extension to Fort Jefferson, but the water could cover the connection during high tide. Snorkelers were in the water, and a man and a woman picnicked in the sand. Farther up Bush Key, another man stood at the water's edge looking at the horizon.
We saw another seaplane moored at the north dock, joined by a tugboat. I had no doubt the plane was Jankowski’s. The trail continued along the edge of the moat beyond the north dock. Lockwood and I stopped to scan our surroundings.
“I doubt whatever it was Dan put on the island is on this trail,” I said.
“People walk it every day,” Lockwood said. “Be hard to hide anything.”
We stood and looked out at the water, watched the snorkelers.
“Too close to where the maintenance workers take care of business here, too,” I said.
“Back there on Bush Key is the only logical choice.”
Lockwood and I turned back and started for Bush Key but standing in the middle of the sandy trail, looking right at us, was Peter Jankowski. We stopped.
“Took him long enough,” I said to Lockwood.
“What do we do?”
“Go talk to him.”
We made our way to Jankowski as he stood smugly with his hands in his pockets, dressed like he was ready for the golf course.
“You go look on Bush Key,” I said to Lockwood. “I'll have a chat with the Oompa Loompa.”
As I reached Jankowski, he watched intently as Lockwood made a hard left and headed down the shoreline. I made sure to get close enough to smell him, see the broken capillaries in his red swollen face. When he finally looked at me, he took a half-step back to widen the space between us.
“Larry giving you the dime tour?” he asked.
“We're both tourists today, Petey.”
As Jankowski stared hard at me, I saw a bruise on his neck. I wanted to see his hands, but he kept them in his pockets.
“It's Peter,” he said.
“Right. Petey was the dog on the Little Rascals.” He gave me half a smile. “How was the flight?”
“You should try it sometime. A lot quicker and you can see everything from up there. Where’s he going?”
“Who, Larry?
“Who else?”
“Looking for a shady spot to take a dump. I told him there are bathrooms inside the fort, but he said he liked the danger of dropping a deuce out in the open. Fucking pirates, right?”
Jankowski looked confused.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. So, are you following us?”
“I was here before the ferry. Maybe I should be asking you that.”
“Nah,” I said. “If I were following you, I’d do a hell of a better job than you are. Saw you last night. Two cars back. Silver Porsche. Something on your mind?”
“It’s a small island, Mr. Cutter.”
I followed his gaze to Lockwood making his way back from Bush Key. We waited for him to arrive before either of us spoke.
“Peter,” Lockwood said.
“How’s the treasure-hunting business, Larry?” Jankowski asked.
“You should know.”
Jankowski didn’t respond. He merely nodded and rocked on his heels. He looked around, then made a gesture with his head toward the fort.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” he asked. “Fort Jefferson has stood up to time, a guardian of secrets and no doubt, atrocities. Now people walk around in short pants, snapping photographs for their scrapbooks and Instagram accounts, having picnics, and wondering what it was like back then. But nothing ever happened around here. Pirates knew to stay clear. The Dry Tortugas were a safe haven then and a safe haven now.”
“Is that right?” I asked.
“It’s the perfect place to keep one’s enemies at bay.” He smiled at us. “By the way, Larry, you see anything interesting out there?”
“Just sand and water.”
“Lot of that. Well, good day, Mr. Cutter. Enjoy the ferry ride back. Best of luck to you two.”
Jankowski shuffled by us as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Looked like a man who owned the world. We watched him until he reached his seaplane without saying a word to each other.
“What the hell was that all about?” Lockwood finally asked.
Jankowski untied the seaplane from the dock and boarded. He stared at us one last time as the engine started and the plane eased away from the dock. We watched as the plane picked up speed and headed for open water, then the sky. Jankowski was back in the air, swallowed by the clouds.
“See anything?” I asked.
“Not a damn thing. There were people around, so… Chief could've buried something anywhere out there and had a general idea without a problem, though. We need a metal detector.”
“What if he did get inside?”
“Impossible. Campers on the south end near the entrance. These walls are too much to climb, let alone to haul silver and gold. Only place is Bush Key, maybe Long Key.”
We walked back toward the south end and stood on the dock. Clouds moved in from the east, dark and menacing. Tropical Storm Wanda was preparing to make her grand entrance on the lower keys.
“That storm is gonna make things more difficult,” I said.
“It'll pass.”
“We can't wait. Jankowski knows.”
“Knows what? We barely know anything ourselves.”
“Yeah, but maybe he knows something we don’t know. He’ll be back. We gotta do this tonight while he waits out the storm. Otherwise, we’ll never get a chance.”
“Again with the ‘we,’” Lockwood said.
I slapped him on the shoulder and started for the entrance to the fort.
“Come on, Watson. The game is afoot!”