they tried a visual montage first, arranging the postcards by subject, by color, by time period. Chloe thought Sam seemed to have just picked whatever caught his eye—art, statues, a bull fight, a waterfall. Colorful, interesting, but there was no pattern as far as she could tell.
“Maybe something in the words,” Nate said. “An anagram, or a cipher…”
They decided they should consider all the cards, since there was no telling when Sam had first gotten on Elcano’s trail. Nate called out the first word on every card and she wrote them down. The result was a meaningless jumble, so they tried the last word, and got the same outcome. Chloe thought it might be individual letters, maybe the first letter of each sentence, while Nate wanted to go through the dates. They traded the cards back and forth, following their own guesses, and ate most of the complimentary fruit basket.
Both of their phones came back up, and she learned about codes while he downloaded a book about them, then tried to match up letters. Chloe finally realized that she was just staring at her notepad, her thoughts stuck on repeat. She was well and truly in need of actual sleep. Nate thought he had something for a bit with the photo publishing dates, but it didn’t hold up.
Nate picked up one of the postcards and stared at it for a full minute. “What is it?” Chloe asked, perking up. “Got something?”
Nate rubbed his thumb across the photo, a beach shot. “This is the last one he ever sent.”
His voice was low and very slightly strained. His expression stayed neutral, but his gaze was haunted.
Sam. He was missing his brother, and that kind of pain couldn’t be talked away, only endured. Witnessed. Chloe dropped her pencil and reached for his hand, held it, stayed silent. He squeezed her fingers, gave her a look of simple gratitude, and for a few minutes they just sat.
When he let go of her hand and started shifting through the cards again, Chloe realized she didn’t have it in her to think anymore. She needed a good kip or she’d be useless. And time wasn’t an issue, if Braddock and Sully were headed for the wrong spot. She and Nate were the only ones with a chance of actually figuring out where the gold was hidden.
Not in your current condition.
“I’m knackered,” she said. “Just going to lie down for a bit. Come with me?”
“In a minute, definitely…” Nate picked up another card, frowning.
Good onya, Chloe thought, vaguely, and stumbled to the bed. Her head settled into the feather pillow and she was asleep before she thought anything else.
* * *
Nate went through the cards again, trying to think of another code to try. He’d downloaded a copy of a code book they’d both read as kids, and scrolled through the pages. Nate remembered a lot of them—alphabet rotation ciphers, like the Caesar one, or the Vigenere—but Sam hadn’t written any nonsense words, and they couldn’t find a pattern in the letters or dates. There weren’t any corners with dots, like the Pigpen Cipher, nothing written in grids or blocks to work out… And the messages themselves were so banal—I’m coming to visit, sorry I couldn’t, you should see the beach, wish you were here.
Nate reached for his Bubble Yum, glad to note that it was finally dry. He cleared a cube of it from the stiff paper and popped it into his mouth, chewing, the sugar waking him up a little. Chloe was already snoring lightly, passed out on top of the bed. He should join her, get some sleep, but he felt like the answer was right in front of him, so obvious that he just couldn’t see it.
World you haven’t seen…
Nate picked up the final postcard, the beach from San Sebastian, read the message for the thousandth time: There’s a whole world you haven’t seen. But you will. Promise. -S.
“A whole world you haven’t seen,” Nate mumbled. Was that anything? “A whole world you haven’t seen…”
Unseen. Something unseen, codes…
Nate sat up straight, looking around. There were a number of candles in the suite, a few on the desk by the door, next to the plundered fruit basket. He scooped up his Zippo and took the card with him. It’ll probably be nothing, don’t get excited…
He was excited, though. Sam’s last letter to him when they were kids, the last postcard… and there was plenty of open space around and below Sam’s initial. He hadn’t thought of it because it was a kid’s trick, not the choice of grown-ups trying to impart important information. But it was so Sam, and only Nate might have guessed it.
Nate tried to light the candle, but the Zippo wasn’t in the mood, barely mustering a few sparks. Sighing, he dropped it into his pocket and went through the desk drawers. The top one held a box of matches.
Nate lit a thick white candle and carried it to one of the chairs facing the couch across the littered table, the postcard trembling in his hand. Outside, the night wind rustled through leaves, and waves broke gently on the sand. He sat down and held the candle steady, lowering the paper over the vanilla- scented Aame, moving it gently back and forth.
For a second, there was nothing… and then the letters formed, orange and then brown, lines and curves popping up against the creamy white.
The sound of his heart in his ears blocked out every other noise as Sam’s true, final message surfaced.
The keys are your compass.
“The keys are your compass,” Nate said, softly. “The keys…”
Nate put the candle down and reached for Chloe’s bag, on the chair next to his. He shot a look back at Chloe, who was still snoring softly, and slid out the heavy keys. She wouldn’t mind, she needed sleep… And honestly, even after all the excellent sex, she still might clock him and take off. Probably, in fact.
He wiped scattered papers off the parchment-side print of the map— Chloe had taped it together—and laid the crosses down. Was the butt of the cross the compass point, or the longer of the two top bars? And where did they go, exactly?
He propped the crosses up and balanced them, the polished gemstones at the tips slipping on the paper. Maybe the cross tipped in blue went on the blue rose compass…?
Nate edged the cross toward the rose and the garnet cross thumped heavily to the table.
“Compass my ass…”
Nate studied the crosses. At the lower bars of each, where they crossed the main body, was kind of a compass shape etched into the gold. He picked up the one he and Sully had stolen, lightly pulling on the garnets at either end of the lower bar, peering at the tiny lines. There’s gotta be some indication—
One of the garnets shifted. Nate held the cross up and looked at the setting, saw that the tiny golden clasps hadn’t been tacked down as firmly as those on the other side. He jiggled the polished stone firmly, and it dropped into his hand. The gem had sheathed a tiny steel point, set deep into the gold.
Holy shit. Nate immediately picked up Chloe’s cross. A tug, a look at the setting, and he pulled the glowing blue spinel free from the lower crossbar, sat it next to the garnet. Another compass point.
If the blue goes on the compass rose… There was no obvious red on the map, some orange, lots of green—
Nate pulled over the other taped-up map, the larger drawing of Demar that had been etched into the leather. The red X. Chloe said she had printed them out exactly the correct size…
A few measurements with a ruler app, some paper-shifting in front of the candlelight, and Nate marked an X on the parchment map, south of the Greater Sunda islands between the Java Sea and the Indian Ocean. On the physical map, that was where Golden Cove was marked on the other side. It was a compass point, not the location of the treasure. Red and blue.
Nate placed the metal points where they were meant to go and swung the crosses until they met. He wrote the coordinates down, then double and triple- checked his work until he was satisfied. Still the island of Demar, but on the west side, well north of Golden Cove. Not a beach, a steep, rocky coast.
“That’s it,” he breathed, grinning. “It has to be.”
Flushed with triumph, he almost yelled Chloe awake—he’d figured it out, with Sam’s help he’d actually done it —but he thought twice, and that was enough to shut his mouth. He’d tell her the location when they arrived, when it was too late for her to run ahead. The Drake brothers had solved the puzzle, they should be the ones to find it.
Nate got busy on the laptop, reserving a boat, printing new pictures. The northwest corner of Demar was pocked with cenotes, openings in the ground that revealed strata below, chambers or tunnels perhaps. The coordinates put the gold just behind a sea cave opening, near one of the bigger cenotes.
If we can’t swim to it, we can drop in from above. They didn’t have climbing equipment, but surely they could scrounge up some rope. Didn’t boats have to carry rope? In the morning, he and Chloe would—
Chloe.
On impulse, Nate grabbed one of the satellite shots of the island and scribbled coordinates across it. He put the photo atop the stack on the coffee table, moved some of the other papers around. Braddock and the mercs would be on the south side of the island, too far away to cause trouble. Sully hadn’t tried to get in touch, but maybe his phone was broken. Nate hoped he was still alive, if only because someone had to take care of that cat.
Nate felt good. Tired but happy. He brushed a kiss on sleeping Chloe’s soft hair and Aopped down next to her, tucking a pillow under his head. He doubted he’d sleep much, he was too—
Nate fell into a black, dreamless hole.
* * *
Chloe woke up with the dawn, Nate casually spooned against her back, breathing deeply and evenly. She rolled over and watched his face as the darkness purpled toward light, his features gradually revealed. He was starting to grow on her. He was more than just a pretty face, but it was oh so pretty, even sunburnt and bruised. He was impossibly sweet, too, amazing in the sack, and smart enough to carry a conversation. She’d done a lot worse.
The need to pee finally dragged her away. Chloe took care of business, then walked out onto the veranda, just in time to see the sun lift in the east. She turned and watched the resort beach pick up the glow, gold against the lapping waves. Warm sunlight fell across the shrubs and Aowers, hibiscus, orchid, jasmine… tiny birds darted through the leaves. She felt like she was in a goddamn Disney movie, and she also felt pretty good about it. If they found the gold, maybe they could stay on a bit, after.
Or you could buy the resort and live here. Not gonna happen with you mooning around. Get back to work.
Their clothes had been returned, laundered, a neat parcel by the door.
Chloe carried it inside, heading for the coffee table when she saw that Nate had printed out new photos. Closeups of Demar, and the gold keys were stacked next to the map—
She lifted a blowup of a narrow island chain east of Demar, rocky cliffs and tiny beaches. The coordinates were written boldly, right across the top.
He did it! He actually did it!
Chloe turned and looked at him, sleeping. He hadn’t shifted once since she’d been out of bed. How late had he stayed up, working it out? How long will he sleep? I can be on a boat within the hour.
Stop. Think about this. Nate had left the coordinates out, he’d trusted her… If she went after the gold by herself, he’d never trust her again.
And the con side is…? He shouldn’t trust her, they’d already established that, and if he hadn’t learned by now, his regard wasn’t worth much. She didn’t need a boyfriend, she needed to touch that gold. And she could haul quite a bit by herself.
Chloe tiptoed to her bag and started to pack, quietly.