Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Sid waits in the lighthouse parking area, his car the only other vehicle present. He’s dressed practically in jeans and a weatherproof jacket, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
“I brought something that might help,” he says by way of greeting, pulling out a small, handheld device. “Ground-penetrating radar. It can detect metal or density changes under the sand.”
“Where did you get that?” I ask, impressed.
“A friend in the archaeology department at Brown. I called in a favor.”
Together, with Finn leading the way, we trek down to the beach and follow the shoreline north toward the rock formation where we’d found Dawson digging. The morning tide is receding, revealing more of the beach with each passing minute.
The excavation site from yesterday is still visible, though partially filled in by the overnight tide. Sid sets up the radar device, scanning the surrounding area in a grid pattern.
“There’s definitely something here,” he says after several minutes of careful scanning. “About two feet down, extending under that large rock formation. Metal of some kind, sizeable.”
I mark the spot with a piece of driftwood, and we begin to dig carefully, aware of the historical significance of what we might uncover. Finn watches attentively, occasionally sniffing the sand we remove but mostly standing guard, his eyes scanning the beach and dunes.
Forty minutes of digging reveals a corner of something metallic. With brushes and smaller tools, we carefully expose more of the object: a bronze chest, approximately two feet long and one foot wide, its surface heavily corroded from centuries in salt water.
“This has to be from the Salvador Mundi,” Sid whispers, his voice filled with awe. “A ship’s chest, sixteenth century design.”
The chest is partially embedded in what appears to be a section of the ship’s hull, preserved in the anaerobic environment beneath the sand. Moving it without proper archaeological techniques could damage both the chest and valuable historical context.
“We should document this and contact proper authorities,” I say, taking photographs with my phone. “This is beyond amateur treasure hunting now.”
Sid nods agreement. “This confirms your father’s research. He found the Salvador Mundi, or at least part of it.”
“That’s why he was creating the map and documenting everything. He was preparing for a proper archaeological excavation.”
“And why someone might want to prevent that from happening,” Sid adds. “Shipwreck sites are protected. No development allowed.”
The connection to Coastal Development Partners becomes clearer. If they had purchased property with plans to build, a historically significant shipwreck would halt everything.
As we carefully rebury the chest, marking the location precisely on our own map, Finn suddenly tenses. A low growl rumbles from his chest, his attention fixed on the dunes behind us.
“Someone’s watching us again,” I murmur to Sid, not turning around immediately. “Finn senses them.”
Sid nods slightly, continuing to work as if unaware. “How do you want to handle this?”
“Directly,” I decide, standing and turning toward the dunes in one fluid motion. “We know you’re there!” I call out. “Show yourself!”
For a moment, nothing happens. Then, a figure rises from behind the tall grass. Not Dawson, as I half expected, but a man I’ve never seen before. Middle-aged, wearing an expensive-looking coat despite the beach setting, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly styled.
“Ms. Lane,” he says, his voice carrying easily across the sand. “And Mr. Gillespie. Finding anything interesting?”
Finn moves to stand between me and the stranger, his posture protective.
“Who are you?” Sid demands, moving to stand beside me.
The man descends from the dunes, approaching with confident strides. “Jonathan Reeves, Coastal Development Partners.” He offers a business card which neither of us moves to take. “I understand you’ve been quite busy the past few days.”
“You’ve been watching us,” I state flatly. “And leaving threatening notes.”
He makes a dismissive gesture. “Warnings, not threats. I had hoped you would take the hint and stop pursuing your father’s . . . hobby.”
“Finding a historically significant shipwreck isn’t a hobby,” Sid responds. “It’s an important archaeological discovery.”
“It’s a complication,” Reeves corrects. “One that could have been avoided with proper discretion.”
“What’s your interest in this?” I ask directly. “Beyond the obvious development plans that a protected shipwreck would disrupt.”
Reeves studies me for a moment, seeming to reassess his approach. “Your father discovered something that affects multiple parties, Ms. Lane. The shipwreck itself is only part of the equation.”
“The Star of Sebastian,” I guess, watching his reaction carefully.
A flicker of surprise crosses his face before he masters it. “So you know about that. Interesting. Did your father tell you, or did you figure it out from his notes?”
“Why take my driftwood star?” I counter, avoiding his question.
“Insurance,” he says simply. “Your father encoded information in that creation of yours. Information that could complicate matters significantly if it became public.”
The confirmation that the star contains hidden information sends a rush of excitement through me, tempered by wariness of this smooth-talking developer.