Free The Aztec Heresy by Paul Christopher Page B

heart out as a sacrifice to one of his gods, I should be back by nightfall. Keep a candle burning in the window.’’
    ‘‘It shall be done, master,’’ said Ramirez, his expression bland. ‘‘Although I fear it will get damp.’’
    ‘‘You’re such a joker, Rico, a regular Billy Crystal,’’ said Arkady Cruz, who was a fan, particularly of both City Slickers as well as The Princess Bride.
    ‘‘Geraldo Seinfeld,’’ said Ramirez, who had all nine seasons on a bootleg set from China.
    Cruz gave his friend a quick salute then slid down inside the conning tower ladder to the bridge deck. He popped open a watertight bulkhead door at the foot of the conning tower, then stepped out onto the ribbed, slightly pitching deck. He dogged down the door behind him, crossed the deck, and dropped down into the inflatable, taking a seat in the stern. A few seconds later the huge twin outboards roared into life and the rubber boat spun around and headed toward the shore. Behind them the Babaloo blew her main ballast tanks with a hissing roar and sank beneath the waters once again, disappearing from view just as the first rays of the rising sun came arrowing out of the east across the wide blue sea.
    While Briney Hanson guided the Hispaniola out of Nassau Harbour past Montagu Beach and turned the big tug into Hanover Sound, the rest of the crew gathered in the Main Salon.
    ‘‘What exactly is the Bimini Road?’’ Eli Santoro asked. He was in Johnny Depp mode today, wearing a ragged pair of cutoffs, a black skull-and-bones T-shirt, a bandanna over his dark hair, and his leather eye patch. He’d lost the eye in a barbecuing accident while serving with the U.S. Navy in Guam, and the deficient sight had lost him his commission and his future. Rather than take a desk job in the navy he’d chosen the life of a crew bum and wound up as Briney Hanson’s first officer on the old Batavia Queen. The rusted-out hulk of a freighter had gone aground in the middle of a China Sea typhoon, and when the smoke cleared and Finn and Billy decided to start their Treasure Seekers venture, he and Briney had been the first to sign on as crew.
    ‘‘Bimini Road is a rock formation off the island of North Bimini,’’ said Guido Derlagen. As well as being the group’s maritime lawyer, cook’s assistant, and the only one on board who knew anything about computers, the Dutchman had also become their unofficial researcher. ‘‘It is about half a mile long at a depth of thirty feet. Generally it can only be seen from the air. It was discovered by a pilot in 1969, which conforms to the prediction made by the American clairvoyant Edgar Cayce in 1938.’’
    Eli shook his head in awe. ‘‘You’re spooky, Guido—you know that?’’
    ‘‘Dankzegging.’’ The big skin-headed Netherlander smiled with a little bow. ‘‘You would like me to continue, yes?’’
    ‘‘Yes,’’ said Finn.
    ‘‘Dankzegging,’’ Guido repeated, and went on. ‘‘Although it is said by most geologists that it is a natural formation, these people following the predictions of Mr. Cayce are sure it is a road.’’
    ‘‘Anybody ever find anything other than this so-called road?’’ Eli asked from the couch. ‘‘Any other evidence?’’
    ‘‘Alas, not,’’ said Guido.
    ‘‘Where exactly is this place?’’
    ‘‘Half a mile off North Bimini Island off Paradise Point,’’ put in Finn. ‘‘It’s a popular dive site for tourists. Glass-bottom boats, that kind of thing.’’
    ‘‘Pardon me for asking,’’ said Run-Run McSeveney, his small face twisting into a scowl, ‘‘but it was my impression this wee venture was to find bits of gold and other valuable trinkets. Doubloons and pieces of eight and the like. What do these bluidy stones have to do with that, might I inquire?’’ As always, the thick Glasgow brogue coming from the definitely Chinese face was enough to make Finn smile.
    ‘‘There’ve been some recent theories that the