Free Fallen Mangrove (Jesse McDermitt Series Book 5) by Wayne Stinnett Page A

it,” Doc said. “My money’s on the big rock with the house on it being the ‘prodigious mainstay’ clue on the coconut.”
    “Have you decided, Doc?” I asked. “This is your call, yours and Nikki’s.”
    “We talked about it last night. If we go after the treasure, we agree we should do it right. Announce our findings and everything.”
    Chyrel came out of the office with a file folder and handed it to Doc. “Maybe you should call Nikki back and go over what I found here. You can use my office.”
    Doc opened the file and scanned the first document. “Are you sure about this?”
    Cheryl nodded, “Like I said, the Spanish kept very good records, but from what I’ve read, there was usually a lot of contraband in the form of pesos and jewels that weren’t on the manifest.” Doc walked toward the office, flipping through more pages.
    “What’d you find out?” I asked.
    She turned to the four of us and said, “The Magdalena carried one and a half million pesos, along with about two thousand pounds of gold and three twenty-pound chests of uncut emeralds.”
    “Holy shit!” Rusty exclaimed. “A peso is just shy of an ounce. At today’s price, worth about thirteen bucks. That’s almost twenty million dollars, right there.”
    “Gold’s at about eight hundred an ounce,” Tony said. “That’s what? Another two and a half million?”
    “Twenty-five million,” Chyrel said with a smile. “You didn’t carry one of those zeroes.”
    Only minutes later Doc came out of the office and walked back toward us. “Just this ship alone carried about fifty million in silver and gold, plus another two million in emeralds. Nikki and I both agree, we still should do what’s right.”
    I smiled, knowing that was a hard decision, but he’d made the right one. Hell , I thought, ten percent of fifty million is still a huge chunk of change.
    “Further,” he said, “we thought it right to split anything we find with everyone here that’s helped figure out where to look.”
    “The find’s yours,” Rusty said. “You get half off the top.”
    Doc started to say something, but I interrupted him. “And don’t argue about it.”
    “Well, I am going to argue,” Doc said.
    “Look, old son,” Rusty said. “You and your missus are the rightful owners of whatever you find. You got more than just the two of you to think about. You’ll have kids someday.”
    “Trust me, Doc,” Deuce said. “You’re not gonna win this argument. They did the same with me.”
    “And from the story you told,” I added, “you have quite a few generations to satisfy.”
    Chyrel stood up and said, “I’ll get started right away on the protocol of who needs to be alerted for you and try to get a handle on the salvage laws in the Bahamas.”

Chapter Six
    The drive through Miami rush hour traffic had been a nightmare with the air conditioner barely working in his ten-year-old Buick LeSabre. By the time he got on the Florida Turnpike in Orlando, he’d already had to remove his three-year-old, off-the-rack coat and tie. The drive from Orlando to West Palm Beach was three hours of adrenaline rush, dodging demented truckers and wandering tourists. Then it seemed that everything south of Palm Beach was under construction, slowing traffic to a crawl for thirty-five miles.
    That delay put him on the Sawgrass Expressway and Homestead Extension during rush hour, another harrowing sixty miles of hell. He debated the wisdom of getting off the interstate and taking the surface streets, but decided against it. He’d heard a lot of bad things about Miami and his directions had his destination just a couple of blocks off the Turnpike. After three hours of stop-and-go traffic, choking on car and truck fumes, he finally took the Southwest 184th Street exit to Cutler Ridge and turned right. Just ahead on the left in a small strip mall was the Presidente Supermarket he’d been told to look for. He turned into the little parking lot and looked at the