Read Online Maroon Rising by John H. Cunningham - Free Book Online
Authors: John H. Cunningham
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than 25 percent for our efforts—”
“Weren’t you listening to me?” Michael said.
“I don’t even know what information you have.”
“And you won’t.”
A deep breath filled my lungs. I was rusty at this. Facing off against a world-class billionaire negotiator like Michael Portland was futile. Time to tack.
“So what’s it worth to you?”
“Only a small—”
I held up a hand. “To have King Buck, as you called me, on your team, connecting shreds of clues to discover long-lost antiquities and who-knows-how-valuable treasure? As one of my favorite philosophers once said, ‘15 percent of nothing is nothing.’ Is that what you want, nothing?”
A wave of cold sweat ran over my brow. Why did I have to use that quote? I’d just dropped myself to 15 percent—thanks, Jimmy.
Michael shared a long look with Nanny before turning back to me. The candlelight reflected in his eyes like small fires. Maroons practiced ancient African Obeah, and Queen Nanny was a chieftainess and priestess as well as a revolutionary leader. Was Michael also of Maroon descent?
I looked up into the dark rafters of the ceiling, seeking to break the stare. Here I am at GoldenEye, former home of Ian Fleming—
Fleming.
Bond, James Bond.
I sat up straight. “You can shake me, but you can’t stir me. I have partners, too. The cost of these efforts is huge, as are the risks, so if you can’t agree to—”
“Ten percent, Reilly. We’ll cover all the expenses. You’ll get our information. And a cut of the treasure your former partner, Jack Dodson, and his crass partner Rostenkowski, have wasted a fortune digging for in the harbor.”
I swallowed. Jack and Gunner.
Heather.
I tried to swallow again, but my throat had gone dry.
Michael and Nanny broke into smiles and I realized I’d nodded, accepting their offer. He extended his hand. At first my grip was soft, but then I clamped down and his eyes popped wide.
Fuck you, Jack. I promised revenge, and I meant it.
Another wave of cold sweat blew over me. Harry Greenbaum would kill me. I’d had to beg him to agree on 25 percent for the Port Royal project.
At 10 percent, this had better be one hell of a find.
Michael clapped his hands and two waiters rushed over, one carrying a tray of fresh seafood, the other two more bottles of champagne—Dom Pérignon, of course.
Nanny stood. While I was focused on what I’d tell Harry, she bent down to kiss my cheek. I found my face squarely in the low cut of her blouse for a moment before she straightened up.
Treasure comes in many forms.
T he night had run long, and feeling a bit like a hired hand, I finally said my goodbyes. The sound of Michael Portland’s helicopter departing shortly thereafter allowed me to rest easy. In my champagne and rum-induced fog, I fantasized about Nanny entering my villa, but as I drifted into sleep I remembered she’d said a friend was taking her back to the Trident. No doubt she’d left with Michael.
A morning swim around the lagoon helped clear my head, and when I sat down at the restaurant to order breakfast I was surprised that a note came with my coffee. It had a familiar scent that made me smile.
I tore open the sealed envelope.
Buck,
Meet me at the grotto under the bridge at 10:00. I have something to show you.
N.
I folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Images of Bond girls stepping out of the Caribbean onto white sand beaches ran through my head—
I glanced at my watch. Ten o’clock on the dot.
I wrapped my towel over my shoulders, left the coffee on the table, and headed down the stairs to where the sporting equipment was kept. No one was in the grotto, or so I thought.
Nanny stepped out from behind a wall of coral, the light reflecting off the water and dancing over her bare legs. She was wearing a swimsuit, and what I’d imagined about her figure yesterday wasn’t nearly as alluring as the reality in front of me now.
She stepped into the light, carrying a
“Weren’t you listening to me?” Michael said.
“I don’t even know what information you have.”
“And you won’t.”
A deep breath filled my lungs. I was rusty at this. Facing off against a world-class billionaire negotiator like Michael Portland was futile. Time to tack.
“So what’s it worth to you?”
“Only a small—”
I held up a hand. “To have King Buck, as you called me, on your team, connecting shreds of clues to discover long-lost antiquities and who-knows-how-valuable treasure? As one of my favorite philosophers once said, ‘15 percent of nothing is nothing.’ Is that what you want, nothing?”
A wave of cold sweat ran over my brow. Why did I have to use that quote? I’d just dropped myself to 15 percent—thanks, Jimmy.
Michael shared a long look with Nanny before turning back to me. The candlelight reflected in his eyes like small fires. Maroons practiced ancient African Obeah, and Queen Nanny was a chieftainess and priestess as well as a revolutionary leader. Was Michael also of Maroon descent?
I looked up into the dark rafters of the ceiling, seeking to break the stare. Here I am at GoldenEye, former home of Ian Fleming—
Fleming.
Bond, James Bond.
I sat up straight. “You can shake me, but you can’t stir me. I have partners, too. The cost of these efforts is huge, as are the risks, so if you can’t agree to—”
“Ten percent, Reilly. We’ll cover all the expenses. You’ll get our information. And a cut of the treasure your former partner, Jack Dodson, and his crass partner Rostenkowski, have wasted a fortune digging for in the harbor.”
I swallowed. Jack and Gunner.
Heather.
I tried to swallow again, but my throat had gone dry.
Michael and Nanny broke into smiles and I realized I’d nodded, accepting their offer. He extended his hand. At first my grip was soft, but then I clamped down and his eyes popped wide.
Fuck you, Jack. I promised revenge, and I meant it.
Another wave of cold sweat blew over me. Harry Greenbaum would kill me. I’d had to beg him to agree on 25 percent for the Port Royal project.
At 10 percent, this had better be one hell of a find.
Michael clapped his hands and two waiters rushed over, one carrying a tray of fresh seafood, the other two more bottles of champagne—Dom Pérignon, of course.
Nanny stood. While I was focused on what I’d tell Harry, she bent down to kiss my cheek. I found my face squarely in the low cut of her blouse for a moment before she straightened up.
Treasure comes in many forms.
T he night had run long, and feeling a bit like a hired hand, I finally said my goodbyes. The sound of Michael Portland’s helicopter departing shortly thereafter allowed me to rest easy. In my champagne and rum-induced fog, I fantasized about Nanny entering my villa, but as I drifted into sleep I remembered she’d said a friend was taking her back to the Trident. No doubt she’d left with Michael.
A morning swim around the lagoon helped clear my head, and when I sat down at the restaurant to order breakfast I was surprised that a note came with my coffee. It had a familiar scent that made me smile.
I tore open the sealed envelope.
Buck,
Meet me at the grotto under the bridge at 10:00. I have something to show you.
N.
I folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. Images of Bond girls stepping out of the Caribbean onto white sand beaches ran through my head—
I glanced at my watch. Ten o’clock on the dot.
I wrapped my towel over my shoulders, left the coffee on the table, and headed down the stairs to where the sporting equipment was kept. No one was in the grotto, or so I thought.
Nanny stepped out from behind a wall of coral, the light reflecting off the water and dancing over her bare legs. She was wearing a swimsuit, and what I’d imagined about her figure yesterday wasn’t nearly as alluring as the reality in front of me now.
She stepped into the light, carrying a
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