Haitian Gold by Steven Becker

Author:Steven Becker [Becker, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The White Marlin Press
Published: 2016-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

I picked up the dagger and started to pry the block out. It was larger than the ones outside and I felt the blade start to bend, but before it broke, the stone began to slide. Rhames joined me on the ground and we worked together, using a back-and-forth motion to free the stone.

I smelled the smoke of a cheroot just as the block moved free and knew something was wrong. Suddenly the entire chamber shuddered and something crashed above us. It was dark now and I suspected that we had triggered a booby trap.

“Why don’t you come in and join us?”

The French accented voice came from the next chamber. We looked at each other, not knowing what to do. The opening was barely large enough for one man to fit through and he would be helpless, having to enter by crawling on his belly.

“Jean-Jean,” Pierre whispered and extended his hand to Rhames. “Pistol.”

Without a better idea, I nodded to Rhames, who handed him his flintlock weapon and stepped aside. Pierre got on his hands and knees, trying to see through the opening.

“Come, my old friend. I see you there,” the man said.

Pierre reached an arm in and cocked the pistol.

“Wait,” I called to him. “Quiet.” I could hear something from above.

“It’s water,” Rhames said.

Just as he said it a torrent of water entered the chamber. It didn’t take me long to figure out from the accumulation already at my feet that despite the size of the opening we could easily drown.

“Hurry! Through the hole.”

The water was getting deeper as I urged the men through the small opening. Pierre was first and with the gun extended in front of him, he entered the adjacent chamber. The water was well above the opening when Rhames disappeared, leaving me alone in the chamber. The level was almost to my head when I took a deep breath and dropped into the flooded chamber. My eyes were open, but it was so dark that I couldn’t tell. With my hands fanned out in front of me, I searched for the opening. My breath was almost gone when I found it and pulled myself through, gasping for air as I stood. Blinking the water out of my eyes, I saw the other men were already on their feet with their hands in the air. Two men moved behind me and slid the stone back into place.

A tall skinny man with his hair groomed to cover his ears stood in front of us with his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. Surrounding him were half a dozen uniformed men with rifles trained on us.

Two of the men came behind us, collected our weapons and knocked us to our knees, where our hands were bound behind our backs.

The leader slapped Pierre across the face. “You arrogant slave,” the man said in French and then turned to us and repeated it in English. “You may have hid the plan, but it was I

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