LAST ASSAULT ON OAK ISLAND 37

Chapter 37

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Saturday morning dawned bright and promised a dry day. Silence, however, disappeared as the costal towns awoke. From Indian Point to Chester, touring visitors had reserved rooms at every available hotel, motel, bed and breakfast, and home of convenient relatives.

Traffic jammed highways from Margaret's Bay to Bridgewater. The West Winds docks were crowded with dinghies, row boats, yachts of every size, tour boats, and the regularly scheduled ferries.

By eight o'clock the pubs and taverns were packed with patrons and betting men ready to watch the grand opening of the cement vault discovered by Lucy Yearbright. The event itself was to take place at the National Museum of History in Ottawa, but every cable, network, and radio was carrying live coverage.

The streets were generously sprinkled with law enforcement, too, as the mayor of West Winds predicted not only would a lot of money be changing hands among the townspeople, but arguments over the who, when, why, and how of the vault would abound.

Lauren did not see much of the anniversary celebrations because of their own work in the cave. She had not kept up with Carlos' progress on the diary either, with most of her time spent up to her chin in water or knees in dirt. She caught up on his notes late Friday night after she and Maruso reported in.

When she woke that Saturday morning, the journal notes and their timeline of Brielle's voyage were still on her bed. She moved them aside and opened one eye. Six-thirty, the clock face read. She sat up slowly. It was so much easier to sleep without the noise of the drills. The lack of racket prompted her to get out of bed.

This was the big day.

Or, at least one of them.

She ran a few fingers through her mussed hair and grabbed her robe and stumbled downstairs to the parlor where the sight of Maruso lying snoring on the couch made her pause before going into the kitchen. Finding it empty, she went back through the parlor where she recalled the traffic-laden mainland and filled docks, and went upstairs. She met Carlos in the short hall.

"The Captain is on the sofa downstairs," he told her, brushing down what little was left of his gray hair.

"I noticed."

"I told him to stay. He'd never get near the docks with all the congestion. Rudy said the boats were parked all along of what's left of the causeway." He smiled, his eyes more alive than the rest of him at the moment. "Today it opens, my dear."

She shared his grin. "I can't wait. I thought you'd be up already."

"It was too quiet not to sleep. You take the bathroom first," he offered.

She shook her head. She had had enough water lately. "I showered last night, Carlos, and if I take another one now, I'll grow fins."

"Warm up the television."

She changed clothes quickly and brushed her hair, and returned downstairs to find Maruso gone. She made scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee, then took a mug of the last out to the little-used dock at the shoreline where Maruso was trying to nicely ward off a boat wanting to dock.

"A shotgun would be more effective," she said as the disgruntled boater finally pulled away, flashing them a choice finger.

Maruso shook his head at the Second Wind bobbing in the early tides. "I should have gone to Indian Point last night."

She handed him the coffee. "The radio said there's not an open dock in the bay."

He nodded, eyeing the coffee. "Thanks. I believe it."

"Breakfast is almost ready."

"Why do you look so bubbly? You already know what's in the vault," he said with a laugh, giving her a glimpse-over.

She shrugged, smiling wider. "There'll be a lot of different reactions today."

"Yeah, but the one that counts is Brooks' signature on the contract." They headed for the cottage. "What's for breakfast?"

Miles watched the TV from Saul's hospital room. Around him the beeps and hum of medical equipment keeping Saul alive seemed so frail compared to the drills he was accustomed to hearing daily.

The sound was down on the TV set and he made no move to adjust it. When Saul's photo and a list of angry creditors appeared on the screen, he stood and switched it off. Now the only sound was the beep of the life support systems.

Miles sat down again, folded his arms over his chest, and leaned back in the chair, staring at the blank TV screen.