Chapter Two

As he ate stale Fruit Loops dry from the box at two in the morning, Riley Poole concluded that despite the fact that he was young, rich, (and devilishly good looking, if he did say so himself), his social life pretty much sucked

He thought that the money would make everything better. Supermodels would flock to his door, and he would never run out of dates. Actually, his newly accumulated fame (and wealth) had drawn in some girls who he would have previously considered out of his league. He was thrilled at first, but then he realized that there wasn't a lot going on behind their flawless looks. Dating them was like trying to carry on a conversation with his dog Franklin (who, obviously, was named by Ben- the damned history freak)

Plus, Ben had started to call him Hugh Hefner. Riley hadn't even thought that Ben knew who Hugh Hefner was.

So, he had ditched the supermodels. Then Abigail had stepped in and tried to fix him up with some of her friends, claiming that he needed "some kind of divine intervention" The first girl he met, Eloise, spent half their date boring him with useless history facts and the other half asking him about the historical finds he had made in the Mason's treasure. It was like being on a date with Ben, except he could tell Ben to shut up and go away. (and, obviously, Ben was a man.)

In the end, that's what he told Eloise as well. Abigail hadn't spoken to him for a month.

And now, sitting in the kitchen of his newly-bought apartment, Riley felt very lonely. Maybe it was because of his proximity to the newlyweds, (who weren't actually newlyweds anymore, but still acted like them) but Riley had started to feel completely and utterly socially inadequate.

Which, as he pondered the issue, he was. In the 26 years of his life, Riley had never really had a functioning relationship with a girl . It was probably because, he reflected, his most loving bond was with his computer.

That would probably do it.

As Riley continued his wallowing in self-pity (and Fruit Loops), his cell phone started to belt out the Macarena.

Riley stood up, looked around, and groaned. Franklin, along with his many other endearing qualities, had a habit of hiding his cell phone.

Eleven rings later, his phone retrieved from inside the sugar bowl (how had he pulled that one off?) Riley flipped it open and fumbled until he found the talk button.

"Go away Ben."

"Nice to see you too Riley. How did you know it was me?"

Riley sighed, exasperated. "Because, Ben, normal people call during the waking hours."

"This couldn't wait. You'll never guess who called me last night"

Riley really wasn't in the mood for riddles. "That Caroll dude wanted his house back?"

"Funny, Riley. It was Claire Howe."

He wretched the phone away from his ear and stared at it in surprise as if it had some sort of defect.

"I'm sorry, Ben, did you say Howe? As in Ian Howe, the crazy psychopath who tried to kill us on several occasions?"

"His sister, actually. She wants to meet with us."

Riley resumed his action of simply staring at the phone in surprise.

"Ian has a sister?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, she's younger that him. Apparently she's in grad school at Harvard. A history major, actually"

"What, and she wanted the guy who put her brother in prison to help her with her thesis paper?"

"Actually, she wants to meet with us tomorrow. Well, today. What time it anyway?"

Riley felt himself slide off his char, the Fruit Loops crashing to the floor. "Ben, please, for the love of all things expensive, do not tell me that you agreed to meet with her. Even you're not that crazy."

Ben sighed, a rush of static over the phone. "She said it was urgent."

"What, the firing squad couldn't wait until Saturday?"

Ben adopted what he thought was a calm, reassuring tone. "Look Riley, I met her once. In the first few days I was working for Ian. She seemed nice enough."

"You were also the one who thought that Ian was a kind, law abiding sponsor who would never kill anyone, so excuse me if my faith in your judgment of character is a little lax!" Riley was mortified as his voice adopted that high, squeaky tone that he got when he was upset.

Ben dropped his reassuring tone for the usual bark he used around his best friend. Riley, we're going to meet her at the Liberty Café at one today. You're coming whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Riley groaned. "Aye-Aye, chief. Give me liberty or give me death."

"Real witty, Riley." And with that, Ben hung up.

Grumbling to himself, Riley climbed off the floor and scowling, kicked a chair in frustration. Why couldn't Ben listen to him for once? This was not going to turn out well. Limping out of the kitchen, he headed towards his bedroom, He sensed that he would need all the sleep he could get for this afternoon.

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She was late.

Riley fidgeted in his chair at the outdoor café, checking his watch for the third time. "It's one-fifteen, Ben."

"Yes, Riley I'm aware of that."

"Not that it's a crime to be late," Riley replied casually. "In fact, she's probably just advising the hired sniper on where the best angle is."

"Riley!"

"I'm serious, Ben. We're walking into a death trap!"

"No!" Ben said through gritted teeth. "Riley, she's here!"

Riley immediately whipped his head around, trying to find someone resembling Ian in a dress. (Which was quite a disturbing picture.) "Where?"

"Over by the fire hydrant across the street." Ben whispered. "And try not to be too obvious, okay?"

Elbowing his fork off the table in what he thought was a nonchalant way, Riley bet down and scanned across the street, ignoring Ben's eye roll at his un-obvious-ness.

She was talking animatedly on a cell phone to someone, with her arms waving around angrily. Listening hard, Riley caught the words "Professor" and "document".

She was short, shorter that him, he realized in relief. Apparently Ian had sucked up all the tall, scary genes for himself. She was young too, younger that he was expected. She didn't look more than 24.

She did, however, look a bit like Ian. She had the same hair, pale gold and very short that struggled to get out of a tiny ponytail at the back of her head. They also had the same blue sly-looking eyes, which looked out of place on such a young girl. She wasn't nearly as pretty or curvy as the models he had dated in the beginning of his wealth, but she was extremely interesting looking.

As started to cross the street, Riley realized in surprise that she wasn't dressed like he suspected either. Her clothes were clean and pretty, but they didn't speak of wealth. In fact, the slightly threadbare garments spoke of very little money. All in all, she looked like a normal struggling Grad student. If not for the hair and the eyes, he never would have guessed that she was Ian's sister.

She entered the café and scanned the tables. Her eyes lit up in recognition as she saw Ben, and as she walked slowly over to their table all the animation seemed to drain out of her. She looked determined, but nervous as hell, if by the way her hand were shaking was any indication. She sat down at the chair across from them and gave them a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Gates. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

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She was nervous as hell. She didn't do well with people, one of the reasons why she loved being a history major. Dealing with piles of books, she was in her element. But bargaining with a guy she hated over her brother's freedom? NOT her idea of fun. For the fourth time she wished desperately that Ian hadn't sucked up all the tall, scary genes. She could use some intimidation right now-not to mention courage. She hated the fact that she was a coward.

"Hi, Miss Howe." Ben said cautiously. "It's nice to see you again. I believe you haven't met my friend, Riley Poole" Riley Poole just glared at her like she was an ax-murderer. Which, she realized, he probably thought she was.

"Where's your accent?" he asked bluntly

She blinked, trying to process the information "Sorry?"

Ben looked mildly embarrassed. "Your brother has an English accent. Riley was wondering why you didn't."

"Oh", she replied, flustered.

Crap, she thought. What happened to the unflappable composure I was supposed to have?

"My brother and I are fifteen years apart." She finally answered. "He lived with our parents in England before I was born, and then they moved here before they had me."

Ben Gates didn't look much different than he did when she first met him six years ago. The man sitting next to him, Riley Poole, hadn't joined Ben & Ian on their expedition until much later, so she had never met him. He was really young, much younger than Ben, she noted with surprise, who was around her brothers age. He couldn't be much older than her.

Ben smiled at her politely. "Miss Howe, why exactly did you ask us to meet you here?"

Trying to smile and not pee in fear, she gently extracted the manuscript from her bag and laid in on the table.

"Gentleman, I have a proposition for you."

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She was treating that envelope like glass. Riley wondered what was in it. Money? Nah, not likely. She must know that they were millionaires. Plus Ben was too noble to accept bribes.

Maybe, he hypothesized; it was a small bomb that she would use to threaten them with. After all, she was Ian's sister. Ian I'll-just-leave-you-here-to-die-in-this-rotting-pit-carved-out-milions-of-years-ago-while-I-go-to-Boston-to-claim-the-treasure-I-don't-deserve Howe. And yes, maybe he was paranoid, but it's better to be paranoid then dead, right?

She opened the envelope and gently pulled out a small stack of paper. An old stack of papers, judging by the state of the yellowed parchment.

Well…that was rather anticlimactic. A stack of papers? What was she going to do, papercut them to death?

Ben looked interested now at the sight of old documents. What a weirdo.

"What are those? They look about mid-eighteenth century." Ben questioned.

Riley rolled his eyes. Why couldn't he just say "old" like normal people?

Claire looked pleased that Ben has accurately guessed the age of her moldy ancient documents. "They're correspondences from 1716, from Edward Teach to Benjamin Hornigold."

Ben was gaping openly now. Riley looked back and forth between Ben and Claire trying to understand what was going on.

"Guys? A little explanation to the non-history obsessed?"

She turned to him, the slightly pleased look gone "Edward Teach was a privateer-turned -pirate who was the apprentice of Benjamin Hornigold until Hornigold, retired, leaving him master. He's better known as Blackbeard."

Riley was really paying attention now. "Blackbeard? Like the famous pirate Blackbeard with the huge treasure?"

She nodded. "That's right; the one that was never found."

Ben leaned forward. "Miss Howe, are you saying that these letters contain the location of Blackbeard's treasure?"

She shifted in her chair nervously "Well…..not exactly"

Ben raised his eyebrows "What does that mean?"

"I compared the hints that Teach gave Hornigold about his treasure to the publicized records of his life and pinpointed a probable location of the treasure."

"Where is-" Riley began , only to be cut off by Ben

"-Where on earth did you find these?" Ben asked

Riley snorted "Found probably isn't the correct word." he mumbled under his breath.

"Riley!" Ben hissed

Claire turned bright red. "I didn't steal them. I found them in an 18th century desk that I bought from an antique store while I was researching Teach in Boston. I think it might have belonged to Hornigold."

Ben looked at her closely "Miss Howe, why are you showing us these?"

She looked even more nervous that before, if that was possible. "I'm willing to give them to you if you testify at my brother's parole hearing."

There was a slight pause

"Absolutely not." Riley said, breaking the silence.

"Wait, Riley, let's think about this for a second." Ben answered. Turning to Claire, he stared at her searchingly "How do we know that Ian won't try to kill us once he gets out of prison?"

"He won't." she said defensively "Not if you help him get out. Please, Mr.Gates" she begged. "He's my only family, and he's going to die in there!"

Riley really couldn't care less about what happened to Ian. But Blackbeard's treasure probably had a lot less historical significance than the Mason's. Which meant they could actually keep some of it. Looking over at Ben, he could see that Ben as well was considering the offer, but obviously not for the same reasons he was. Ben had actually liked Ian, up until the point where Ian pulled a gun on him.

And, Riley reasoned, four years was a long time to spend in prison.

"What happens if we testify and Ian still doesn't get released?" Ben asked

Apparently Claire had already prepared an answer to this. "I'll give you the documents anyway and you'll testify every year until he gets out." she answered swiftly.

Ben hesitated for a few minutes then held out his hand to Claire "Miss. Howe, you've got yourself a deal."

Claire released a huge breath of air, as if she was deflating and grinned hugely.

Wow, Riley thought, surprised. She looks a lot different when she's actually smiling. Shaking Ben's hand enthusiastically she stood up "Thank you Mr. Gates. You really have no idea what this means to me. I'll see you Wednesday." And with that, she practically skipped away, completely ignoring him. It was probably the stealing comment, he rationalized. He turned to Ben. "I still think she has ulterior motives." he complained.

"Riley, she just wants her brother back." he said. "It must have been hard to offer us those documents. They're really something."

Riley snorted. "She'll probably just gun us down outside the prison after we testify and take them back." he retorted.

"Excuse me?"

Riley turned around. Mini-Ian had come back. Crap, he thought, avoiding eye contact. She heard me. This is awkward.

"I forgot to tell you….The parole hearing is a three. Please don't be late." she said quickly.

Turning around and heading towards her car, she turned around suddenly again. "And Mr. Poole?" Riley cringed. "I don't know how to use a gun." She retorted.

Once she was out of sight, Ben turned to him, glaring.

"Well done, Riley."

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Claire collapsed in relief in her car. They were going to testify. Ian would get out. It would all be ok. Later she would lament giving over the letters, but right now all she could think about was getting Ian out of there.

And that asshole Riley, She thought angrily. Why couldn't she ever think up better comebacks? I don't know how to use a gun. Really witty, Claire. I bet it knocked his socks off.

Oh, well. She was really too happy to get mad at him for long. She drove back to her apartment singing happily (with the windows rolled firmly up of course-she was tone deaf.) Wednesday was going to be fabulous.

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