Kingston, Jamaica:

"Excuse me, sorry!" Cassie apologized and held up her hands as she narrowly avoided colliding with a bicyclist. Then man on the bike gave her a cursory glance as he swerved lazily past her and her companion, then continued on his way down the bustling road lined with colorful buildings and was soon lost in the crowds. A humid breeze carried with it the scent of the ocean, sweat, and grilling meat, and somewhere nearby a busker played a drum and sang.

"Don't you love it, Solange?" Cassie asked as she began to subtly bob and move to the beat. "The tropical island scene? Have you traveled much before?"

Solange watched her dancing, half amused and half mortified. "I've been to France," she said slowly. "Never beyond that, though."

Grinning at having embarrassed the girl, Cassie straightened up and walked alongside of her. "Really? I figured with as much money as you have, you'd have been all over the globe."

Solange shook her head. "Papa traveled a lot, especially in search of the smoking mirror, but it was always with emphasis on discovery, not leisure. He always said he would take me along when I was older, but then of course..." she trailed off. "We never got the chance." They walked a few beats in silence. "What about you?" Solange asked. "How'd you get into all this?"

Cass pursed her lips in thought. "Wellll," she said slowly. "It all started when I got kidnapped..."

Solange looked at her in horror. "What?"

She shrugged and was about to explain, but Ian picked that exact moment to make his return from a market stand he had stopped at, and he offered them both a starfruit as he fell in step beside them. "Any sign of Charlie?" he asked as he bit into the yellow produce.

Cassie slurped on her bite as juice trickled un-daintily down her chin. Wiping it with the back of her hand, she mumbled around a mouthful, "Mm, no. Where'd he go, anyways?"

"Said he needed to run an errand," Foster said, licking his thumb clean as he deposited the last bite in his mouth. Shrugging, he added, "Knowing Cutter, it could be anything."

They walked together as they finished up their fruit, then suddenly two fists slid their way between Ian and Cassie, clutching two dark brown bottles apiece. Caught by surprise, Cass looked back to see a grinning Charlie Cutter in a beige button-down with subtle, dark blue Hawaiian print and grey chinos. "Did someone say 'rum'?" he asked.

Chuckling, Ian grabbed one of the bottles and popped the top with an opener Cutter offered him. "No, but now that you mention it-"

Cutter passed drinks out to Cassie and Solange, then opened the fourth for himself. Cass held her bottle up and examined it. It was a local brew, flavored with mango, and looked expensive. She took the bottle opener as it was passed to her and pried the top off.

"Are you old enough to be drinking that?" Foster asked playfully, jabbing his elbow lightly into her ribs.

Cassie grinned at him. "You know I am, Foster!" She took a swig, then added, "Besides, legal drinking age in Jamaica is eighteen. I would have been old enough the last time we worked together!"

Charlie took a hefty pull at his drink, then used the bottle to gesture in the direction of the ocean. "Ahhh... this is making me rethink my retirement plans!"

Foster smirked. "That's what you said when we were looking for the Green Dragon Crescent Blade in the South China Sea."

Even behind his sunglasses, Ian's glance at Cassie as he said that did not go unnoticed by Charlie. Cass, for her part, smiled, but didn't take the bait. Shrugging, Cutter said, "What can I say, mate? The tropics are calling." His eyes tracked a small group of pedestrians as they passed, then he said, "I've got a car all worked out for us to drive around to the other side of the harbor, I figure we'll head out early in the morning."

"In the morning?" Cass asked, puzzled. "What are we gonna do this evening?"

The Englishman took a carefree drink of his rum, looking out at the sea while he did, then answered her smugly, "Just you wait, little miss Drake. I know a few places around here."

The sun was a blazing, crimson ember on the horizon when they reached a weather-worn jetty with a sign over it. The paint was peeling and showing the greying wood beneath, but in the indigo cast of twilight Cassie could see the words The Nautilus written there, and about a hundred yards off the end of the dock she could see the irregular outline of a structure in the middle of the water. Their footsteps echoed dully on the weathered planks as they walked out to the end of the pier, where there was a little shack-like structure with a figure silhouetted inside. As they got closer, she could see it was a young man with long dreadlocks slouched against the inside wall, staring at his phone and looking very bored. The glow from his device's screen illuminated his face as he gave the little group a passing glance, and without a word he jerked his head toward a collection of small boats tied to the end of the jetty.

"Talkative fellow," Ian commented as he climbed down into the boat, then offered a hand to Cassie.

"A real life-of-the-party type," Charlie agreed as he took his position with the oars.

It took them only a couple minutes to paddle out to the roughly circular bar in the middle of the water. As Charlie tied off to a cleat on the dock alongside it, Cass raised a curious eyebrow at the multi-colored lights and loud music coming from the mostly open-sided establishment. "I didn't know this was your cup of tea, Cutter," she said, a little bemused.

"It's not," he replied, stepping out of the boat and turning to help her out. "Welcome to the Nautilus: one part tourist trap, one part local staple, one part catch-all for scoundrels and riffraff." As Cass stood on the dock beside him and the other two in their party climbed out of the rowboat, he added casually, "In other words, the type of place you have to go to while you're in Kingston- just to say you did."

As they ascended the rickety steps to the main floor of the bar, the music throbbed in Cassie's temples and in her rib cage, the pulsing, heavy-handed bass lines seeming to shake the ramshackle building all the way from it's wide-planked floor to its scrappy thatched roof. Another hand-painted and faded sign hung over the stairs, bearing a picture of the eponymous mollusk with one of it's tentacles reaching out to encircle the handle of a foamy mug of beer. As Cassie stepped into the bar behind Cutter, a wave of dizziness washed over her. The humid sea air reeked of smoke and alcohol and sweat all combining in an acrid haze that was only intensified by the blue and magenta lighting that dominated the establishment. Drifting like fleeting, wispy tendrils, this miasma of indulgence swirled around the patrons crowded onto the dance floor as they gyrated to the beat of the music and enjoyed the last night of the weekend.

"I don't suppose they have a no smoking section," Cassie asked, looking skeptically around.

Charlie surveyed the scene, his eyes straining against the dimly lit interior, then he lightly slapped her arm with the back of his hand. "Look," he said, pointing to an empty spot up against the rail. "There's a table on the edge there. We'll sit there- should have enough fresh air to survive."

They took their seats at the simple wood table as Charlie made eye contact with a waitress across the room. She smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, and moved to grab some menus.

Looking suddenly concerned, Cutter glanced around at his companions as he slid his chair in. "Right! Er, I forgot to ask if all of you young bucks have ID on you."

Foster scoffed, then laughed in disbelief. "Come on, Cutter. When's the last time I got carded?"

Charlie raised a warning eyebrow. "Don't push your luck. You still had spots 'til just a year or two ago."

Ian frowned and leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands together behind his head while Cassie and Solange dug identification from their pockets. The waitress appeared at the table and laid down four menus before taking her clipboard and pen in hand. "How's everybody tonight?" the girl asked brightly, her voice lacking the accent of a native Jamaican. After the four mumbled their replies, she continued, "If I could just see your IDs real quick we can get some drinks going for you." She motioned toward the three younger members of the group. Cass and Solange handed theirs over to the girl, who glanced at them both and gave them back. "And you, sir," she said, pointing her pen at Ian.

Foster's eyes went wide for a moment, and once again Cutter did not miss the way they flicked over to Cassie for a fraction of a second. Clearly miffed at the request, Ian leaned forward, dug his wallet out and handed his license to the waitress. Cassie smiled sympathetically at him as his ID was returned returned to his pocket.

They placed their orders and settled in while they waited, enjoying the relative quiet of being away from the center of the music and action. Cassie felt more comfortable here on the fringes as she looked over the rail and out at the water, gratefully breathing the fresh breeze as it blew in from the harbor. As she watched, a small boat with several young men inside pulled up and tied off to the dock, the outboard motor emitting a buzz and a whine as it was shut down. The three men clambered out and passed below her on their way in to the Nautilus, one of them with dark hair offering a smile up at her which she politely returned before taking her drink from the waitress who had just come back. Charlie started in on one of his many stories of treasure hunts gone by and Cassie was enthralled, edging forward in her seat for the thrilling action segments, laughing at jokes, and only occasionally breaking away to stare dreamily out at the stars that hung like so many diamonds in the midnight blue sky.

Hours later Cassie glanced over at the clock mounted on a surfboard that was hung horizontally from the ceiling. 1:00 A.M. She leaned her forearms on the table and felt the rough wood bite just a little into her skin. The sensation was grounding amidst the haziness around her, and the sleepiness of her own mind.

"...so then they opened the coffin I was hiding in," Cutter was saying as he concluded his story, "and I said, 'Sorry lads- is this the All Hallows' Eve party?'"

Cassie's eyes flicked over to the table where the group of young men that came in on the motorboat had sat down. They had chosen a table a little ways away from them, toward the restrooms, but still within sight. Cass had started to keep an eye on them about an hour earlier when she realized that they had been sitting for a while, but not really ordering anything besides an initial round of drinks, and in that time she had noticed them looking their direction more than once.

Foster and SoIange were chuckling at one of Charlie's jokes and Ian started saying something in response, but Cassie was too distracted to hear it. Something about those men gave her a funny feeling. She leaned forward and yawned, rubbing at her tired eyes. "Be right back," she announced, standing from the table. "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Don't get lost," Ian said with a smile. She smiled back.

Working her way through the crowd, still surprisingly thick for this time of night, Cassie directed her course to pass by the men at the table while trying to appear nonchalant as she did so. Casually glancing at them as she walked by, she noticed half-full drinks still sitting in front of them, a pack of cheap cigarettes, and a deck of well-worn playing cards. The dark-haired one who had smiled at her earlier met her eyes again and grinned, and Cassie noticed the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep sticking out from under his sleeve. Her adrenaline spiked. She smiled back, doing her best to look casual and friendly and to not letting her sudden nerves show on her face.

The bathrooms were on the outside of the loose collection of uneven floors and thatched roofs that made up the Nautilus, where a little wooden walkway led to doors that faced out toward the bay, out of sight from the rest of the bar. One door had a picture of a man with a trident, while the other had a picture of a mermaid. Choosing the door with the mermaid, Cassie pushed it open and stepped into the bathroom.

Two fluorescent bulbs shining from inside an old lobster trap mounted to the ceiling made her blink as she adjusted to the sudden brightness. "Thank god for that," she muttered to herself. "Nothing's creepier than a dimly-lit bathroom." She glanced around, taking in the faux-weathered wood stalls, the far wall covered entirely in old license plates, and the black and white picture of a girl in a skimpy bikini hanging crooked on the wall next to the sinks. Inhaling deeply, she let it out in a sigh as she tried to clear the fog from her brain, and she splashed a bit of cold water on her face from the sink. Her pale pink tank top felt clammy against her skin as she looked at her own reflection in the mirror, gazing into the bloodshot hazel eyes that stared back at her from behind the scrawled graffiti of names etched into the glass with pocket knives or scribbled in permanent marker. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes as she thought about the tattoo on the man's arm that had distinctly looked like the jaws and fangs of a jungle cat.

"Okay, Cass," she said to herself. "Just because some rando has a tattoo on his arm doesn't mean he's one of Tristan's men. Lot's of people have tattoos." She breathed a steadying breath. "Besides, surely they would have done something by now if it was. I'll just go back, tell Charlie I think it's time to head out, and we'll carry on." Scrubbing her hands over her face, she turned to walk out of the bathroom just as the door swung open. Her eyes widened in horror as the dark-haired man with the tattoo walked in.

"Hey!" she said, mustering up all her courage. "This is the ladies' room- couldn't you tell from the picture on the door?"

He smiled evilly at her. "Oh yes. I know just what I'm doing." Stepping forward quickly, he clapped a hand over Cassie's mouth to stifle her scream.

Foster rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of one hand and then rolled his shoulders. "Where's that waitress?" he wondered aloud. "I could use a refill right about now."

Charlie's eyes wandered over to the clock, and he took another sip of his drink. "I figure it's about time to go. We've got a big day ahead of us."

Ian grinned a bit sleepily. "Yes, mother."

An electronic jingle sounded, barely audible over the noise of the bar, and Solange slipped her phone out of her pocket and swiped at the screen. Her eyebrows shot up and she swallowed, then slid the device back in her pocket. With a showy yawn she announced, "I think I'll step outside for some fresh air, yes?" Cutter gave her an affirming smile and she stood. "Be right back."

Foster idly watched her leave the bar, then turned his attention back to the Englishman across from him and gave another grin. "Well, Charlie ol' boy, it's back in the saddle, huh?"

Charlie nodded absently, his eyes focused on his drink where he was tracing lines in the condensation on the outside of the glass. After a moment, he laced his fingers around the heavy mug and hunched forward, leaning his elbows on the table. "Mind if I give you some unsolicited advice?" he asked.

The question caught Ian off guard, and he leaned back, raising his eyebrows as he draped one arm over the back of his chair. "As long as you understand that I reserve the right to ignore it- sure," he said jokingly.

Cutter took a sip of his alcohol, then in a matter-of-fact voice, "I think you're tryin' too hard."

Now thoroughly confused, Ian's brows knitted together as he leaned forward closer to the older man. "'Trying too hard'?" he asked. "Trying too hard with wh-"

"Cassie," Cutter interrupted. "You're trying too hard with Cassie."

Ian scoffed, then laughed outright. "Cassie? Cutter, there's nothing going on between us!"

Charlie snorted. "Keep tellin' yourself that- maybe you'll eventually believe it." His voice dropped as he leaned in farther. "Look, mate, I've worked a few jobs with you, and this is now my second time working with you and Cassandra. There's a big difference between Ian Foster when it's just the two of us, and Ian Foster when the girl's on the job." He looked intently into Ian's eyes. "You're, what, twenty-five, twenty-six? And you're right best in the business now, Foster, but that doesn't mean you've got the mileage some of us do. That's fine, though. When Elena met Nate, he didn't have Eldorado, or Iram of the Pillars, or Libertalia under his belt, but that didn't make her love him any less. Cass doesn't want you to be a giant, mate. She wants somebody she can grow up and experience life with, not someone who's already experienced it all."

Ian frowned at him, unconvinced, and slowly crossed his arms. Finally he replied, "I'm the best in the business, huh? I'm flattered, being that that's coming from you."

Cutter rolled his eyes at the cop-out, but let it slide. "Yeah, well, don't let it get to your head. That's just 'cause Cassie hasn't committed to it, yet. As soon as she does, you'll be old news faster than you can say 'Bob's your uncle'." He shared a friendly chuckle with the younger man, then his brows suddenly knit together. "Been a while Cassie's been gone, innit? Solange too..." He glanced at Ian. "Why don't you go make sure the Spanish lady's alright, and I'm gonna wander over toward the bog, make sure some asshole's not trying to shmooze it up with Cass." With that he stood and walked toward the bathrooms.

"Get... your hands... OFF ME!" A tight spider's web of cracks erupted on the mirror as Cassie shoved the thug's head into it hard enough that he bounced off. Quickly putting some distance in between herself and her attacker, Cassie raised her fists and growled. "You know this is gonna look real bad on you if someone walks in right now?"

"Fingers crossed," the thug sneered at her, even as a trickle of blood ran down his forehead. He charged at her, knocking her backward, and the two of them smashed through the laminated particle board stall like it was cardboard. As Cassie's back hit the wall behind the toilet, she brought her knee up sharply into the man's groin, making his grip loosen on her again. She drove him back with a rapid-fire series of punches and kicks that were more frenzied than calculated, and ended with a straight kick to his chest that sent him flying against the mirror and onto the countertop by the sink. The mirror shattered, falling in sheets around him, and Cassie made a break for the door. Her hand grabbed the handle and ripped the door open just as the thug all but fell into her from behind, shoving her out of the bathroom and into the rail across from it. The man came barreling out just behind her, jaw set in determination, but both of them stopped suddenly as they realized a man was standing only a foot or two away, staring at them. Cassie's eyes lit up and the thug's narrowed as they both looked at the stern face of Charlie Cutter, glaring down at the man who had just exited the ladies' room.

"You're about to really regret the last few minutes of your life, mate," Charlie said tersely. His big fist collided powerfully with the man's nose, knocking him back into the wall, then he immediately grabbed the thug by the collar and threw him into the rail gut-first. The man wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, and before he had time to recover Charlie had hoisted him by the back of his jacket and doubled him over the rail into the water below.

Cutter immediately turned to Cassie. "You're not hurt, are you luv?"

She shook her head. "He was one of Tristan's men, I'm sure of it!" she said hurriedly. "Where are the others?"

"Foster went to check on Solange," Cutter replied. "C'mon, we'd better go make sure they're alright."

Forgetting to be inconspicuous in the heat of the moment, Cassie and Cutter dashed out of the bar, knocking into several heavily sloshed patrons on the way, and emerged on the steps to see Ian on the dock below, several angry goons on one side of him and Solange, terrified and cornered at the end of the pier, on the other. One of the thugs engaged Foster, who punched and then kneed him before wrestling him off the dock and into the bay. Solange's scream split the air, and Cassie saw that another thug, standing in their motorboat and holding it to the dock, had grabbed her ankle with one hand and was trying to drag her into the small craft with him. Ian turned at the sound of the scream and another of Tristan's goons moved to take advantage of the distraction, raising a knife to plunge it into Foster's back.

"Heads up!" Cassie yelled as she launched from the stairs, pulling her fist back as she descended on the unsuspecting thug. The man looked up, his expression twisting into shock as the combined forces of gravity and Cassie's arm delivered a crushing blow to his face that propelled him back into the thug in the boat, and the two of them landed in a tangled pile of limbs in the bilge. Standing quickly, Cass kicked the throttle on the boat's control panel and the idling outboard shifted into gear, carrying the two stunned men away from the pier before either could recover.

Foster looked from Cassie to the boat, then back to Cassie. "Thank you!" he said. "I, uh," he glanced over at Cutter, "I owe you one."

The light of the moon caught the ouroboros ring as she smiled back, a sliver of silvery light against her skin. "No problem."

Charlie smirked.

"Thank both of you!" Solange said as she dusted herself off. "I don't know what they were trying to do, but I'm glad you all showed up."

"WhooooOOOO!" The four treasure hunters turned at the unsteady cheer. A very much intoxicated couple was leaning- and from the looks of it, nearly falling- over the rail above, laughing like they had just seen the funniest thing in the world. "That was awesome!" the man drawled.

Foster let out a bemused chuckle as the two drunken patrons disappeared back into the crowd, then he looked at his companions. "We should go before any more of those guys show up."

Charlie scoffed. "Or worse- the owner of this dive tries to back-charge us for damages."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Always the gallant, Charlie."

"What can I say, luv? Nice guys finish last."

"Now that we know Tristan and his gang are here, we're going to have to move fast," Foster said, bringing his fist down on the table for emphasis. The four of them had retreated to their motel, a cheap place near a small and dirty beach on a low-income side of town, and regrouped in the room Cutter and Ian were sharing. The clock on the coffee pot read two thirty-four a.m. as they sat around the table in the kitchenette and discussed the plan for tomorrow.

Cutter nodded and wearily rubbed his eyes. Leaning his elbows on the table, he asked, "How did they find us so fast?"

"Tristan is powerful, with great ability to influence people by bribery or intimidation," SoIange spoke. "He could easily have tracked us, or gotten our information."

The laminate was peeling up at the corner of the table and Cassie picked at it with her nails, lost in thought over the events of the night. "It was weird the way they worked," she said finally, speaking for the first time since they'd gotten to the room. "Why attack SoIange and I once we were separated, but leave you two alone?"

A silence fell over the room. Cutter drummed his fingers on the table, Ian frowned and shifted his position in the uncomfortable wooden chair, and Solange licked her lips. "The Ocelotl prefer to work in the shadows, where they can avoid detection by the law, only using brute force when they deem absolutely necessary." she said. "They must have thought we could lead them to the next clue, but maybe they wanted to avoid making a scene and thought that either one of us could lead them to it, or that by taking us they could lure Ian and Charles out."

Cassie frowned and considered. "Yeah, that must be what it is," she said thoughtfully.

The girl shrugged. "That said, now that they know you won't be easy targets he's likely to up the level of force for the next encounter. We may not get off so easy next time."

Another- weightier- silence fell until Cutter slapped his palm on the table twice. "Oi, let's get some shut-eye mates," he said in a low voice. "We'll get up at seven and make tracks for the other side of Kingston Bay. With any luck, we'll be out of there before Tristan and company can even get their collective head out of their ass."

Cassie nodded slowly. Something about that night's attack was still gnawing away at the back of her brain, but she couldn't yet put her finger on it. Then again, at this point she was so tired she could feel the bags under her eyes, and seven o'clock wasn't getting any further away.

"Alright!" she said, rising and giving a bleary smile. "Port Royal, here we come!"