Fatal Tide Read Free

the return address of the envelope. Philip Lontana, and the date stamp was over two weeks old. “Why the hell didn’t I get this sooner?”
    “You might have, if you’d stay in one place more than a day or two,” Wilson said dryly. “I haven’t even heard from you in two weeks. I can’t be held responsible for keeping you current if you don’t cooperate. I do my best, but you’re not the easiest man to—”
    “Okay, okay.” He leaned back and stared down at the letter. “Philip Lontana. I haven’t heard anything about him for a few years. I thought maybe he’d quit the business.”
    “I’ve never heard of him.”
    “Why should you? He’s not a stockbroker or banker, so he wouldn’t be of interest to you.”
    “That’s right. I’m only interested in keeping you filthy rich and out of the clutches of the IRS.” Wilson set several documents in front of Kelby. “Sign these in triplicate.” He watched disapprovingly as Kelby signed the contracts. “You should have read those. How do you know I didn’t screw you?”
    “You’re morally incapable of it. If you were going to do it, you’d have taken me to the cleaners ten years ago when you were tottering on the verge of bankruptcy.”
    “True. But you pulled me out of that hole. So that’s not really a test.”
    “I let you flounder for a while to see what you’d do before I stepped in.”
    Wilson tilted his head. “I never realized that I was on trial.”
    “Sorry.” His gaze was still on the letter. “It’s the nature of the beast. I’ve not been able to trust many people in my life, Wilson.”
    God knows that was the truth, Wilson thought. Heir to one of America’s largest fortunes, Kelby and his trust fund had been fought over by his mother and grandmother from the time his father died. Court case had followed court case until he’d reached his twenty-first birthday. Then he’d taken control with a cool ruthlessness and intelligence, jettisoned all contact with his mother and grandmother, and set up experts to manage his finances. He’d finished his education and then taken off to become the wanderer he was today. He’d been a SEAL during the Gulf War, later purchased the yacht Trina and started a series of underwater explorations that had brought him a fame he didn’t appreciate and money he didn’t need. Still, he seemed to thrive on the life. For the past eight years he’d lived hard and fast and dealt with some pretty unsavory characters. No, Wilson couldn’t blame him for being both wary and cynical. It didn’t bother him. He was cynical himself, and over the years he’d learned to genuinely like the bastard.
    “Has Lontana tried to contact me before?” Kelby asked.
    Wilson sorted through the rest of the mail. “That’s the only letter.” He flipped open his daybook. “One call on the twenty-third of June. Wanted you to return his call. Another on June twenty-fifth. Same message. My secretary asked what his business pertained to but he wouldn’t tell her. It didn’t seem urgent enough to try to track you down. Is it?”
    “Possibly.” He stood up and walked across the cabin to the window. “He certainly knew how to get my attention.”
    “Who is he?”
    “A Brazilian oceanographer. He got a lot of press when he discovered that Spanish galleon fifteen years or so ago. His mother was American and his father Brazilian, and he’s something of a throwback to another age. I heard he thought he was some kind of grand adventurer and sailed around looking for lost cities and sunken galleons. He discovered only one galleon, but there’s no doubt he’s very sharp.”
    “You’ve never met him?”
    “No, I wasn’t really interested. We wouldn’t have much in common. I’m definitely a product of this age. We’re not on the same wavelength.”
    Wilson wasn’t so sure. Kelby was no dreamer, but he possessed the aggressive, bold recklessness that typified the buccaneers of this or any other century. “So what does