Epilogue

Nate woke to the faint sounds of glasses clinking and silverware clattering from downstairs. Knowing what it meant, he grinned widely, and climbed quickly out of bed. He steadied himself against the wall as he stood, feeling the residual symptoms from the alcohol. His stomach growled, and he headed for the door. The smell of bacon, sizzling on the stovetop, wafted up the stairs to meet him. He hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Sully, you shouldn't have," Nate said, as he took a seat at the kitchen island opposite the cooking area. "What's the occasion?"

The older man poured two cups of steaming coffee and set one in front of Nate. He surveyed the younger man carefully, looking for remnants of the previous night.

"I need an occasion to make breakfast?" he asked.

Nate took a sip of the familiar, dark Colombian roast before he spoke. "Not just any breakfast. You used to make this every Sunday morning, before we went to the shooting range. Remember that?"

"I can't believe you still do. It was close to twenty years ago."

"Hey, a guy doesn't easily forget the first time he feels the recoil of a 45. It's one of life's special moments."

Sully shook his head in amusement. Spatula in hand, he piled a heaping pile of scrambled eggs to a plate, followed by bacon, toast, and a thick slab of butter.

"Eat up. I have a few errands to run today and I don't want to hear about that hangover of yours."

Nate, just about to dig in with his fork, set the utensil down. "Sully, you don't have to babysit me. I'm fine. Look at me, don't I look fine?"

Sully studied him behind his own mug of coffee, holding back any comment.

Nate stabbed at a huge piece of bacon, and followed it with a bite of the warm, cheddar-infused scrambled eggs. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Tastes like childhood. I gotta say, old man, your shooting might be getting worse, but the cooking is only getting better."

"Cute," said Sully humorlessly, as he put down his mug.

Nate ate a couple more mouthfuls before he set his fork aside.

"So…I have a plan."

Sully shook his head. "Uh uh. No way. It's too soon."

"Hear me out."

"No way," Sully repeated. "You have that look in your eyes. This is going to be another one of those plans that end up with us in the middle of the jungle, fighting off an army of thugs who work for some filthy rich, corrupt, crazy son-of-a-bitch that wants some ancient artifact so he can take over the world."

"You don't even know what the plan is," Nate reasoned.

"I hate it already," said Sully.

"Okay," Nate said, "so you're right about the filthy rich, corrupt, and crazy part, but it's not a man; it's someone we know. Marlowe."

"Come again?" Sully asked.

"She needs the ring, and we need the cipher disk. We find a way to get the cipher disk, decode Drake's journal, and we find the lost treasure. Think about it, Sully, ships full of lost treasure. How can you say no to that?"

Sully leaned forward, drawn into the discussion despite himself. "You've got one problem. How do you expect Marlowe to give up the cipher disk?"

"We don't," said Nate with a smile. "We give her what she wants, Drake's ring."

Sully stared at Nate as if he'd lost his mind.

"A fake ring," said Nate hurriedly. "We let her look at the real thing, and make the switch at the last minute. We follow the ring to the cipher disk."

"And what?" Sully said skeptically, "We're just going to take the disk? That thing's going to be guarded with enough firepower to level a city."

Nate leaned back in his chair. "Have a little faith, Sully. We'll get an inside man to do the finesse work. It'll be in and out. No one will notice it's gone until we're back home. It's gonna be a piece of cake."

"You know one of Marlowe's agents?" Sully asked.

"That," Nate hesitated, "is the tricky part. But hey, I figure between Chloe and Cutter, one of them has to know someone who knows someone else, right? It's a…minor detail."

Sully frowned at the idea of the "minor detail."

"I still don't like it."

"C'mon, Sully, I need this right now. Besides, I know we could both use the money. If we find the treasure, we can retire and sip tropical drinks on our own private island for the rest of our lives. Think about it…the Isle of Drake and Sullivan. Drullivan Isle. It has a nice ring to it, no?"

Sully sighed, knowing the dangers of the plan but at the same time knowing he wasn't going to say no to the kid.

"I hope you know what you're doing. Marlowe isn't someone to be taken lightly."

"Relax, Sully. We'll go to London, visit a couple of museums, have a couple of drinks, and walk out with the cipher disk. What could go wrong?"

"About a million things," Sully replied.

Nate gave him a look.

"Okay, okay," said Sully in defense. "Obviously, you can count me in. But don't say I didn't warn you. It's gonna be a bumpy ride."