Company Fortune

A second passed and then a slow and very wide grin captured her face. She nodded knowingly, and then casually crossed her legs as if she was repositioning herself to get more comfortable. Her blue denim micro-skirt, never intended to conceal much, anyhow, failed completely once more, much to Mark's happiness and approval that there was no thong, and her beautiful firm cock and ball sac were trapped beneath her legs, completely bare and obviously aroused.

'Honey,' he thought with delight, 'Joanna Jet has nothing on you. You are gorgeous! And I'm hungry.' Then he warned himself, 'Quit acting like a teenager!' all the while not meaning a word of it.

"Can we get back to business, Marcus?" she said softly in her Southern accent, as if she was requesting that he attack her right there, right now, instead.

"Now I am in deep, deep trouble," he announced happily to the surrounding forest.

"Yes, buster, you really are," she laughed.

"Now," Mark went on, "when we get down there we're going to have to stage the Little Bird from somewhere that doesn't generate a lot of questions. No matter how we try to bypass curiosity, Ashe, it's a noticeable thing. And somewhere around there'll be a veteran who knows what he's seeing and who will be curious. Let me check local airstrips and see what's there. I'll get back to you on this."

Chapter 10

The Pilot

"Two questions: what about a pilot, and, boat-wise, what are we going to need?"

"Ashe, I know a guy," he began, then Ashe interrupted with a broad grin, "...you know a guy. Why am I not surprised in the least? Is there anyone who really matters in this world that you do not know?"

"Wellll," he laughed, "I met a lot of capable men and women on the rig and elsewhere. I built relationships, and those people said that if I ever had a need, to call them. My foreman on the Elizabeth Varden will know somebody, preferably a vet and an aviator, who can fly for us and who knows how to keep his or her mouth shut. We need the second capability every bit as much as we need the first."

"I can understand that, especially where money is concerned."

"Let me call Preston right now. He'll have someone in mind." Mark spoke with his former supervisor on the oil rig and in short order had the name of a young woman who had flown AH-64 Apache gunships in Iraq. His friend also texted a picture and brief description of Lieutenant Arabella Robineaux.

The lovely young black woman hailed from Barbados, and was one of her unit's best and deadliest pilots. As a member of Bravo Company, 1/227^th Attack Aviation Battalion, 1^st Cavalry Division, she had flown the AH-64D Apache gunship, and held all the right 'I've been there badges,' one Silver Star, two Bronze Stars for valor, two Army Commendation Medals, also for valor, and a Purple Heart.

She had worked for Preston as the company aviation director for two years before the reason for the Purple Heart combat wound medal caught up with her again. In an explosion at a forward operating base she had sustained a deep shoulder injury that had permanently damaged tendons. The pain returned from time-to-time, forcing her into an honorable medical discharge from the Army. This problem continued to plague her while on the oil rig, and eventually she had to cease regular flying. Although the injury stopped troubling her, she still had to avoid being strapped into a flight seat harness pulling any g-forces for long periods.

"But," said Preston, "she keeps current with her hours in rotary wing and every now and then she'll take a job...if it's with the right people. You, Mark, are one of the right people; I know others she wouldn't give the time of day. I'll call her and let her know you've got a job and that you'll be contacting her."

"Press, thanks, again. I always owe you."

"No, you don't, Mark. There are a few people like you in this life that the rest of us need around to give guts and spine to this flabby place. Any time, my young friend. Like Air America used to say, 'Anything, anytime, anywhere'. Watch your six."

"Always, Preston. Oh, by the way, I'm getting married to this incredible girl. If we send a wedding invitation, think you could make it?"

"Hell, yes! I'd make it to that sooner than I'd go pick up lottery winnings. You just let me know when and where."

"Will do, old friend. Later."

Mark placed a call to Arabella Robineaux a few moments later and introduced himself and Ashwynde, then explained in general terms the purpose of their call. When he told her that they wanted no telephone commitment but were, instead, willing to fly to Mobile, Alabama, to speak with her in person, she agreed quickly.

"Ashe, you asked earlier about a boat for the inland discovery work. I'd recommend an outboard-style boat with twin Honda 105 Jet-drive engines. It's fast enough to get us close by the shore from Chokoloskee to the lake, and it is excellent for shallow water operations."

"Can you get it?"

"Already under way. I'd say that we'll be ready to go by Monday. Want to try for that?"

"I do," she smiled. I'll let Lauren and Parker know. We can move ahead; if they have a problem with it, they'll check with us."

The following day the PRISM duo boarded a flight to the south Alabama city and met with Robineaux. She was intrigued with the challenge, committed to total confidentiality about the mission, was greatly impressed with the detailed planning that told her these were professionals, and was excited about the chance to fly a Little Bird. They hired her on the spot and arranged for her flight to Fort Lauderdale. Mark would get her to "Everglades Central," their new name for his wetlands home since Lauren had set up operating headquarters there.

On their flight back Ashe said innocently, "Marcus, I wonder if she would like to be part of our company team? She certainly seems capable, and she is a lovely woman."

"Ashe, she may very well be our answer. We'll need a pilot on a permanent basis. If this works out, she's probably it. Thanks for the idea and for being here." He leaned over and kissed her.

"Do you know, Ashwynde, that I think you are very professionally and attractively dressed...and still you just ooze sexuality? You can't hide it. You are definitely a PRISM girl." He smiled at her.

The lovely light-skinned young woman stared at him as her face colored slightly with his compliment. "Do you know, Marcus Campbell, that it just could be the better to arouse you?" She returned his stare with a perfectly salacious and suggestive one of her own.

That weekend was a slow, enjoyable and restful one for the four. Mark was leaving to pick up Arabella at the airport and Parker was going with him. He expected his fiancée to introduce herself to their new pilot as erotically as she did to everyone else, much to his pleasure, and he wasn't mistaken.

"Marcus, love, will this do for me to meet Arabella and get about in the airport without being distracting?" Parker wore a white top cut severely away to encircle her lovely neck and display her tanned, muscular shoulders and underarm grass. It functioned marvelously as a second skin, outlining every detail of her breasts and nipples, and jostling wickedly as she walked. Red, nicely fitted slacks and medium open-toe summer shoes completed her outfit. She'd painted her four-inch talons a wet red to match her slacks. Mark really was aroused with her long fingernails.

'Fort Lauderdale, here comes your heart failure for today,' he remarked to her. "Yep, Babe, you're going to slide right by everyone like the Phantom, Ghost Who Walks. Nobody will ever notice you. Parks, you are going to cause three car crashes and two strokes today, annnd you are going to force at least half-a-dozen happily-married mothers to have uncontrollable lesbian desires for the next week! That answer your question?"

"Really?" she exclaimed with obvious pleasure. "You are so sweet, Mark. Of course you know that since you own me and I've got those millions of delicious little bits of you swimming around inside of me, all those others will have to wait. But it's nice to know. And, who knows, I really enjoy other women, too."

"I'm just thankful you are wearing my engagement ring," he replied with obvious relief.

"Oh, you...you man," she playfully hugged and kissed him. "Thank you. May as well get Arabella accustomed to us right away. Wanta take my Wrangler?''

"Just what I was going to suggest," he agreed.

Mark dressed in casual gray slacks, his boots, and a buttoned short sleeve navy shirt. Parker spent the entire trip gazing lustfully at her fiancé with his gorgeous hair flying in the breeze through the open cab and his beautiful features. She was well aware that he made hearts skip in most of the women he met; she dearly hoped that she could keep this wonderful, strong person.

By the time they arrived and parked, Mark's long wavy hair was so completely windblown that it formed a huge mass caressing his face and falling down his back. When he asked Parker to brush it out a bit, she refused, saying, "Mark, darling, you are like no other man here. You are gorgeous. I am just about to jump you here in this lot. Let it alone."

He deferred to erotic wisdom and they went off in search of Arabella. She was on schedule, and they introduced themselves. As expected, she sized up Mark instantly. Parker knew very well what she was seeing, and even as Mark aroused the interest of the lovely black woman, Parker became aroused at that, too. 'You are hopeless,' she said to herself. 'Mark, I am going to screw your legs off when we get back home! And then there's this beautiful guest in our midst....'

"Mark, I just want you to know that this gorgeous black girl is not off-limits to either you or me," she said in a whisper she hoped had escaped their guest.

"Wonderful angel," he shot back quickly. I'll keep that in mind. Parks, is there any time at all when you aren't horny?"

"Probably not in this lifetime," she replied with a perfectly animal-like expression on her young face.

Despite the presence of their guest, Parker stopped in the midst of concourse terminal traffic, turned to Mark and put her arms about his neck, then said, "Kiss me, Lover, and pull my underarm fur. It makes me hot, and it just might make some of these other women hot, too."

After they arrived at the house, it took all of fifteen minutes with the rest of the PRISM crew and Arabella Robineaux had signed on completely.

Mark was prepared to lay out plans starting the next day, but he had to contend with the fact that not Lauren, Parker or Ashwynde was going to make his task easy during this entire operation. So he put aside his effort and watched Arabella trying to not stare at the open sensuality of his three partners.

Lauren wore a sleeveless white thong-back body suit, her gorgeous gray hair and nothing else but her winning smile. Ashe wore a gauzy cutoff top that displayed everything and a tight white mini-skirt. Her soft stem was easily visible when she stood, something she was enjoying immensely; Mark could only guess how much of her luscious body would be bare when she sat down. Parker, uncomplicated as ever, simply removed her top altogether and sat there in her red slacks and a pair of sandals, her heavy breasts swaying gently each time she moved.

Arabella wondered if all this was real, but they reassured her with the detailed plans and maps describing the mission. They re-dressed for the mission, then drove out of Everglades Central and headed west on US 41 until they turned south on Florida 29 to the town of Chokoloskee. A short drive beyond brought them to a tiny private air station operated by an old veteran of Desert Storm.

Off in a corner of the area, partially hidden by tall swamp grass, sat the flat black hulk of the Little Bird helicopter, the four blades of its rotor system drooping slightly. With both doors slid back, Arabella could see the Gatling gun mounted on its pintle, the ammunition feed channel and the stacked boxes for its .50 caliber linked rounds. For the first time in several years, she breathed deeply with recognition and anticipation. This was for real! And it promised some adventure.

Having made the introductions, picked up their door gunner, and arranged for fueling service, Mark then set up a card table beside the helicopter and the five sat to coordinate activities for the next several days. Arabella would follow them on survey and over-watch to the projected discovery area within Whitewater Lake, then would have to find a nearby location that would support the helicopter during however many 'down times' there were.

Mark handed to her a set of laminated lap maps with grid coordinates of the area. She proceeded through her standard pre-flight checks including their call signs, then lit the turbine, lifted off and headed south to locate her waiting station and fly over the area of interest until the rest of the party arrived in the boat.

The search party boarded a nondescript boat, one of thousands in this part of the state, Mark's friend fired the big Hondas, and they set off.

Chapter 11

The Search

Mark, Lauren, Ashwynde and Parker arrived on-site three hours later to find Arabella flying a grid pattern over the broad area of their search. When Mark called up, she reported two areas of interest, both well inside the lake's northern area and away from interested vacationers.

"Do you see any patterns of four mangrove islets in a rough square, Little Bird?"

"Roger, Swamp, I'll fly over the boundaries of the first for your visual, then I'll hover over roughly what appears to be its center. Bonney's map is correct in its configuration, but the distances are not the same. Number one is up."

The helicopter cut a wide square pattern, then Arabella diverted to hover over what was roughly the center of the area.

"Little Bird, find your set-down position and wait while we search your outline."

"Roger. Bird out," was her curt reply. The dark helicopter flew off several hundred yards and carefully set down on a small solid island in the shallow lake.

Mark took the boat in close to each of the mangrove thickets, and Ashwynde and Parker made their way through the tangle of each in search of any sort of metal anchoring device that would indicate the starting point of the box for which they searched. One hour later everyone was bathed in sweat, nasty from rank water and mud, and needing a break.

Parker realized that although going without a bra felt wonderful when she was clean and dressed desirably, being braless under these conditions was painful for her great breasts and she needed serious support. With a sympathetic grin, Mark handed her a sports bra and a new tank top.

He also told her, "Princess, I treasure those gorgeous four-inch nails of yours. Even with those mits on, I do NOT want you doing anything to endanger them. The rest of us will do the lifting; you help by getting wet, nasty, and riding herd on me. Okay?"

"Thank you for thinking of me, Marcus. Lord, but I love you!" After which she hopped back into the dark swill of the lake.

Ashwynde likewise learned that going without at least a thong, if she couldn't bear the thought of panties, was uncomfortable and possibly dangerous.

Mark kissed her, handed her a thong from her small bag, and she stepped into it. But not before Mark brushed her penis and said, "Promise me you'll get beautiful and bare when all of this is over? I have to take care of my ladies."

"For you, beautiful man, I'll get anything, and you can have it all."

Parker let out a hoot, grinning as she did so, "Whoa, big fellow...this is your fiancée speaking: you are actually making time with this gorgeous girl right out here on the work site. Do I get to enjoy a part of this?"

"Without a doubt, Parker, darling," said the redhead with a horny grin. "Let's make it three...or four!"

Arabella took to the air once more, this time circling over a second area several hundred yards to the east. The mangrove tangles seemed ratty and small, but Lauren moved the boat in close to the first and Mark, Ashe and Parker stepped once more into the mess, slipping over the roots as they searched for something, anything, that even hinted at metal.

Suddenly, Ashwynde let out a low yell. "Mark, Parks, over here. Here's something corroded and hard to make out. But it's not naturally part of this clump!"

The three explorers gathered around the corroded, pitted object that appeared to be driven into the ground. Though it looked old enough to have been there since time immemorial, it was firmly embedded into the bedrock that lay below the lake bed.

"Ashe, what do you want to do?" Mark asked.

"Let's check out each of these other hummocks to see if they have the same thing. Mark, get Arabella up and ask her to hover over each of them until we set a marker. Then we'll start measuring out the center dimensions and coordinates of this square. If it's what I think, we've found Anne Bonney's site. From the looks of this place, nobody's been here in a long, long time."

Mark nodded and gave the order. For the next three hours the team labored, sweated, swore and did their best to not stumble over each other in their excitement and caution. Mark had pointed out what a broken bone would do to this expedition and no one wanted to delay anything.

Finally, as the shadows began to slowly lengthen across Whitewater Lake, Parker, using ground-penetrating radar, located something metal on the bottom. Mark donned his mask with its long snorkel and went into the water to see just how they ought to lift the object. Several moments later he broke the surface.

"Lauren, put the winch over the side of the boat and drop that hook and line to me. Give me about ten feet of cable. Thanks, Mom," he said with a grin that told her his desire for her had not dimmed in the slightest with the possible discovery of treasure.

'Lord, Marcus, if you weren't in the water and filthy as a pig in mud, I'd rape you in a heartbeat!' she said to herself. 'And tonight, buddy boy, you'd better screw my legs off in front of the rest of these luscious girls.'

For the next half hour Mark and Ashe lifted whatever it was out of sight in the murky water and ran the cable beneath it. Then Parker drew the cable out of the water and hooked it around the winch cable. Mark had Ashwynde guide the winch cable as Lauren moved the boat very slowly away from the spot. He didn't want the cable to slip off the object below, forcing them to repeat the effort of hours. At last the heavy lid shifted from over the top of the thing beneath. After releasing the cable, Mark and Ashe reached into the small pit, searched for whatever handles there might be, found them, and with the aid of the winch carefully hauled the box-shaped object from its hole.

A final lift with the winch and cable brought the dripping, slime-encrusted wooden box on board the boat. With a small sledge and cold chisel, Mark shattered the old lock and he and Parker lifted the lid.

What Anne Bonney had been doing all those years lay before their unbelieving eyes. In the waning sunlight gleamed gold and silver coins of an era long passed out of time, beautifully minted designs only depicted in reference books. Parker reached in and carefully withdrew a crumbling leather sack. From a hole in its bottom dripped single stones, emeralds, rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and the deep black of onyx.

In another box lay jewelry so beautifully and intricately designed that it must be worth several fortunes for PRISM, for historical display and for the State of Florida. The group was silent for a time, awed by the beauty of their find and slowly realizing that they had participated in something of which most others only dream...the discovery of buried treasure.