From the rise in the center of Pirate Key, stunted palms and clumps of pampas grass blocked all but a strip of the surrounding turquoise sea. Scattered clouds scudded across the morning sky. Smith and Pedrito marched across a level stretch toward a large sinkhole in the center of the hill.
Pedrito pointed with his rifle at the hole. “There’s our landmark. We’ll each go fifty feet on either side and then we’ll turn and fire when I give the word.” Pedrito laid his rifle against his shoulder.
Smith looked at Pedrito. “Hah! What’s your word worth?”
Pedrito froze with a retort on his lips as he looked past Smith toward the open sea. He gasped, and his arm slung out to knock Smith into the sinkhole.
“Get down!”
Smith scrambled to his hands and knees in a rage, spitting sand. He hauled back
