ship."
"Good enough. Archaeological discovery. Museum displays. They don't need much of it for that."
"We could take it all and release a percentage of it later as barter for support when I apply for legal status, just as you suggested in the beginning."
"Agh. You got me, ma'am. Okay. We'll find room for it somewhere, even if I have to clean the garage."
"Oh, you're so accommodating, Ed. I'll make a hole in one of the coins and present it to you as a medal. You deserve an award for your selflessness."
"Why, thanks, ma'am. I always knew that my altruism would be rewarded someday."
The next day we returned to the wreck with Elkor's generator and a new, larger flitter and established a dome-shaped field over the site. Steph's probings of the sand and muck stirred the unmoving water within the dome to a murky consistency, which hindered her not at all but made it impossible for me to see what she was doing.
Some experimentation by Elkor produced holes in the dome field that allowed a limited amount of water to enter and exit the dome, which cleared things up nicely.
Getting all the gold out from under the ship without undermining the ship's structural integrity took the better part of four hours. Stephie simply redirected some of the ambient ocean current to blow sand and muck away from her work or to where it was needed to support the wreck.
On Stephie's deck sat a considerable pile of what appeared to me to mostly be bits and lumps of hardened ocean bottom detritus mixed with gold. The stuff was dry as a bone, having passed through her canopy field before arriving on board. I picked up a piece about the size of my hand and gave it a long, examining look as we completed the underwater part of our journey back toward Spring Hill.
A field popped into being just beyond the encrusted object in my hand. Displayed on the field was an exact replica of what I was holding. One end of the displayed object seemed to dissolve until several gold coins were exposed.
"Cool,” I said, tossing the wad of dried muck back on the pile. “Steph, I've reconsidered something. Keep this pile right here on your deck. You're the safest place to stash it and I'll be able to let the Florida and IRS tax guys into the house if they get wind of things and serve a warrant for an impromptu treasure hunt of their own."
"I'm unable to take part in illegal activities, Ed."
"Since I didn't find the gold and we won't be storing it at the house, all they'll be able to do is ask me where it is. For that reason, you'll pick another parking spot for the duration of this event. Don't tell me where the ship is or where you'll be when you aren't with me. I may have to take a polygraph if I tell them that I don't know such things. Find out how much similar stuff from the Atocha sold for and approximately what it would sell for today, then set up an email box at someplace like Yahoo to handle future correspondences."
"Correspondences?"
"Yeah. We'll need a lawyer for contracts and other details. See if the guys who handled legalese for the Atocha stuff are available for a rerun. We'll let the lawyers set up any press conferences once we determine whether we can announce the find in the US without risk of impoundment."
"Impoundment?"
"Yes, little Miss Echo. Impoundment of the gold and maybe an attempt to impound you. They'll think you're just a flying truck, you know. There's enough money involved to make the state and federal bureaucrats ignore your CW passport and most anything else that might stand between them and your treasure. When we get to the house, grab the stuff you've already brought home and keep it with this pile. I'm only going to need a few samples for show and tell, and if the ‘crats grab it, they won't get much."
"Are you sure we're going about this the right way, Ed?"
I laughed at that. “Hell, no. It's my first time being a treasure hunter, too, but I seem to remember the Atocha guys putting up with a lot of state and federal guff.