“Yes. A fabulous one. If the samples Brom has found so far are an indication, there are millions of dollars of pearls waiting to be taken, from a spot of ocean floor just off the coast of Martinique.”
Biff was sitting up now, leaning forward. This was fascinating to him. Pearls, taken from the bottom of the ocean!
“It was the very end of November, I guess, when I last saw Brom,” Charles Keene said. “I’d taken some new skin-diving equipment over to him. He indicated to me then that he thought he was nearing his goal. He said I’d hear from him within a week. I was to come back to Curaçao and await word.”
“Why Curaçao, Uncle Charlie, when he was working in a French possession?”
“Because he’s a Dutch citizen. Everything he does over there has to clear through the Dutch authorities and the French consulate here.”
“I see,” Biff nodded his head.
“Well, nearly two weeks went by. I was worried. I flew back to Martinique. I couldn’t locate Brom. He had gone to sea in his speedboat, loaded with supplies. I hung around La Trinité—that’s the town we headquartered in—for a couple of days, then came back here. Nothing else for me to do.”
Uncle Charlie got out of his chair and walked over to the balcony.
“Then I got a letter and a package from Brom,” Uncle Charlie continued. “And that’s the last I’ve heard from him. Oh, I’ve been back to Martinique several times, but he’s vanished.”
“Do you think Dietz had anything to do with it?”