The county sheriff had kept the mysterious box after the treasure hunter fell into the water, but he quickly realized it had nothing to do with the disappearance of the man, at least not in any way that was criminal or over which he had any jurisdiction. After the search boats had returned and the search itself was called off for the night, he returned the box to the group that found it.

Guessing that the box was sealed against the elements, mainly because they couldn't hear any water inside when they carried it, they called in an archeologist to help find a way to open it up and conserve whatever was inside. Since the box was nearly clear of marine growth, they weren't sure if the box was ancient. Because it was made from stone, rather than metal or plastic, it was a pretty good guess that it was old.

The treasure hunters had basically taken over a small motel at the south end of the key, occupying eight of the ten rooms with their divers, boat captains and crew. They'd gotten a group discount and essentially ran the motel, which suited them just fine.

"So, do you have a plan for this?" Jackson asked Littlebear when they arrived at the Basin Motel, "Or are we just going to wing it?"

"Wing it, pretty much," was Littlebear's shrugging reply. "Haven't had time to come up with a plan."

At the sheriff's office, Littlebear had kept close to the action when the treasure hunters came to pick up the box. He'd learned that they were going to put it in the storage building behind motel to keep it safe. The men had argued about it, but then realized they were all going to go out for a memorial service for their lost friend, at the Bayview Bar just down the Overseas Highway, so keeping it under lock and key with their search equipment made the most sense.

"We're just going to steal this thing from a locked storage building and then go dump it back in the ocean?" Jackson almost laughed.

"That pretty well sums it up, I guess," Littlebear said matter-of-factly.

"But, you're a cop. How does that part work?" Jackson continued, wanting to make sure his friend had thought this through.

"I'm a cop, and part of that job is to protect the public. I believe there is something bigger going on," Littlebear answered. His face clouded over for a moment. "This is just something I have to do. There are things that are outside the laws of men. Not stealing, obviously, but the forces that are tied up in that box are beyond what anyone here can deal with. I just have to protect the people of this island the best way I know how."

"Let's go see if we can figure this out, anyway," Jackson agreed, letting his friend know that even if he was still skeptical, he was with him all the way.

The pair left the car 100 yards down US 1 and did their best to stay hidden in the shadows while they looked for the storage building. It appeared as if everyone was out for the evening, so the motel was quiet. There were metal storage buildings behind the motel, but only one was locked, so they quickly guessed that was the one they needed. That didn't make it any easier. Metal walls and roof with no windows and one roll-up style garage door was all they could find. Using force to get inside was going to make a lot of noise.

"I don't suppose you brought bolt cutters for the lock, did you?" Jackson whispered sarcastically. Littlebear simply gave him a look of disgust at what they'd found and stared at the door again. "Well, I guess I could go get some," Jackson continued when he didn't get an answer.

Littlebear rose up quickly, clamped his hand over Jackson's mouth and pulled him away from the door. "Don't you ever shut up?" Littlebear hissed when they were in the darkness. "Listen."

The motel manager was making his rounds, checking doors and locks. He had clearly been drinking as he staggered his way over the dimly lit grounds, singing to himself. As he walked to the storage building and shook the lock, Jackson and Littlebear could hear the man's keys jingling from the ring on his belt.

The would-be thieves watched the man as he continued on and both had the same thought, but before either one of them could act, the man stopped and walked back to the building. From their vantage, they could hear him fumbling around and then heard him begin to relieve himself.

Jackson shared a look with Littlebear and they both began to move. They went opposite ways around the building. As Jackson peered around the corner, he could see that the man was finishing up, but was facing his direction, although looking down and not at his surroundings. As quietly as he could, Jackson bent down and picked up a rock. He threw it off to one side, hitting a seldom-used lawn mower. Startled, the man looked up to see what made the noise. Littlebear grabbed the night manager from behind, applying pressure to a point between his shoulders and neck. The hold put the man to sleep and Jackson was there to grab him before he fell.

"Nice move. Did you learn that in the Navy?" Jackson asked as he lowered the man to the ground.

"Nah, growing up on the reservation," Littlebear said with a smile. "Get his keys and let's get going."

It took them a few moments to figure out which key on the ring opened the lock, but on the sixth try they found the right one. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the even lower light inside the storage building, but they could just make out the shape of the stone box on a wooden table in front of them. It was about two feet wide by one foot high and one foot deep.

"That's really strange," Jackson said, looking at the box.

"What is? That we're about to steal a 500-year-old artifact and dump it back in the ocean?" Littlebear asked with a smirk.

"No, I'm comfortable with that," Jackson laughed. "That this thing has been in the water that long, heck even a few days would do it, but it is almost perfectly clean. Nothing is growing on it. Whatever is in there, something has kept the ocean from taking it back."

"You're right," Littlebear said examining the box. "More interesting, I can't see how this thing is put together. I didn't think the tribes down here were very advanced. This is some serious workmanship to build a box like this with no seams that could withstand the water."

"Hey guys," a voice called out behind Jackson and Littlebear, breaking them out of their speculation. "What's going on?"

Both men froze. This was getting more complicated by the second.

"Hey, did you hear me? What's going on? When are you coming back to the party?"

"Just checking things out, nothing to worry about. We'll be back in a minute," Jackson replied, trying to muffle his own voice, realizing the person had mistaken them for two of the other treasure hunters. "Go on back in. We'll be right there."

"Okay, sure. I was just looking for that night manager. The ice machine is broken again. If you see him, let him know, all right?"

"Sure. No problem," Jackson replied, making sure to keep his back to the treasure hunter. He raised his arm and waived.

"Is he gone?" Littlebear hissed after a second.

"I think so," Jackson replied, risking a glance over his shoulder in time to see the man walking back inside. "He's gone. Let's get this thing and get out of here."

Littlebear grabbed the stone box and carried it outside.

"Lock the door and put the keys back where you found them," Littlebear said to Jackson. "I'm going to keep moving and get this thing to the car before someone else comes outside."

"You got it," Jackson replied. He walked around the corner of the building in time to see the night manager stirring. Immediately, he decided to keep up his act as one of the treasure hunters.

"Hey, buddy, you all right?" he asked, keeping himself shadowed and out of the man's direct site as he helped him stand. "You must've fallen down, or something. You need to take it a little easier on the booze, pal. Why don't you get a cup of coffee?"

As he helped the man stand, still clearly confused, Jackson slipped his key back on the ring hanging from his pants. "Oh, by the way, the ice machine isn't working again."

With a pat on the man's shoulder and a comment about being more careful, Jackson quickly turned walked away, hoping the man would be too confused to follow him.

"Wow, we got lucky. Can you believe it?" Jackson asked as Littlebear drove to Jackson's boat.

"I'm not sure it was luck at all," Littlebear said, keeping his eyes on the road, trying not to stare over his shoulder at the stone box in the back seat.

Arriving at the dock, it took Jackson a few minutes to get Daydreamer fired up and ready to go. They could barely hear the sound of the four-stroke engines. Both men did their best to ignore the box sitting on the stern of the boat.

"Looks like a storm is coming in," Jackson said, looking out over the water. "The wind is really picking up. You sure you want to do this right now?"

"This storm coming out of nowhere makes me surer we need to do this now," Littlebear answered.

"Got ya," Jackson answered as he guided the boat forward. He turned to look back and make sure no one noticed their departure and saw a Jack Russell terrier. It was simply standing and staring at them as they pulled away. Jackson didn't say anything, but he would have sworn he heard the little dog bark over the Whaler's Yamaha engines. What he heard, though, wasn't the high-pitched park typical of a small dog, but the same deep, throaty bark he'd heard earlier in the evening when the pack of dogs had assembled on his dock. Then he saw the animal nod its head up and down before it turned to go.

Littlebear wanted to return the box to the general area where it was found, but not the exact spot--not that they knew exactly where that was anyway. Instead of just throwing the box overboard as the Tequesta had done 500 years before, they decided to swim it down and find a good hiding place for it in the coral. He wanted to make sure it wasn't found again.

Jackson navigated using the GPS system as the storm picked up. It hadn't started to rain, but the wind was blowing spray off of the white caps. The waves had risen to four feet high in a matter of minutes. While Jackson piloted the boat, Littlebear set up their dive gear and pulled out Jackson's heaviest anchor. He also rigged a lift bag to the box so they could control it underwater.

Twenty minutes out from the dock, Jackson found a patch of sand at the top of a slope, leading down into a nameless coral reef. Even in a tossing storm, Jackson was careful to protect the coral reef below. He signaled Littlebear and the man sent the anchor over the side. Jackson waited until the anchor hit bottom and then eased Daydreamer backward to dig the big fortress anchor into the sand and hold the boat in place.**** Daydreamer was riding the waves, but the Boston Whaler was taking a beating.

"No time to wait for this one. Let's get over the side," Jackson shouted over the wind noise. "We've got to get this thing on the bottom and then get back to the marina fast. This is really turning into some storm."

Littlebear didn't answer; he just focused on his equipment--and the box. A former Navy diver, he'd made dives in tougher conditions, but both men knew this was dangerous. The boat was rocking up and down in what had increased to six foot seas. The anchor was holding the boat in place, but the line was straining and both men worried about it being pulled lose. They wanted to make sure their ride home was waiting for them at the end of the dive.

The rain began, pouring down in sheets, almost horizontally as it was pushed by the wind.

"Are you ready?" Littlebear yelled. He was sitting in full gear at the boat's stern. The box rested on his lap with a half inflated lift bag tied to it. Littlebear had also rigged several chemical glow sticks to it to help them find it in the water.

Jackson stumbled and crawled to the other side of the boat in his full gear. The boat had two openings through the transom that would allow them both to enter the water at the same time. "I'm ready. Let's go on three. Don't wait on the surface. Too dangerous. Meet you underwater," he shouted back as he slipped his fins on his feet.

"Works for me. The box goes in on two," Littlebear shouted back. "One question."

"What?"

"How are we going to get back on the boat when we're done?" Littlebear asked.

"I have absolutely no idea," Jackson answered.

Together the men stood and started counting. With a heave, Littlebear pitched the box over the side, grabbed his mask and regulator with one hand and then stepped out over the water, nearly falling face first as the boat came up under him. Jackson hit the water a split second later.

Both divers were a little disoriented when they hit the water. They both descended a couple feet to get away from the crashing hull above their heads and then paused to do a quick gear check and tighten up weight belts and straps. Signaling each other with their lights, Jackson swam to Littlebear.

He had tied a line to the dump valve on the lift bag holding up the box. He pulled in the excess until it got tight and then gave it a jerk to release some of the air. The box slipped below the waves and both men held on tight.

Descending into the inky blackness, the divers could hear Daydreamer pounding up and down on the waves overheard, but the storm had obscured any moon light that would have given them some light on the dive. The men couldn't feel the effects of the storm any longer except the motion as their bodies were pulled back and forth by the waves passing overhead.

Littlebear used his alternate air source regulator to add air back into the lift bag to keep the box suspended and controllable while the men decided where to hide it. Passing 50 feet, Jackson pointed to the side and the men guided the box over the slope and toward the coral field.

Suddenly, both men felt a jerk. The lift bag was completely empty and the box was dropping. Their fingers were caught in ropes Littlebear had rigged to the box as it sank and neither man could let go. They were being dragged down. If they didn't get control quickly, they were going to crash into the jagged reef below.

Just as suddenly, their lights went out.

Simultaneously, both divers reached up and added air to their BCDs. In the darkness, they had to fumble with their inflators for a second, but then they were able to control their descent.

Clipping off their primary lights and switching to their smaller back-up lights, the divers paused for a second to take stock of their situation. Daydreamer continued to boom overheard as the waves got rougher and rougher. They were in 90 feet of water and they were on back-up lights, supporting a box that was totally negatively buoyant. Not having a free hand, the divers both traced circles on the top of the box with their lights to signal that they were all right. They both began to search the reef just a few feet below them for a spot to conceal the box. They quickly found a small overhang and what appeared to be a cave below it.

Littlebear began to loosen the lift bag ropes so he could place the box in the cave. Jackson shined his light inside to make sure it was big enough. As he did, a moray eel shot out of the hole and began swimming around their heads. Both men paused to watch the six foot long green moray. Normally not very aggressive, in spite of its disturbing habit of flushing water over its gills by opening and closing its mouth, this moray was plainly agitated and kept swimming faster and faster around the divers.

Moving back to the hole, they came face to face with a large octopus out on its nightly hunt. The normally shy creature waited on the overhang, watching the divers. When the box was free from the ropes, Littlebear began to put the bag away before the two divers placed the box into the hole.

With a jolt, Littlebear began to shoot for the surface. The lift bag had lost all its buoyancy earlier, but now it was full again and pulling him upward. Littlebear's hand was caught in the ropes. He struggled to get his ascent under control, flared out his body and exhaled to avoid a lung injury while he desperately tried to release his hand.

Jackson swam after Littlebear, grabbing a fin tip and pulling himself up his friend's body, dumping air from his own BCD and slowing Littlebear's ascent at the same time. Jackson pulled his dive knife and jabbed it into the lift bag. The strong material was difficult to cut, but Jackson was able to punch it through. Air billowed out of the torn bag and the pair stopped rising.

Shining lights on their hands, Littlebear signaled that he was all right, if breathing a little heavy. Jackson gave him a thumbs up signal, asking if he wanted to end the dive. Littlebear shook his head and point back down with his thumb. He wanted to finish what they had started.

It took them a few seconds to find the box and the hole, but the still-agitated green moray swimming rapidly around the spot was a good clue. They shoved the box into the hole and moved out of the way. The octopus climbed down on top of the box and waited.

Jackson and Littlebear backed off and ascended slightly. The box was completely obscured from above. They signaled to each other and continued their ascent for the surface.

When they reached 20 feet, both divers paused. They hovered at that depth and swam toward the strobe Jackson had lowered from Daydreamer's swim step. The anchor lines had held.

It took both of them a minute to realize that they weren't being pulled around by the waves overhead. Daydreamer's thudding against the water with each wave had stopped and the anchor lines were still.

Everything was quiet so the divers waited an extra five minutes at their safety stop before ascending the rest of the way to the boat. They were both a little concerned about the rapid ascent while riding the lift bag and neither one wanted to take any chances.

Reaching the surface, the water was calm and flat while a gentle breeze blew across the surface. The divers were quiet for a moment or two as they climbed back on board the boat. They put their gear away in the racks and Jackson pulled in the anchor.

Then, the laughter came. Quiet at first, and then louder. Maybe it was the release of the tension. Maybe it was the craziness of it all. Didn't matter. Both men laughed until they couldn't breathe.

After they calmed down, Jackson started Daydreamer up and they made their way back to the dock. On the dock, waiting for the boat, stood a single Jack Russell terrier. When the men got close enough to see it, the small animal nodded its head up and down. Then it quietly turned to leave. The spirits on land were happy with what the men had accomplished.

Jackson looked at Littlebear and noticed the other man had turned white as a sheet. "Let's get a beer and never, ever tell anyone about this," Jackson said as he pulled Daydreamer into its slip.

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