Wild Tide

by Tripp Ellis

We said our goodbyes, and JD and I cleaned and stowed the gear.

  "I think we just got taken," JD said.

  "So do I.”

  "Oh, well. Live and learn." He glanced to his watch. “I told Ian I’d stop by the Oceanographic Institute this afternoon, if I had chance. How about we catch happy hour at Riptide afterward?”

  "Sounds like a plan."

  We left the marina, and JD drove toward the institute.

  "Have you ever met Ian?” JD asked.

  I shook my head.

  "He's a character."

  JD was one to talk.

  "Kooky son-of-a-bitch, but a lovable guy. "

  "What does he want?"

  13

  The Coconut Key Oceanographic Institute was a private, nonprofit research facility. It was committed to the study of marine science and engineering, focusing on plant, animal, and microbial life in the Keys and South Florida. They were concerned with coastal erosion, pollution, the health of the reefs, and the surrounding sea life.

  Despite their nonprofit status, the Institute had designed a number of cutting-edge submersibles, remote operated vehicles, and marine accessories. Most of its funding came from the licensing of these patents to other manufacturers. Despite the local focus, the Oceanographic Institute was involved in activities and expeditions across the globe.

  Ian Ainsly was world-renowned in his field.

  We pulled into the parking lot, then strolled toward the main building. JD pulled open the glass door and motioned for me to enter.

  I nodded, appreciative of his hospitality.

  A receptionist sitting behind a counter greeted us. "Welcome, gentlemen. How may I assist you? Are you interested in a tour of the aquarium?"

  "No, we're here to see Ian Ainsley,” JD said.

  "Just one moment."

  The receptionist picked up the phone and buzzed Ian’s extension. "Mr. Ainsley, there are two gentlemen here to see you. A mister…?”

  "Donovan," JD said.

  "Wild," I added.

  "Donovan and Wild," the receptionist said.

  "Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” the receptionist said with an urgent tone.

  She hung up the phone and pointed down the hallway. “Just through those double doors, then take a left, and the research lab will be on your right."

  We smiled at her and followed her directions.

  The research lab was a large two-story bay with multiple aquatic tanks that were at least 15x20 and filled with water. There were computer terminals and machining equipment. Raw materials. Prototype products. Rows of storage racks housed every imaginable part. What couldn't be purchased off the shelf could be fabricated with machining equipment and 3D printers. Anything you could dream up could be made in this lab that doubled as a machine shop.

  My eyes panned from side to side as I took in the sights and sounds. I ducked as a drone dive bombed us. It buzzed overhead, circled the room, then landed at a table by Ian.

  He chuckled, amused.

  Ian had curly white hair and a white beard. I guessed he was in his late 50s. He reminded me of Santa Claus curly hair, rosy cheeks, and a reddish nose. He wore a white lab coat and a white shirt and pants underneath. He had a round belly and looked like a jolly fellow. He wore small wire-rimmed glasses and looked pleased to see us. "What took you so long?"

  "I told you I'd be by when I could," JD said.

  "Did you not understand the urgent nature of this meeting from my dire tone?”

  "Ian, you said to drop by at my convenience. There was nothing urgent about it."

  "Well, you should have known what I was thinking," he said sharply.

  JD glanced at me like he regretted coming to the Institute. "Oh, I’m a mind reader now? You’d get along great with my ex-wife."

  Ian frowned at him. "This is no laughing matter."

  JD raised his hands innocently. “Okay, okay. What did you want to see me about?”

  He leaned in and whispered, “I’ll tell you in a minute." He nodded to a coworker that was nearby.

  Apparently, Ian wanted privacy.

  Ian momentarily changed the subject. "Have you seen our latest developments?"

  He pointed to the dive bomber. “This is a stealth drone. Virtually undetectable. Makes no sound, has forward-looking infrared, night vision, and the ability to carry small payloads. It has several military applications. Remote-controlled and has a range of 17.2 miles.”

  He motioned for us to follow him through the lab.

  Ian led us to a small ROV that sat atop a table. It was yellow with black accents. Explorer 2 was written across the side. It was 10 inches wide and 14 inches long. It had two articulated arms for grabbing specimens and manipulating objects.

  "This is my latest ROV. Capable of depths up to 6000 meters and beyond. The beauty of it is the acoustic communication module. It allows for wireless control underwater. It has a pulse based modulation scheme which uses a demodulation algorithm and dynamic—“

  “In English,” JD said.

  “It can be controlled wirelessly up to 1.7 kilometers. The military is interested in these for placing and diffusing mines. It weighs 12.2 kg, has a forward speed of 4 kn, and can lift up to 30 pounds.” Ian had a proud smile on his face. "Want to try it out? I've got one in the tank you can fiddle around with."

  It looked interesting, but I wasn't in the mood to fiddle around. "Maybe later."

  He waved us on to the next item that he wanted to show us. "This is the ADS 9000. An atmospheric diving suit that's capable of depths up to 12,000m. This is a game changer. Made from a special composite alloy, also my design. This will change deep sea rescue and repair operations."

  The diving suit looked like a big, yellow, hard shell version of an astronaut’s extra vehicular activity suit.

  Ian continued boasting. “The suit has a state-of-the-art rebreather, onboard propulsion system, temperature control, and vital signs monitoring. You could walk around the bottom of the ocean for two days with this suit. Of course, it might get a little uncomfortable."

  It was impressive technology, no doubt.

  He led us to a companion yellow submarine that sat perched in the bay not far from the atmospheric diving suit. It was a three person submersible the size of a moving truck. It sort of reminded me of a bumblebee—big and round with long articulated arms, and lots of lights that looked like bug eyes.

  "The Trident is made of the same composite material as the ADS. It has an airlock which is capable of launching the diving suit. It has advanced O2 scrubbers, climate controls, and all the modern conveniences. What do you think?"

  "Impressive," I said. “And you designed all of this."

  “That's why I get paid the big bucks."

  "This is all great, Ian, but I know you didn't get us over here just to give us a tour," JD said.

  Ian glanced around to make sure his coworker wasn't in earshot. Then he whispered, “I have a situation."

  He let it hang there a moment for dramatic effect.

  “It’s a very delicate matter."

  "Were you abducted by aliens and touched inappropriately?" JD snarked.

  Ian scowled at him. "One of these days, Donovan, it’s all gonna come out. You'll see. Our government has known about extraterrestrials for years—”

  "Why are we here, Ian?" JD groaned, cutting him off.

  Ian's face crinkled again. He didn't like being cut off, and he was avoiding saying what was on his mind. I could tell he felt embarrassed about it.

  "I think my wife is fooling around,” he finally blurted.

  "Welcome to the club, Ian," JD said.

  "I'm serious!" he said, with a scowl.

  "What makes you think she's fooling around?" JD asked.

  "Well… She started going to the gym." He said it like that, in and of itself, was proof. "She's lost weight. She's going out more with her friends," he said in air quotes.

  "Do you smell cologne on her when she comes home?" JD asked.

  Ian thought
about it. "No. I don't think so."

  "Does she take a shower right after she's been out for the evening?"

  He shrugged again.

  "Has she stopped having sex with you?"

  His face twisted again. "That's none of your business."

  "Well, if she's doing any of those things, that might be an indication that something’s wrong.”

  There was a long, grim pause.

  JD continued, “Look, in my experience, if you think your wife is fooling around, she probably is.”

  That wasn't exactly what Ian wanted to hear. "Could you do some investigating? Stake her out. See if she's meeting up with someone."

  JD rolled his eyes. "Are you sure that's what you want me to do?"

  "I'm positive. It's eating me up inside."

  "Have you asked her?"

  "No. She wouldn’t tell me the truth."

  "I know Claire. This doesn't sound like Claire. How long have you two been together.?"

  "30 years!”

  "30 years is a long time," JD muttered.

  Ian glared at him again.

  "What about you? Are you fooling around?"

  Ian's nose twisted, offended. "Absolutely not!"

  "Are you positive?" JD pressed.

  "I am loyal to a fault."

  JD sighed. "I really don't want to do this."

  "Why not?"

  "Because, what if I find something? Then you're always going to remember me as the guy who gave you devastating news. We've been friends for way too long."

  "Why would I get mad at you?" Ian asked. "Just give me some peace of mind."

  JD grimaced. After a long moment of internal debate, he said, “Okay. Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

  "Thank you. Was that so hard?"

  JD shrugged. "Sort of."

  "And keep this under wraps. I don't want this getting out." Ian paused for a long moment. "But if she is screwing around, I want proof. Pictures, emails, texts. Anything I can use in the divorce proceedings."

  "Easy there, cowboy,” JD cautioned. “Don’t go putting the cart before the horse."

  "I'm a planner. I like to be prepared." He motioned to all of his toys. "This job… It will make you crazy. I have to build redundant systems into everything I design. I have to anticipate every conceivable failure, every possible glitch. It's maddening."

  "I can see that,” JD said. "Maybe you should take a vacation?”

  Ian sighed. “What’s the point of a vacation? No matter where I go, I can't ever seem to escape from myself."

  Ian thanked JD once again, and we said our goodbyes.

  It was time for happy hour.

  We hopped in JD’s Porsche and drove to Oyster Avenue. It was still early evening, and we were able to find decent parking a block over.

  Oyster Avenue was a popular nightspot, lined with bars and restaurants. It didn't matter what night of the week, there was always a crowd. The week days were slower than the weekends, but you could always find good entertainment in Coconut Key.

  Music echoed down the street from various live bands. A thin crowd of tourists strolled the sidewalks. The smell of grilled food and spices filled the air.

  As we walked toward the entrance of Riptide I saw something I didn't expect. My stomach tightened, and I grimaced. I knew something was funky, and I kicked myself for not acting sooner.

  14

  The neon signage of Forbidden Fruit glowed as dusk fell over Coconut Key. Located across the street from Riptide, I had a clear view of the strip club’s main entrance. The adult establishment was renowned for its fine selection of exotic beauties that could be seen in various states of undress. It would not be unusual to find celebrities or politicians inside, ogling the attractions.

  Neither JD nor I were immune to the club's charms, but it was disconcerting to see Ryan, my sister's boyfriend, entering the establishment.

  I pointed him out to JD as he stepped through the main doors.

  JD shrugged. "So?"

  "That's my sister's boyfriend!”

  "So?"

  "He's going into a strip club!”

  "So?"

  My eyes narrowed at him in frustration. "I don't think Madison would think too highly of that."

  "When did you get so uptight?"

  "I'm not uptight," I protested, clenching my fists. "I just don't want to see my sister get hurt."

  "It's harmless fun. It's a proven fact that when men view naked women, their stress levels and blood pressure decreases. It's healthy. It reduces your risk of stroke and heart attack. Besides, he can work up his appetite, then go bang the snot out of your sister."

  I glared at him. "You’re not making me feel better about this."

  "She's a big girl. She can take care of herself."

  I sighed. "You're right. It's none of my business. She'll find out sooner or later if he's fooling around on her."

  "It’s happy hour at Forbidden Fruit. If you really want to, we could go in and spy on him,” he said, trying to act ambivalent about it.

  I could tell he really wanted to go. "Maybe one drink."

  We darted across the street, weaving in between passing cars, and strolled into the den of debauchery.

  A quick flash of our badges got us in without paying a cover. Spotlights slashed the foggy air, and smoldering beauties performed acrobatic maneuvers around chrome poles. Pop music pumped through large speakers, and a DJ introduced girls on each of the main stages.

  I scanned the club, looking for Ryan. He was seated next to the main stage.

  JD and I moved toward the back, trying to remain inconspicuous.

  We had barely sat down when a waitress in fishnet stockings and black lacy underwear took our order. Even at happy hour, the drink prices were exorbitant. But you weren't paying for the liquor, you were paying for the view.

  The view was pretty damn good.

  I watched as Ryan stuffed a few dollar bills into a girl’s G-string on stage. She tantalized him with her wares and gave him a kiss on the cheek. As far as value was concerned, it was probably the best bang for the buck in this club. But I was well aware that just about anything could be had for a price.

  "What do you think? Should I tell Madison?"

  JD’s face soured. "What the hell is wrong with you? Snitches get stitches."

  "Yeah, but she needs to know the kind of guy she's dating."

  "Like you've never put a dollar in a girl’s G-string?"

  "That's different,” I said, realizing my own hypocrisy. "I certainly don't want my sister dating guys like me."

  "I think you're overreacting. What's the harm in helping a girl pay her tuition? This is a legitimate form of employment for women without higher degrees. It's a legitimate form of employment for women with higher degrees. Hell, do you know how much money some of these girls can bring home a night? Without sucking dick!"

  I frowned at him.

  “As long as he stays out here and doesn’t go back into the VIP room to get a tug, it’s not cheating,” JD said.

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. Fine. You’re probably right. It’s just harmless fun.”

  The waitress returned with her drinks, and JD started a tab. Moments later, two beauties fell into our laps, asking if we wanted company.

  “My friend is a little tense,” JD said. “I think he could use a little relaxation.”

  The brunette sitting in my lap sparkled “I’m an expert at relaxation techniques.”

  Before I could protest, the dancer unsnapped her bra with her svelte fingers. The French manicured nails looked almost luminescent in the dim club. The frilly fabric went slack, and two glorious mounds bounced free.

  My eyes widened, taking in their round form.

  She pushed them in my face and teased me. “I bet your troubles are melting away already,” she said in a breathy, seductive voice.

  I had to admit, she had achieved in distracting me, her toned body sliding against mine. She spun around and presented her assets. With the
smack of her palm, she let me know just how toned she was. The red handprint on her ass cheek lingered, along with my eyes.

  I was so temporarily smitten that I didn’t notice Ryan had left his seat.

  I peeled my eyes away from the brunette’s body and glanced around the club to see Ryan disappear into the VIP area with a bottle blonde. The bouncer pulled back the velvet rope, and the two slinked down an alley to one of the private rooms.

  I knew what went on back there.

  “How about we take this somewhere more private?” I suggested.

  The brunette’s eyes brightened. “Oooh, I like that idea.”

  She took my hand and pulled me from the seat, leading me back toward the velvet rope.

  15

  The VIP room looked like a cheap motel room in Vegas. There was a leather couch, a small stage with a shiny pole, and a full size bed—which was just a thick leather mat on top of a black riser.

  It was probably a petri dish of bacteria.

  The room cost $200 for 15 minutes—2 drinks and a helluva private show came with it.

  Serenity was the brunette’s stage name, and for 15 minutes she was an angel—or a devil.

  Whatever I wanted.

  According to the rules, I had to remain fully clothed.

  Though, I knew some of the girls were more than willing to break the rules—for an added fee, of course.

  Serenity's body writhed and undulated as she moved to the music. She pressed her body against mine and whispered naughty nothings into my ear. Her hot breath on my neck, and her supple curves, stoked my desire. But I didn't come back to the VIP room to get my rocks off.

  That wouldn't happen, anyway.

  With my clothes on, I'd be left, high and dry. That didn't sound like much fun.

  I stopped Serenity mid show. "Actually, I just came back here to talk."

  "You paid $200 to talk?"

  I nodded.

  "I'm a good conversationalist." She smiled.

  “I want you to do me a favor. A guy came back here with one of your coworkers. Do you think you could find out what went on in the VIP room between them?"

  Her eyes narrowed curiously. "What do you want to know? Is he your boyfriend?"