“A bit above my pay grade, but the scuttlebutt is it may have been designed by two engineers who built a couple boats for the Iranians. Where they’re at now, who knows. The Venezuelan military hasn’t been particularly forthcoming.”
Harper gestured down to the fast boat. “Your ride home awaits.”
Minutes later, as the fast boat returned to its ship, Boone, Emily, and Sid stepped off the main ferry pier to the road and were greeted by Rodney Hassell, standing alongside his taxi van.
“Welcome back! Glad to see you’re all in one piece. Well, mostly,” he added, noting Sid’s bandage and Boone and Emily’s assorted bruises.
“I thought you were manning the radio,” Sid said.
“I was. That’s how I knew you were almost here. Your father’s in the KMar boat and should be back any minute. After they left Statia, they’ve been communicating with that Navy ship you were on. He asked me to have you wait for him at Pop’s Place.”
“I probably should get my ribs checked out, but I could use a beer and a bite,” Sid said, heading to the bar. “You two want to join?”
Boone opened his mouth to accept the invitation but Emily quickly said, “Y’know, I’m pretty beat. I think Boone and I should head back to El Momo.” She shouldered Boone and tipped her sunglasses down, giving him a look. “I want to try out that hammock again. And let’s not forget my sunset dinner.”
“Well, then you two better hurry up and get in,” Rodney said, opening the side door to his van. “Sunset is in forty minutes!” As they piled in, he popped a hands-free earpiece in. “I’ll let them know you’re coming—they can probably whip something up before you reach the top of the stairs.”
On the ride up to Windwardside, Boone and Emily gave Rodney a quick play-by-play of their exciting afternoon. The affable taxi driver chimed in occasionally, having overheard quite a bit of chatter on the radio as the various agencies had realized Saint Thomas wasn’t the submarine’s target after all. Fifteen minutes later, they were driving up the road to El Momo, Rodney happily extolling the virtues of several infused rums the owner made. As the sign for the resort came into view, Rodney reached into a little shelf in his dashboard and grabbed a business card. “Here,” he said as he pulled up to the stairs. “You need a ride, call from up top and I might be here before you hit the bottom of the steps.”
“Thanks, Rodney,” Boone said, pocketing the card.
“Don’t mention it. And this ride’s on me. I’ll be seeing you again soon… that’s the nature of Saba!” He tipped his straw fedora as they exited the taxi and headed for the stone steps.
Halfway up, Emily’s hand found its way into Boone’s own. He turned to find her looking up at him, sunglasses atop her head, a contented smile on her lips. As they headed up the lush hillside, he cleared his throat. “Hey, Em. I got to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“Back on Bonaire… several times on the dive boat, I heard you mention a boyfriend.”
“Oh, you mean Colin? Six-foot four, ex-SAS commando?”
“Uh…”
“Oh, yeah, he’s the real jealous type but I think we can risk it. I mean, the last time he didn’t actually kill the guy.”
Boone opened his mouth, then closed it. “There is no boyfriend.”
“Aw, I almost had you! She shouldered into him. “Of course there’s no boyfriend, you colossal thickie… that was just something I said to keep the frat boy tourists from hitting on me!”
“Well, that’s a relief. My wife would be pissed if I was killed by a jealous boyfriend.”
“Nice try, Bachelor Boone. I checked your finger for wedding band tan lines ages ago.” She gave him a playful peck on the cheek, then recoiled. “Yikes. When we get to the cottage, first order of business for you, Stubble Boy, is to shave.”
They reached the top of the stairs and as they headed into the grounds of El Momo, they were greeted once more by Cindy. “There you are! The rumors are already spreading about what you two did. Andries expects you to join him for breakfast and tell him everything, no excuses!”
“I’d love to, but I’m supposed to start at Scenery Scuba tomorrow…”
“No, you’re not. That’s the other thing I’m supposed to tell you. Sid’s been telling everyone at the bar what happened and Scenery just called and said they’re giving you the next two days off. Now, we’ve got dinner ready for you on your balcony. Hurry! Sunset is in ten minutes!”
Five minutes later, Boone and Emily clinked glasses, the little table in front of them filled with plates of salad, fresh fruit, and grilled snapper. The mountainous terrain off to the west blocked the actual sunset but the brilliant orange halo behind it was breathtaking enough. Below, the waters of the Caribbean sparkled gently, not a submarine in sight.
“To new adventures,” Emily said.
“To new adventures,” Boone repeated. “Preferably with fewer bullets.”
They drank. Emily smacked her lips. “Nice of them to provide the champagne.”
“I’m more of a beer guy, but it seems appropriate.”
“So… two whole days off. What are we going to do for two whole days?” She bit her lower lip and raised her eyebrows.
Boone laughed, then held his hand out to her, finding a spot between the snapper and salad on the cramped little table. She took it. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Emily.”
“You bloody well better be!” She drained the champagne and leaned forward on the table, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Now, I’ve got a serious question for you, Boone Fischer.”
He set his champagne aside. “And that question is…?”
“Do you think that hammock will hold the both of us?”
Boone and Emily’s adventures continue in:
DEEP CUT
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If you were curious about that mysterious stranger who plucked Boone and Emily from the water, you can find out more by looking at the events from his point of view!
Wayne Stinnett’s Rising Spirit is available on Amazon HERE.
I have been visiting the Caribbean since I was a little boy, snorkeling as soon as I was able. I began scuba diving almost twenty years ago and have traveled to many islands there—I did cheat on the Caribbean once, and dived in Fiji, but the next year I was back to my favorite body of water. I have also been narrating audiobooks for over twenty years and found myself gravitating toward books set on the water (or under it). When I began to write my own books, it was only a matter of time before I married the two loves—this series is the result.
The idea for the submarine came from several connected thoughts. Many years ago, after reading a Tom Clancy novel, I had mused, “What if Greenpeace got their hands on a second-hand Kilo sub and went after a whaling fleet?” When I rode an Atlantis tourist submarine while in Barbados, I wondered what would happen if someone stole one. And when I began scuba diving, I remember one dive where I started to turn my head to “check the blue”, and had a sudden thought: “What if I turn around and a submarine is going by?” The cartel sub in this book is based on a very real narco sub that was found in a jungle river in Ecuador in 2010. Having read a news report about ex-Soviet nuclear engineers helping Iran with their nuclear weapons program, I further posited that if some out-of-work Russian sub designers got involved wit
h a cartel project, they might produce an even better submarine. Life imitates art: it is believed that professional submarine engineers were involved in the construction of recent narco subs.
My first dive? I was an actor in the Broadway production of Footloose, and some of the crew guys were talking about getting certified. I’d never taken a solo vacation before, and I decided to head off to the obscure Dutch island of Sint Eustatius (Statia). I’d heard about it in a computer game about pirates and thought it would be fun to visit somewhere off the beaten path. I wasn’t certified yet, so I took a PADI “Discover Scuba” course and made my first two dives. I was hooked! I also witnessed a short-haul cargo ship roll over and sink and helped rescue the two crew members, but that’s a story for another day. When I first flew in to Statia, our little plane had gone first to Saba—that mountain rising out of the ocean was so astonishing that I took a day trip over from Statia and explored Windwardside. If you found yourself intrigued by Saba, you’re in luck. As you may have guessed, the next book will begin there.
I set the bulk of this book in Bonaire because that was my very first “true” dive vacation, after getting NAUI certified in New York. Two actor buddies joined me and we dived up to four times a day. And yes, there was a “Frenchy the Belgian”, although that was our name for him. The diving was fantastic and I was fascinated with the island itself: its desert climate, the food, the creole speech, the donkeys and iguanas. I knew I’d be back someday, and a few years later I was, diving with a gang of six. I met Captain Don on that second trip—that larger-than-life man could be a subject for a series all by himself. And typing this now, I just remembered we also met Phillippe Cousteau, Jr. who was on the island for a function. We were fortunate enough to dive with a naturalist, Jerry Ligon, who showed me a number of species I’d never noticed before. It was he who pointed out the odd little duo of the shame-faced crab and peacock flounder, a pairing that I spotted several times during the rest of my trip. I had intended to send an early draft of this book to Jerry for his input, but when I looked him up to try to find a contact email, I learned that would not be possible. I am sad to report that he passed in 2015.
I want to thank some people here. I have gotten a lot of inspiration from Wayne Stinnett, the bestselling author of the Jesse McDermitt books—I think of them as the “Fallen” series… but now the new ones are “Rising”! I began narrating Wayne’s books several years ago and have learned a lot about boats and navigation and the draw of a life by the water. In addition to being an accomplished story teller, he’s also a brilliant businessman—I have benefited immensely from his advice. Want some of that advice? Go out and get Blue Collar to No Collar: From Trucker to Bestselling Novelist in Two Years. And if you’re wondering who that “Stretch” fella was… read his books and you’ll figure it out. Very grateful to Wayne for letting that character pay my book a visit. Another writer I’ve been privileged to narrate for is Michael Reisig, bestselling author of the Road to Key West series and the author of sixteen books. When my first novel, Zombie Bigfoot, came out it did okay in sales but Michael “sat me down” in a few emails and gave me some pointers. A month later, after following his advice, it hit #1 in Horror Comedy. He gave me some excellent notes for this book.
Thank you to Lisa-Marie for assistance in setting up a writer’s retreat in a tropical paradise—talk about inspiration! My beta readers, Chris, Tom, Brady, Kevin, James, Kristie, Sondra, and Angela: you all had great ideas and helped tighten things up, straighten things out, and improved the final product. My “second wave” beta readers, Alan, Torrey, Dana, Mike, Glenn, and Dan: what a font of knowledge and experience you fellas have!
To my cousins Rick and Ron, thank you for allowing me to infuse my own Rick and Ron with a touch of yourselves. And no, they’re not from Kentucky. And no, Rick never said “ain’t” in his life.
Thanks to my team of professionals who helped make this book possible: Donna Rich for her keen eye and meticulous work whipping the final version into shape. Shayne Rutherford of Wicked Good Book Covers, for creating an eye-popping cover for me, and to Colleen Sheehan of Ampersand Book Interiors, for her all-important work formatting the manuscript into a thing of beauty. Karl Cleveland, thanks for the bang-up job on the Deep Novels web site.
Thank you to mom and dad, who took me out of Tennessee on numerous occasions to head off to the Caribbean. I owe my love of the ocean to you. And to my brother, for his continued love of Barbados—I’ll find a way to pay that island a visit in a future book.
A quick note about weights and measures: I realize that much of the Caribbean is on the metric system. In fact, when I was writing some chapters of this book while in the Bahamas, Google Maps pinpointed my location and changed the measuring tool, giving all distances in kilometers. But alas, I’m a child of the US customary system of measurement. To all those stalwart supporters of the metric system, I salute you. It is unquestionably a better, simpler system of measurement, but we live in an imperfect world—I think in miles so I write in miles.
Finally, my heart goes out to the people of the Northeastern Caribbean. I began writing this book in August 2017 and I knew I’d be ending the book in Saba. By the end of the month, a tropical wave developed off the coast of West Africa: that wave would become Hurricane Irma, a devastating hurricane that did catastrophic damage to the islands in its path. As if that wasn’t bad enough, just a week later, another tropical wave formed and, on September 13, Hurricane Maria smashed into Dominica before moving on through Puerto Rico. The little island, Isla de Aves, that allows Venezuela to claim such vast territorial waters? I have no idea if it’s even there anymore. The last information I have about it is the evacuation of the scientific staff from the base-on-stilts. There’s an interesting question—if that little sandbar-island is no more, what happens to the territorial claims? The two islands that appear in the end of this book, Saba and Statia, both received damage from the two hurricanes, primarily wind damage to buildings, and some destruction along the water. Saba’s little harbor was damaged, and I just read that they plan on replacing and upgrading Fort Bay. Statia’s Quill had much of her trees denuded, and the Golden Rock Diver Center’s dive shop was practically destroyed. This was the place I first dived with, but worry not! They were back up and running in no time. On Sint Maarten, the airport that Boone and Emily take off from was nearly destroyed (though it was partially repaired and reopened less than a month later), and the island received unprecedented flooding. Other islands were severely damaged: the population of Barbuda was evacuated to her sister island, Antigua—Barbuda is essentially uninhabited, with most buildings destroyed. Puerto Rico took strikes from both hurricanes, taking massive damage, and to this day is suffering from blackouts. Saint Thomas, in the US Virgin Islands, was very badly hit and back at home, the Florida Keys were devastated by Irma. I am leaving out many places, the impacts were so wide spread.
I would be remiss not to mention one other place. It is easy to become focused on weather related disasters that cause devastation in a span of hours—but some disasters unfurl over years. Venezuela is in dire straits and I sincerely hope the situation improves. My light-hearted mention of a lack of barley affecting the beer supply for an indigenous brewer—that was something that I read about as I began writing this book. As I came to the end of my writing, many months later, I was hearing different stories: people selling their hair for food and medicine, zoos slaughtering some animals to feed other animals, and the flood of refugees entering neighboring countries turning into a raging torrent.
Much of the Caribbean has recovered, or is recovering, and I encourage anyone who loves sand, sea, and sun to consider booking a vacation there. The islands depend on tourism, and you can help them by helping yourself with a memorable trip to the tropics.
Born in East Tennessee, Nick Sullivan has spent most of his adult life as an actor in New York City, working in theater, television, film, and audiobooks. After recording hundreds of bo
oks over the last twenty years, he decided to write his own. Nick has been an avid scuba diver since the late nineties and his travels to numerous Caribbean islands have inspired this series.
For a completely different kind of book, you can find Nick Sullivan’s first novel at
www.zombiebigfoot.com
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