by Tripp Ellis
A solo dive at night is extremely dangerous. Especially a covert one. There’s no one to save you if you get in trouble. Boats can’t see you when you’re wearing a black suit and gear. It’s difficult to see and easy to get disoriented. But this wasn’t my first rodeo.
A night dive in a busy harbor in freezing cold water to place a limpet mine on a ship’s hull can be much more dangerous than diving the Keys.
Twenty minutes later, I could see the hull of the target vessel. I ascended to the stern of the boat and hovered just under the surface, listening. I could hear muffled voices reverberating through the hull.
The water was only 20 feet deep here. I ditched the Dräger, mask, and fins, letting them sink to the bottom. If all went well, I could retrieve my gear later.
I hovered by the swim platform as the waves crashed against the fiberglass hull. The boat pitched and rolled in the turbulent seas.
“Would you just calm down,” Troy muttered. “This is the only way.”
“I don’t know, man,” Garrett said, panicked. “This has gotten out of hand.”
“Once we get the stuff, we kill them and the girl,” Troy said. “If we don’t, they’re going to go straight to the cops, and we’ll all go down. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Then man-up.”
Troy’s girlfriend's voice crackled through a walkie-talkie, “I see them. They’re at the first rendezvous point.”
“Are they alone?” Troy asked.
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Give it a few minutes, then report back,” Troy said.
“I don’t know, man. How is this going to work out?” Garrett asked.
“Don’t worry,” Troy said. “Luke is going to take care of it.”
I heard another person enter the cockpit and set down dive tanks. They clanked against the deck. It must have been Luke, Dan’s first mate. They were all in this together.
“I’ve got a Russian SK-7 limpet mine. When they come to make the exchange, I’ll swim over and attach the mine to their engine. They won’t make it back to port. That’s for certain.”
“Where the hell did you get that?” Garrett asked.
“Same place I got the guns and the C4.”
Luke sat on the gunwale and prepped his dive gear. I hovered by the stern with my head just barely out of the water, waiting to make my move.
After a few minutes, Troy’s girlfriend’s voice crackled back through the walkie, “I think they’re alone. There’s nobody else out here.”
“Give it one last look with the night vision,” Troy said.
“I’m telling you, there’s no one else out here. It’s not like they’ve got a team of Navy SEALs hiding under the water. I’m coming back. I have been sitting out here for an hour in this shit. I’m drenched.”
“I’ll text them the coordinates. Start heading back this way,” Troy said. “Luke, you’re on.”
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs and submerged. Luke climbed over the transom, gave a thumbs-up to Troy, and hopped into the water. He splashed below the surface and bubbles rose around him. He fiddled with his mask. It would take a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The Russian limpet mine was strapped around his chest.
I could hear the rumble of JD’s motor through the water as he approached.
Luke angled towards the depths and kicked under the boat. It didn’t take long for him to see me. I wasn’t about to let him plant that mine. I launched toward him with my K-bar in my hand. I grabbed his mask, pulling it down. Without his visuals, he panicked. He didn’t have any experience in underwater combat. I jammed the tip of the knife into his rib cage several times just below his armpit. Crimson blood oozed from the wound. It looked like black ink in the night.
With another quick slash, I severed his carotid artery. So much for my less than lethal tactics. I really didn’t want to kill the person, but I couldn’t compromise the mission. Instinct and training took over. I neutralized the threat. Nothing more, nothing less.
I grabbed the regulator and sucked in a breath of air. I pulled Luke’s lifeless body down. He had enough negative buoyancy to sink. I took a last breath from the regulator and let Luke fall into the abyss, then I swam back to the surface by the stern of the ship.
About that time JD had arrived, and the Slick’n Salty was just about bow to bow with the Heartbreaker.
It was just about time to make my move.
35
They say if you don’t like the weather in South Florida, just wait 45 minutes and it will change. Sure enough, the storm passed over, and the last sprinkles of rain settled.
“You got my stuff?” Troy shouted to JD as he stood on the foredeck.
“I got it,” Jack said. “Let me see my daughter.”
“It doesn’t work that way. Show me the stuff, and I will show you the girl.”
I climbed onto the swim platform and peered over the transom. Both Troy and Garrett were standing on the foredeck, negotiating with JD.
Jack opened the rolling suitcase and showed them the stash of fake cocaine.
I slipped over the transom and snuck into the deckhouse. I sheathed my K-bar and drew my 9mm, letting the water drain from the barrel. I left a trail of wet footprints across the deck as I moved past the galley.
Jack’s boat was nice, but this Valkyrie 63 was a behemoth. It was sleek and elegant with artful window lines, plush interior, every imaginable amenity, and spacious state rooms. It was part sport boat, part luxury yacht. The foredeck had a small lounge, and the bridge was accessible from the salon.
I pushed open the hatches of the staterooms and finally found Scarlett tied up in the master stateroom. With my K-bar, I cut the ropes around her wrists and ankles. Running mascara had stained her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy and red. I removed the gag from her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around me. “Thank God you’re here!”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“I’m going to get you out of here. Don’t worry.”
“Where’s Jack?”
“Distracting them.”
I helped her off the bed and pulled her toward the hatch. I peered into the salon—it was empty. “Stay behind me. If things get ugly, get down and take cover.”
The boat creaked and groaned as we tiptoed across the salon. I could see the foredeck through the windows of the salon. Garrett and Troy still negotiated with Jack. Their muffled voices filtered into the salon.
“Go get the girl and bring her forward,” Troy said.
It was bad timing.
Garrett started aft.
Troy’s girlfriend rounded the stern in a dinghy.
I flattened my back against the aft bulkhead. When Garrett pushed through the hatch, I chopped the side of my hand into his Adam’s apple, crushing his trachea.
He wheezed for breath and clutched his throat.
A hard fist planted firmly in his stomach made him double over. Then a sharp elbow to his back flattened him on the deck. I dropped down and put him in a chokehold.
His face reddened, and his eyes bulged from their sockets. The hold cut off the blood flow to his brain, and within moments, Garrett passed out. His limp body flopped to the deck.
Troy’s girlfriend saw me and shouted, alerting Troy. She pulled a pistol from her waistband and capped off several rounds. Muzzle flash flickered in the night.
I dove for cover behind the bulkhead.
Troy opened fire at JD with an AR-15. The muffled report of gunfire filtered into the deck house.
Scarlett shrieked in terror.
She hit the deck and crawled into the galley.
JD ran across the foredeck, returning fire. He dove into the water as Troy unleashed a torrent of bullets at the Slick’n Salty, peppering the fiberglass hull.
Troy continued firing into the water as JD submerged. He waited a few minutes for Jack to surface, but he never did.
I angled my weapon around the hatch and squeezed off two ro
unds. The sharp smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils.
Two bullets plunked into Troy’s girlfriend—one in her chest, the other in her head.
Crimson blood blossomed on her shirt. She tumbled back, falling over the transom. Her body smacked the swim platform, then slipped into the water. She floated away, past the dinghy.
Troy backed away from the foredeck and ran aft. He screamed with grief, watching his girlfriend die before him. His face snarled with rage as he rounded the corner. A slew of bullets streaked in my direction. They snapped past my ears and drilled through the bulkheads.
In a combat situation, fine motor skills degrade. The rush of adrenaline and increased heart rate and blood pressure make things like aim deteriorate.
Troy was an amateur.
I was a professional.
According to law enforcement, most officer involved shootings occur within 10 feet, and 90% of shots miss. Combined with the rolling deck, and Troy’s adrenaline, he missed every shot he took.
I double tapped him, just like I did his girlfriend. One in the chest, one in the head.
His body jerked and convulsed with each hit. Blood spewed from the entry wounds, and he crashed to the deck. His weapon clattered from his hand, discharging one final time as his finger inadvertently pulled the trigger.
Troy was dead, but his body still had a few random nerve impulses left. He twitched for a few moments before his body finally settled.
The deck was awash with blood.
I checked myself for injuries. In the heightened state of battle, sometimes a gunshot wound can go unnoticed. It’s not until after the adrenaline wears off that the pain sets in.
I felt my torso, legs, and arms and did a quick visual inspection.
No blood.
No bullet holes.
I holstered my weapon and moved forward to the galley.
Scarlett was balled up in the corner, trembling.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
I had no idea what condition JD was in.
I helped Scarlett to her feet, and we moved aft, toward the hatch. We stepped into the cockpit. Scarlett glared at Troy’s lifeless body.
I didn’t know if JD was alive or dead.
I heard something splashing in the water, and a moment later JD climbed onto the swim platform, then scaled the transom. His soaking wet clothes clung to his body. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Scarlett unharmed. The two ran into each other’s arms and hugged each other tight.
“Are you okay?” Jack asked.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
It was the first time she had called him Dad in a long time.
Those words were music to JD’s ears. Jack held her in his arms like he never wanted to let go.
Maybe this is why I got a second chance—to bring a family back together? Maybe that was my purpose? And now that my destiny was fulfilled, would death be knocking at my door?
36
“What the hell are we going to do about this mess?” JD asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said. “Get her back on your boat.”
Jack gave me a look of appreciation. “I owe you one, partner.”
I smiled. “About rent on the boat…”
Jack grinned. “I wasn’t going to make you pay it, anyway.”
“What about my poker winnings?”
His eyes narrowed at me. “We’ll discuss that.”
I laughed.
Jack and Scarlett took Troy’s dinghy back to the Slick’n Salty.
Troy’s girlfriend’s bloody body floating in the water had attracted the attention of several bull sharks. They were thrashing at the carcass in a frenzy. There wouldn’t be much left of her when they were finished.
I moved back into the salon and checked Garrett’s pulse. He was still alive. I found some rope and hogtied him.
I had a tough decision to make. Do I cover my tracks and pretend we were never here? Or do I call the sheriff?
Things could get sticky, and there might be a lot of questions. The old me would have killed Garrett, dumped the bodies, and set the boat on fire to cover my tracks.
But I didn’t want to kill a man that wasn’t an immediate threat. JD and I decided to call the sheriff. We waited for an hour for the water patrol to arrive.
The morning sun climbed over the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant colors.
At first I wasn’t sure how Sheriff Daniels was going to react. But once I explained the situation, he seemed almost happy we had taken care of these cretins for him. Garrett made a full confession to the kidnapping and fingered Troy as Jeremy’s and Dan’s killer. They had been using Dan’s boat for their smuggling operation. When Dan found out, he threatened to go to the police and tell them everything.
I made sure that Garrett knew he needed to come clean. Before the sheriff arrived, I told him that if he didn’t confess, I’d feed him to the sharks.
I almost felt bad for him. I don’t think he was a bad kid. He just got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Needed a little extra cash and made some poor decisions. He was just along for the ride when things spiraled out of control and Troy went full on psycho. Now he was going to spend the rest of his life behind bars.
By the time we were finished answering the Sheriff’s questions, the sharks’ feeding frenzy had dissipated. I retrieved the Dräger from the seafloor and boarded the Slick’n Salty. We swung around to the north side of Urchin Key and collected Jack’s dinghy.
We made our way back to the marina, tied off, and reconnected water and power lines. Jack surveyed the damage to the boat. There were multiple bullet holes in the bow and foredeck. But all things considered, he got off cheap. It could have been much, much worse.
Scarlett gave me another hug and thanked me. “You’re my hero, Tyson.”
“What about me?” JD asked. “Don’t I get any credit?”
Scarlett smiled and hugged him. “Maybe a little, Dad.”
He helped her over the transom and onto the dock. She just wanted to get home, take a shower and wash the terrible evening away.
I watched them walk down the dock, arm in arm. A little smile curled on my face. I moved into the deck house and grabbed a beer from the galley. I figured I deserved one after a night like that.
I climbed onto the bridge and enjoyed the morning, sipping my beer, letting the sun hit my face. I was thankful to be alive. At least for one more day.
I called Madison and let her know it was safe to come back. Then I texted Aria and let her know that I was back at the marina, and all was clear. I told her it had been a long night, and I was going to crawl into bed and get some sleep. She was more than welcome to stop by and join me at any time.
She replied: Promise you won’t shoot me if I sneak on board?
As long as you behave, I texted.
I have no intention of behaving ;)
I smiled and crawled off to sleep in the master stateroom. I slept like a rock. The swim in the adrenaline rush had worn me out. When I crashed, I crashed hard. I barely heard the creak of the hatch when Aria slipped into the deck house. I knew it was her from her soft footsteps.
As she snuck into my stateroom, I stretched and yawned and peeled and eye-open. By that time she was already undressing.
She had my full attention.
She crawled into bed and we embraced. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
We tumbled around for a while, then she snuggled up to me afterward. Man, she felt good in my arms.
I told her about last night, and she looked both terrified and intrigued.
The day was evaporating, and I was getting hungry. We both showered, got dressed, and made our way down the dock to Diver Down. Alejandro grilled us up some burgers, and by the time we finished, Madison had returned from South Beach.
I thought that she might be happy this was all over, but she was fuming. She had three days to stew in her own juices about being forced out of her home and place of business. I think if
Aria hadn’t been around Madison would’ve taken the gloves off.
I mustered my best, most charming smile and tried to talk Madison off the ledge. “I’m really sorry. I never meant to disrupt your life. The last thing I wanted was to get you involved in my mess. But everything is over now.”
“It’s over until the next time,” Madison said.
“Hey, I had nothing to do with the guy who got murdered in your parking lot. You should be thanking me for bringing the killers to justice.”
Madison sighed. “You’re right. Thank you. I’m glad you got the guys who did it. But that doesn’t mean you’re off my shit list.”
There was an awkward silence.
“So, are we all cool now?” I said, ignoring her last statement.
She rolled her eyes. “I think we’re a long way from cool. But, I guess it’s okay if you stick around for a while.”
I smiled. “Good. I like being back home. I’m thinking about putting down roots.”
Madison looked to Aria, “Honey, you’re in for a wild ride.”
She smiled. “I know.”
My phone rang.
Unknown caller.
“Excuse me, I gotta take this.”
“Tyson…” Isabella said. “How did everything work out with your personal problem?”
“Good. Thanks for your help. It’s all sorted.”
“Excellent. It’s time to return the favor. You ready for your next job?”
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Author’s Note
I usually write sci-fi, but I love the mystery and thriller genre. Most of my sci-fi stories have a mystery intertwined. If you liked this book, let me know with a review on Amazon.
My Max Mars series is heavy with mystery and thriller elements, you might want to check it out.
Thanks for reading!
—Tripp
Max Mars