Shark Eater

by K D McNiven

As the team made their way to their cabins to change, India grabbed hold of Dax’s arm. “Sorry for speaking out before. You know me and my big mouth. I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or usurp your authority.”

  He winked and smiled, the lines around his mouth deepening with tenderness. “I know you didn’t, India. I was distraught and acted like a jackass.”

  “I would never do such a thing as that, you know.”

  He laughed. “Not in a million years.”

  Callie slipped into an eggshell-white tank top and tucked it into her brown fitted slacks. Sitting down on the bunk, she put on her white sneakers. Brushing the tangles from her still damp hair, she leveled her eyes on Decker, who looked absorbed in his thoughts.

  “What’s going on in that well-organized brain of yours?”

  Her voice brought him back into focus. “Thinking about the incident today and how devastating it could have been had we not gotten to Karina when we did.”

  “We all know the rules—remove your weight belt before you take off your mask or spit out the regulator—but we’re still prone to make mistakes.”

  “I hope we never have to experience that again,” Callie said.

  “Glad we can put this behind us so we can put our attention back on why we’re here.” Decker pulled his gray T-shirt over his head and pushed his arms through the sleeves. “And you’re right. It’ll be exciting to see what we find out once we dock.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Kona, Hawaii

  Garrett and Carson took the dinghy to shore where there was a rental car awaiting them. They made their way along the narrow road leading to downtown Kona, anticipating their meeting with Mr. Akumu at the Kealamauloa Museum and Cultural Center. Shortly after finding the coins, they had contacted the museum to have them dated. As they were diving in the approximate area where the HMS Resolution had probably anchored, they were hopeful that Mr. Akumu could quickly identify the gold coins as belonging to it.

  “We will have to attain a permit to continue diving for the coins,” Carson said. His mind was already organizing what they would need to do if they chose to pursue diving for more artifacts, a trait the entire crew admired in their captain. Anything they found, if given the permits, would be given to the Hawaiian authorities for historic preservation.

  After several minutes of winding down twisting curves, they headed toward Hopaka Street, downtown Kona. Pulling into the parking lot, they viewed the two-story stone building with arched, half- moon windows, and two solid wood entry doors. Rows of palm trees and perfume-scented flowers on either side of the walkway led to the museum.

  “The museum closes at five,” Garrett said, glancing at his watch. “Already four-thirty. Mr. Akumu didn’t give us much time.”

  “Let’s hope he’s willing to stay as late as we need until we know for certain what these coins are.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Decker and Callie what we found.”

  Stopping at the main desk, they introduced themselves to one of the employees. She was a pleasant, college-aged Hawaiian girl with a broad smile and an energetic aura about her. Her blue-black hair hung down around her slender hips and secured above her ear was a pink Hibiscus flower, which added a slight flush to her olive-colored cheeks.

  “I’ll put a call into Mr. Akumu. He’s expecting you.”

  A few minutes passed before a slight built Filipino man walked slowly toward them. He wore a light gray suit, accentuated with darker pin stripes, a white starched shirt, and a pale gold necktie. His jet-black hair swept across his eyebrows. A wide smile parted his lips, and he stretched his hand forward to Garrett, and then to Carson.

  Pushing his black, horn rimmed glasses a bit farther up his nose, he said, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Sorry that I couldn’t squeeze you in sooner. The day has been a beehive of activity. I’m sure you’ve had days like this.”

  “I understand completely. Nice to meet you, Mr. Akumu.”

  He swatted his hand before his face in a ‘let go of proprieties’ gesture, and said, “Please, call me Hani. We’re quite informal around here. Why don’t you follow me and we’ll take a look at what you have?”

  They followed him down the long narrow hall, then up a flight of steps where there were several offices. He stopped short of one of the rooms to the right. The name plaque read: Dr. Hani Akumu, Archaeologist Cultural Specialist. Entering, they saw several tables piled with books, files, artifacts and test tubes. Definitely, Hani needed to brush up on his organizational skills, at least that was Carson’s first impression.

  “Okay, let’s take a look.”

  Garrett pulled out a small container. He set it on the table, popped the lid and slipped his fingers inside to fish out one of the coins. The surface of the coin was worn by years of sand movement, but images were still present.

  Hani inspected it for a short time, then took it to a water bath. He placed the coin inside for a few minutes while he had Garrett and Carson relay the story of how and where they had come upon the coins. Then he removed the coin, grabbed a small toothpick and began to pick around the grooves ever so gently. After a short while, he smiled.

  “I can make out part of a crown on the back of the coin,” Hani informed them. “And if you look closely, you’ll see the letter G, as in King George III. What you have is a half guinea British coin from around 1760. Very rare.”

  “Right in the same timeline as Captain Cook,” Carson said, a tinge of excitement in his voice.

  “Correct,” Hani agreed. “I’ll have you fill out the proper paperwork. Do you intend to continue diving to find more artifacts?”

  “That’s the plan,” Garrett replied. “We obviously need to do some foot work and apply for the permits. Of course, our intention is to turn anything we find over to the museum.”

  “I’m delighted to hear that.”

  Because Garrett and Carson were caught up in their discussion concerning the coins, they didn’t notice Gunter Lenz standing outside the office door which had been left ajar.

  Gunter worked as a janitor part time at the museum for the past two years, a job he had never liked, but necessary for making ends meet. He also worked for a small salvage company that scarcely raked in enough to pay his rent. He was called once in a while when there was a small craft that capsized close to the main island, or occasionally, he was called out to retrieve toxic waste material from an overturned carrier—nothing glamorous or exciting. He also went out on a few odd jobs that required a certified diver.

  His dream, however, was to discover a boatload of antiquities, which would line his pockets with thousands of dollars. The thought of claiming a load of old gold coins caught his attention immediately. It was not a problem to capitalize off these men’s discovery.

  Unlike other salvagers who thought to be noble by giving everything back to the local museums as a means to support the Cultural Heritage Foundation, Gunter wouldn’t dream of doing anything so honorable. In his opinion, artifacts of great value should be sold to the highest bidder on the black market. He didn’t care one iota about the preservation of history. There were those who would pay a fortune to own certain artifacts, and he was more than happy to oblige them.

  Pushing the mop around near the door, he continued to listen in. He rubbed his thick fingers through his buzz cut, gray hair. There was a menacing glint in his ice-blue eyes. He would make sure that no matter where these two men went, he would not be far behind.

  He had a couple of friends who were also certified divers that would be more than willing to jump on board with him. They, like him, did not have many scruples and, if it meant money in their pockets, they would do most anything. No questions asked.

  The sound of Hani’s voice echoed through the gaping doorway.

  “If the rest of the coins are in good condition like this one, they’re worth a lot of money. My advice is to keep this under wrap until you have permits in hand. There are a lot of treasure seekers out there. A few of them, quite formidable.”

  �
��We’re aware of that,” Garrett said, the memory of their Honduran jungle expedition flashing in his mind. They had dealt with some of the most ruthless men he had ever come across. Greed had no boundaries for some.

  As they wrapped up their meeting with Hani, they shook hands and started for the door. Gunter dropped his head and turned his back to them. He pushed the mop in slow circles down the hall so they would not suspect he’d been listening in. When they were no longer in sight, Gunter headed for the janitor’s storage room where he deposited the cleaning materials and darted out the back door.

  He wasn’t sure who these two men were, but he didn’t want to lose them in the afternoon Kona traffic. He watched them climb into a black rental jeep and then speed off onto the main highway. Rushing to his Kawasaki Ninja H2 motorcycle, he strapped on his helmet and headed out in the same direction.

  The men stopped at three different places, one of which was the court house. Gunter recalled Hani telling them they would have to obtain permits to continue their salvaging of the coins, so Gunter could only assume they were getting the ball rolling. He sat patiently on his motorcycle outside the buildings where he could watch for them and not be spotted. He waited for nearly two hours, the sun beating down on him. He dabbed the sweat from his brow, took a long swallow of water, and was thankful when they came out and slid back into the jeep.

  They made their way back to the docks where their dinghy was moored and prepared to head back to the Jade, unaware of the fact that they were being followed the whole way.

  Gunter pulled out his cell phone, made a couple calls, and found that one of his friends was on his boat tied off at the docks. Gunter sprinted to the boat in hopes that they wouldn’t lose sight of the dinghy.

  Jack Peters wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He’d been working on the boat engine most of the day when he discovered a collapsed primer bulb which had created a vacuum in the tank. He loosened the vent screw so that there would be adequate ventilation, pumped the primer bulb until it was hard, and he was back in business.

  Jack wondered what all the excitement was after he had received the call from Gunter. Glancing up, he spotted Gunter running towards him on the wooden dock. Setting aside his tools, he cleaned off his greasy hands and then pushed himself to his feet.

  “Fire up the engine!” Gunter called out, leaping into the guts of the boat.

  “What for?”

  “I’ll explain after you fire up this beast.”

  Jack, taken aback by Gunter’s behavior, settled the engine back into the green water and switched on the motor. He reversed the boat out of the slip and began motoring toward the open sea, still waiting for an explanation. Jack was not used to seeing Gunter looking so animated.

  “See the dinghy heading out?” Gunter pointed in the direction of Garrett and Carson sputtering out of the docks.

  Jack narrowed his eyes against the sun and looked, “So?”

  “They were at the museum. “Seems they found some British gold coins from Captain Cook’s day while they were diving off shore.”

  Jack’s dark brows rose with interest now. He was beginning to put together the pieces and was chewing on the possibilities of what that could mean for them. He accelerated, wanting to stay close but not so much so that they would be obvious.

  “Hani, one of the specialists at the museum, told them that the coins were worth nearly two thousand dollars each.”

  “Two thousand!” Jack whistled through his teeth. “Think of it.”

  “Figured you’d find the matter interesting. After we see where they are anchored, we will have some time to do diving ourselves. They’ll be tied up waiting for their stupid permits. So, what’s to stop us?”

  “Talk about being in the right place at the right time.”

  “Dang right.”

  They sputtered along, still keeping a safe distance, then broadened the gap still more when they saw the dinghy draw up to the stern of the Jade. They saw the two men climb on board. Jack steered the small boat in a wide berth around them and moved in closer to the shore so they wouldn’t be noticed. It was there he dropped his anchor.

  “We’ll wait them out until their next dive so we can determine where they are looking,” Gunter told Jack. “Then we can skedaddle back to Kona, grab our dive gear and go to work.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Little Ambergris Cay

  “What are you looking at?”

  Decker brought the binoculars down from his eyes, turned slightly, and saw Dax striding toward him. “There has been a large ship anchored off in the distance since yesterday. Seems a strange place for it to be held up since it is a cargo ship.”

  “Let me see.” Dax took the binoculars and raised them to scan the horizon. “That is a bit peculiar. I wonder what’s going on?”

  “The name appears to be Gabriel. Maybe we should look at some of the shipping logs and find out why she’s lame.”

  “I’ve got a better idea, mate,” Dax said, a boyish grin on his tanned face. “I say we hop in the outboard and go see for ourselves.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” chuckled Decker.

  “Probably would have had you been on the Jade. I’ll tell Captain Manny what we’re up to and have a couple of the guys ready the boat.”

  Out of habit, Decker went for his gun and shoulder holster. Not that he anticipated any problems, but he’d learned never to take things for granted. It was wise to be prepared for unholy messes.

  The 246 RJ fiberglass boat was let down into the swollen waves. The sea was a bit more turbulent, and under Linus’s direction, they cancelled their dive for the day. This short diversion would help satisfy their adventurous spirits.

  Dax hit the throttle, and the boat roared forward, the bow kangarooing as the prow slapped against the heaving crests. Dax suspected that the stationary vessel hadn’t even noticed the Shark Eater or else she would have sent up distress flares. It was obviously a cargo ship and not a research ship. Strangely, there was no distress signal picked up by the Shark Eater either.

  They began to close the distance to the Gabriel, its wide body careening in the distance. Decker picked up the megaphone ready to announce their arrival when suddenly another motor boat sliced through the water starboard in their direction. It wasn’t more than a breath’s interval before they realized there was a gun aimed at them, followed by a loud crack. A bullet whizzed past Decker’s head, and he dropped to the floor of the motorboat, his hand reaching for his handgun.

  Dax veered to their right, turning the boat away from the gunfire. Another shot sang over the boat’s cockpit. Dax slouched to avoid being struck. “What the heck…Why is it always me?” he shouted above the roar of the engine.

  “We’ll discuss that later,” Decker yelled, taking aim at the oncoming boat. Dax abruptly turned left, throwing Decker off balance. Decker tumbled over the seat, striking his head. He saw stars, blinked a few times, then pushed himself back up. “Hey, watch it, man!”

  “Sorry, mate.”

  Decker steadied himself. The other boat was coming on fast, and he could see the man was ready to take another shot, but before he could, Decker released a round of ammo into the port side of their craft. Splinters of wood exploded. The man stumbled backward, but within minutes he was back at his station pumping off another barrage of bullets. The windshield of the motorboat shattered, sending jagged pieces flying. One shard of plastic had become a dagger in the blast and tore open the flesh on Dax’s arm. Dax grimaced as he saw blood spilling out of the wound.

  “Head back to the Shark Eater!” Decker shouted, popping another bullet at their assailants. “They’d be crazy to take on the whole crew.”

  “They are somewhat crazy, mate, in case you didn’t notice. The men on board look an awful like those men who escaped the police after they accosted my crew and me.”

  “Maybe you got too close like we are right now and they were afraid you’d uncover what they were doing. Evidently, they’re i
nvolved in something illegal.”

  Taking Decker’s advice, Dax steered the boat back toward his ship, a wall of water shooting over the bow as they made the sharp turn. A bullet zinged past his ear, and he hunkered down. “These guys are plain nuts!”

  Decker stretched his lean body between the seats and shot off another round as the other boat grew nearer. “They sure don’t discourage easily,” he grunted. The stuffing from the seat near his shoulder erupted, white fluff flying up into his face and a tuft of it caught in his mouth. Decker spit it out, nearly gagging on the cottony texture.

  “I spent all that money on repairs. Don’t think my insurance guy is going to be too happy about this,” grumbled Dax.

  “He’ll probably cancel you.”

  The small craft was gaining, and Dax angled off to the right, pushing the outboard hard to place some distance. As he did, he struck the face of a wave that thrust the boat upward, and both Dax and Decker were flung from the cockpit and into the ocean, the boat landing hard upside down. The pursuing craft circled, and the two men on board began to shoot off rounds into the water.

  Keeping underwater, Decker grabbed Dax’s shirt, drawing him beneath the fiberglass boat. They managed to slip into an air pocket where they clung gasping. Thin lines of bubbles trailed around them from the bullets zipping through the water.

  “I’ve got my money’s worth on this venture,” Decker said, feigning a brave front and making light of their situation in spite of how desperate it had become.

  “I’ll keep that in mind when I invite someone else to join me,” Dax quipped.

  They didn’t have much time left. The bow of the boat was starting to dip downward. Obviously, they couldn’t out swim the other boat, and the two men didn’t seem to be too interested in rescuing them. In fact, they appeared to be quite taken with the idea of killing them.

  “Got a plan?”

  Decker looked blankly at him. “Fresh out of ideas. You?”

  “Haven’t a clue.”

  Two bullets tore through the hull of the small craft, narrowly missing Decker. The motor of the boat rumbled as they made several passes around them. The men could simply bide their time and watch it sink; their targets would be forced to abandon their bubble.