Showdown in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  Scott and Kyle were both wearing nice suits. They greeted us excitedly.

  “You guys clean up well,” I said.

  “Thanks, bro,” Jack said. Unlike the other two, he was wearing his typical boardshorts and T-shirt. “You look… you’ve looked better.”

  I chuckled. “Good to see you, Kyle,” I said, wrapping an arm around my old friend. I motioned up and down his suit, then added, “Very Will Smith from Men in Black.”

  I hadn’t seen him since Ange and my wedding on Curaçao back in May of 2009.

  “Been through the wringer?” he asked, looking me over from head to toe.

  “You could say that. Though it feels like a handful of wringers back to back. I liked your little waterworks show, by the way. What, you forget how to disarm bombs?”

  Kyle smiled. “I was a little rusty. And their bomb-making skills were better than I’d expected. Glad you enjoyed the show. Did Wake?”

  I laughed, then quickly stopped as it made my abdomen hurt.

  “Should’ve seen his face.”

  They each nodded in approval.

  The group fell silent for a moment, then Scott said, “Murph said Wake’s dead.”

  “He is,” I said. “We did it. Well, Ange did it. She arrived just in time. So did her 9mm round.”

  “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time when Wake locked the place down,” she said, trying her best to be modest. “But thankfully I had a guardian nerd helping me out.”

  I smirked. “Now all we’ve got to do is clean up the mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Scott said, waving a hand at us. “Wilson’s already on it. He and a team of CIA agents are on-site at the tower and they’ve taken over the situation.” He smiled. “They’re happy to take credit for taking down Wake.”

  “It’s gonna be a lot of work on their part,” I said.

  “They’ve got mountains of evidence on their side,” Scott said. “There are three inexperienced rent-a-cops asleep in the Josephine’s engine room who I’m sure will be willing to testify, given the proper coercion. Not to mention Murph has footage of Wake admitting his entire plan up in the penthouse.”

  I had to hand it to Scott—he had the whole thing worked out pretty well. It was sure nice having friends in high places.

  “The remainder of his security detail and those he’s worked with will see their time of day in court,” Scott continued. “I’m sure now that Wake’s dead, those government workers he’s paid off will be quick to turn against him and tarnish his name. It’s how these kinds of things usually go down. None of them will want any part in the conspiracy. They’ll all want to keep their hands clean, so I’m guessing the process of convicting Wake posthumously will be quick.”

  Scott’s phone rang and he stepped aside to answer it.

  As he talked, Jack told me about how they’d narrowly escaped the explosion’s blast radius in time.

  “Felt the rumble big-time, bro,” he said. “We were only a couple hundred yards off when it blew. Thankfully it was at the bottom, tied to an old anchor.”

  I started to ask Kyle how his family was, but Scott walked back over.

  “I gotta head over and meet with Wilson,” Scott said. “Kyle, you need a ride to the airport?”

  Kyle nodded. “It was good to see you, Logan. You as well, Ange. But I need to be back home by early morning.”

  “You settling into normal life alright?” Ange asked.

  He shrugged. “A little, but tonight sure was fun. I’ll see you both again soon, and we’ll catch up.” He looked over his shoulder at the container ship far off in the distance across the channel. “Maybe prevent another act of terrorism.”

  “You know where to me find, brother,” I said.

  We shook hands and said our goodbyes, then they turned and moved toward the shore.

  “Oh, hey, Scottie,” Ange said. He stopped and turned on his heels. “Wake’s Bugatti is parked across the street. Keys are on the seat.” She smiled. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

  He smiled, thanked her, then continued alongside Kyle.

  I stepped toward Jack and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for being captain tonight,” I said. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I’m just glad to see you both made it out in one piece,” he said. “And I’m glad we were able to avenge Gus’s and the mayor’s death.” He bit his lip and added, “It’s a shame that such a kindhearted soul had to get caught up in all this.”

  I brought my beach bum friend in for a hug. Ange joined in.

  “I’m sure wherever he is, he’s happy,” Ange said.

  “And I can promise you that Wake won’t be hurting anyone else ever again,” I added.

  We loosened our grip, and he stepped back and motioned to the Cessna. “You two flying back?”

  “If you don’t mind taking the trawler back to Marathon,” I said.

  “No problemo, bro,” he said. “Wish I had Atty to keep me company. But I guess a gallon of black coffee and the best of Jimmy Buffett will have to do.”

  He told us to wait, then stepped aboard, grabbed something from the pilothouse, and carried it out to us.

  “Here,” he said, handing me a small white bottle of painkillers. “And something to wash it down with.”

  From his other hand, he gave me a bottle of Casa Verde tequila.

  “It’s the good stuff, bro. Some of Jalisco’s finest.”

  I noticed that it was half-empty.

  “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver,” I said. “Just out of curiosity, when did you drink it?”

  He grinned and turned back toward the pilothouse. “Don’t worry, bro. I’ll get the trawler back in one piece.”

  We both said goodnight and waved as we walked across the dock to the Cessna. Within ten minutes, Ange had us in the air. I slumped back into my seat, dropped a few painkillers down the hatch, took a few pulls of the tequila, and let out a deep satisfied breath.

  The concoction took effect quickly. The pain from the bruises, scrapes, and burn lessened. I was weary but didn’t feel like sleeping. I wanted to keep Ange awake for the jump down to the Keys, and I wanted to hear her angelic voice. So we talked as we made the trip southwest over the Everglades, across Florida Bay, and over the horizon of sporadic islands that make up the Lower Keys.

  Just over an hour later, we splashed down into Tarpon Cove. We tied off, climbed into the Tacoma, and drove over to our house. It was nearly midnight by the time we pulled into the driveway.

  We went straight for the master bathroom. Stripping off our clothes, we turned on the shower and stepped in. We ran it cooler than usual, for the sake of the burn to my abdomen. But the water still felt amazing as it cascaded over my body, easing my aches and pains and relaxing my tensions away.

  I didn’t know how long we spent under the water. Didn’t care to. I was swept up in the moment, swept up in the beautiful contours of Ange’s body, and the enchantment of her vibrant blue eyes. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

  With my lips pressed against hers, we stumbled out of the shower and into the bedroom. The painkillers were wearing off, but the rush of passion overtook my senses.

  We crashed onto the soft comforter and rolled into the sheets. We made soft, tender love twice before crashing into each other’s arms. I breathed in the fresh ocean air that blew in off the channel, through our partly open window.

  With Ange’s warm body pressed against mine, I dropped my head to the pillow and closed my eyes, falling asleep to the smells of the ocean and the lingering shampoo in her damp hair.

  FORTY-THREE

  We slept in, then stayed in bed most of the following day. Neither of us felt like cooking, so we had food delivered. Mango waffles from Blue Heaven for breakfast, and a cheesy pepperoni pizza in the afternoon. We ate to our heart’s content, told stories, watched a movie, and napped before finally migrating out into the backyard to watch the sunset.

  I warmed a few leftover slices of pizza, the
n brought them out onto the porch and handed one to Ange. I took big bites, then washed it down with a Paradise Sunset beer. The colors were mesmerizing. The artistry of Mother Nature often takes my breath away, and that evening her beauties were on full display. Streaks of brilliant yellows and reds. A few hovering clouds that turned purple, their fringes glowing like neon.

  We both had antsy personalities. We usually liked to keep moving. To fill our days with as much living as we could. But sometimes you just need to do nothing. After the long couple of days we’d had, our minds and bodies needed to recharge.

  We sat back and thought about the previous day.

  “I think I’ve had my share of excitement for the year,” Ange said. She closed her eyes and basked in the last of the dying sun’s warmth.

  “You enjoyed it,” I said with a grin.

  She turned her head, shielding her eyes as she looked over at me. “I would’ve enjoyed it a lot more had my husband not been held captive by angry, powerful crazies.”

  I smiled. Then I thought back to our initial plan that we’d formed to infiltrate the tower. We’d already discussed most of what had happened, but there was one part that I’d forgotten to ask her about.

  “What did you decide on anyway?” I asked. She looked at me confused, so I added, “When you planted Murph’s device. What cover did you go with?”

  She grinned. “Delivery girl first. Then janitor.”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “Damn. You must’ve been the best-looking janitor ever.”

  We spent the rest of the evening out on the porch, then migrated back into the bedroom. We’d spent the entire day in the house, never once stepping off the property, and it was one of the best days of my life.

  The next day, Ange called our doctor at the Lower Keys Medical Center to come for a house call without my knowing about it. She knew as well as anyone how much I didn’t like hospitals, so it was a nice gesture and a good compromise. Dr. Patel, a white-haired Indian man who’d been my doctor since I’d moved back to Key West, gave me a full checkup.

  “As usual, Logan,” he said in his smooth accent, “you’ve managed to do quite a number on your body. Thankfully, I don’t detect any signs of neurological damage or broken bones.”

  “So I’m good to go, Doc?” I said.

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “I’ve never had a patient quite like you, Logan. Yes, you should be able to resume normal activity. Though I wouldn’t recommend any more scuffles with a gorilla, or whatever it was you got in a fight with to get those massive bruises.”

  After he left, we headed over to Salty Pete’s to catch up with some of our conch friends and to pick up Atticus. Despite our success in Miami, it was still a sad time in our island paradise. Mayor Crawford and Gus Henderson’s murders were fresh in most of the locals’ minds. Though Pete did feel some satisfaction in knowing that those responsible had been held accountable.

  Most of them anyway.

  I thought about Brier. The coward who’d snuck out of the tower just when things were turning south for his team. But I wasn’t worried about him. He no longer had Wake to fund his ruthlessness and order him around. My guess was that he’d drift off someplace and try and drown his sorrows in a bottle for a few years. If he did decide to pay me a visit, I’d deal with him. He couldn’t take me down with Wake on his side, and he definitely wouldn’t be able to without him.

  Two days after we returned home, Scarlett arrived for a short visit. Even though it had only been a few weeks since we’d last seen her, it felt a lot longer. We were in the home stretch of what had been a long adoption process, and we were looking forward to making her a permanent part of our family.

  The pretty, energetic fifteen-year-old jumped into our arms when we picked her up at Key West International Airport. She was nearly as tall as Ange’s five-ten. She had a slender frame, long dark hair, and hazel eyes.

  “How is it that you look more and more grown up every time we see you?” Ange said, gripping her tight.

  “And how is it you look younger every time?” Scarlett said in a cheery tone.

  Truth was, they were both right. Ange and Scarlett looked more like stepsisters or best friends than future mother and daughter.

  “Alright,” I said, grabbing her roller bag and loading it up into the Tacoma. “You can exchange compliments in the truck.” I looked up and motioned toward the big blue sky. “We’ve got perfect weather and only a short amount of time with you, so we’re going to make the most of it.”

  “We’re going diving?” she said, her eyes lighting up.

  “Among other things,” I said.

  We all climbed in and I drove us straight over to the marina. With the Baia sent to Davy Jones’ Locker, Jack had offered us the use of his boat for the day. The forty-five-foot Sea Ray had a big deck for handling dive groups, along with a pilothouse and a good-sized galley.

  Once ready to go, they cast the Calypso’s lines as I started up the engines, and we motored out of the harbor for a day on the water.

  Ange and Scarlett climbed up onto the bow and lounged on a big towel while I brought us up to the Baia’s cruising speed of twenty-five knots.

  We’d taken Scarlett out for her first dive six months earlier. Since that time, we’d taken her out a couple dozen times both in the Keys and off Miami. She’d even received her PADI Open Water and Advanced certifications in that time. Given her current level of experience, Ange and I both thought she was ready to visit one of our favorite dive sites.

  I put us on a southerly course, flying past Fort Zachary Taylor off the port bow. The turquoise water shifted to dark blue, and we reached the edge of the reef line in just under fifteen minutes.

  The USS General Hoyt S. Vandenberg is a 523-foot former Navy missile tracking vessel that had been intentionally sunk six miles off the coast of Key West almost two years earlier. The second-largest ship ever to be sunk as an artificial reef, the Vandenberg had quickly become one of the most popular wreck dives in the Keys. When it comes to artificial reefs, it’s second in size only to the USS Oriskany, an aircraft carrier off the coast of Pensacola.

  There were two other boats tied off above the wreck, a charter and a pleasure boat. But congestion wasn’t an issue at the Vandenberg. Due to its enormous size and the way it had been customized prior to sinking, there were plenty of sections to go around.

  Scarlett tied us off to one of the stern surface mooring buoys, then I killed the engines. The ocean was calm for being so far out into the strait. The sky was nearly devoid of clouds.

  Up in the cockpit, I leaned over the side and peered through the tropical water.

  “It’s a great day, Ange,” I said with a smile. “Gotta be eighty feet of viz.”

  It was a hundred and forty feet down to the seafloor, but the tallest portions of the wreck were just fifty feet down. Even from up on the surface, I could see the wreck reaching up like a ghost ship from the abyss.

  We quickly donned our scuba gear, and I left a bowl of food and water in the galley for Atticus. We’d leave the cockpit door open, giving him full run of the boat. After a few minutes into the dive, he’d find a shady spot and take a nap.

  Ange dropped in first, stepping out from the swim platform and splashing into the water. After the all clear, she stayed on the surface while Scarlett stepped to the edge.

  “You ready for this?” I said, grinning at her.

  She nodded, then took a big step. She splashed and sank a few feet before slowly bobbing back up to the surface.

  She pulled the regulator from her mouth and said, “That’s amazing!”

  I turned and said goodbye to our dog. “Alright, Atty,” I said, petting behind his ears. “Hold down the fort, alright? We’ll be right back.”

  He licked his slobbery tongue halfway up my face before I was able to pull it away. I rose, turned, bit down on my regulator, and stepped out with one hand pressing the top of my mask and the other holding the regulator in place. The warm wate
r overtook me. As a small cloud of white bubbles dispersed up toward the surface, the massive image of the Vandenberg came into view. I’d dived the awe-inspiring wreck a handful of times, but it still nearly took my breath away. The ship is so long that you can’t even see the other end of it.

  I rose up and the three of us met briefly on the surface, going over last-minute details of the dive. Once ready, we vented our BCDs. We descended together, riding the buoy line all the way down to the smokestack. Originally twenty feet taller, the top portion had been cut and welded to the top of the weather balloon hangar at the stern to give the wreck an even profile.

  We finned forward and wrapped around the largest of the two radar dishes. We swam up through the hole in the middle and stared in awe at the enormous web of metal that stretched out in a circle around us.

  Though the wreck was relatively new, the ocean and its abundant marine life had already staked its claim. A variety of tropical fish took shelter in the ship’s nooks and crannies. Green moray eels poked their heads out from cracks, alien-looking arrow crab feasted on the layers of algae already forming, and a handful of curious barracuda stared at us while their bodies remained stoic.

  We finned along the starboard deck, heading aft. Each of us took the occasional peek over the railing, looking in awe at the seafloor far below. We also stopped and watched as a large school of yellowtail snapper swam beside us.

  Ange and I were both fairly experienced wreck divers, but Scarlett wasn’t, so we kept the interior exploring to a minimal. The only room we showed her was the weather balloon hangar at the stern, aptly called “Underwater Margaritaville” in honor of the Parrotheads who’d contributed their support to the Vandenberg project.

  When Scarlett’s tank reached seven hundred pounds, I motioned for us to begin our ascent. We swam over to our buoy line and slowly made our way back up to the surface. The view from every angle was spectacular, and we each looked in amazement once more at the sheer size of the wreck.

  After a five-minute safety stop at fifteen feet down to help prevent decompression sickness, we surfaced and inflated our BCDs.