by Josh Karnes
Chapter 39
Isla Roca, Puerto Rico
Carl could almost feel the wheels coming off of their balky containment effort when he heard the rotors chopping through the air in the distance. He could see the FBI helicopter making its way back to Isla Roca for the third time today, just as they were nearly three quarters of the way around the island in their search of the coastline. This had been one more awkward afternoon for Carl.
How he got stuck with this particular job, he wasn't sure. He hoped that Aaron's search of El Pliegue was more peaceful. For a couple of hours now, he had endured a constant volley of poorly directed accusation and innuendo from all three of his guests on his boat. One minute it was the son, Eli, grilling him about their operation at Isla Roca. The next minute, Eli was hassling his father about some financial deal gone wrong that Carl didn't even want to know about. Then, the detective, Vega, would start questioning James about this financial deal, and a bunch of other uncomfortable questions about the lost kid. Eli would pipe in and defend his father, argue with Vega.
It seemed obvious that Detective Vega had not yet had a chance to interrogate the family to his satisfaction. Vega did seem to have a pretty good nose for finding the lost kid. He also was very good at sniffing out the holes in Carl's story, which was not that hard since the story was full of them. Vega continued asking Carl questions he couldn't answer about what they were doing at Isla Roca. In a way, Carl thought the FBI arriving again might be a relief. This Culebra cop was going to ferret out everything if you gave him the chance.
Carl was thankful for the times when they were actually searching for the lost kid. They didn't have any reason to dive, even though they had brought along equipment. The water was crystal clear and there were no signs of anyone washing up or swimming in at the shore. On the northeast side of Isla Roca, the waves had been too heavy for them to search that close to the rocks. That was the only area they didn't cover in detail. But it seemed pretty obvious to everyone: Joseph Grady was not on the shore of Isla Roca.
“Who is that?” Carl heard Eli ask, thinking Eli must have seen the helicopter. But Eli was looking in a different direction, towards Fajardo. What was coming from that direction was not a helicopter, but a boat.
“Looks like the Coast Guard,” said Vega.
Eli stood up to get a better view. “What do they want?”
Just then the VHF radio came to life and the voice on the other end instructed Carl to maintain his speed and heading, which would be easy since they were nearly standing still. Within seconds the Coast Guard rigid-hull inflatable pulled along the port side of Carl's Zodiac and two of its four men boarded the Zodiac along with Carl and his three guests. Carl did not expect this to be a routine inspection, and he was not disappointed.
“Gentlemen, I am Chief Warrant Officer Charles Gibson, and this is Chief Petty Officer Baker. I presume one of you is James Grady,” the taller of the two young men said, standing at the rear of the Zodiac. This man seemed to be in charge and was doing most of the talking.
“I am James Grady, and this is my son, Eli.”
“And you are?” Gibson said.
“Carl Jacobs. I work here on this island.”
“Thermion, right? Defense contractor?”
“That's right.”
“I am Detective Alex Vega of Culebra.”
Gibson ignored the detective and turned to James, “We received a report that your son, Joseph Grady, has been missing since Monday, and it is thought that he was lost in the waters here.”
“That's right. The FBI and police are heading up the search,” James said, nodding towards Detective Vega, and then continued, “Carl here, and his colleague, are helping us with these boats. We have been out here searching the coastline of this island for the past couple of hours.”
Gibson looked at Carl, “What is your involvement in this search? I presume Thermion is involved?”
“The kid was last seen diving out there, at El Pliegue. After the FBI guy came here this morning, my boss told me to help them search, since we have boats and other equipment, and since it is our island. Aaron and I know the area in the water pretty well. We work out here every day.”
“Aaron...?”
“Aaron West. He took the rest of their family out to El Pliegue on another Zodiac with a side-scan sonar to look at the bottom of the sinkhole.” Behind and to Gibson's left, Chief Baker was taking brief notes.
“Mr. West, he's out there now? Are there others with him?” Gibson asked.
“My wife,” James replied. “Melissa. And my other son, Mark. They left the dock at the same time we did earlier this afternoon.”
Gibson looked over at Chief Baker, who handed him a manila folder. “We are going to assume command of the search for your son at sea,” he said, while opening the folder and showing James a printout of one of the pictures they provided the FBI of Joseph. “Is this a current picture of your son?”
“Yes. That's Joseph.” James replied.
“Mr. Jacobs, will you radio Mr. West and ask him to return to your dock and meet us there? We will follow you to the dock and wait for the others there.” Just as he said this, the FBI helicopter passed nearly directly over their heads. The Coast Guard men took notice but did not say anything. Gibson inclined his head towards the radio, prompting Carl to move in to make the call to Aaron.
“Aaron, the Coast Guard have boarded our boat. They are asking us to return to the dock,” he said into the microphone.
“Way ahead of you. We'll probably beat you there,” Aaron said, with an edge to his voice that puzzled Carl a little bit, but he didn't want to discuss it in the presence of the Coast Guard men. He wasn't sure why they were here, but he knew that they were not called in by the FBI. The fact that the Coast Guard showed up here and already had a briefing folder on the lost kid meant this search must have been escalated above the FBI.
As soon as Carl finished talking to Aaron, Gibson and Baker boarded their own boat and Carl piloted his Zodiac quickly back to their dock with the Coast Guard boat following closely. One good thing to come of this development was that the other three men on Carl's boat had stopped their incessant accusatory banter and instead sat in stunned silence for the duration of the short trip. And very soon, Carl would probably be freed from this mess as soon as the Coast Guard took over.
When they arrived at the dock, Aaron had beaten them by a few seconds and was tying up his Zodiac. Melissa began to rush to meet James and Eli, but slowed when she saw the Coast Guard boat coming behind. She said, apprehensively, “James, what's going on?”
“They stopped us just as we were finishing our search, told us they have 'orders' to take over the search, on the water at least. It's just as well. We didn't find anything out there. How about you?”
Melissa was still in a mild state of shock. The past fifteen minutes had been a whirlwind. James could see something was wrong, and he said, “Honey. What happened?”
“I don't know, James,” she said, honestly. “We were trying to get the sonar thing to work. It was broken somehow.” Mark started to interrupt but James's look silenced him. Melissa continued, “then all of the sudden, the boat... well it kind of... tilted?” She looked at Mark for clarification and he only shrugged and nodded. “Then the cable, something was pulling the cable.”
Mark interrupted this time, “the towfish. It's a part of the sonar, you drop it under the water.”
“Right,” Melissa continued. “The cable on the towfish. Something was pulling it, and then the hook that was holding it broke and it pulled the whole sonar thing overboard. It was the craziest thing. It just happened in a flash. Then Aaron's face went white as a sheet and he said 'we have to leave now' and before we even knew what was happening we left the sinkhole about as fast as the boat would go.”
“What, was it a fish, maybe pulled the, what did you call it?”
“Towfish”, Mark said. “No, dad. That was no fish. No fish is that big and that fast. The towfish is like
five feet long, five or six inches in diameter. It's like a small torpedo. Probably fifty pounds at least. It was hooked using a steel cable, probably five hundred feet. And the data cable was connected to the side-scan sonar unit, which is probably eighty pounds and the size of a small suitcase. If some fish got it, it would have to be big enough to chomp on a five-foot long torpedo and fast enough to rock our boat, snap an aluminum carabiner, and also yank that whole sonar unit down with it. And dad.” Mark paused for dramatic effect. “The sonar unit went straight down. It didn't go off like it was being dragged by a fish or whale or whatever. It went straight down into the sinkhole.”
“It sunk?” Eli asked.
“No Eli. It didn't sink. It was pulled down, so fast we couldn't even see it. By the time we could look over the edge, it was gone into 'the crease'. Something pulled it down there, violently.”
Mark's description of the event had the effect of deepening Melissa's state of shock. She thought again about what happened. Mark was right. It was violent. The sonar didn't just fall. It was pulled—no, jerked—from the boat and driven into what looked like a bottomless pit. Is that what happened to... she couldn't finish the thought. She willed herself to stop thinking. She was beginning to shut down, because to not shut down would be to go crazy with grief.
James could sense his wife's emotional state hardening, and he embraced her in effort to offer some comfort, but he knew it would do little good. She was closing herself off. This event had affected her deeply. He could see Aaron and Carl talking in hushed tones, presumably Carl reporting that they had not found anything and Aaron telling the same tale as Melissa and Mark had just told him, but perhaps with some insight that he lacked. And then he saw that the Coast Guard boat had been tied up but the men aboard had not come over to the dock yet, so they had not overheard this story. He remembered the helicopter that had likely landed by now and he knew deep down that everything was about to change.