by Mark Stone
CRASHING WAVES
CROSS AND ANCHOR: BOOK ONE
MARK STONE
Author's Notes
Copyright 2017 by Mark Stone
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without written consent from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.
Crashing Waves is a work of fiction. All events, dialogue, and characters are a work of the author’s imagination. Therefore, any similarities to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Thanks, and I hope you enjoy it.
For all those who takes chances and venture out
into those deep seas hoping to find their treasures.
Chapter 1
Seven Months ago
“You sure about this, Russ?” Andy asked his boss, looking over at the blond man with eyes that were a familiar mixture of worry and excitement.
The sun was setting quickly against Vero Beach. Looking at his friend, Russ knew it was now or never. If they didn’t catch the light, they’d have to wait until tomorrow. And, as they were all too well aware of, they didn’t have a tomorrow.
There weren’t many people in the world who called him Russ. Five years ago, the footage he had taken with his waterproof Go Pro caught the eye of a network exec who spun it into a wildly popular treasure hunting show, and Russell Anchorage’s life had changed forever.
The Florida native who had spent much of his teenage years and early twenties screwing up in school and then at a countless string of dead end jobs had become a big deal..
“Anchor’s Away” became a runaway hit, blossoming from local television and getting picked up for syndication in its second season. He was a star, the poster boy beach bum, espousing a treasure hunting lifestyle people all over the country became obsessed with. But it was all about to wash away like a sandcastle built too close to the ocean, and there was nothing he could do about it.A life he owed to his best friend, Andy and partner on the TV show. It had been Andy who’d set up the Go Pro that captured the first footage. He could never be Anchor to him. He couldn’t even be Russell. He was Russ.
“You trust me, Andy?” Russ said, smiling at the man.
“God no,” Andy answered, chuckling loudly. “How stupid do I look?”
“Stupid as ever,” Russ answered. “But that’s beside the point. There’s a bronze swivel gun down there, Andy. I know it. I can feel it.”
“Russ,” Andy started, shaking his head.
“There is, Andy!” he answered, grabbing his best friend with both hands on the shoulders. “An honest to god relic from the 1715 fleet.” He swallowed hard. “King Phillip the Fifth—”
“Please tell me you are not going to talk to me about King Phillip the Fifth right now,” Andy scoffed.
“His economy was shaky, Andy. He ordered as much treasure as his fleets could haul to Spain just as quickly as they could carry it. You know what that means?”
“Of course I know what it means, Russ,” Andy said. “You been telling me about damned King Phillip the Fifth since we were twelve years old. When everybody else was staring at girls, you had me staring at damned treasure maps and nautical routes.”
“You’re welcome,” Russ answered, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“I didn’t thank you!” Andy said. “You have any idea how many dates I missed out on because of that.” He shook his head. “I heard April Greenwood was sweet on me in eleventh grade, but did I ask her to the prom? No. I went with you out on the ocean that night looking for coins we never found” He folded his arms across his chest, sulking. “She went out with Bruce Battley instead.”
“And where the hell is Bruce Battley now, Andy?” Russ asked, blinking at his friend.
“I have no idea,” Andy admitted.
“Neither do I, but I’m pretty certain the answer isn’t working as executive producer at one of the most popular travel shows in the country,” Russ said.
“One of the most popular cancelled travel shows in the country,” Andy responded.
“We’ll see about that,” Russ muttered, looking down at the water.
It was true. The prime of Anchor’s Away had passed. Now, like wood sitting for too long on the ocean floor, the show had started to rot, ratings plummeting and costs going up. The network had decided to cut its losses.
People told Russ it was for the best. One hundred and fifty-five episodes was a good run. Nothing to be ashamed of, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was reverting. If Anchors Away was gone, he wouldn’t be Anchor anymore. He’d just be Russ, and Russ had never been much good for anything.
“You really think you can change their mind?” Andy asked, swallowing hard and looking down at the water too. The rest of the crew had gone home already, saying their goodbyes and wondering where their next jobs would come from. Only Russ and his best friend were left, sitting out in the water off of Vero Beach, smack dab in the middle of a place rumored to be so choking full of lost gold, they called it Florida’s Treasure Coast. The water was calm, with just a slight breeze cutting through the still scorching Florida heat. If this was the last hurrah for Anchor’s Away, then Russ couldn’t have asked for anything better. It would end the way it started, just he and his friend having fun.
But it wouldn’t end. Russ would make sure of that.
“One bronze swivel gun,” he said, looking over at Andy. “In all of history, they’ve only ever found one. Do you really think us finding a second wouldn’t be big ratings? Do you really think we wouldn’t be on the cover of every travel magazine in the country? Hell, they’d probably dedicate a day to us in Vero Beach. The network won’t be able to say no to that, Andy.” Russ shook his head. “And then we’re back in business. Heck, maybe we’ll even get a bigger offer. We might even make a movie.”
“Now you’re just fishing for the moon,” Andy laughed.
“Sure I am,” Russ said. “And why not? We’re good at this stuff, Andy. Maybe the best. We ought to aim high. You think King Phillip the Fifth got where he got by aiming low?”
“Lord in Heaven,” Andy sighed, shaking his head.
“The answer is no, Andy,” Russ said. “And we won’t either.”
“King Phillip the Fifth was born into the crown, Russ, and he got so heavy handed about everything, a lot of ships capsized. He never got the treasure he was so keen on.” He looked down at the water again, splaying his hands. “It’s all out here.”
Russ smiled, picking up the scuba gear and pushing it again Andy’s chest. “Yes, it is, my friend. Yes, it is.”
Andy sighed. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“Don’t feel bad,” Russ said. “I’m good at what I do. You never really had a chance.”
Andy slung the gear on, standing in the smallish dive boat the network had upgraded them to in their third season, the one they would have to give back tomorrow if this little venture of Russ’s didn’t work out the way he’d hoped.
“Did I tell you about Crystal?” Andy asked, fastening the gear across his chest and beaming. “Her dad gave me his blessing.”
“Really?” Russ smiled, standing up and patting his friend on the back. “That’s fantastic, bud. When are you going to pop the question?”
“Maybe this weekend,” Andy admitted. “Weather’s supposed to be nice on Saturday. I figured I could charter one
of those cheesy romance boat rides they’re always trying to sell to the tourists.” He laughed. “You know, the kind where people play violin for you and they give you dinner and a bottle of wine.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll hide the ring in a slice of cake or something ridiculous like that.”
“You’re such a sap, man,” Russ said, though he beamed with pride for his friend. The truth was, neither of the men had ever had much luck when it came to the ladies when they were younger. But they had both been more than adequate with the bar scene and when Russ became famous, there were more than a few women ready and willing to throw themselves at him for a night or two.
That wasn’t what he was after though. In fact, it wasn’t what either of them were after. Russ and Andy had always been old school about things like that. While they did dream of things like fame, fortune, and the gold of King Phillip the Fifth, they also both wanted a secure home life, maybe even a wife to keep them company when they got home at night, tired from their latest adventure.
It looked like Andy was finally going to get that for himself, and Russ couldn’t be happier.
“She’s got a cousin, you know,” Andy said, finishing his preparation to dive. “Kayla. She’s smart, funny too.” He pointed at Russ. “And before you start, she’s as pretty as a picture, a real knockout.” He smiled pridefully. “Not as pretty as Crystal, of course, but who is?”
“Nobody I can think of,” Russ answered. “How about I treat you to a Corona when we get back to shore? And cool it with the whole setup thing, okay? This is about you guys. I don’t want you thinking you’ve gotta take care of me, you know?”
“Somebody’s got to, bud,” Andy answered, grinning ear to ear.
“You let me worry about that,” Russ answered. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather if I went down there?” He looked to the water.
“Nah,” Andy answered. “You know I get antsy waiting up here for you. Besides, aren’t you supposed to meet the network execs after this? Can’t have you late for your Skype call because you’re too busy drying off. We have to keep it professional.”
“Fair enough,” Russ responded. “Fifteen minutes. That’s how long we have before the water goes dark.”
“I’ve got lighting,” Andy said.
“No,” Russ answered, shaking his head. “That’s too dangerous, especially with the rest of the crew gone.”
“What are you talking about? We used to do this stuff by ourselves all the time. We could do it in our sleep.”
“Which is why fifteen minutes is more than enough time,” Russ said. “Now get your ‘soon to be engaged ass’ down there so we can grab that swivel gun and keep our show on the air.”
“You got it, Anchor,” Andy said, grinning.
“Don’t call me that, loser,” Russ said, chuckling.
With that, Andy dropped into the peaceful waters of the Atlantic in search for the rifle and gold with his eye on the future.
After Andy fell under the surface and out of sight everything that could have possibly went wrong did.
Chapter 2
Present Day
Detective Katherine Cross had been watching this stop for almost an hour now Dressed in a white T-shirt that extolled the virtues of “Florida’s Treasure Coast” as being “the spot where dreams come true” an oversized fanny pack, and an out of date camera hanging across her neck, she looked every bit like the rest of the tourists walking along downtown Vero Beach today. No one would ever think she was an undercover police officer looking to finally put a pin in a case she had been working on for months now.
And that was exactly how she wanted it.
This was a strange place for a cash drop. Downtown Vero Beach was a crowded place. Nestled on the eastern coast of Florida, this place was famous for beautiful beaches, nightlife, and the idea of buried treasure. Of the three of those things, Kate had always been insanely in love with the first, had tired of the second, and could never really stomach the thought of the third. Something about the idea of people wasting their lives diving through vast oceans and digging up age old dirt just to find baubles that had been forgotten hundreds of years ago didn’t sit well with her. Maybe it was the way her father always loved the hobby or maybe it was the way that hobby facilitated his death. Either way, she couldn’t stand it. Of course, anyone watching her didn’t have to know that.
Her connections told her he would be here today, Nathaniel Jacobs himself, rumored head of a crime family that had taken up residence in Atlanta and was now looking to push their influence further south. As with much of the underworld trade down here, a lot of that had to do with the distribution of drugs through both water and land channels.
Kate had helped uncover some of those paths and, with an informant or two in her pocket, was intent on cutting the head off before the snake could infect the city she loved.
Her phone buzzed silently in her pocket. She had turned the ringer off well before she stepped out of her unmarked Camry and started taking pictures of the Latin Claire’s buildings and endless parades of beach themed shops and bars dotting the shoreline. Having grown up here, she'd spent her entire life against the beautiful backdrop of this place and the buildings and people that populated it. It would stay that way too, if she had anything to do with it. Nathaniel Jacobs and his dirty, drug infested money could find a new place to land. As soon as he got finished serving the lengthy prison sentence he was sure to earn himself after getting caught making this drop today.
Kate’s eyes cut to the left, keeping her gaze on Roscoe. She had busted him almost three months ago now on his first drug run for the Atlanta based crime boss. With his back against the wall, he promised to help the investigation in exchange for a lighter sentence.
Since then, he had been working closely with Kate, wearing wires, recording phone conversations, and giving up whatever he knew about the burgeoning operation.
There had been no smoking gun though. All the conversations Roscoe had been with lower level cronies. All his interactions were with thugs. There had been no direct connection to Nathaniel, nothing at all to implicate him.
That changed today. It seemed Nathaniel was interested in just what was going on with his business down here. He wanted to look things over first hand and to make sure things were growing the way he deemed necessary. And who better to show him around than the person helping to set that business up? The fact that he had no idea that person was actually in the pocket of the police department was a boon Kate could use to close this case.
Roscoe had some money that belonged to Nathaniel. That was how the business man was going to identify his underling. He would walk up to meet him in the center of the town square, dressed in a red shirt with yellow palm trees across it, and pretend to drop a briefcase. Roscoe would stop to help him pick it up, carrying a briefcase of his own. They would make an exchange there, with Nathaniel taking the money and going on his way, leaving Roscoe a briefcase with an address and a time to meet him later.
Kate wouldn’t need the latter. A photo of the switch would be enough to implicate him and that would be enough to blow his entire operation open.
Kate smiled silently to herself. There was no money in that briefcase at all. If Nathaniel tried to open it, he would find bags and bags of flour as well as a Tera king device. Of course, it would never get that far. As soon as the switch happened, the police would be on him. This would be over in a matter of seconds.
Kate’s left hand started to twitch, the way it always did when she got excited or nervous. It was a tic she hated, but one she couldn’t get rid of all the same. Her father used to call it her “tell”. He’d say it was the reason she’d never be able to play poker successfully. All things considered, she didn’t mind that too much.
She snapped another absentminded picture of the shoreline off in the distance and looked at the watch on her arm. It was almost two o’clock, the time Nathaniel had scheduled to meet up with Roscoe and make the switch. She’d just have to keep her cool for just a few mor
e minutes and then she’d have the biggest bust of her career under her belt.
She had no idea what Nathaniel Jacobs looked like. The name was, of course, a straw man, with no real connection to whoever was using it in the Atlanta underworld. Nathaniel could have been anyone. It could be man or woman, black or white. No one she had been able to question had ever had any real contact with the person in charge. That left Kate with nothing more to go on than to look for a red shirt with golden palm trees on it.
The watch on her wrist shone two o’clock when she saw that very shirt. It was on a balding, out of shape man in his forties. He walked down the street, holding a briefcase in his right hand.
Kate felt a little underwhelmed. She had imagined Nathaniel as a bit more intimidating or alluring than that. This man could have been an accountant. He could have been her father’s friend; if her father had been a boring homebody instead of an erstwhile treasure hunter.
It didn’t matter. Part of her knew that things like that, like a dashing villain who twirled his mustache and looked daring as he tried to make his getaway only existed in the movies. In real life, crime was much less flashy. Less flashy, but much more dangerous.
“Get ready. I have eyes on him,” she said softly. She had a mic on and an earpiece stuffed into her right canal.
“Roger,” three voices said in tandem as they all waited for her signal to get going. She had a clear shot from here. Roscoe, all five foot four of him, was standing nervously against a wall, waiting for the man to trip in front of him and set all of this in motion. She’d take the picture and then give the men the go ahead to take him out.
Only, before she could do that, something strange happened. She saw another man walking along, same shirt, same briefcase, and then another. Then there was a woman, and another woman. They were all wearing the same shirt, all carrying the same briefcase.