by Chris Niles
The sap’s eyes were getting watery, the rims turning red. He slapped the bar and shook his head like a dog.
“Sorry to hang a rain cloud over such a beautiful day.” He waved his hand toward the clear sky. “I’m covering a charter for one of the dive boats based here. Perfect day to enjoy what’s left under the water here.”
She looked at the brace on his knee and shrugged. “I hate to ask, you bein’ down on your luck and all, but do you happen to know anyone looking for help? I got bartending and waitressing experience, and Lucas is a solid busboy. Never complains.”
“If you don’t mind drunken tourists or working late, you might try the Electric Eel down in Old Town. Owner’s name is Janet. Tell her you’re stayin’ here and I sent you down.”
A party of three lumbered up to the bar and settled in on stools. Chuck held up his index finger to them then disappeared into the kitchen. All three men were sunburned under the straps of their Salt Life tanks. One carried an iPad in a sturdy waterproof case, and the other two carried cameras encased in waterproof housings with elaborate light rigs.
“Even on nitrox, we won’t have a ton of bottom time. He said visibility has been around eighty, so I want to make sure to get a few wide shots as we’re coming in.” The man poked at his tablet, dragging items on his shot list around.
Chuck emerged from the kitchen with a sack slung over his shoulder. He paused to shake hands with the three newcomers. “Welcome to Shark Key. We’ve had a little change in schedule, but we’ll be ready to shove off in just a few minutes. Captain Steve spent the night on the other side of the Gulf Stream, so Justin and I are going to be taking you out on the Island Hopper today. First two dives will be nitrox on the Vandenberg, then we’ll take a surface interval and do some snorkeling around the Sand Key lighthouse. After that, we’ll drop you down over two of our most photogenic shallow reefs, and wrap up by bagging a few lobsters for dinner. Sound good to you fellas?”
“Perfect. You sure you’re up for the ride?”
“Takes more’n a sprained knee to keep a Conch down.”
“If you say so. You got lunch and beer, too, right?”
“It’s being loaded now.” He pointed to a faded blue cooler disappearing through a break in the seagrape hedge across the parking lot. The men all fist bumped then turned back to the tablet.
Tina waved Chuck over. “I couldn’t help but overhear. I’ve got some serving experience. Do you need a hand with them? I’d be happy to come along and keep the food and drinks flowing.”
“That’s kind of you, but this ain’t our first rodeo. I think we’ll be okay.”
“What happened with the Captain? The other side of the Gulf Stream is Cuba, isn’t it?”
“There’s a little water in between. It’s nothing, just a slight change in plan.”
Tina noticed he was biting his lip again — a tell if she’d ever seen one.
“Her husband with him?” Tina pressed, tilting her head toward Michelle, who was sipping coffee in front of a fruit plate at a table a few feet away. “Didn’t see him around last night.”
Chuck glanced toward the kitchen door, then tapped his hand on the bar. “I need to—”
“Of course, get going.”
“Hey, we’ve got live music out here tonight for sunset. It gets busy, so make sure to come early if you want a spot on the rail.” Chuck tapped the bar again then disappeared into the kitchen.
Tina had finished the hearty breakfast along with two more cups of coffee when Lucas plopped onto the stool beside her. “Whatcha eatin’?”
“Was shrimp ’n’ grits, but they’re gone.”
“Why didn’t ya save me none?”
“’Cause you’re twenty-five years old, and if you want breakfast, you’re big enough to get your ass up and git some. I may be your mama, but I ain’t your keeper.”
“Dammit, mama.”
“You’re cute, boy, but don’t you disrespect your mama like that.” Tina pinched his cheek, pulled him toward her, kissed his forehead, then shoved him back into his seat. She waved to the waitress. “Can he get a mountain dew and a couple eggs?”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A deep rumble rolled across the water from the dark clouds clustered on the southeastern horizon, and tiny goosebumps rose on Kate’s skin from the wind finding its way through the high flybridge. The red marker showing the Mariella’s position on the GPS screen began to turn onto an easterly course.
Steve leaned back against the wide vinyl seat. “At least this guy is predictable.”
“Stupid, more like. He’s coming straight at us.” She dragged her finger across the screen. Its course would carry the stolen vessel no more than a mile from where Kate and the Sofia idled a wide, slow circle.
William raised an eyebrow. “Maybe he just doesn’t care. Underestimating this man could get us all killed. Don’t forget that.”
“I think we should intercept him as soon as he clears Cuban waters and wrap this up.” Susan pointed to a spot on the screen. “If we shoot across his path then double back, we might still be able to surprise him.”
Everyone agreed. Steve pulled the boat about and shoved the throttles forward. The big cruiser’s stern dug deep into the choppy sea, shoving the heavy boat up onto plane.
Kate monitored the screen as they careened west, closing the distance between the two dots on the chart. The Mariella sped directly toward them. When just two miles separated them, William picked up the VHF.
“M/V Sofia to M/V Mariella. You have entered international waters, and you are not authorized to be operating that vessel. Slow to a stop and prepare to be boarded.”
“Think he’ll answer?”
“Of course not, but we need to at least give him a chance. We’re not pirates, are we?”
“Arrgh!” Kate scrunched the side of her face together in her best pirate impression.
“Not that kind of pirate, Kate. Modern pirates in the Caribbean would kill me and William, feed us to the sharks, and sell you and Susan on the dark web before the sun reaches noon.”
William pressed the microphone’s button again. “M/V Mariella, stop and prepare to be boarded.”
The boats were less than a mile apart.
“We’ll meet them in about thirty seconds. Everyone strap in!”
Alejandro crouched low on the boat’s bow and clipped a tether to the railing.
“There.” Steve pointed to a spot just off their port bow. “He’s veering off.” Steve turned the boat hard to starboard, bringing it around to parallel the Mariella’s new course. “I thought we’d get a good game of Chicken out of him. Looks like he’s a little more chicken than I expected.”
The GPS screen showed the dot arcing away from the pursuit and straightening out to the north. Steve pulled off toward starboard, punched the throttle, and set a parallel course. The Mariella pulled further west, expanded the gap between the boats, and then eased back toward the north.
Steve tapped the radar screen, “Maybe if we’re lucky, we can just herd him back and let the Coasties deal with him.”
“But we need the book!”
William rested a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “One thing at a time, Kate. We’ll be there when they board him.”
The boat took a big rolling wave to the port side bow. Kate slid into Susan on the wide seat, then grabbed the seatback to keep them both from falling to the deck.
“Sorry, girls. Between the weather and his wake, it’s getting rough. Maybe you should go below.”
Kate’s cheeks burned hot. “Below, my stolen donkey! I should have ended this before it even started. I’m here to finish it now.”
The two boats danced for nearly an hour as they raced north until the bow of Sofia was nearly even with Mariella’s stern. Suddenly, a sharp crack sounded from the other boat.
“Kate, DOWN!” Two more cracks echoed over the water.
While Susan scrambled to the safety of the cabin below, William crouched against the fiberglass and pu
shed Kate into the protected nook beside him. In his hand, Kate recognized the polished wood handle of a Colt 1911 from a story on gang violence she’d worked on back in the city. Her ears rang at the loud explosion as three quick shots roared from the gun.
The other boat straightened out and took off at full throttle away from the Sofia. Steve adjusted and pushed the Sofia’s throttles all the way forward. The boat’s engines screamed.
“We can’t stay wide open for long. I just hope he overheats before we do.” He tapped the starboard engine’s temperature gauge. The needle was already nudging into the red zone.
Alejandro scrambled up the ladder, shouting rapid Spanish over the scream of the boat’s engine. William nodded, then the boy disappeared below deck.
“Steve, can you help Alejandro in the engine room? I’ll take the helm. I want to stay to his starboard and keep herding him north. Just a little farther.”
Moments later, they saw a cloud of dark smoke puff from the rear of the Mariella. The boat drifted to a stop, dropping lower in the water as smoke billowed from the engine compartment.
William pulled the Sofia’s throttles back to neutral and let their bigger boat sink down into the water and drift toward the other’s stern. In the deafening silence, shouts in both English and Spanish echoed across the water.
The greasy thug who’d attacked Babette shouted frantically from the boat’s helm. “You!” He pointed at the teenager in a dirty blue t-shirt — the same shirt Alejandro wore. “Get that engine started, Now!”
The boy scrambled around the cockpit to release the Mariella’s dinghy, then he leaped out onto the boat’s swim platform. He was chased by a string of English profanity and racial slurs Kate hoped he didn’t understand. Then she glanced toward the ladder.
Alejandro’s head had just appeared above the flybridge deck. He shrugged and gazed across the water at his father’s burning boat. Smoke poured from the back of it, so black and thick it blocked the name “Mariella” from view. The boy balanced on the rocking swim platform, engulfed in smoke, scooping seawater over the transom.
“What in the name of Pete is that boy doing?” William flipped the radio to PA and raised the microphone. “Mariella, we can assist.” His voice boomed from the forward speakers and echoed across the water. William dropped the mic. “Kate, take the helm and get us over there. He’s doing more harm…” He scrambled down the ladder and beckoned for Alejandro and Steve to follow him to the bow.
As the Sofia neared the billowing smoke, the thug leaned across the rail of the flybridge and shouted, “Stay back!”
When William stepped over the bow rail with Alejandro right behind him, the man pointed a handgun down at them. His arms swung wildly as his boat rocked in the surf. Alejandro scrambled back up to the helm.
A shot rang out. William dropped to his belly on the deck as the wide sliding door to the salon shattered. Pebbles of safety glass rained down on the deck then scattered as the boat rolled in the stormy sea.
“Miss Kate. He say you …” the boy pointed toward the cabin.
“Not a chance, my friend.” Kate scrambled to the bow as rain pounded on the fiberglass deck. “I’ll cover you.” She took the Colt from William, crouched behind the gunwale, then aimed up at the man with the slicked back hair, ignoring the fat drops pelting her face.
He held his own gun steady in both hands.
William climbed across the bow rail. “Put the gun down, man. We’re only here to help. Put the gun down.”
Another shot rang out, and the fiberglass on the Sofia’s starboard gunwale splintered in a puff of white.
“Papa’s querido…” Alejandro hung his head.
“Look out!” Kate shouted.
Three things happened at once.
Vince jumped from his sheltered spot on the flybridge and fired toward the Sofia.
William leapt from the bow toward the Mariella’s cockpit.
The Sofia’s bow rammed the other boat.
William landed in the cockpit with a thud. Steve’s body flew forward against the bow rail from the impact, and a shot rang from the Colt in Kate’s hand. The glass window on the Mariella’s flybridge shattered.
Alejandro swore and tweaked the throttles to pull off the Sofia’s stern.
The thug screamed from the flybridge. He waved his gun down at Steve in the bow like he was objecting to a bad call at a Dolphins game. The wind whipped up, blowing the black smoke off to the west and clearing Kate’s view of the Mariella’s starboard side. But smoke continued to pour from beneath the swim platform.
“Alejandro!” Kate shouted up from the bow. “Get us back over there!”
William waved for Alejandro to bring the boat closer as Kate started screaming and waving her hands at the man on the other boat.
He pointed his gun at Kate again.
The boats had drawn close enough for Kate to see his crazed look. He had deep dark circles under his eyes, and the whites surrounding his beady brown irises were well exposed. His greased hair flopped down across his forehead, and he looked like he was running on coffee and candy bars. Maybe even a few lines of cocaine.
And then in a flash, she saw William’s strong arms swipe down over the man’s shoulders, capturing his wrists.
“All clear! Come on over, guys! And bring some zip ties!” William pushed the thug down to the deck of the flybridge.
Alejandro feathered the throttle and pulled the boats side by side. He spoke to his cousin in the cockpit in rapid Spanish.
Kate thought she saw the other boy rub his fingers together, as if to say “money.”
After a brief talk, the two shook hands then disappeared into the Mariella’s engine room.
Kate slid aft along the starboard gunwale.
Susan, several thick white zip ties in her hand, had just joined Steve in the rear cockpit when the boat rolled, causing her to stumble. A shard of glass embedded into her left heel. The zip ties fell to the deck as she grabbed her foot. Blood gushed from the wound. She hopped to keep her balance, but the glass was everywhere. She screamed louder and fell against the starboard rail, another wide cut opening in the sole of her right foot. Her arms swung wildly, then in what felt like slow motion, Susan’s body folded at the waist and toppled into the roiling sea.
Kate shrieked. Steve dove over the rail, and she quickly lost sight of him in the rough waves. Susan’s white shirt made a stark contrast to the dark waters. The heavy waves had already pulled her several yards away from them.
“Man overboard! Man overboard! Man overboard!” Kate shouted the alert three times, scrambled around the corner to find a life ring, then repeated the call.
Susan screamed and flailed in the water, drifting further from the boat.
A heavy splash from behind the Mariella caught Kate’s attention. William stood at the transom, dumbfounded, watching the thug in the green shirt swim toward the screaming woman. Then all heads turned toward Alejandro’s shout from Sofia’s flybridge.
“Shark!”
The thug was still fifteen yards away from Susan when a fin pierced the surface of the water. It circled between them, then pivoted.
Kate watched in horror as the beast stretched its maw wide. Susan thrashed between the waves, bobbing right into its path.
Its jaws snapped shut.
As it rolled to its side, Susan’s leg, trapped between its teeth, pointed toward the sky. Her body did a macabre cartwheel before the shark plunged into the Strait, taking her deep into the drink.
Shots rang out from the cockpit of the other boat before Kate remembered the Colt in her hand. Through streaming tears and a seizing chest, she aimed at the beast and fired until the slide locked open.
But the carnivore was already well beyond her reach.
She fell to the deck, her tears splashing on the deck and swirling in Susan’s bloody footprints.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kate stepped across the Mariella’s soot-covered transom. Over the starboard rail, rain pelted a da
rker patch of water where scraps of fabric floated between the swells.
The drenched thug sat on a fish box with his hands tied behind his back. William had secured him and quietly swept the glass from Sofia’s cockpit. Then he led a glassy-eyed Steve into the salon to dry off, leaving Kate to deal with the thug.
“Talk.”
The man stared at the fiberglass deck.
Kate pushed away the image of the dark stained waters and the wide, scarred fin. Her fists tightened as she paced the deck in front of him.
“You…” Her nostrils drew together, and she fought to breathe. She pulled the Colt from her cargo pocket and spun it around in her palm. “I should have kicked your ass harder when I had the chance.”
When she cocked her arm back, the man’s shoulders seized like he was trying to shield his face with his tied hands. He pulled his knees up and tucked his face down, balancing in a little ball on his tailbone.
“Wait!” His voice was hoarse.
“Hmm. You can speak.” She grabbed his arm by the bicep and pulled his torso forward. “You getting scared? Give me a reason to not toss you overboard right here.” She shoved him backward.
“Let’s start with a name. What can I call you? ‘Asshole’ is getting a little repetitive, even though it suits you.”
His legs uncurled. He planted his feet wide, then stumbled across the cockpit into the rain, trying to catch his balance. “Vince.”
“Vince what?”
A wave hit them on the port side, and the boat rolled hard to starboard. Vince stumbled toward the gunwale, face planting on the rough deck just short of the rail.
“Holt. Vince Holt.”
He rolled onto his shoulder, tucked his knees under him, then crawled forward toward the sheltered area near the cockpit door. The rough deck tore the skin from his knees. Streaks of dark blood appeared on the white fiberglass behind him, then washed down toward the scuppers with the beating rain.
Kate stood, feet planted wide, knees loose. She rocked with the boat. “Okay, Vince Holt. Start with the book. Where is it?”