by Chris Niles
Chuck was still glued to the computer screen. “I can’t thank you all enough. These past few days have been the worst I’ve ever felt. I thought I was going to lose Shark Key forever. Now it looks like I’ll never have to worry about losing it again. That couldn’t have happened without all of you.” A tear dripped down his cheek, sparkling in the light.
“Ahoy!” William’s deep voice carried across the water from Tax Shelter’s sweeping flybridge. He guided the boat alongside the Island Hopper then dropped the engines to idle.
Steve shouted over the starboard gunwale. “Set anchor with your stern about here. We’ll pull ours and raft up to you. Our last tank is almost full, so we’re about ready to go down again.”
William piloted around to the west, set his anchor, then began to let out the rode. The yacht drifted into place just above the reef. As William backed down on the anchor, Steve eased up to his port side. Kate dropped three fenders and tossed spring lines across to Vince, who quickly tied them off.
“That good?” William’s voice crackled over the short-range walkie-talkie sitting on the table.
Steve grabbed it. “Perfect!”
A moment later, both men clambered aboard the smaller dive boat. Kate briefed them on what they’d found so far and the process they’d set up for raising the cases. With extra hands and more gear, they agreed they could probably get most of the cargo loaded before dark. Kate, Steve, and Chuck would stay on station at the Katherine K, rigging lift bags and pushing them and crates out to Vince, who would clip them to the line then send everything to the surface, where William and Michelle would be waiting to load everything into the lazarette between the Tax Shelter’s swim platform and engine room.
Kate glanced at Steve. “The boat will be right on top of us, and we’re not super-deep, so I’m okay with pushing the safety limits a little bit. Instead of ascending at a thousand pounds of air, let’s stretch that to five hundred. We can clip a pony tank to the line at fifteen feet for the safety stop, just in case. Chuck, you’ll probably run low on air first. When you hit five hundred, signal one of us then just go on up alone. We’ll keep an eye on you through your safety stop.”
She paused to screw her regulator to a tall tank covered in yellow and green stickers.
“Steve and I both have high capacity Nitrox tanks, so we’ve got plenty of air and plenty of time. Unless the current shifts, we should stay right on top of the site. Vince, it looks like you can probably just hover above the reef at about thirty-five feet. Catch the packages as they raise up then clip them to the line. As long as you don’t go crazy, you should be able to get an hour, maybe more. Just don’t forget to watch your air. Five hundred pounds, ascend slow, and don’t skip your safety stop. We can’t risk a trip to the chamber for anyone.”
Michelle raised the Island Hopper’s red and white diver down flag while the four divers geared up. For the next hour, they tugged and strapped and lifted cases and boxes and bags, sending them toward the surface for William and Michelle to lug each bulky package out of the water and haul it through the hatch on the transom into the yacht’s roomy lazarette.
As Kate floated out a small bag filled with heavy gold coins, Vince waved and tapped his pressure gauge. She repeated the ascent sign — a thumbs up — signaled okay, then pointed back and forth from her eyes to him. I’ve got my eye on you.
Vince collected a load of bags and crates, then slowly made his way up the stern line. Midway up, he paused to send the load to the surface. He waited long enough to catch the next batch of bags that Chuck clipped to the line, and with his safety stop complete, he pulled those to the surface with him.
Kate waved at Chuck, tapped her pressure gauge, pointed to him. He checked his air and waggled four fingers at her. Kate sucked in a deep breath and bit down hard on her regulator. He should have already surfaced. Four hundred pounds of air was barely enough to get safely through his stop. She jabbed a finger toward him, then pointed at the surface. Chuck shrugged and clipped two more cases to the stern line before starting up.
She glanced over at Steve, who indicated he still had plenty of air. When Chuck stopped, Kate checked her watch and began counting to time his safety stop. Anger would use extra air, so she tried to ignore it while she clocked him.
Kate and Steve hovered above the opening to the Katherine K’s hull. She looked down on the wreck and strained to see through the murky water. Their work had raised years of silt and sand, and the clear, eighty-foot visibility had dropped to around ten feet around the hull. They had most of the treasure raised, and now it was a matter of waiting for the gentle current to clear the silt away so they could look for anything they might have left behind. As they hovered above the wreck, they heard a low hum resonating in the water — the unmistakable sound of a boat motor.
The boat could be a half-mile away, but she could only see a hundred feet, maybe less. Nevertheless, she rolled toward the light and scanned the surface fifty feet above her. Without signaling to each other, Steve did the same — human nature. She didn’t see a shadow of another hull, and he didn’t indicate seeing anything, either. So they both rolled back toward the reef then finned back to the edge of the hull.
They sifted through the silt and sand for a few more minutes as the engine drone grew clearer. Finally, Kate tapped Steve on the shoulder and pointed at the surface. The shadow of Tax Shelter’s sleek hull sat straight above them, and the smaller hull of the Island Hopper sat alongside to the south. But a third shadow appeared to the east, approaching the Tax Shelter.
Kate’s eyes widened and quick, short bursts of bubbles shot from her regulator. Steve nodded, then motioned for her to focus on his eyes. He breathed slowly and Kate counted the spots on the lens of his mask until she matched his calm breaths. He signed for her to wait while he collected the lift bags and other gear, bundled it all up, then tucked it all into a niche in the Katherine K’s hull. After that, he checked his and Kate’s air, waggled his fingers in a swimming motion toward the Tax Shelter’s bow, then made the sign for ascent.
Kate shook her head and swam toward the yacht’s stern. Steve grabbed her ankle and pulled her back toward him. She fought his grip, thrashing her legs. Her foot struck the side of Steve’s head, and she felt his fingers release. Kate started toward the surface again. She rose a few feet, then looked back.
Steve was in trouble.
He groped for his mask, but it was dangling behind his head. Kate flipped over and kicked hard toward him. She helped him reposition the mask, and he quickly cleared it and glared at her. He jabbed her in the shoulder, then jabbed his own shoulder and pointed to the anchor, nodding once for emphasis.
She blew a long string of bubbles and nodded, then the two headed west, slowly ascending as they made their way toward the Tax Shelter’s bow.
Chapter Fifty-One
Vince tucked the last sack filled with their find behind the engine room ladder then tapped the hatch above his head. He glanced around the sparkling engine room. The pristine runs of piping, hoses, and wires contrasted with the dull metal and rotting wood crates they’d brought up from the hull of the Katherine K. But they’d looked inside enough of them to know the contents sparkled. Just a short run back to Shark Key to unload, and he could take his share then slip away to a new life somewhere Baumann could never find him.
The engine room and the storage area behind it were full of cases, crates, and bags. Only a narrow path was left between the aft hatch that led to the swim platform and the forward bulkhead of the engine room. The giant twin Caterpillar engines sat in silence flanking the priceless treasure. Vince climbed over the crates then scrambled up the ladder into the luxurious dinette in the boat’s cockpit. Chuck stood near the port stairs, dripping salt water all over the teak decking that someone else would have to clean and varnish.
“Is that all of it?” Vince was in no mood for surprises.
“All we’re getting tonight. Anything that’s left is strewn on the bottom, and we’ve kicked up so much
silt, there’s nothing more we can do until it clears up.” Chuck tilted his head to the side and shook it.
“Good, because we couldn’t fit much more down there and still get to the engines.”
William poked his head out of the main salon. “We don’t need to get very far. We’re floating pretty low, so I’ll take the scenic route around to the west of the quicksands, and then east through the gulf. Then we’ll drop down through the flats on the rising tide. No more than an hour, I wouldn’t think.”
“Chuck, would you like some pineapple?” Michelle’s voice drifted out from the galley. Chuck stuck the corner of the ship’s fluffy towel in his ear, tilted his head to the side, and hopped on one foot.
William turned back inside. “I think that’s a yes.”
Vince flopped into the wide banquette, his back to the ocean. He picked at the nail on his pinky finger. “I want to thank you guys.”
Chuck stopped his ear water dance and met Vince’s gaze.
“I hurt you. I stole from you. I led you on a chase across the Caribbean. One of your people…” He paused. “You all had no reason to forgive me. But you did. You’re giving me a chance for a fresh start, and I’m … I appreciate it is all.”
William rested his hands on the back of a white captain’s chair and leaned in. “All that is true. You did give us more trouble than we were expecting. And yeah, I knew you could’ve been feeding us a line to save your own skin out there after Cuba. But you also risked your life to try to save Susan. And you’ve been helpful. You’ve kept your word.”
“And we’ll keep ours,” Chuck added. “When we get back and get all this unloaded, I’ll make sure you have enough to start over anywhere you want to go.”
“Thank you.”
Michelle set a huge bowl of cut pineapple and mangos on the table between them. “Who’s that?”
“Who’s who?” Vince spun around and saw a small boat speeding directly toward them.
“I don’t like how fast they’re approaching with the whole ocean to themselves. We have divers in the water and our flags are still out.” William grabbed a set of binoculars. “Michelle, come with me.” He dropped the field glasses on the table then pushed his wife into the cabin, slamming the sliding door behind him.
Vince picked up the binoculars and trained them on the approaching red Bayliner. A tall pale man stood at the helm. A small woman sat in the captain’s chair beside him, her red hair flying behind her in the wind. He handed the glasses to Chuck and ran into the salon. He met William coming back up the steps with Michelle and the giant German Shepherd on his heels.
“…not stuff me in a corner to hide—”
“Whiskey, stay with Michelle—”
“Hey. Sorry to interrupt, but what kind of weapons do we have on board?” Vince fought to keep his voice steady
“You know the boat better than I do. What does he keep?”
“Not much outside of fishing gear. There’s a spear gun buried under all that stuff we just loaded, but nothing else I know of. I meant what did you bring?”
“I’ve got a .45, but I wasn’t expecting to run into any trouble, so no extra ammunition, unless Michelle thought to toss a box in her purse.”
“I didn’t even bring my purse. We’ve got Whiskey, right boy?” She scratched the dog behind his ears, but they both looked like they’d shatter at the first touch.
Vince glanced out the sliding doors. The Bayliner was nearly on them, slowing and approaching their starboard side. Baumann had a shotgun slung on a strap across his chest and a pistol holstered on his side.
“We’re gonna have to talk our way out of this. Whatever I say next, know that I meant every word I just said to you out there.” He pointed to Chuck, standing in the center of the aft deck. “Tell him. Every word.” Vince opened the sliding door and stretched his arms out wide.
“Vincent.”
Vince’s blood froze at the sound of Baumann’s voice, but he fought to keep his body loose and his voice warm. “Throw me that line. You’re not going to believe what I’ve got for you, Boss.” Vince tied the line to a cleat amidship then scrambled aft to tie the speedboat’s second line to the Tax Shelter’s swim platform. He held out a hand to steady Baumann as he jumped from the small boat, then led his former boss up the starboard stairs to the main deck.
“Hey, asshole!” Tina’s shout rose from the Bayliner. She scrambled over the gunwale onto the Tax Shelter then up the stairs behind them.
“Vincent, why is my yacht in the middle of the ocean and why are these … people on it?” Baumann looked like he was smelling hobo feet on his three-million-dollar showpiece.
“I told you they were after something. They found it. And it’s all loaded in your storage locker below.” Vince tapped the hatch to the engine room at his feet. Chuck shot Vince a look of agonized betrayal. When Baumann crouched to look through the hatch, Vince met the gaze, tilted his head to the dinette where he’d just confessed his gratitude, and gave an earnest nod, silently begging Chuck to believe him.
“Mr. Baumann,” Tina’s shrill voice sliced through the tense moment. “You know he’s playing you, sir.”
“I smell a lot of something that’s not my sparkling clean boat down there.”
“I’ve been watching him at the marina for the past two days. He’s one of them now. Plannin’ to take his cut and run. I heard him talking about it.”
Baumann looked up from the engine room hatch and stared at him.
Vince smelled his own sweat through his wetsuit and fought to steady his breathing and hold the taller man’s glare.
“Is this true, Vincent? Are you double-crossing me?”
His gaze flitted up to the left then back to Baumann. “Not at all, sir. The opposite. I’m double-crossing them. I even got them to load it all on your boat for you.”
“Vincent, I’ve known you a long time. We’ve worked together on countless occasions. We’ve played cards at the same table. I know your tells. I do appreciate you loading everything, though. It’ll make it all far easier to take with me. As for you, your journey ends here.” He pulled the handgun from his hip and waved Vince toward the port steps.
“Please. I wasn’t. I didn’t. I—”
Crack!
Time stopped, then everyone moved in slow motion.
Michelle stood in the wide gap of the open sliding glass door, clutching William’s arm, her face buried beneath his shoulder in horror.
William stared at Vince, his face filled with pain and empathy.
Chuck launched toward Baumann, too late to stop what had already begun.
Whiskey flew through the air behind William.
Lucas appeared up the starboard steps to see his mother standing at the side of a murderer.
The force of the gunshot propelled Vince backward. He toppled over the railing, tumbled down the stairs. A deep sensation of emptiness radiated from the left side of his chest.
He hardly felt the impact as he landed in the warm swells of salt water.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Kate and Steve leveled out at seventeen feet under the surface, hovering below the three hulls tied together in the rolling ocean. Three more minutes remained to wait while the excess nitrogen worked its way out of their bloodstreams. They’d spent more than their allotted bottom time on the wreck of the Katherine K, and cutting short the safety stop was more than either of them was willing to risk.
They hung in the dark water, gesturing, planning. Kate pointed to the bow of the Island Hopper, walked her fingers forward, shrugged. Steve shook his head and pointed to the wide swim platform of the Tax Shelter, motioning a surprise attack.
With one minute of their safety stop left, they began to slowly swam aft, staying in the shadow of the huge boat. Ahead, a heavy splash broke the calm. A dark object plunged below the water, then rose back toward the surface. A thick, dark cloud spread around the form. Kate kicked hard toward the area, but another large form plunged into the water, grabbed the body, then d
ragged it aboard the Island Hopper. She turned and began finning toward the smaller boat. Glancing back, she saw Steve thrusting his arm toward the stern of the Tax Shelter.
Stick with the plan.
Their heads breached the surface almost touching the edge of the swim platform. They hovered, their ears just above the surface. Kate heard Tina screaming. “Lucas. Lucas, you leave him and get back over here right now!”
Over the sound of water slapping against the hull and the screaming from the aft cockpit above them, she thought she could hear crying from the direction of the Island Hopper.
An unbidden thought flashed through her mind.
Can Steve handle this right now?
She looked over. Through his mask, she saw only determination in his eyes. He was starting to twist out of his BC when someone stomped down the port steps. They ducked around the opposite corner of the hull between the Tax Shelter and a red speedboat just in time to see Baumann marching William and Michelle down to the swim platform, their hands bound behind them with thick white zip-ties, his gun pressed against the small of her back. He pushed them to the edge of the swim platform then over the gunwale onto the Island Hopper.
The two boats slammed against each other in the swells of the open ocean. A series of low voices, grunts, and thumps sounded from inside. A minute later, Baumann hopped back onto the Tax Shelter then scurried up to the main deck. Kate and Steve quickly slipped off their BCs, clipped them to a cleat, then hauled themselves up onto the swim platform. As they pulled their fins and masks off, Chuck limped down the stairs, his hands tied in front of him. They scrambled to hide against the opposite rail, then as Baumann cleared the last step, Steve launched across the swim platform, lowering his shoulder to jam it into Baumann’s kidney.
All three men toppled over the side and onto the aft deck of the Island Hopper.
Baumann slammed Chuck in the back of his head with the butt of his pistol, then rolled forward down the deck with Steve, out of Kate’s view.