“Don’t mind if I do,” he said looking down the dock where the first of three boats was idling up to. “Looks like you’re having a party.”
The first boat to tie up was Rusty, with Doc and Nikki aboard, along with two other men. Deuce pulled up behind him with four men aboard and Julie brought up the rear with two women and another man aboard. That surprised me. I thought all of Deuce’s field team would be men. Deuce left the Grady for his team members to tie up and came to where Williams and I were standing beside the Revenge, as Doc and Nikki walked up.
“Deuce,” I said. “This is Dave Williams, mechanic extraordinaire, my new First Mate and former Navy Corpsman, Bob Talbot and his fiancé Nikki Godsey. Dave just squeezed another couple knots out of the Revenge’s engines. He also owns one beautiful de Havilland Beaver docked at the north pier.”
“No kidding?” Deuce said. “You gonna be around a while? I’d love to see her.” Knowing Deuce as well as I did, I knew this question was as much to me as it was to Williams. He was asking if Williams could be trusted.
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s gonna stay for lunch at least.” I was telling Deuce that I trusted him and he should, too. Then I said, “I’m thinking of offering him a job as well.” Williams looked at me puzzled and I added, “Trent’s selling his shrimp boat and Williams is his Engineer. With all these boats I seem to be collecting, plus the power plant and aquaculture system, I think I can keep him busy enough. Hell, he could work full time on The Beast and never run out of work. Besides, I’m hoping he’ll let me have some seat time in his Beaver.”
“You fly?” Williams asked.
“Not fixed wing,” I said. “Flew rotaries in the Corps from time to time.”
“Nice to meet both of you,” Deuce said. “Doc, I’d like to get a minute alone sometime today, if you don’t mind?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Doc said.
“We’re a very informal team, Doc,” Deuce said. “I prefer Deuce. It’s short for Russell Livingston Junior. Dad served with Jesse, here.” Then to me he said, “Speaking of your boat collection. “You can add a Cigarette and a Winter to it. The Director said he doesn’t want to pay for the dockage and to either sell them at auction or find somewhere to dock them for free.”
“Beach’s Cigarette?” I asked. Sonny Beach used to be a loan shark, drug smuggler, and terrorist sympathizer. He was the boss of the men who killed my wife and Deuces dad. Right now, he was being held in Guantanamo Bay along with five terrorists he tried to smuggle into the country and the man that arranged it.
“Yeah,” Deuce said. “They’re both yours if you want them. Otherwise he’s going to give them to the Coast Guard to auction off and you know what they’ll do with them.”
“Yeah, target practice, I said. I’ll take them and have Trent build a boathouse up by the bunkhouses for the smaller boats and they can go in here.”
The others were starting to file down the dock, Rusty, Julie, and the two women in the front. They all stopped just in front of where we were standing and Deuce said, “Team, this is Captain Jesse McDermitt, our transporter, his Engineer, Dave Williams and our newest team member, if he accepts, Bob Talbot, former Navy Corpsman and recipient of the Bronze Star. Jesse’s a former Recon Marine Gunnery Sergeant and one of the best in the Corps with a long gun. Y’all head on up the ladder, cross the deck and down the other side. There’s two bunkhouses on the far side, we’ll assemble there and make introductions.”
As the group headed up the steps Williams asked me, “Is that cistern your only water supply?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I noticed you have a water maker aboard,” he said. “If you want, I’ll run a hose up to the cistern and get it running.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But it only makes about ten gallons an hour. That tank up there holds 2000 gallons.”
“Well,” he said, “Your water tanks on the boat are full. Might as well add what you can. Can I ask you a question?”
I nodded and he said, “Some of these guys are pretty rough looking. There’s nothing illegal going on here is there?”
I laughed and said, “No, just the opposite. These folks work for the government. We have a mission tonight. That’s why I wanted the boat checked out.”
“If ya like, I can inspect your outboards too,” he said. “I have programs on my laptop for just about every make and model.”
“Thanks, Dave. When you finish let’s talk about that job, okay.”
He nodded and headed across the rear dock to the smaller boats.
Doc, Nikki and I caught up with Tina, Deuce, and Julie. When we got to the tables, I saw that Trent had placed two huge coolers full of beer, soft drinks and water on one of them. “Where’d the coolers come from?” I asked him.
“I had Dave bring them up,” he replied. “Thought these guys might be thirsty. He also brought a portable generator, in case Chyrel needs it.”
“Everyone,” Deuce said. “Just set your gear over by the coolers. We’re off duty for the next few hours, some of you for the next day or two. Jesse has provided us a great place to relax and unwind.”
I said, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting all of you and look forward to working with you and getting to know you.” I walked over to the Trent’s and said, “This is Captain Carl Trent and his wife Charlie, the caretakers on the island. If you need anything, just ask one of them. I gotta warn you, though. This isn’t a resort, there’s only one outdoor cold water shower, fed by a rain cistern and a hot water shower powered by solar charged batteries. Anyone who stays over, plan on bathing in the sea and rinsing under the cold water. There’s fishing gear in the hanging lockers by the docks and a long pier over there between the bunkhouses. The bunkhouses themselves are rustic. No electricity or running water, but the bunks are new and comfortable. The boats you came in on are available if you want to catch lobster or look around the reefs. The Trent kids, Junior and Patty over there can show you the best places to find clams.” They’d been hiding behind Charlie’s legs, but stepped out smiling, when I said that. “We eat from the sea here, so any help replenishing the food stores would be much appreciated.”
I walked over to Tina and said, “I assume you met Julie and Rusty at the Anchor. This is Monroe County Deputy Christina La Mons. She’ll be on the insertion team tonight.” Then turning to Deuce I said, “How about a quick introduction of your team?”
“I guess you already met Donnie and Glenn. They usually tend to stay to themselves, as you probably understand.” Nodding to the two women, one a tall athletic looking redhead, the other a shorter blonde with very short hair, he said, “Over here’s Charity Styles and Sherri Fallon. They both came to us from Miami/Dade PD. Charity’s a martial arts instructor and Sherri was an armorer for SWAT and now handles all our weapons.”
Pointing to a dark skinned man, with shoulder length hair and a full beard he said, “This is Kumar Sayef. Kumar came from Delta Force and speaks most Middle Eastern dialects fluently.”
Next to Sayef stood two obvious Marines, both black guys with high and tight haircuts. “These two are fellow Recon Marines, Scott Grayson and Jeremiah Simpson,” Deuce said. “They’re our resident underwater experts, both came from Recon dive school, where they were instructors.”
Nodding toward the man next to the Marines, he said, “This is former Lieutenant Scott Bond. Scott came to us from SEAL Team 2, where he served as Dive Supervisor at the SEAL dive school and attended the Navy War College before that.”
Pointing to the next man, an innocuous looking man of average height, weight and features, he said, “This is Brent Shepherd. Brent came to us from the CIA and speaks a number of European languages and is our go to guy for disguises.”
Standing with Julie were two broad shouldered blonde men with mustaches. Deuce said, “This is Andrew Bourke and Ralph Goodman, both from Coast Guard Port Protection. They’ll be leaving us in a few weeks to go with Julie for further training in maritime enforcement, then come back to train the re
st of the team in small boat tactics and force boarding.”
“Jesse,” he said, “All our team cross train one another in their own specialties. Every week, we get better and better at all our individual specialties by teaching it to each other. With the exception of the two loners over there,” he said nodding toward the tree line where a small tent had been set up and the two shooters sat hunched over a small campfire. “As you know, their specialty isn’t something that can be taught.”
“Thanks for coming, y’all” I said. “Chyrel, you can set up in the main house. Dave, can you help her out and hook the generator directly to the batteries under the house? They’re in a box in the far corner by the red skiff and are connected to an inverter in the house.” I nodded to the two women and said, “If you two plan to stay the night, the three of you can bunk there, there’s extra cots in the bunkhouse. The rest of you, there’s twelve bunks in the east bunkhouse, make yourselves at home. Lunch will be at noon, fish, lobster, stone crab claws, mango, papaya, banana and a tossed salad.”
Dave and Chyrel headed to the house carrying the two cases brought in on the chopper and the other two women went to the bunkhouse to get a couple of cots. The men followed them carrying their sea bags and cases, then broke up to explore the island. Deuce and Julie walked over to talk to the Trent’s, along with Doc and Nikki.
Grayson and Simpson came back and Grayson said, “Good to meet ya, Gunny. We’re both from First Recon. I once had a Platoon Sergeant, Master Sergeant Blalock that told us about a Staff Sergeant McDermitt he served with in Grenada.”
“Bullet Bart Blalock?” I said. “Looks like a fire hydrant, short, wide and no neck? He made Master Sergeant?”
Both men laughed and Simpson said, “Yeah, that was him, alright.”
“Was?” I asked.
“Killed in Fallujah last year,” Grayson said. “Posthumous Silver Star.”
“Damn,” I said. “Good Marine. We can hoist a beer to him at lunch.”
As the two men wandered off toward the pier, Tina said, “I feel really out of place here. Everyone seems to be the best of the best. All fighters and warriors.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “They’re just people, like anyone else.”
“You seem to fit in with them,” she said. “Even though they never met you, most of them seem to have heard of you. I’m not sure I know you at all now.”
“That was a different life, long time ago,” I said. “I’m just a simple fisherman, now.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” she said. “Can you tell me more about what you did in the Marines?”
“Nothing much to tell,” I lied. “I served from ’79 to ’99. After Vietnam and before the 9/11 attacks.”
“But that one guy mentioned Mogadishu and just now those two mentioned Grenada. I’m guessing the first Gulf War, too?”
“Small skirmishes I was involved in,” I said. “Ancient history.” Then changing the subject I said, “Wanna go for a swim?”
She smiled and said, “Glutton for punishment?”
“Go change,” I said. “I’ll see if anyone else wants to come along.”
“I’ll ask the girls,” she said.
Deuce, Julie, Tony, and Art walked up and overhearing the end of our conversation Deuce asked, “How far are you swimming?”
“A mile and a half,” I said. “Against the current one way and with the current the other.”
“I’m in,” he said. “We can make it a competition. That is, if Tina doesn’t mind.”
I laughed, “Her? Hope you SEAL’s have a thick skin.”
“Come on,” Tony said. “Really fast swimmers are tall and lanky, like you.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said. “She stayed right with me and did it in close to my best ever time. And I don’t think she was really trying that hard.”
Deuce got up on one of the tables and yelled out, “All hands fall in for PT!”
Within seconds the team was gathered around the tables. All but the women, who probably couldn’t hear Deuce through the dense lignum vitae wood walls. A second later, I saw Tina and the martial arts instructor, Charity Styles. They both were wearing one piece suits, Tina in red and Charity in blue. I couldn’t help but notice that Charity’s physique was even more athletic than I first thought. They trotted across the clearing and Charity said, “What’s going on Boss?”
Deuce looked around the group and said, “Jesse suggested a little motivational swim competition. What’s the course and rules, Jesse?”
“From the north pier,” I said, “There’s a small island to the northeast about three quarters of a mile away. We swim due east to a red lobster trap float. That’s Harbor Channel. Follow the channel northeast to the island and there’s an eddy channel that goes completely around it that’s about ten feet deep. Back into Harbor Channel to the red float, then due west back to the pier. Outside the channels the water’s only a few feet deep. Tide’s rising, so we’ll be going with the current out and against it coming back. Everybody to the pier.”
They all charged between the bunkhouses stripping off shirts as they went. A couple guys had to duck into the bunkhouse to change out of long pants. I turned to Tina and said, “Don’t hold back like you did with me the other day, okay.”
“What makes you think I was holding back?” she asked with a grin.
“I could tell,” I said. “I was, too.”
“You’re on mister,” she said.
Half the guys were gathered around Dave’s Beaver at the end of the pier, not realizing it was there until now. I called out, “Line up along the pier and space out from the end about five feet apart.”
We lined up and I was on the end closest to shore, with Tina and Charity next to me, Julie and Deuce beyond them, then Tony and Art and the rest of the group. “Give us a three count, Deuce,” I said.
“One, two, three!” he shouted and all fourteen of us dove into the water. Only Tina and I knew how cold it was going to be, so that gave us maybe a half a second advantage as the others immediately rose to the surface, gasping.
Tina lit out at a very fast pace, taking a breath every third stroke, just like she had before. I stayed right with her then slowly pulled ahead a little. She increased speed, changing to every fourth stroke. I noticed someone just beyond her keeping pace. I rose slightly on my next breath and caught sight of a dark red mane flowing behind her. It was Charity. By the time we got to the float, three others had gained and passed the three of us. Two I knew were Grayson and Simpson. The third I guessed would be Bond, the SEAL dive supervisor, but I couldn’t tell for sure.
The current picked them up in the channel and the three divers moved further ahead of us. When we got into the channel we moved further ahead of the rest of the pack. Knowing that the current would carry us faster, I struck out at a quicker pace. Tina and Charity sensed this and both did the same. Slowly Charity started to pull away from Tina and me and close on the three divers ahead of us.
As we rounded Upper Harbor Key I chanced a look behind us and saw that three swimmers had broken away from the pack and were closing. The rest of the way back was much harder as the current was flowing at its fullest, over a knot. I was pushing as hard as I could now, breathing every other stroke. Tina was still at every third stroke. The three divers ahead of us started to slow and we soon were alongside and pulling away. Halfway back, the three behind us were nearly on top of us. Tina and Charity must have seen or sensed them. Tina changed her breathing to every other stroke and soon caught and passed Charity, who started swimming harder and stayed right with her, both of them leaving me behind.
That’s how we finished. With the Trent’s, Nikki, Williams, and Rusty on the pier cheering, Tina and Charity pretty much arrived at a dead heat, with me a couple seconds behind. The three that were gaining turned out to be Deuce, Julie and one of the Coasties, Bourke. Behind them was Grayson, Simpson and the other Coastie, Goodman. The dive supervisor, Bond, was part of the larger group the w
hole time. I glanced at my dive watch and noticed that I’d just swam my best ever time by a good ten seconds, meaning the two women had just trounced the hell out of me.
Tina and Charity were high fiving each other, as I got to the pier. Together the three of us cheered on the rest of the group. As they arrived, I heard Tina say to Charity, “Now I remember why your name sounded familiar.”
“Same here,” Charity said. “You made the final cut didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” Tina said, “And you won the bronze in the 400 individual medley.”
I looked at the two women and said, “What are y’all talking about?”
Tina turned to me and smiled. “We’ve been had, Jesse. Charity was on the 2000 Olympic swim team.”
“And you’re not a ringer?” Charity said. “Tina nearly made the team, would have if she hadn’t pulled a muscle in the finals. She was the NCAA freestyle champion in ’98.”
I looked from one to the other, surprised. Deuce and Julie had joined us on the pier and Deuce said, “Okay, so you got your ringer and I got mine.” He slapped me on the back and added, “Call it a draw?”
The others were climbing out of the water and word spread that their ringer didn’t crush us as expected. The men all gathered around, shook Tina’s hand and slapped her on the shoulder. I could tell it meant a lot to her that these warriors seemed to accept her as one of their own.
I told everyone that lunch would be in an hour and reminded them to go easy on the fresh water. Everyone broke up into groups, some to grab a quick rinse under the cistern and others to explore the island. The two Marines asked Junior and Patty if they’d show them where the clams were. The two kids grinned then ran off with buckets to the cove on the west side of the island with the two Marines following along.
“Want to grab a shower aboard?” I asked Tina.
“You wash my back and I’ll wash yours?”
“Deal,” I said.
We passed Williams as he was headed to his plane to put away his tools. “Outboards are all tuned up. Whoever rebuilt the carb on the 150 did a pretty good job.”
Fallen Hunter (Jesse McDermitt Series) Page 22