by Don Bruns
“We have a visitor. I’ve seen her in her bikini. Is this by any chance a one-upsmanship?”
“Would you rather I wear a sweat suit?” She turned to me, displaying a very scantily clad perfect torso. “Or do you want a frumpy one-piece that looks like something your mother would have worn?”
I studied her.
“Do you?”
The answer was no. No. No. No. However …
I loved to check out her body. And the fact that there might be a jealousy contest between the two ladies actually excited me. But I had to admit I didn’t like the idea of James seeing all that I was intimate with.
“So, the way Amy looks has nothing to do with-”
She punched me on the arm. Not a light punch by any means. She could have done damage to a pro boxer.
Em wore a cover-up and carried a beach bag as we stepped into the truck. Amy, James, Em, and I. Amy had a cover-up as well. I was anxious to see her outfit revealed.
“Amy, do you have your own mask?” I was renting mine.
“I do,” she said. “I haven’t had that many dives, but enough that I know I don’t want someone else’s mask and mouthpiece.”
I nodded. That would be a preferable situation. My own mask and mouthpiece. Perfect. However, I never thought this hobby would be more than a college credit course.
James turned the key and the engine roared. A new battery had solved the problem. We pulled out of the parking lot and drove south to Skeeter’s Dive Shop.
“So, Amy-” Em started the conversation with nothing to say. Do you mention the husband? The kid? The guy she came down with? Or the affair with James? It didn’t seem to matter, she was a part of the team. This Amy-no one seemed to know her last name-was my backup. I’d been told that a backup was sometimes useless unless they were good friends. A backup had their own agenda and often was off on that task, rather than watching your back.
As we pulled into the parking lot of Skeeter’s Dive Shop, I thought about that. Maybe I should have just done a solo dive.
I wished to God that I had decided to do that. Then Amy took off the filmy cover-up.
This twenty-three-year-old girl had the figure of a goddess. I must have been staring at her perfect narrow waist and hips and legs to die for.
“Settle down, big boy,” Em whispered in my ear as she shed her cover-up.
I turned and was once again in awe. My girlfriend had a fabulous body. I saw James, his eyes wide open and a leer on his face.
Skeeter had the boat ready and all the diving gear was neatly stowed.
“Here’s your detector. I put in some fresh batteries, and I even tested it. Seems to be working just fine.”
Amy and Em cast a wary glance at our boat, but James and I stepped in, the little ship rocking back and forth. If we hit any waves, I had a feeling this thing could go over in a heartbeat.
“You know where you’re headed?”
I nodded. I didn’t think we needed a GPS for this trip. It was just off the Cheeca Lodge dock.
“Okay, you have that boat back by one p.m. or there’ll be a full-day charge, you understand?”
“Got it.”
We helped the girls in, and they put on life preservers.
Untying the two ropes, Skeeter tossed them to us as James started the motor. Fifteen seconds later, we were headed out to sea.
“Everything okay back there, little buddy?” Leave it to James to start with the Gilligan references.
The engine was loud, and combined with the wind, it was hard to hear, so we spent the next ten minutes in silence, watching for the long pier.
James had the throttle pushed all the way, but the boat crawled. If we had planned on going any distance at all, it would have taken all day to get there.
Finally, the pier came into view and James veered out, approximately a quarter of a mile off the end.
“Nobody out here.”
He slowed down, from what must have been ten miles an hour, to an even slower cruise. Looking back to the shore I could make out the Cheeca Lodge, the location of the Millionaire’s Club back in the thirties.
“How deep is it supposed to be, Skip?” Amy leaned over the edge and looked into the murky water. The boat rocked slightly and we all sat still until the swell subsided.
“Skeeter says anywhere from two to twenty feet. I think the gold-the coins-are probably in the deepest part.”
She nodded. “And how big an area are you going to explore?”
I had no idea. “We’ll play it by ear. Or until the air supply runs out.”
Em grabbed my jaw and squeezed. “Please, don’t say that.”
We sat there for a minute, the boat gently drifting, water lapping at its battered fiberglass body. The sun was still low in the morning sky and the blue-green water reflected orange rays that bounced along the surface of the ocean. James tossed in the anchor and the rope went down quite a ways.
“What do you estimate?”
“Fifteen, twenty feet.”
“A real treasure hunt.” Amy seemed ready for the adventure. I wasn’t so sure that I was.
“Pard,” James pointed at me, hoisting a plastic bag he’d carried on board. “I brought binoculars.”
“I don’t think those amount to much underwater.”
“I’m using them up here. Keep surveillance on top of the water. You keep an eye on what’s going on down below.”
“I was just curious why you’re diving here?” Amy was going to analyze the situation. That couldn’t do us any good. “I mean, Islamorada has all those Spanish ships that went down in the seventeen hundreds. I hear that a lot of divers find coins on those expeditions.”
“Yeah, well we have information that says this is a good spot.” I was hoping to shut down this line of questioning.
She nodded. “What’s the next step?”
“We dive.”
“Tanks have been checked?”
I nodded my head. “Yeah.”
The old man seemed like he knew what he was doing. Still, some diver who’d used Skeeter’s services had run out of air and we were using the dead man’s metal detector. I was a little nervous.
“Hey, Skip,” Amy was strapping on her tank. “Have you ever dived naked?”
Em looked at her, James looked at her, and I stopped mid-process for a second. The image of this lady diving with nothing-
“Have you?” I asked her.
“I have. It’s a kick.”
“Let’s not try it today while you two are underwater, okay?” Em didn’t sound too happy.
I pulled on my flippers and, sitting on the side of the boat, we adjusted our mouthpieces and masks. I thought about what I was doing. The detector in hand, I realized I had no business being here. But then, what was new? Every time I get into a project with James Lessor, I end up in over my head.
Amy flipped over, entering the water, and I followed her, leaving James and Em by themselves for who knew how long. That was going to be crazy time.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
I’d forgotten how peaceful it could be. We were no more than fifteen feet down, and the maximum was going to be twenty, but serenity settled in quickly. I could hear the bubbles as I released my air, filtered by the steady hum in my earphone. Don’t forget how to breathe. Amy was up ahead, her cute butt bobbing as she kicked her flippers. Already I questionied her as my partner.
Working the wand of the detector, I ran it over the ocean floor. Slowly, with the earphone attached to my right ear, I heard the low pitch of a hum. The pitch would rise when I found any metal of consequence.
I’d looked it up on the web, and apparently minerals in the water weren’t enough to set it off. I kicked, and moved another ten or fifteen feet, trying to keep the anchor as my focal point.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Amy, gazing at the coral and the school of black-and-white sheepshead that went swimming by.
I kept moving, running the wand along the bottom. At the most I had sixty minutes on this
tank. There was a spare in the boat, but if I did my job I might not need it.
And I was breathing too fast. Settle down. Relax. I remembered the instructor telling us, “Breathe slow and not too deep.” You could use a sixty-minute tank up in twenty minutes if you weren’t careful.
I saw a bigger fish in the distance, murky until it came closer. A long gray nurse shark about nine feet long. I shuddered. They were usually harmless, and typically hunted at night, but I’m not a fan of sharks, period. I stopped moving and after observing me for several seconds, the shark swam away, his body twisting in the water. Let the air out. Slowly. Conserve your air supply.
Amy was oblivious to the shark, darting here and there and not checking on me at all. It was okay. I didn’t want her to be too observant.
The crates would be a little over fourteen inches long, so if I found something, the signal should go for over a foot. I was out from the anchor maybe one hundred feet, so I started to retrace my path, only this time sweeping the wand across the path I’d made. Back and forth, twenty or thirty feet either way.
Nothing. After about ten minutes I decided to have James move the boat. Signaling Amy, we swam back to the anchor.
I pulled myself up after her, feeling pretty good about how I’d performed. I’d figured it out, and remembered most of the important points. Hey, I was still alive.
Ten minutes later we’d anchored the boat in a new position and were getting ready to go back down.
“Did she take off her clothes down there?” Em asked.
I didn’t respond.
When Amy and I dropped off the boat, I found the water a little deeper. Coral grew everywhere. Brain coral, star coral, fire coral and I played the wand right beside it. I didn’t want to injure any of the stuff, but at the same time I wasn’t going to let a small amount of coral get in the way of forty-four million dollars. There had to be a way.
Back and forth as Amy would spot a school of parrotfish, angelfish, or a formation of coral, and go after it. Nothing, nothing, and nothing.
And then I heard it. The low gentle hum of the detector was stronger in my ear, then very strong, like a siren. I swear it sounded like a fire engine. Then quieter, then back to the steady frequency. What the heck? I ran it back and there it was again.
Stopping directly over the loud noise, I swam down, pulling up the metal detector and staring at the loamy soil beneath it. There it was. An irregular circle, corroded metal, sitting on the ocean floor. I picked it up, studied it for a few seconds then dropped it in the pocket of my swim trunks. Maybe it was a coin. Maybe it was a piece of cheap metal.
Moving back and forth over the loamy bottom I listened intently. Just that constant hummmmm sound. Then there was another rise in volume, the sirens at full volume, and I stopped. Same scenario.
A semiround piece of metal, covered with corrosion. I pocketed the piece.
Back and forth, back and forth. Nothing. After twenty minutes I found Amy admiring the coral and totally oblivious as to what I had been doing.
I pointed up and she nodded. We found the anchor and rope and rose to the surface, kicking with our fins.
“So what do you think, amigo?”
“I got nothing, James. It’s a big, big ocean.”
“Yeah, but if that gold …” he hesitated, “if that collection of gold coins is there, it would be well worth it.”
I nodded. “I want to check those coordinates again, James.”
“Then I hope we’re wrong.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “Wrong about what?”
“The location.”
“We don’t know if we’re right or wrong.”
James cast a quick glance at Amy who was in conversation with Em.
“Skip, take the glasses,” he handed me the binoculars, “and look off the starboard bow.”
“Starboard?” the boat shifted, turning with the slight breeze.
“Behind us, damn it. About the end of the pier. Coming this way.”
I trained the glasses in that direction and saw a small boat.
“Wow. These things really have some power.”
“Look closer, amigo. Much closer.”
Staring through the glass, I adjusted the center wheel to bring everything into focus. It took several seconds.
“I’ve got it homed in. Now, what am I looking for?” I’d trained the lenses onto the approaching boat.
“You can see the occupants?”
“Yeah.”
“And you can make out their faces?”
“I guess. What am I supposed to be looking for here, James?” I was looking and trying to shed my tank at the same time.
“Damn it, Skip. Look.”
“James, I’ve got my eyes on the-” I stopped. I stopped taking off the tank, stopped talking, and just kept the glasses aimed directly at the boat.
“I thought you’d get it.”
Todd Markim and Jim Weezle were headed directly for our boat, and we had no backup plan.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Their craft didn’t seem to be much bigger than ours and it did not appear that they were moving very fast. Probably a cheap rental from a place like Skeeter’s.
As I pulled in the anchor, James started the boat.
“What’s wrong, boys?” Em saw the look of determination on my face.
“We’ve got friends.” I pointed toward the shore.
“Let me guess. Markim and Weezle?”
“Yes, except that Weezle is dead.”
“Obviously not.” She rolled her eyes. “Or are we on that ghost thing again?”
“What is going on?” Amy stared at us, obviously a bit confused.
“Two guys who want the same thing we want.”
“The gold coins?”
“The gold.” I looked back and saw they were gaining ground, or in this case, gaining water. “The gold coins.”
“Are they dangerous?”
The engine chugged and our boat slapped at the water.
James shouted above the noise of the engine, the water, and the wind. “We don’t know, but we’re not going to stick around and find out.”
“I’ve got something just in case,” Em yelled out.
“What?” We all three harmonized.
She reached into her beach bag and pulled out the.38 revolver.
“You carry a gun?” Amy’s eyes were wide open.
“Just a little precaution.”
Watching her drop it back in the bag, I said, “Just a little protection.”
“That too.”
We ran parallel to the shore, waiting to see if they followed us.
The breeze picked up as James angled back toward land, the little craft buffeted by the stronger wind.
“You okay?” I asked.
“We’re making headway.” He looked over his shoulder, his hair blowing in the wind. “Are they coming?”
I looked back with the glasses as we bounced across the waves. I could smell the salt in the air.
“It appears they are right about where we were.”
“Dude, do you think they’ve got the same information that we have?”
“Don’t know,” I shouted. “So far, ours hasn’t panned out too well.”
I felt the Velcro pocket of my swim suit.
“Hey, James, I may have found some coins.”
He spun around. “No shit?”
“No shit. I’ll show ’em to you when we get back.”
It took us almost forty-five minutes, but we finally docked at Skeeter’s. The wizened man came sauntering out, eyeing the boat for possible damage. There wasn’t a spot on the boat that wasn’t damaged. Dinged up, banged, bruised, and battered, the body still held together. All of the damage had been done long ago.
“Them fellas find you?”
“Oh, no, don’t tell me,” I couldn’t believe it yet I could. “Them fellows?”
I knew right away who it was.
“Let me guess.” I stood there in front of him
and told him exactly what had happened. I knew it before James or Em did.
“Two guys asked about us, where we were going, said they were supposed to meet up with us and you told them exactly where we were going and that we’d rented the metal detector, right?” I’d bet two million dollars on it.
“Yeah.” Skeeter had a wide grin on his face, so proud of himself that he’d turned us in.
“So they found you.” The grin exposed two missing teeth in the front.
“Oh, yeah.” James nodded his head, his arm around the lovely Amy’s waist. “They found us.”
“Well, I’m gonna guess that you are done with the equipment?”
“We are,” James said.
“Skeeter, I’d like to rent this detector for the next several days.”
James spun around and stared at me.
“Full-day rental?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I guess I can do that. Prepaid with a credit card or cash?”
James hauled out the overheated plastic and handed it to Skeeter.
“You boys should have just brought one with you, like your friends.”
“The two guys? They had their own?”
“Did,” he said as he swiped the card. “I’m surprised they didn’t show it to you. Same make and model.”
The Harley was in the parking lot, a dusty black one with a gold fender. There was no question who was out at Cheeca Rocks looking for gold.
“Show us the coins, amigo.”
In the truck I pulled the two pieces from my pocket, and handed them to James.
“So much crud on them, it’s hard to tell.”
“Coral encrustation.”
“Don’t get technical on me, bro.” He turned the key.
I knew right away that I’d been dissed. James didn’t believe there was any value.
And again he turned the key, and turned the key.
“Open the hood.” I climbed out of the truck.
“You don’t know the first thing about an engine.” James’s face was getting red. He was not a happy camper.
“Open it.”
He pulled the lever from inside. “Didn’t we just put a new battery in this damned truck?”
“We did. That’s why I want you to pop the hood, James.”