Wood's Wreck

by Steven Becker

  “Get dressed now!” he yelled at Cayenne, who tossed the covers aside and reached for her clothes. The Cuban remained in bed. “You too,” he called to the player, deciding on the spot that it would be better to take him as well. He could be more valuable than the woman if it came down to a parlay with the CIA men.

  The man looked at him, not sure what he was after, and Mac searched his memory for any Spanish.

  “Vamanos,” Trufante called from behind him, and the man instantly grabbed his pants and dressed. A few minutes later they were down the hall and on the way out the doors.

  That’s when they heard a boat.

  From the sound of the engine, Mac guessed they were in the switchback and would appear in a few seconds. Trufante had started around the house, the player following. Cayenne screamed when Mac grabbed her arm and yanked her around the corner and out of sight just as the boat entered the cove. He could see the boat as it entered the cove, and he pushed the group further around the house, hoping the shadows would conceal them. He looked at Cayenne and the Cuban, gauging whether either looked like they would cause trouble. The man looked confused, but the girl was another matter. Mac knew from the trouble she had caused already that she was volatile, and out only for herself.

  He stepped behind her, moving as if he were trying to slide deeper into the shadows, and placed his arm around her neck, applying pressure to her carotid artery. She was out almost instantly, and he supported her body and slid her against the side of the house. Another look at the Cuban, who nodded at him as if to say that he knew not to cause trouble, and he turned back to the dock.

  The men on the dock were shouting at each other as they tied up the boat and made their way to the house. It would be only a few minutes until they discovered that the man and woman were gone. Mac looked toward the brush and the path they had cut the other night. There was about ten feet of clear space between them and the building, but with Cayenne still out cold, he decided it was too risky to try to cross the open area.

  Even if they weren’t seen as they crossed, the sound of the group moving through the brush would attract their pursuers.

  Chapter 24

  Concealed by a bush, Mac stayed low and peered around the corner of the building. Both men left the house each carrying a rifle in each hand. They moved down the dock and loaded the weapons into the boat.

  “Go back, get the boat, and bring it around the island,” he whispered to Trufante. “Stay clear of the inlet so they can’t see you if they leave.”

  He watched the man as he sprung cat-like across the clearing and entered the brush. Mac held his breath until the branches settled back in place.

  “Where are you going?” the older man suddenly yelled toward Jay, who was heading to the house.

  “We need something bigger, just in case. I’m getting the rocket launcher.”

  Mac turned back toward the men and tensed. The older man was walking from the dock to the patio, right toward where they were hidden. He readied the shotgun and braced to attack if he rounded the corner, but instead, the man stopped a few feet away and pulled out his phone.

  Mac stayed ready, but relaxed when the man started to talk. The call sounded like it was all business, telling the man on the other end that his delivery was going to be delayed. Must be the player, Mac thought as he looked at the man huddled next to him, his eyes wide. Despite his muscular stature, he could tell the guy was scared. He hadn’t spent more than a few minutes around him, but he sensed his fear of the two CIA men.

  The call ended and he yelled, “Jay!” he called to the other man, who had just set a large weapon in the boat.

  “What?” he turned. “We’ve got to go. They can’t be more than a few minutes ahead of us!” he yelled back.

  “Do you know where they went? There’s a lot of water out there and with the range of those boats, they could be anywhere. Let’s be logical. You have that punk’s number?”

  “Commando? What’s he going to do? Damned junior gang-banger skipped out on us already,” the younger man said as he walked toward the older man.

  “We need eyes on the mainland. I saw the big boat heading toward Marathon when that explosion went off on the island. These guys are craftier than you’re giving them credit for. A rookie wouldn’t set up a diversion like that and then come here. They would have run. There’s more going on here than you’re telling me. What’s with the girls, the party? Pretty unprofessional, if you ask me.” He paused. “You have that police scanner? Might be a good idea to see if they get the authorities involved.”

  “Yeah. I’ll get it.” Jay pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to the other man who took it, pressed the touch screen, and put the phone to his ear.

  Someone answered and there was a heated conversation, but it was in Spanish, and Mac had little idea of what was being said. He looked at the player who was listening, but realized they would need Trufante to get any kind of translation. The only thing he knew was they had called Commando, and that was bad for Mel. He needed to warn her, but the phone she had given him was on the boat.

  Now the men were ready to leave, and he heard the engine start. There was nothing he could do except watch them go and hope Trufante would pull in right after they left.

  The boat was around the first bend and out of sight when he left the cover of the house. The player remained with Cayenne, too scared to move, but that was fine. There was nowhere for either of them to go. He started searching along the side of the dock while he waited for Trufante. If he was going to get out of this mess, he needed them to know he had both the girl and the player as bargaining chips. If they reached Mel first, there was no telling if they would kill her or take her hostage to exchange for the player.

  His leverage would be gone if they got to her first.

  He looked up from the dock box he was tearing through and saw the bow of the boat appear around the bend. Lines, hoses, and a few gallons of oil were scattered on the deck, but he couldn’t figure how to use any of them to create a spectacle big enough to bring the men back to investigate. The oil was not going to ignite, but he saw two tiki torches mounted on the rail at the entrance to the dock. They would make a fire, but not big enough to attract the men.

  He needed a bigger fuel source.

  Trufante had the boat idling by the dock when he looked up from the materials and saw the three engines on the transom.

  With only seconds left before the men would be too far away, he dragged the hose to the tiki torches, left one end draped over one torch, and grabbed the other from its holder. After dumping the fuel onto the deck and rails, he lit the first torch with a lighter sitting next to it.

  “Tie it off and get those two onboard,” he yelled at Trufante as he passed, dragging the other end of the hose behind him. The Cajun gave a questioning look, but he ignored it and kept moving. He jumped onboard, pulled the hose to the transom, took the pliers he had found in the dock box, and started to unscrew the cap-nut from the long stainless steel bar that supplied fuel to the engines.

  Trufante came towards them, Cayenne slung over his shoulder and the Cuban following behind. Mac went to help, and Trufante leaned over the boat to hand the limp body to him. She came to just as he took hold of her and started flailing. Her nails clawed his face and he dropped her as one found his eye. She was kicking and screaming as she broke free and ran past Trufante, who reached out to grab her.

  “Get her!” Mac yelled to Trufante. Leaving him to it, he went back to work. He pushed the end of the hose over the stainless steel tubing and went to the helm. Then a scream broke the silence and he looked up.

  Cayenne had been heading into the house when Trufante grabbed her and started to drag her back. They were past the open end of the hose, leaning on the wick of the torch, when he turned all three keys at once and cringed as the starters ground on the flywheel.

  Nothing happened.

  He kept the keys turned and listened as the starters began to lose battery power. It took a
second to figure out it would take a minute to push the half-gallon of gas needed to fill the hose to its outlet. Just as he was about to give up, gas started to spray from the end of the hose, turning the torch into a flame thrower.

  Cayenne broke loose and ran back toward the house, leaving a startled Trufante staring at the flame. He ran back toward the dock and pushed the player onto the boat ahead of him.

  Mac released the keys, but the fire was roaring now. The fuel he had dumped ignited and a fireball lit the sky, increasing in size as the suction of the fire, seeking oxygen, pulled the remaining gas from the hose.

  “Get rid of the hose and put the cap back on the fuel rail!” he yelled at Trufante, who had just jumped on the boat.

  Mac looked at the house, partially engulfed in flames, trying to find Cayenne. The volume of gas in the hose had burnt itself out, but everywhere he looked small fires were raging, the wind adding the oxygen they needed to flourish. He was about to give up on the girl when he saw her run out of the house, smoke streaming from her hair.

  Without a thought, he jumped from the boat and took off down the dock after her, but could only stand idle as she ran screaming off the patio into the water, landing in the remains of the cage. Her head came out of the water once, the fire extinguished. Then she screamed again, the sound cut off as she was dragged under.

  There was nothing he could do to help her as he watched the water churn. An arm reached out as if for help, but it was the last sign of her.

  The house was burning as he pulled his eyes from the carnage and ran to the boat. Trufante had the fuel rail re-assembled and was trying to start the boat when he jumped on and went to the helm.

  The starters had lost their urgency as the batteries drained, and he realized the engines had also lost their prime.

  “You’ve got to squeeze the balls,” he yelled, and went to the transom, where he pushed Trufante out of the way, opened the access panel, and started working the primer ball for the first engine. He grabbed the other two, one in each hand, and squeezed until he felt them harden.

  Back at the helm, he closed his eyes as he turned the key. From the weak sound of the starters, he knew he only had one shot to get them started. The fire was spreading to the dock, consuming the wooden structure, and he thought about abandoning ship just as the first engine caught. The old dock wood was burning fast and he felt the heat on his face as he pulled back the throttle for the single engine and backed into the cove.

  With a whoosh, the palapa ignited. No time to start the other engines.

  He looked back as they entered the switchback and saw the tips of the flames just reaching above the palm trees, a huge column of smoke streaming from the island. One at a time, he started the other engines and headed around the last switchback where he stopped the boat. He needed to draw them into a trap. If he could make it look like he was fleeing the burning island they would follow.

  ***

  “Holy crap,” Jay yelled. “That’s coming from my island.” There were three smoke plumes on the horizon. The one from the island they had left had almost died out and there was a small cloud over the water. But he stared at the other fire, which was putting off a huge black cloud of smoke, and it looked like it came from Sawyer.

  Norm turned to look, but didn’t change course.

  “Shit. We searched the house. They must have been hiding in the brush or something. Somebody had to start it.”

  He thought for a second. There was something else at play here. “What about Armando? You locked him and the girl in the fun room … right?”

  Norm didn’t wait for an answer. “Call that punk and make sure he takes care of whoever’s on the other boat. We’re going back.” He turned the wheel hard, changing the boat’s course.

  Norm ground his jaw as the boat sped towards the fire. “It has to be the man from the island, looking for revenge. But we can’t risk losing Armando.”

  As they rounded the marker and turned west toward the smoke plume, Jay could see the fire clearly. He turned around, picked up a rifle, and chambered the first round.

  Whoever did this was going to pay.

  ***

  Mac turned to Trufante as they waited at the inlet, searching the horizon for the boat to return. “He heard a phone call the man made to Commando in Spanish.” He looked over at the man on the other side of Trufante, who was looking around like a scared animal. “See if you can get anything out of him.”

  Trufante turned to him, and the man became animated, talking quickly and using his hands for emphasis. The conversation was way past the phone call.

  “Give me something,” he told Trufante.

  “His name’s Armando and he’s a baseball player from Cuba,” Trufante started.

  “How about something that might help,” Mac growled.

  “The man called Commando and told him to find whoever was coming in on that boat and hold them.”

  “You sure he said to hold them and not kill them?” Mac asked.

  Trufante turned to the player and asked. The man shook his head.

  “He also says he’s scared of them and wants to go home,” Trufante said.

  “Well, tell him we’ll help. We need him on our side,” Mac responded. He turned to the player and nodded, giving him his best reassuring look.

  “There!” Trufante pointed.

  Mac followed his gaze and saw the spec on the horizon. It was hard to see with the whitecaps and breaking waves, but there was definitely something there, and it looked like it was coming toward them. Slowly it began to grow, and Mac waited until he was sure they would see him pull out of the cove. He timed their approach confident he had a large safety margin. The three 275-hp engines mounted to the transom behind him would make it impossible for the single-engine boat to catch them.

  Then he remembered the call to Commando.

  “Text Mel and tell her that Commando is working for these guys and might be after her.” He pulled Mel’s phone out of his pocket and handed it to Trufante. “What was the flamers name? Melvin? Oh. Marvin.”

  The boat was getting close now, and Mac knew they would see him. He pushed down the throttles and left the shelter of the inlet. The engines roared as he adjusted the speed to 3,300 rpms—the slowest he thought they could run and stay on plane. Once he was sure the boat was in pursuit, he could slowly increase speed if he needed until he was ready to lose them or lead them into a trap.

  They had rounded a bend and started toward the channel on the west side of the island when he dared to look behind. The smaller boat was following, and he adjusted his speed to match theirs. He had to let them think they had a chance of catching him, or they could take a more direct route and reach Mel first.

  Chapter 25

  Mel was grinding a path into the dock when Jules pulled up fifteen minutes later. Without her phone and contact list she was frustrated and there was nothing she could do until the sheriff arrived. She saw the police cruiser pull up and was at the SUV before Jules could open the door.

  “These CIA guys are smuggling baseball players from Cuba and they’re the ones that set Mac up. Well, them and Cayenne Cannady. We have to do something now. Mac’s out there and could be in trouble!”

  Jules got out of the car, took out a notebook, and leaned against the fender. “Let’s slow down and start at the beginning. Are you all right?”

  Mel ignored the question, already frustrated with the time lost. She was not here to give a statement; they needed to take action. “Can we do this later? I have a boat here that we can take back to Mac’s.”

  She started toward Marvin’s boat without waiting for an answer. The phone vibrated in her pocket, but she continued to the boat.

  “Mel!” Jules called from behind her. “We can’t run off half-cocked. You have to tell me what’s going on. I have resources we can use if he is in danger.”

  Mel was on the boat now, casting off the lines. She turned to Jules to renew her plea when she saw a man walk behind her and place a gun a
gainst her head. Two other men appeared from the side of the building, rifles extended, and moved cautiously toward the boat. Marvin clung to her as the men approached. One man jumped down onto the deck of the boat and pointed the barrel at them while the other stood guard on the dock.

  “You too, little lady.” The voice sounded familiar to Mel. He lifted his head to reveal his face, hidden below the wide brim of his hat, and her stomach clenched as she realized it was Commando. With the barrel of the gun still at Jules’s head, he pushed her forward to the edge of the dock. “Let’s go, time for a little payback for all the trouble you’ve caused me over the years.”

  He stepped back, cocked his leg, and kicked her in the back.

  Mel watched her fall forward and land hard on the dock. She went to help, but the man with the rifle pushed her back toward Marvin.

  “Yo. Untie the dock lines and take the SUV back to the bait house. I’ll take them and meet you there,” Commando said as he kept his gun on Jules and waited for the man on the dock to leave. “Cover them,” he said as he jumped onto the boat. “Phones.” He held out his hand and waited while they passed them to him one at time.

  He kept the one Mel handed him, but threw Jules’s over the side. “Just in case your boyfriend calls. I have some words for him.”

  One of the men walked toward the SUV, got in, and started the engine. Once he had pulled out, Commando focused on the trio in the boat.

  “Lemon swirl here is going to drive.” He laughed at his own joke and waited for Marvin to move to the helm. “You two over there.” He motioned with the gun barrel to the bench seat by the transom.

  Mel sat with Jules against her. She looked toward the deserted dock for help, but it was receding into the distance as the tide took the boat into the channel. Despite the peril, she had been through situations like this with the sheriff before, and knew that if she could stay calm, an opportunity would present itself.