Fallen Tide: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 8)

by Wayne Stinnett

  “Several hours,” she replied. “It’ll be within range for an oblique view in about ninety minutes. What will I be looking for when it gets there?”

  Deuce pulled up the best picture of the fishing boat and sent it to her. “This boat, and a small structure on the middle of the island immediately east of the boat.”

  “What if the boat moves?”

  “It won’t,” Deuce replied. “At least, not anytime soon. It’s high and dry. Can you pull up a tide chart for the southern Cay Sal Bank?”

  She nodded, and within seconds another window opened. “There isn’t an official one for that specific area,” Chyrel said. “This is a four-day approximation based on other known areas nearby.”

  Looking up at me, Deuce asked, “Best guess on that boat’s draft?”

  I studied the picture again. There wasn’t much to give it scale. But I figured the door to the pilothouse was probably six feet at least, and the distance from the wet sand to the boat’s waterline looked to be a little more than half that.

  “Shoal draft boat,” I said. “At least three feet. Maybe four. They’re not going anywhere until after sunset.”

  “I’ll have eyes on them about then,” Chyrel said. “But not directly overhead. ETA on that is nineteen thirty.”

  “That’s cutting it pretty close,” Parsons said, looking at the tide estimates. “Water’ll be three feet above mean low tide before then.”

  “Yeah, but the skipper’d be a fool to try to move the boat before he has at least a foot of water under the keel,” I said.

  Pescador had been lying on the floor by the aft section of the couch and lifted his head, cocking an ear to the hatch. Just then, Kim, Marty, and Linda came into the salon.

  Squatting down, Kim scratched Pescador’s ears. “The Hopper’s all secure, Dad.”

  I looked at her with a smile. “You didn’t happen to find a second bullet hole, did you?”

  “A second bullet hole? No. But then, I wasn’t looking for one.”

  Linda stepped past us and into the galley. “Kim would have noticed it,” she said, pouring a cup of coffee and sitting down next to me at the end of the settee. “She went over the whole plane with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “Shooting at an aircraft is a federal offense,” Deuce said.

  I knew where he was heading. “Yeah, but the Cay Sal Bank is part of the Bahamas, and last I heard, we had a pretty good relationship with them.”

  “What was the name of that Bahamian police sergeant?” Deuce asked.

  “Cleary,” I replied. “No good, though. Cay Sal Bank isn’t in that district. It’s part of the Bimini District.”

  “Maybe he knows someone there we can talk to?”

  “I’ll see if I can get in touch with him,” I replied.

  “Want his number?” Chyrel asked from the video feed.

  Deuce grinned as he handed me his sat phone. “Yours is probably in the freezer.”

  Pulling my own phone from my pocket, I said, “Nope. What’s the number, Chyrel?” She gave it to me and I punched it into my phone.

  “You weren’t kidding about having better resources,” Parsons said to Deuce.

  Cleary answered on the third ring. When I said who I was, he replied, “Please tell me you are not coming back to my island, Captain McDermitt.”

  I grinned. Cleary is a police sergeant on the island of Elbow Cay, in the northern Bahamas. We’d met when I went there, along with Deuce and a few others, to look for a lost Spanish treasure.

  “No, Cleary. At least, not anytime soon.”

  “Den what can I do for you?”

  I explained the situation, as much of it as I could, and how time was of the essence. He listened politely and finally said, “Yes, I know people in di Bimini District police. But dey will not give you permission.”

  “This boat’s probably going to leave in less than five hours,” I said, failing to disguise the rising anger.

  “Bimini won’t be able to send anyone dere until morning. You didn’t hear me say dis, but if you leave now, you will be in and out long before dey can get dere, and nobody will know.”

  I grinned. Then Cleary said, “But, I must contact Bimini and tell dem dat a source told me dere was a problem out dere. Dey will send a boat, but it will be noon before dey get dere.”

  “Thanks, Cleary,” I said. “Beer’s on me next time I come to Elbow Cay.”

  I ended the call and turned to Deuce. “How fast can you get a few guys down here?”

  Marty and Kim had sat down on the L-shaped couch, but she jumped to her feet, as did Linda. “Oh no,” Kim said. “You’re not going down there again.”

  “She’s right,” Linda added. “You’re not going, are you?”

  I looked from one to the other. Then I looked at Waldrup. I’d promised the big man that we’d get his cousin’s killer. I turned to Deuce. “We’ll take the Cigarette, with Rusty’s Zodiac on board. Less than an hour to get there. How soon can you get an insertion team down here?”

  Kim wheeled and stomped out of the salon, Pescador on her heels. “Kim, wait!” I shouted after her.

  “I can have a four-man team here in less than an hour,” Deuce said, already working on an email. “By the time you insert them, we’ll have eyes on the boat.” Pausing, he looked up at me. “Maybe you ought to at least think about staying on the boat.”

  I looked over at Linda. Being a cop, she knew the risk involved and it showed on her face. “I’m planning to,” I replied.

  “I’ll go tell her,” Linda said, the relief evident on her face.

  Once she was gone, I said to Deuce, “As backup.”

  “Did you get the new tanks installed and hooked up?”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “The extra weight makes it a pig, but it’ll still do better than ninety-five. It’s only about a hundred and twenty miles, one way. With the extra tanks installed, it’ll have a range of two hundred and fifty miles easy, at wide-open throttle. Double that at cruising speed.”

  Deuce sent the email. It went to four of his best operatives. Scott Grayson and Jeremiah Simpson were both former Marine Recon dive instructors. Andrew Bourke and Jeremy Dawson were former Coast Guard maritime enforcement specialists. Grayson, with his experience as a Recon Marine, would be in charge of the insertion team.

  Kim and Linda came back in, Pescador leading the way. “You promise you’ll stay on the boat?” Kim asked. I could see that she’d been on the verge of tears. This was still new territory for me. I’d been absent from her life nearly as long as she’d been alive. Though I care deeply for my two daughters, and have cared about others over the years, I couldn’t recall anyone caring about me with this kind of fervor.

  When she sat back down next to Marty, I went to her and knelt on one knee. “I can’t promise that, kiddo. And I won’t lie. I have every intention of inserting the guys and hanging back. I’m too old for this, and I’ve been trying to tell Deuce that for over a year.” I looked back and he just grinned and shrugged.

  Turning back to Kim, I looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m not gonna lie to you. If the insertion team needs help, I’m right there. The team Deuce is bringing down is top-notch. Andrew, Jeremy, Scott, and Jeremiah.”

  “Andrew and Scott?” she asked, a hopeful look on her face. “Good, they’re both the opposite of you. Slow and methodical. And not likely to fly off the handle.”

  I gently pushed a strand of blond hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, they’re that, alright. Besides,” I said, looking up at Linda, “I have a lot of reasons to keep the axe head in place these days.”

  “How can we help?” Linda asked, placing a hand on my daughter’s shoulder.

  I took Kim’s hands in mine and nodded to Marty, who had been sitting quietly next to her. “Think you and Marty can go up to the island in his boat and bring the Cigarette down here?”

  Kim thought it over. She knew my penchant for recklessness, but she also knew I wouldn’t lie to her. “Sure,” she replied. “It’ll take l
ess than an hour if we leave right now.”

  I looked back at Deuce and he nodded. “Andrew and Jeremy are just up in Islamorada, at Andrew’s dive shop. They’ll both be here within thirty minutes. Scott and Jeremiah are at Homestead and can be at Marathon Airport in less than an hour.”

  “Should I contact the sheriff?” Marty asked.

  “Technically, the investigation is still in your hands, Marty,” I said. “The federal government is only providing assets to the sheriff’s office, and he hasn’t removed you from the case, has he?” Marty shook his head. “But in this case, maybe you shouldn’t say anything to him. We’ll kinda be illegally entering a sovereign nation.”

  Nodding his understanding, he took Kim’s hand, and the two went out the hatch. A moment later, I heard the outboard on his patrol boat start up and begin idling down the canal.

  Turning, I said sarcastically to Deuce, “Speaking of informing your superiors, why haven’t you cleared this with the director?”

  He grinned mischievously, reminding me a lot of his dad. Russ was sometimes known to give his superiors only the intelligence they absolutely needed, and he’d often improvised in the field.

  “Technically,” Deuce said, “I’m still the acting director until Monday morning.”

  Hearing footsteps approaching the door to the cabin, Celia clutched at her husband. There was a click from the lock, and the door flew open. Ilya Dobrovska stood in the hallway, a machine gun with a long, curved magazine hanging from a sling across his chest. “It is time to make good on the first part of our agreement, Mister Minnich.”

  “Who was in that plane?” Darius asked.

  “I do not know,” Ilya replied. “But they have fled and will not be returning. Please come with me. We have the computer set up in the galley and connected to the satellite.”

  As the two started to rise from the bunk, Ilya said, “Just you, Mister Minnich.” Oleg stepped up behind Ilya. “Oleg will keep Missus Minnich occupied while we work. Be warned, if you hesitate, or I think you are trying to do something other than what we agreed on, that savagery I mentioned will commence immediately and you will be brought down here to witness it.”

  Turning to his wife, Darius said, “Wait here. I’m not going to do anything other than what he wants me to. You’ll be alright.”

  Celia nodded slightly, then cast her gaze to the floor, her blond hair falling forward, hiding her face. She sat back down and quickly scooted back on the bunk as far into the corner as she could get, drawing her knees up to her chest and hugging them. Oleg stepped into the cabin, and Darius followed Ilya into the hallway. The door closed and Darius heard the click of the lock. Navigating the hallway was difficult with the deck pitched, but Darius did as Ilya did, pushing off the wall with his left hand.

  “He won’t touch her?” Darius asked.

  “As per our agreement, Mister Minnich. The computer is set up directly above this cabin. He will not harm her unless I say to.”

  With Ilya following, Darius went up the steps at the end of the hall to the main deck. The same laptop as before was on the table and Darius sat down in front of it. Two leather-bound books wedged against each other and the opposite table rail kept the laptop from sliding.

  “Can you hear me, Oleg?” Ilya asked in a normal tone, placing his gun against the cabinets on the far wall.

  “Yes,” came a somewhat muffled reply, but still quite clear. “I can hear you.”

  Sitting down across from Darius, Ilya tented his fingers and looked across the screen at Darius. “The laptop has a very large storage disk, which is nearly empty. All you have to do is download all the files dealing with the suit onto it and the first part of our transaction is complete.”

  It only took Darius a few minutes to gain access to his company’s mainframe through the backdoor portal he’d created. A moment later, his finger hovered above the Enter key. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You can’t,” Ilya replied matter-of-factly. “It is I who am trusting you, Mister Minnich. My clients do not understand security protocols, as I do. Your description of the disable coding makes perfect sense to me, and I trust that you will deliver it, once I’ve taken you to a place where you will be safe. If it is worth what you say, I will have no trouble at all in giving you half of what we make on the second part of our agreement.”

  Darius looked into the other man’s eyes for a moment, then clicked the key to begin the download. Ilya came around the table and looked at the screen. A progress bar began to show the percentage of the documents that were downloading and displayed a completion time of just over three hours.

  Checking his watch, Ilya said, “It should be completed by the time the tide has risen enough for us to leave here.”

  “For Cuba?” Darius asked, his face grim. Not that it mattered any longer. He’d already committed treason, though the American government wouldn’t know about it for months.

  Ilya grinned. “For only a short time, Mister Minnich. I have changed my mind about continuing to deal with the Cuban government. This transaction will make me very rich, and I will no longer need them to look the other way. Nor will I be giving them part of the profit. When we leave here on the evening tide, we will go to a small town one hundred and twenty kilometers south of here on the Cuban mainland called Caibarién.”

  “And from there?”

  Ilya shrugged. “My clients will meet us there. They have very good resources and will make Canadian passports for all of us, while their technicians examine what you have just given me. In two days, if the technicians say I have lived up to my end of the deal, I will be paid and we will fly to my home country.”

  Darius looked down at the computer screen. The progress bar ticked from two to three percent. Looking again at the man who had kidnapped him and his wife and most likely murdered his friends and crew, Darius said, “I don’t think Celia will like Turkmenistan.”

  “With what I am going to pay you,” Ilya said, with a grin, “you may live anywhere you choose. However, you should consider your new home’s extradition treaty with the United States.”

  “You mean, we’ll be free to go anywhere we want?”

  Ilya stood. “Yes, anywhere you desire. It may take my clients several months to develop the suit and then have need of the particular line of coding you mentioned. Until then, you and your wife will be guests at my compound outside the capital, Ashgabat.”

  Scott and Jeremiah arrived in Scott’s van. He’d had his new dive shop’s logo and name painted on the side of it. Scott climbed out and went to the back, taking two small duffle bags, before walking toward where Deuce, Parsons, and I stood waiting on the dock. Jeremiah then backed out and drove off. He’d wait for Andrew and Jeremy at the airport, where they would be arriving by helicopter.

  “How’s the dive business going?” I asked as the big black man dropped the bags by a hibiscus.

  “Actually, better than I thought it would. We hired a few people and the shop’s still open while we’re gone.”

  “What’d you tell the employees?”

  “Same thing we always do, Gunny,” Scott replied, shaking my hand. “Told ’em we’re goin’ fishing. They seem to find it amusing that two black guys like diving and fishing. Actually, I suspect they think we’re gay and just going to Key West for a weekend tryst.”

  Laughing with him, I introduced Scott to Parsons and then Waldrup and Meg as they came out of the Revenge. Deuce explained the plan we’d come up with to Scott, bringing him up to speed. He asked a few questions about details, but mostly nodded, absorbing what Deuce was telling him. He’d learned to respect and trust Deuce’s decisions and intuition.

  The unmistakable sound of the Cigarette’s twin eleven-hundred-horse racing engines could be heard long before we saw it. The scream of those engines carries a long way, and from the sound, Kim was nearly at full throttle. The boat suddenly appeared as it rounded Sister Rock before slowing down for the entry to Rusty’s canal.

  The sound of th
e big, throaty racing engines idling into the canal brought Rusty out. “I ain’t even gonna ask,” he said as he stood beside me, watching Scott help Kim tie the boat up.

  “Probably for the best,” I agreed. “Mind if I borrow your Zodiac and the muffled engine?”

  “I’ll get it and put it in the cabin, along with a couple of air tanks to fill it from and enough gas to get you thirty miles,” Rusty replied as Scott approached.

  Even if Rusty hadn’t known anything about Deuce and his team or about my involvement with them, his answer would have been the same. We’d shared so much over the years, he was literally the brother I’d never had. We each knew that the other would do or provide anything without hesitation, even step in front of a bullet if need be.

  “You remember Scott?” I asked Rusty. Though they barely knew one another, they had a bond almost as strong. The two shook hands and grunted an oohrah, as Marines are apt to do.

  Scott loaded his and Jeremiah’s bags aboard, and Rusty took Scott toward the boat shed at the end of the dock. Jeremiah was already filling the auxiliary tanks on the go-fast boat, so Kim and I left Deuce and Parsons and went aboard the Revenge.

  “You want me to get your fly rod case?” Kim asked hesitantly.

  I considered it a minute. The M40 in the case she mentioned is a great rifle, but it needs a really stable platform. “No, there’s two shorter cases next to it,” I replied. “Grab one of those and one of my Sigs with two extra magazines.”

  A moment later, she returned with the case and placed it on the counter. Nobody has yet said anything to me directly about it, but I’ve heard there are people that would disapprove of a father exposing his child to firearms. Personally, I think those people are idiots. A parent can’t expect to hover over their children like a drone, always there to protect them. Kim has become a very good marksman over the last year, and she’s been taught the correct way to handle firearms. I limit her exposure to dangerous situations, as much as a father can. But, if trouble comes, she’s got the ability and training to meet it head-on.