He looked around him, distraught at the thought of losing his boat. The fuel slick continued to grow. It surrounded the boat now as diesel continued to pour from the bullet hole. He paused hoping this would not be the last time his feet touched the familiar deck, then made a quick decision to abandon ship and jumped over the side.
***
The shark jumped, sensing that it was trapped, and Mel didn’t react in time. As the shark’s body left the water, it twisted and wrapped its tail fin in the leader. The line was no match for the abrasive skin, which quickly sliced through the monofilament. The shark, disoriented and exhausted from the fight, swam slowly on the surface for a moment, letting fresh water circulate through its gills to revive it.
Mac splashed on the surface as he swam toward the boat. Mel gasped, noticing the tail fin as it turned toward him and accelerated. The dorsal fin showed its intention as the shark made a quick pass around him. She felt helpless as it circled again, this time closer to Mac. Suddenly it turned and butted him in the side.
Trufante stood motionless at the wheel.
“Quick - turn towards them. See if you can get us between Mac and the shark,” she yelled. She almost fell as the boat tilted with the quick change in course. “Good - now go get him.” Her heart pounded as the boat closed the gap. The shark prowled the waters nearby, not sure what to do about the boat. They were close now. “Cut the engine. Don’t want to hit him with the prop.”
The boat settled in the water as they both leaned over the side waiting for Mac to reach them. They were so engrossed with his plight in the water that they didn’t notice the pistol aimed at them from Mac’s boat until the voice called out.
Chapter 45
The deputy backed off the throttle as he hit the no wake zone and rounded the corner entering the yacht club basin. He let the wind and current take him to the dock. Once there, he cut the engine and went forward to tie off the boat. Doans was handcuffed to the stainless steel tubing that supported the t-top, his arms wrapped around the pipe.
Once the bow line was secured, the deputy moved to the stern, grabbed the line, and hopped on the dock. The boat brushed lightly against the rub rail as he secured the second line.
“Stay here. I’m gonna get the trailer and pull us out.”
“Like I'm going anywhere,” Doans said.
The deputy ignored him and went for the truck. He had just reached his truck when the UHaul pulled up. He took no notice, thinking it was going to turn around.
***
“There's the infidel,” Ibrahim said. “What’s that fool doing handcuffed to the Sheriff’s boat. Idiot. Typical American dog.”
“What are we going to do? He has obviously failed.”
“Yes, he has failed, but Allah be praised, He has given us the tool we need to complete our mission. Look. He has delivered us a boat. Quickly, let’s go.”
“What about the deputy?”
“If we hurry, we will be gone before he even knows it.”
The two men jumped out of the truck and ran toward the dock. They reached the boat and looked at each other. “Untie the rope, Behzad.”
Ibrahim stepped into the boat and turned the key. The engine turned over. Behzad untied the lines and followed. Ibrahim pushed the throttle to far forward. The boat jumped. Doans slammed against the stainless steel tower and fell to his knees. They were about to hit a trailer when Ibrahim looked at Doans, his eyes wide with fear.
“For Christ’s sake. Find neutral, then pull back. Slowly.” The boat moved backward in response. “Now cut the wheel and push it forward. Easy.” Ibrahim followed his directions, satisfied with himself as the boat moved toward the inlet. “It’s just like a car. Just take it easy.”
“What now?”
“Keep going. Head toward the bridge. There’s an island part way down. We can ditch the boat there and walk back on the foot bridge. We need to lose the boat or they’ll find us.”
Ibrahim was out of the inlet, but still unsure of the throttle. The boat was going too slowly to get up on plane, and the stern sunk deep in the prop wash, bow jutting high in the air.
“You’ve got to give it some more gas to get it to level out.”
He punched the throttle, swinging Doans around the pipe and slamming him into the leaning post. The boat resumed it’s previous posture.
“No, really. Push the throttle. We’ll never get there like this.”
Ibrahim tried again. This time he got the boat to plane out. It accelerated across the water, his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel as the boat bounced from wave to wave, swerving out of control. The propellers gained an octave every time the boat left the water.
“You can slow now. Just give her enough gas to stay on plane.”
Ibrahim slowly got the feel for the boat. Pigeon Key was dead ahead.
He turned perpendicular from the bridge and headed towards the open water of the gulf.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“You will take us to the bomb.”
“Negative, Ahab. That thing’s bigger than this boat. We go by the island like I said and stay low. The bomb will come to us.”
Ibrahim thought for a moment before grudgingly admitting the infidel was probably right. He turned the boat parallel with the bridge.
“Take it wide around the island. I think there’s a spot we can pull up and get off this thing.”
Wanting nothing more to do with the devil’s craft, Ibrahim followed his directions. “We need to renegotiate your fee. You have clearly failed, he said.
“My ass. You would have flipped this boat if I wasn't here. Don’t suppose you can swim, either.”
“Nevertheless, you have returned without the bomb.”
“Just wait. It should be coming over the horizon any time now.”
***
The deputy backed down the ramp, set the parking brake, and got out, ready to pull the boat on the trailer. He pulled the winch cable out and looked around, wondering where the boat was. He looked out into the water, confused, and could just make out the blue and red light-bar on top of the t-top as it pulled around the bend.
“What do you mean they’ve got the boat?” Jules yelled in the radio. “The terrorist guy too? Sit tight. I'll be right there.”
She pulled up a few minutes later. The deputy gave a rundown and took the tongue lashing like a man. She would have gone on, but needed to act and recover the boat. She called in a BOLO for the boat and its occupants over the radio, catching some sarcasm from the Highway Patrol and the Coast Guard. The Coast Guard offered their helicopter, housed nearby at Marathon’s small airport.
Jules asked the Coast Guard dispatcher to have the chopper wait for her.
Chapter 46
“I’m going to need your help here.” Sue looked toward Wood. The Navy crewman was laid out on a blanket, the wrecked boat shielding him from the wind. She had re-rigged the Bimini top from the boat, providing protection from the afternoon sun.
Wood crawled over and made himself as comfortable as possible, though his side hurt with every movement. The crewman had a towel wrapped around his shoulder and neck, the speargun shaft protruded from the center. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling but his breath was shallow.
“Here we go.” She grasped the shaft, leveraging herself to pull it out. “You’ve got to take the towel and apply pressure as soon as this comes out.”
“Slow down, girl, You won’t be pulling that out without tearing him apart. That spear’s got a barb on the end that will open if you pull backwards. Only way that’s coming out is to push it through. Same as a fish hook.”
“That’s gonna be ugly. Roll him on his side. We’ll take a look.” They rolled him onto his side. Wood watched as she stared at the man. She looked like she was trying to visualize the interior of the shoulder. It had cleared the bone, just missing it. Slowly she pushed the spear further into his body, causing him to squirm, though he remained unconscious. Pushing harder n
ow, she wiggled the shaft slightly, working the tip around an unknown obstruction. His body twitched in pain as she navigated the tip. Slowly she worked it, first an inch, then two. A bulge appeared on the skin where the shaft was ready to come through.
“Got it. Now we have to open this up. How big is the head?”
Wood crawled out of the shade, stood, and walked to where Mel had left the spear gun. He disengaged the band and withdrew the shaft. “Looks like this.” He said wiggling the barb back and forth. See what I mean?”
“Yeah, that would have torn him up if I just tried to pull it. Let me see that.” She took the shaft and folded back the barb, eyeballing how big the exit hole would need to be. Tequila was the only thing available to sanitize the incision, so she poured it liberally on both sides. The sharp bait knife was sterilized with a lighter. Once it started to glow, she quickly punctured the skin with two incisions, creating a small X. Before blood found the wound, she started to move the shaft. As it emerged through the exit hole, she gently pulled it. It came out, blood spurting behind it.
“Got it. Get that towel and put some pressure on both sides. I’ll get something to stitch him up.”
Without a suture kit, she had to improvise. Fly line backing made of Dacron and a sewing needle were the only supplies available. Another splash of the tequila went to clean the holes again. Wood accepted the bottle, gauged how much was left and drank half. Her shaking hand accepted the remainder.
The needle caused the man to jump every time it passed through his skin. Wood inched over to hold him down as she finished the wound on his back. They rolled him over together and he watched as she started on the front wound. Nothing like watching a competent woman work, he thought as he laid back in pain.
She grabbed a pill bottle from the supplies, tossed two at him, and tried to get the sailor to swallow a couple. “Found these in your medicine cabinet. They’re old, but should still work.”
The sailor was resting comfortably on his back now. Still unconscious, but out of danger. “Good job, girl. Now you gotta help me operate on this baby before these kick in.” He popped the pills in his mouth and slapped the bomb.
***
Wood had his tools laid out like a surgeon. He moved to the access panel covering the trigger mechanism. “This is the tricky part. One spark hits the wrong spot in there and this could blow.” The tequila had accelerated and amplified the effect of the pain killers Sue had given him. He needed to finish before their full effect hit his system. For now, his pain was at bay and his nerves calm.
The cordless drill spun as slowly as the trigger would allow, boring a pilot hole through the fifty-year-old screw head. He repeated the procedure with the remaining eleven screws.
“Why so slow?”
“It’s metal. The slower the better. You wouldn’t think so, but rip off at high speed and you’ll burn the tip of the drill bit. Sparks fly off, hit something sensitive, and that’s the end of it. Any more questions?”
She looked down. He removed the drill bit and inserted an easy out, a cone-shaped piece with a spiral wrap. As he drilled these into the pilot holes, the screws started to emerge. Once they were out, he removed the panel and the bomb’s guts saw daylight for the first time in fifty years. The Python 35 trigger mechanism was undamaged, but the barometric pressure sensor — the device which was set at the depth the bomb was to explode — had corroded.
“Damn. Lucky this thing hasn’t blown yet.” He took the wire strippers and eased a section of insulation about midway off each of the two wires connecting the switch to the trigger. The ends of a separate loose section of wire stripped, he wrapped each bare end around his incision in the trigger wires, making what looked like a bridge between them. The connection sparked causing him to jump back, slamming Sue in the head. “Damn girl, I could use some space here.” He eased his hands back inside the case, more careful this time. Using the wire strippers he wrapped the bare ends of wire around each other. Next he cut the wires close to the sensor and pulled it out.
“Ok,” He withdrew from the casing and took a deep breath. “That thing’s cut out of the loop now.”
The Python was held in by four large screws. He craned his neck to check out the device before trying to remove it. He extracted the screws, undamaged by the salt water, and lifted the trigger out of the bomb, removing the firing pin to disable it. “Done. She’s safe enough for a baby to play with.”
Sue relaxed now. “That’s it? No more boom?”
“That’s right, girl. Still have to take out the core, but it needs this here to set her off. Fission bombs need a separate small explosion to trigger the actual bomb, which starts bombarding atoms, setting off the actual explosion.” He sat back against the bomb and felt the adrenaline wash out of his system. The creases on his face resisted the rare smile, not from the drugs, but from the success at disarming the bomb. The fifty year nightmare had only one act left, and that was up to Mac, Mel and Trufante. His body fell to the side as the pain killers took full effect.
Sue grabbed him and propped him up. “I’m going to look in on my patient if you’re ok over here.”
“I’m good. Maybe take a walk back the house and find me some more of that tequila. Kind of help out those pills.”
“I’m going to veto that prescription. You stay right here. Maybe I ought to have a look at your wound as well.”
Chapter 47
Behzad and Ibrahim looked around as they made their way to land, the boat behind them. There was no sign of activity anywhere.
“So, you have a plan?” Doans asked as he followed them.
Ibrahim turned. “We no longer need you. As you say, the bomb is coming to us. We only need to wait and intercept it. The sheriff can pick you up and deal with you. Maybe we’ll be generous and call, so you are not out too long and sunburn your white skin.”
“You don’t need me, fine. But the sheriff is going to put a helicopter up. They’ll spot this boat in minutes. I’ll be happy to tell them where you are and what you’re up to.”
Ibrahim spoke quietly to Behzad, who ran off toward what appeared to be a maintenance shed. “I knew better than to get mixed up with you. My friend has proved to have questionable acquaintances. We will free you, but you will stay with us. Do not think you can make a deal with the authorities - not that they would believe you. I will be watching you and have no remorse in the death of a lying infidel. Understand?”
Behzad returned with a set of bolt cutters, and Ibrahim instructed him to cut the chain connecting the bracelets. Doans extended his hands as far as he could, and Behzad slid the tooth of the cutters onto the chain and started to close the levered handles.
“You need to get the link all the way in,” Doans corrected him.
Behzad repositioned the cutters and pushed the handles together, this time meeting resistance. He used the seat for leverage against one handle and pushed the other against it. The chain snapped.
“You need to find a gym, my friend.” Doans moved his arms around, relishing his freedom.
Ibrahim looked overhead, motioning them to silence as he rotated his hand, still looking up. “Helicopter. We must get out of here.”
“Hold on, I’ve got an idea.” Doans went forward and grabbed a dock line from the forward hatch, then turned the wheel until the engine straightened behind the boat. He tied the line to the steering wheel. He looked over his shoulder to make sure the motor would run the boat in a straight line. The other end of the line tightly tied on the leaning post, he signaled Behzad, who jumped off onto the dock as he started the engine. He pushed the boat off after calculating the angle the bow should face to compensate for the wind and current. This would at least give the boat a better chance at not hitting a bridge piling. He pushed down on the throttle and jumped off the stern as the boat took off.
It missed the pier and headed off toward the waters offshore of Bahia Honda.
“That’ll buy us some time.”
“How far back to Marathon?” Ibr
ahim could just make out the entrance to the Knights Key channel.
“About half the bridge — three miles or so.” He glanced at the deserted section of bridge. The old road had been decommissioned when the new span was put in. Open to foot and bike traffic now it dead ended at Pigeon Key. “We wait ‘til dark. There’s nobody on the bridge now. We’d be too visible. The sheriff puts up a chopper, they’d spot us for sure. Around sunset, there’ll be more of a crowd. Then we can walk without notice.”
He was scanning the area, looking for a hiding place, when he heard the sound of an outboard motor working slowly toward them. “Must be a tour coming back. We’ve got to get under cover.”
A loose piece of trellis covering the foundation piers of a nearby building caught his eye. “Come on.”
Before ducking under the building, he watched the helicopter set a course for the abandoned boat.
***
Gillum held the flare gun, hands shaking, still trying to catch his breath. His head pounded from striking the deck. It was the angle of his fall that had put him in the right position to see the bright orange case containing the gun. Remembering his munitions training, he knew a bullet would be worthless to blow the smaller boat, but the pyrotechnics of the flare might do the job. He pulled back the trigger, releasing the flare. It propelled toward the other boat, landing on the deck. The explosion he hoped for never happened, but a small fire started. He watched as the two occupants jumped into the water on the far side of the boat. Just as they cleared the deck, the fire took. The ensuing explosion caught them in midair, accelerating their trajectory toward the water.
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