Adventures In A Pair-A-Dice

by Terry Michael Peters

  We were rounding the outer edge of the jetty and heading toward the shoreline. Bruce, for the first time since the chase began, throttled down and we surged forward about a hundred yards from the beach. With the engines near idle, I could hear the other boat just on the other side of the rock jetty on its way around.

  Bruce heard them, too, and I could tell from his expression what he was thinking. I thought to myself, it’s now or never. Just as I was making my move, Bruce throttled up again and as the boat spun around, I went over the side.

  I went deep to avoid being hit by the props as the boat continued its arc around to head down parallel to the beach. I could feel the vibration and strength of the powerful engines as the boat left me there in its wake.

  As I came up for air, the other boat had already rounded the jetty and was heading my way. The bow of the boat rode high in the water. I couldn’t see the people on board and was praying they, in return, hadn’t seen me.

  Without even thinking, my reaction was to go back under. My brain, reacting faster than my body, left me with little air and a mouthful of water. Still I stayed down as I heard them approach then continue on past me. Their speed indicated that they hadn’t even suspected me of being there. As I came back up, I could see them still in hot pursuit of Bruce.

  I swam to the beach underwater, only coming up for the precious air that I needed. By the time I got to the beach the boats were around a curve in the island shoreline, but I could still hear the drone of the powerful engines off in the distance.

  It was now about seven o’clock in the morning and the air was getting warmer as the sun made its way off the ocean’s horizon. This island had long beautiful beaches with many trees just twenty yards or so from the water’s edge. My idea was to keep inland within the perimeter of the trees in case one or the other of the boats came back this way.

  Bruce had done me no favors and I wasn’t about to worry myself about his fate. I had my own fate to deal with. I did think of Kevin and pondered his fate. It seemed that when he went into the water our pursuers had shortened their angle to us which left him far from their boat as they went by him. Not knowing how bad his condition was, it was difficult to determine his chances. At the time we must have been three or four miles offshore from this island.

  Making my way through the scrub brush that was growing beneath the taller trees I had visions of being stranded on this deserted island. I saw no signs of life other than the land crabs that inhabited the island. I was getting thirsty just thinking about the prospect of not having any water. There wasn’t even a cloud in the sky and I was remembering reading somewhere about just how long the human body could endure without water.

  I made my way on through the brush toward the other side of the island. My watch now showed eight o’clock and I was exhausted. I hadn’t had much sleep in the past twenty four hours and the last thing I ate was a poor representation of apple pie last night at the restaurant.

  Last night – God, it seemed like days ago. A little father through the woods I could see the ocean through the trees. As the trees began to thin out I could see what looked to be something out of Mutiny on the Bounty. There at anchor, about a hundred yards off the beach, was a huge old sailing ship. I thought that perhaps the lack of water was causing this delusion and that I was surely losing it. Then I heard voices and the sounds of laughter.

  I made my way out onto the beach where I was surprised to find a group of people putting on snorkel equipment and getting ready to take to the water. They seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see them. It must have been from my appearance that prompted one of them to ask what happened.

  “Have a boat problem?” he said.

  My brain froze. I hadn’t even considered what my story was going to be. Two minutes ago I thought I was a goner and now there’s this guy asking me questions. Remembering the law of the sea as being one in which sailors help fellow sailors, I quickly stated that my boat had sunk a few miles off shore. I went on to explain that the boat had been a lifelong dream and losing it was something that I didn’t really want to talk about. They understood and that was that

  Next in order was getting off this island. After a short inquiry, I found out that they were headed for Nassau and would be there in two days. They could take me but they weren’t leaving until that night. All I wanted was to get off this island and back to the States but I realized that these people were my only link to the outside world. Although I was concerned about the return of the smugglers, I felt safe with these people.

  I reasoned that the guys shooting at us would avoid drawing attention to themselves and after all, it was Bruce they were after, not me. I decided to make the best of a bad situation. In the dinghy on the way out to their boat, I prayed that these new found friends weren’t as crazy as those I had met the night before.

  For the next two days I enjoyed the company of these vagabond sailors, soaking up the rays and consuming mass quantities of Jamaican rum. Saturday morning found us in Nassau. Flights were departing every four hours by way of a seaplane from Paradise Island which was just across the harbor. From the plane, I looked out and down on the numerous Bahamian Islands.

  I pondered over the past three days of my life. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone and I could have been easily persuaded to believe that it had been except for two things – the sunburn on my back and the two thousand dollars I now had in my pocket.

  Chapter 2

  The flight back to the States was much quicker than the boat trip to the islands. This left little time to reflect on the series of events that had transpired since the early morning hours when we first headed out of the inlet and toward the open sea. I could still remember how it felt to see the lights from the mainland grow ever so faint as we put distance between us and the shoreline and the discomfort I felt venturing into the unknown.

  It was difficult to concentrate on much else but as we landed in Ft. Lauderdale my thoughts quickly shifted to my scooter that I had left along the side of Alligator Alley. Just before we left the marina that night I had put my backpack, along with the keys to my bike, in the trunk of Bruce’s car. What I wanted to do was to get back to the marina and remove any traces of my involvement with these people.

  Clearing customs was a hassle as I had only my driver’s license for identification. After convincing the customs people that I had my other papers stolen from a rental car in Nassau, I was cleared back into the USA. Before getting through, the customs officials all but stripped me of the clothes I was wearing. It seemed that I was just one of those suspicious looking individuals.

  This was nothing new to me as I was always being approached at concerts and other social gatherings by people inquiring about the buying or selling of drugs. So the inconveniently secluded third degree at the airport came as no surprise.

  Once at the marina I found the car right where we had left it. For some reason I expected it not to be there. There were a half dozen or so cars parked in the same area of the lot and I wasn’t sure just how I was going to open the trunk. There was incriminating evidence in that trunk and in no way did I want my ass connected to these guys. Being chased down and fired upon out in the open ocean was a bit heavier than what I was used to.

  As I expected, the doors were locked. I knew people didn’t pay big bucks for such a car that would have inferior locks - so easy access was out of the question. The night we had left, there was no one else around so I reasoned that if I waited until dark there would be less risk of drawing attention to myself.

  I thought it best to keep the happenings of the past few days to myself but figured I couldn’t keep the excitement from Tom who was, and had always been, my best friend. I wanted to hook up with Linda but knew that once we got together it would be too easy to put off what I had to do for the pleasures she could afford me.

  I had met her two and a half years earlier and she was the closest thing I had to a steady relationship. Still she was forever trying to change a few of my ha
bits and I knew she wouldn’t have approved of my latest venture.

  A call to the cab company and my message was patched through to Tom. He was the only person I still knew that I had gone to grade school with. It wasn’t until high school that we started hanging around with each other. We both played guitar and throughout the high school years played in various bands together. More than the music though, was our mutual interest in motorcycles and the open road.

  As different as we were, there was a good balance to our partnership. We had ridden our cycles and partied together for years and were always getting each other’s ass out of a jam. He, if anyone, could appreciate the events that had recently transpired in my life. Tom also had a cab and right now I needed some form of transportation.

  My hunger was becoming overwhelming and I decided that now, being a slightly richer man, I would treat myself to a long overdue meal. I opted for a waterfront restaurant and headed straight for the bar. Three or four vodka and cranberry drinks later I heard the familiar tone of Tom’s voice. He was at the other end of the room putting his best persuasive moves on the cocktail waitress.

  “Hey, man,” I said as I walked over giving the waitress the opportunity to evade Tom’s advances.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  “You’re not gonna believe this,” I said.

  Tom knew me well enough to know that anything was possible and that I never lied. Truth and honor were important factors in our friendship. Despite all this, I could see slight traces of doubt in his eyes as I laid out the happenings of the past few days. This was understandable. I was still in a state of disbelief myself. That’s when I once again remembered the two thousand dollars in my pocket.

  This evidence proved to be more convincing as Tom had not known me to be able to produce such an amount of money too often. Laying a hundred dollars down on the bar, we both proceeded putting on a buzz.

  The next thing I knew it was dark outside and once again my thoughts were on my belongings that were still in the trunk of Bruce’s Mercedes. With a little coaxing on each other’s part we were in Tom’s cab and headed straight for the marina.

  This time the lot was empty with the exception of the blue Benz. With the aid of a pry bar that Tom carried around for unruly fares, the trunk popped right open. Still in the trunk were some personal belongings of both Kevin and Bruce and my pack was lying exactly where I had left it.

  Before closing the trunk, I sifted through the miscellaneous stuff that was in the trunk. Underneath a duffle bag that was left behind I found a suitcase. Grabbing at the handle it felt as though it was full. I suspected it might contain ammunition but thought it might contain some identity as to who these guys were - gut feeling and some persuasive encouragement from Tom and the trunk was closed. My backpack in one hand and the suitcase in the other, I reached down, picked up the pry bar and never looked back.

  Tom was going to catch hell for keeping the cab unemployed but because he knew the dispatcher not much more than a reprimand would come of it. Back at his apartment all attempts failed to carefully open the suitcase. Once again, though, the same pry bar opened the case with the ease of a key.

  Mere words couldn’t express the looks on our faces as I opened the lid of the suitcase. There was good reason for it to have weighed as much as it did. There before our eyes was a suitcase stuffed full with bundles of money. Suddenly, I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. All at once life for me was beginning to get very complicated.

  While I was being infused with all sorts of tension, Tom was exhibiting mass quantities of verbal euphoria. The way he saw it was that my ship had come in, that I had hit that great jackpot in the sky. My conscience was telling me that this wasn’t right. The money didn’t belong to me. I was satisfied with being two thousand dollars ahead and alive.

  It was difficult to determine just how much money was actually there but a fifth of whisky and a few hours confirmed my belief that it was in fact a lot of money - three hundred and eighteen thousand dollars to be near enough to exact. Paranoia was setting in and in spite of the amount of liquor in my system, it took a long time for me to fall asleep. Even with the feeling of guilt, I did manage to envision how this sudden chance at wealth could affect my life. It was with these thoughts that I lapsed into sleep.

  I woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. I wasn’t sure how long it had been ringing but halfway out of bed it stopped. A quick look at my watch confirmed my belief that it was late. It was afternoon and there was much to be done.

  Over a few cups of strong coffee I decided that I couldn’t just leave the money lying around here. I thought the best course of action would be to put the money in divided amounts in several safe deposit boxes around town. I wasn’t going to determine its future at this point but reasoned that it would be safe and out of my hands. I did know a little more than I did the day before about Bruce. In with the money were papers that indicated Bruce’s last name.

  After a few phone calls, I traced down my friend Pat and made arrangements to meet up with him later in the day to go get my motorcycle. Then Tom and I started recounting the money.

  It seemed that the night before while in the midst of all our glory we had made a mistake in our figures. This time in a clear state of mind we counted another thirty two thousand dollars for a grand total of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. We divided the money into four piles of eighty five thousand each which left ten thousand dollars remaining.

  During the process of our second count I had justified in my mind the withdrawal of the ten thousand for my part in Bruce’s ill-fated plan which had nearly cost me my life. I would then return the remaining amount if and when I could prove that Bruce was still alive.

  At that point, I believed his chances of evading his assailants that morning to be slim. As we were being chased they seemed very determined in catching up to him. I was beginning to exhibit signs of wealth that day by hiring Tom’s cab all afternoon to make our rounds to the bank. After all, I was protecting someone’s interest and felt that any expenses accrued were easily justified.

  After the last bit of money was deposited safely within the confines of the bank a great deal of my anxiety was gone. Now I could focus my attention on some other things that needed doing. First was to meet up with Pat and head west.

  I knew all along that only a condenser and a set of points would be needed to bring the old Harley back to life, but Pat had a truck just in case. Alligator Alley looked different during the day and I was hoping I could remember just where I had left the bike.

  After being picked up that night by Bruce and Kevin, I fell asleep and wasn’t exactly sure how far west I had been. About an hour further down the road I saw a sign that I remembered seeing shortly before my ignition system started crapping out. Pat swung the old Ford around and a mile or so back down the road I saw the limb of a tree that had been broken off. It was one that I had used to cover up the bike.

  Ten minutes later I had the wind in my face and was enjoying the familiar high that my bike afforded me while riding. On the ride back to West Palm Beach I made a mental promise to no longer put off the rebuild on the Harley motor. Shit, I was practically rich. Tom’s scooter had been laid up due to unaffordable transmission repairs and now this, too, was only a matter of the time it would take to get the parts and put it back together.

  Then there was Linda. She was long overdue the things I had promised her. She would have preferred me just being around more. During that ride back east, as the night settled in, I was appreciating a lot of things in my life.

  As I glided the bike around the corner and up the driveway I could see her through the living room window as she headed toward the door. God, it felt good to see her. It had been about three weeks now since she had left Naples after a party some friends of ours had.

  She worked a nine to five and had already used up too much of her sick time to extend her visit that week on Florida’s west coast. When she left Naples, I promised her that I woul
d be back in just a few days.

  “Where have you been?” she said as I leaned the bike over on its kickstand.

  “Well, there was this problem, you see.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I can just imagine.”

  “No, really,” I said, “The bike broke down.”

  I started to further explain but she cut me off with a hug and kiss that made me remember why I was forever returning to this driveway. There would be time for explaining later. Right now she was happy just to see me and the feelings were mutual.

  I had wondered many times why she even put up with my antics. There were plenty of other guys always asking her out. She was intelligent, took care of herself and was real easy to look at.

  Linda worked as an ecologist for the State and was more concerned about the natural environment we live in than anyone else I knew. Sometimes her over involvement with these efforts would strain our relationship and it was usually these times that I would pack up and be scooting off somewhere.

  She was too innocent to be drawn into what was going on right now, so no word was mentioned of my latest adventure. I told her to put on a dress as we were going out to dinner, then out for some late night dancing. Linda loved to dance and any chance to do so pleased her.

  In the past I was usually fluctuating between having a few extra bucks to being flat ass broke. Linda, that night I think, assumed that I was riding the “extra bucks” cycle of my life - most likely from some kind of fast deal that wasn’t beyond me. Being with Linda was the closest thing to home for me and that night it felt real good being there.

  I woke up the next morning to the phone ringing. It seemed like deja-vu. It was just yesterday that the damn phone woke me out of the same recurring dream - something about me being rich.

  “What’s going on?” Tom wanted to know. “Did you have any problems getting the motorcycle?”

  “No, man, no problem. What time is it anyway?”