by Jason Briggs
Sheldon reached back and set a fist on the small of his back. He leaned backward and felt his spine crackle. “That’s not as easy as it used to be,” he said.
“It could be that you’re spending too much time behind a desk these days,” Dodson offered.
Sheldon slipped his rod into a holder at the transom and took a seat at the helm where the T-top offered some shade from the striking sun. He reached for his YETI and took a sip of his drink: an ice cold Coca-Cola with some rum added in. He looked over the peaceful water. The water was calm, the fish were hitting, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A perfect day, ironically couched in one of the very worst weeks he could remember.
He’d finally gotten rid of Douglas Peterson, and now that pesky investigator, McCleary. But now Parker was missing. Between that and all the cleanup he’d had to arrange by calling in all his favors, it had all become a little more than disconcerting.
Dodson’s voice cut across the deck and pulled him from his thoughts. “You ready to get back at it?” Dodson asked.
“I think I’m going to hold off a little longer. Get your line in the water. Hook one and bring him in. I’ll help him off it.”
In the distance a center console hummed over the water, speeding in their general direction. It swept around them so as not to approach directly and came nearer on a low idle. The driver was a clean-shaven young man wearing the typical garb of a fisherman: long sleeve shirt, wrap-around sunglasses, and a ball cap. Both the shirt and the cap were green and bore matching logos that Sheldon couldn’t make out. The young man raised a hand and called out.
“Mind if I approach?”
Ted waved him on.
The young man tossed out his starboard fenders as a courtesy and came in along their port side. “Hope I’m not interrupting, gentlemen.”
“Not at all,” Ted said and jabbed a thumb toward Sheldon. “He’s just trying to decide if he’s too old to wrestle in a tarpon. What can we do for you?”
“I’m a representative with Friends of the Keys. They’ve got me spending the day on the water handing out information on what we do.”
“We’re just visiting for a couple of days,” Ted said. “But what’s your pitch?”
“We just want people to know how fragile the wildlife habitats are around here and provide folks with some easy things they can do to help out. With more and more tourists coming down every year, we want people to enjoy their time here and also go home more informed.” He grabbed a couple of pamphlets from his back pocket. “Can I leave this with you?”
“Sure,” Ted said. “Why not?”
“Great.” A branded canvas bag was sitting on the helm seat beside him. “And if you like, I’ve got some pens I can leave with you. And we got permission to hand out these too.” He smiled. “Just so you’ll be more likely to remember us.” He reached into the bag and brought out a couple of three-ounce liquor bottles. “Either one of you like rum?”
“I sure as hell do,” Sheldon boomed. He stood up and stepped to starboard.
The other man eyed them and grinned. “You both are over twenty-one, aren’t you? They made me swear I would check everyone’s ID, no matter how old they look. But I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Hand them on over,” Sheldon said. “Our lips are sealed.” He took the pamphlets, the pens, and the two small bottles of liquor. He took a long look at the latter. “Look at that. You guys have your own label.” He looked up and smirked at the young man. “You sure you’re into saving the environment and not bootlegging?”
“Absolutely. Listen, I’ve taken enough of your time. I’m sorry to bother you and I appreciate you listening for a moment. Look us up online when you get some time.”
Dodson thanked him and the man brought in the fenders and eased up on the throttle, finally getting back onto plane when he was a hundred yards out. “Nice kid,” he said.
“Yeah.” Sheldon reached for his YETI, removed the lid, and went over to the ice sitting in the stern. He opened the lid and selected another can of Coke. “Ted, you want in on some of this rum too?”
“You know I do.”
He handed over his YETI and Sheldon started to pour.
In the distance, Marcus Treadwell stood at the helm of the center console and sped over the water. He removed his “Friends of the Keys” hat, tossed it on the deck, and rubbed the palm of his hand against the freshly shaven skin of his face.
Today had been a long time in coming. Nearly a year now. So much damage had been done, so much lost. Night after night went by with him seeing the faces of his brothers in his haunted dreams; not a day when he didn’t think of Lana and how much he missed being with her.
He couldn’t change the past. He couldn’t go back and stop evil men from committing evil acts.
But he could avenge his brothers. He could give an eye for an eye. Tooth for tooth. Life for life.
He smiled to himself as the wind coasted over him and the motors droned on behind.
By the end of the day, General Benjamin Sheldon and Major Ted Dodson would be dead.
Chapter Thirty-Five
It was nearly dark by the time the two military officers arrived back at their secluded bungalow a half mile out from Big Torch Key.
They were wiped out. They had discarded their previous plans for the evening, which included grabbing some dinner at The Grumpy Oyster and seeing what they could do to bring a couple of ladies back with them for the night.
Instead of all that, they had arrived back at the bungalow feeling like someone had slipped them a handful of Benadryl. They could hardly keep their eyes open. Sheldon didn’t even bother to flip off his loafers before falling onto his bed without even pulling back the covers.
A couple hours ago Ted had made a joke about what exactly was in that rum they had been given. But they both laughed it off and chalked up the sudden exhaustion to the stress of handling all the loose ends over the previous week and Dr. Parker not showing for their meeting in Sarasota.
Dodson’s joke was much closer to reality than they could have ever thought.
It was after 1 AM when Sheldon’s eyes flicked open and he pushed himself off the bed and stared dumbly out the window. His stomach convulsed and he opened his mouth and vomited all across the floor.
His entire body started to tremble and a sudden heat flared up inside his head. It felt like ants were crawling inside his brain—fire ants. They were multiplying every second and now they felt as though they were burying inside his mind.
He groaned and clapped his hands over his ears. He had to get them out. Flinging open the bedroom door he made his way into the kitchen and grabbed at the side of the counter.
Thunk.
A line of blood started trickling down his forehead.
Thunk.
In his altered state of mind, Sheldon thought it strange that a handgun was sitting on the counter. He hadn’t brought one with him. Deep in the back of his mind, the part the ants hadn’t gotten to, he recognized it as a Sig Saur P226. It had custom chrome plating and a textured blue polymer grip.
The fire was getting worse, a blazing heat filling the space between his ears. He was past the point of lucidity now. It was too much. The pain. The heat rolling around in his head.
And there it was, the gun, staring at him like a faithful friend.
Thunk.
He grabbed it, and an ingrained, automatic habit caused him to check the load. A round was already in the chamber. Silently thanking whoever had left the gun, he set the end of the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger.
Ten minutes later, in Ted Dodson’s bedroom, another gunshot echoed across the house.
Outside, at the dock, a wary pelican took flight from his perch, and all was quiet.
Chapter Thirty-Six
John Brooks left the comfort of his office on the top floor of MercoKline’s headquarters and took the elevator down to the first floor.
He was nervous. Especially nervous. He had just spent the last
five minutes standing in front of the television in his office, watching as CNN’s drone zoomed in on the tiny island where, according to the report, the bodies of Major General Benjamin Sheldon and Major Ted Dodson were found. Both men had apparently died by suicide. Each by a single, self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.
That all sounded a little too familiar.
Brooks had just been with his associates, two days ago on his yacht. There was no way they would have taken their own lives. Not only were they lack enough concern to take such a drastic step, they were both too proud to do such a thing. Especially Sheldon.
Brooks quickly made his way down the hall and gained access to Parker’s lab. He went to the corner where the secure refrigerator sat and punched in his code.
Nothing happened.
Frantic, he tried again.
He screamed and slapped the refrigerator repeatedly. He tried the code a final time and, when it still didn’t work, he made a quick exit from the lab and took the elevator down to the parking garage.
His Porsche Panamera was parked in the executive section where each morning it was washed and detailed while he was at work. He unlocked his car, opened the door, and got in. He gripped the wheel and took a deep breath, trying to rid himself of the unsettling feeling sitting hard on his chest.
It was the voice behind him that caused him to leave his skin on the seat.
“Hello, John.”
John Brooks nearly convulsed out of his seat at my friendly greeting. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of it. His head whipped around to see me sitting behind him wearing a ski mask.
“What do you want?” he cried out.
“You were going somewhere,” I said. “Please, continue. Don’t let me stop you.”
Brooks eyed me suspiciously in the rearview mirror.
“I mean it. Go on.”
He hesitated and then turned on the car, put it in gear, and eased out of his space before slowly driving out of the parking garage.
“What do you want?” he asked in a shaky voice.
“John, I think you know why I’m here.”
“Oh, God. Please. I can give you—”
“Groveling does not become a man. My grandmother told me that on more than one occasion.”
“Please, I—”
“Quit groveling. Man, you do not listen very well.”
He reached the main road and flipped on his blinker before turning.
“John,” I said, “I assume you saw what happened to your friends last night.”
He nodded.
“I would hate for that to happen to you. That said, I need you to do something for me. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“You are going to record a video in which you state your full confession: Parker’s research, your intent to twist that research into a new, genetically induced strain of PTSD. You will—”
“How could you know that?” he snapped.
“Have you seen Dr. Parker lately?”
“Oh, God.”
“As I was saying, you are also going to name each and every member of the Delta element that you poisoned for monetary gain, and your intent to do it again to our Green Berets. You will describe, in meticulous detail, your business agreement with General Sheldon and Major Dodson, and their roles in this as well, without putting all the guilt on them. You’ll take credit for the death of Douglas Peterson and Major William McCleary. When you’re done, you’ll send that video to every major news station and wait for the police to arrive at your doorstep.”
“I—I can’t do that.”
Another coward.
“Sure you can. You just need the proper motivation. Do you really think I don’t have any more of the original formula? Do you really think I was that nearsighted?”
He swallowed hard. “Look—”
“No. You look,” I growled. “You’re going to own what you did. If you miss a single beat, or if I don’t like something about your confession, you’re going to end up just like your friends.”
It was silent in the car for a long while; cars and palms and buildings rolling by.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“And a couple more things,” I added. “You will plead guilty, and if I hear that you reached some kind of plea agreement or hung yourself in prison, I will distribute what you created to your family.” His entire body tensed, and before he could threaten me back, I said, “But rest assured that I won’t touch them if you do the right thing. Pull over.”
I would never harm his family. If I stooped that low, I would be no better than he. But he didn’t know my moral limits; he had no idea where I would draw the line.
We were near a public park. He pulled to the curb and I opened my door. “One more thing,” I said, “You’ll give the police access to the refrigerator in Parker’s office. Once you enter the lab with them, the refrigerator will repossess its original settings and your code will work at that time. Try accessing it without them present, and it won’t open. You have twelve hours.”
“Who are you?”
I slipped out of the car, shut the door, and disappeared into the trees.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I set the fishing hook on the bottom eyelet and tightened it with another half turn of the reel. I placed the rod in a holder in the gunwale and lowered the fold-down swim patio. The swim patio was a pretty cool feature, but I’d only used it once before, on a dive.
I set my shades aside, peeled off my shirt and tossed it on the back of the helm seat. Then I stepped to the edge of the platform and dove into the water. I swam down, letting the ocean swallow me as I let it wash the events of the last few days off me. There really is nothing like the ocean’s salty water to make you whole again. I stopped when the pressure on my ears became too much and took my time getting back to the surface. Once there, I flipped over on my back and closed my eyes against the bright glare of the sun. I bobbed at the surface for a while.
Nothing would bring William McCleary back. Or Douglas Peterson. Or the men Treadwell had lost. But I could rest easy now. The men behind it had gotten their dues.
I stayed in the water for another half hour before getting back on deck. I brought up the swim platform and donned my shirt and sunglasses, then started the engines and gave them some throttle. I rode the boat fast across the water, getting it on plane and feeling the thrilling sensation that can only come from riding over open water.
I worked my way to a dock off the southern end of John Pennekamp State Park and docked the boat. There was a Publix grocery store just across the street. I went inside. There was no line at the customer service desk, and as I stepped up the attending lady smiled at me. “How can I help you?”
I tugged my wallet from my back pocket and plucked out a twenty. I set it on the counter and slid it across. “Two rolls of quarters please.”
I pulled my boat into a slip behind The Reef. I tied off and cut the engines before stepping out and walking inside. I smiled as I saw a couple of new friends sitting at a table talking with a couple of old friends.
Amy was mixing a drink behind the bar. I bellied up and set the rolls of quarters in front of her.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“That is jukebox money. I thought you could keep it somewhere behind the bar. Now when I come in, I don’t have to steal from your tips.”
“Ryan, I was kidding about the coins. I’m happy to give you a few.”
“I know you are. But now you don’t have to.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She tossed a lime wedge in the drink and then looked back at me. “Oh, I keep meaning to tell you. Ryan, Charlotte is such a gem. I’m so glad she came to stay with me. And I kind of hate that she has to go back to D.C.”
“Me too,” I said.
You get to know what people are made of when you watch them walk through hell. Charlotte had a heart of gold. She had lost her father and had been nearly killed herself a couple of times, and
yet all the while she kept a level head about her. Charlotte was classy, beautiful, and smart, and even though I wasn’t ready to move from my wife yet, Charlotte had stirred a small part of me that made me wish I was.
I was going to miss her too.
“She’s over there at that table,” Amy said. “Go on over and I’ll bring you a beer.”
“Thanks.”
Charlotte was sitting at a table with Brad, Roscoe, and Marcus Treadwell. Marcus looked alive. He was clean shaven now and wearing a contented smile.
“Hey, everyone.”
“Ryan,” Brad said, “we were just talking about me.”
I rolled my eyes and took a seat across from Charlotte, and next to Roscoe, who clapped a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve missed you around here these last couple days. Everything good?”
“Yeah. It is now.”
Charlotte leaned in on her elbows and smiled. “Thanks for everything you did for me.” She looked to Marcus. “For both of us.”
“I’m glad I could. Marcus, what’s your next step?”
“I’m going back to Orlando in the morning. I’ve got a lot to explain and patch up with Lana. But I hope we can make it work again.”
“She’s a sweet girl. You take good care of her,” I said.
“Promise you’ll come see me whenever you’re in D.C.,” Charlotte said to me. There was a hint of flirtation in her voice.
“I will. I promise.”
Amy brought my drink over and we all spent the next hour talking and laughing. There was a sense of new beginnings in the air. I stood up and went to the jukebox, slipped in a quarter, and selected George Strait.
“Darts?” Brad asked.
“Let’s do it.”
I grabbed the darts out of an old cigar box and handed three red ones to Brad. We backed up to the line and started the game. A couple rounds later I saw someone walk through the door that made me think that I’d drunk five more beers than I actually had.