by Matthew Rief
His head hit the small swim platform as his body tumbled and splashed into the water, disappearing in an instant in the boat’s torrential wake.
Flipping onto my chest, I rose to my feet and locked eyes with Ponytail once again. I could see his dropped gun in my peripherals, but it was still lodged against the edge of the boat. I had him. He was done for, and I kept the sights locked on him as I yelled for him to freeze and shut off the boat.
He glanced back at me, and for a moment I thought he was going to dive for his dropped weapon. But Ponytail had other ideas. Just as I was about to finish him off, he turned the helm sharply. The quick turn at such a high speed caused the deck to fly out from under me. In the blink of an eye, my body was in the air, crashing into the gunwale, tumbling over the side, and splashing into the water.
My body spun and flipped in the turbulent haze of white bubbles. For a moment, there was only confusion as I couldn’t tell up from down. Then the wake subsided, and I saw the brilliant morning sun piercing down through the ever-clearing water to my right. I kicked and tore at the water, reaching the surface and welcoming a lungful of air.
Blinking and gazing through blurry eyes from the saltwater, I spotted the bowrider motoring full throttle away from me. It had turned even more and was now heading northeast, back toward Snake Creek Channel. Turning around, I spotted the big guy I’d filled with lead floating face down on the surface. Clouds of red were already spreading around him.
I shook the water from my ears and heard the Calypso approach from the south. Jack brought her around, and I climbed up onto the swim platform.
“Are you alright?” Ange said, inspecting me from head to toe for damage, then wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me tight. “They didn’t get you, did they?”
“Not even close,” I said, stretching the truth just a little. I shook my head and added, “But you sure got them.”
Jack leaned over from up in the flybridge.
“That last guy’s making a break back for the islands!” he shouted. “I’ve got a bead on him. You want me to call in the police?”
Pete walked over and offered me a hand and a towel as I stepped up to the main deck. If we had the Baia, I’d simply put the throttle to the fiberglass and let the engines go wild. With a top speed of over fifty knots, there aren’t many boats anywhere that can keep up with her on the open ocean. But we couldn’t chase down the bowrider in Jack’s Calypso even if we wanted to.
“Everyone heard those gunshots for miles, so we kind of have to,” I said. “Call Jane. Let her know what happened.”
He nodded and disappeared from view. I patted myself down and made brief eye contact with Pete. Neither of us said anything. Neither of us had to. The first order of business for us wasn’t to go after the guy who’d managed to get lucky and escape. No, the first order of business was to have a little chat with Walt.
FIFTEEN
Jack motored us out to deeper water, then put us on a southwesterly course and switched on the autopilot. I took a moment to dry off and change into a fresh tee shirt. Atticus followed me as I moved aft, then stepped up to the flybridge. Walt was standing near the aft bench, and the others were eyeing him suspiciously.
“Old friends, huh?” I said, raising my eyebrows at him.
He paused a moment, and Ange chimed in.
“Now’s the time where you answer,” she said sternly.
“Alright, alright,” Walt said, raising his hands in the air to try and deflate the situation. He took in a deep breath and let out a big sigh. “They are old friends, in a way. I can explain.” He took a swig of water and sat on the cushioned bench. “Those three guys who just attacked us, they’re from Albania.”
I eyed Ange. We sure as hell weren’t expecting that answer, but I guess I was right about what language they were speaking.
“I just got back from the Med,” he added. “We were working together to find a wreck. The partnership turned sour, and I took off before all hell broke loose.” He shrugged. “Then they followed me here and are trying to find out what I’m looking for.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Ange said without skipping a beat, “what line of work are these old friends of yours in?”
He paused again, which I took as a bad sign.
“They dabble… here and there…”
“Dammit, Wally, just spit it out, man,” Pete said, growing irritated as well.
“Alright,” he said. “They’re part of the Albanian mafia.”
I closed my eyes, threw my left hand into my face, and massaged my forehead while shaking my head back and forth.
“You don’t think that’s something you should’ve told us about?” I said, genuinely bewildered by what he was saying.
He shrugged. “I didn’t think they’d find me. Yesterday was the first I’ve seen them in a while.” He paused a moment and cleared his throat. “But they’re no concern of ours. They couldn’t find treasure in Midas’s castle, and those three aren’t exactly the top brass. You seemed to have no trouble fighting them off.”
I genuinely had a hard time believing what I was hearing.
“You asshole!” Ange said. “You realize you’d be mincemeat right now if it weren’t for Logan. Those guys weren’t here to talk or to make threats. They were here to kill all of us.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought they’d be all threats and no action.”
“You should’ve told us, Walt,” Pete said. “What did they say to you yesterday when you talked to them on the shore?” Pete turned to me and added, “Logan, you said they were the same guys, right?”
I nodded.
“They were just showing face yesterday,” he said casually. “They just wanted me to know that they’re here.” He paused a moment. “Look, I know how bad this looks. But they came and now they’re running. Clearly, we don’t gotta worry about them. We just need to focus on finding the diamond.”
“Yeah, why the hell should we be worried?” Jack said sarcastically. “A few criminal enemies of yours track you down all the way from Albania. Yeah, after what just happened, it’s obvious they’re just here for the views and the Key lime pie.”
“Jack’s right,” I said. “Give us one good reason why we should trust you and bother continuing with this search.”
He paused a moment. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the compass and held it out in front of him.
“Here’s a damn good reason,” he said.
It was like he was completely oblivious to the magnitude of what had just happened. A group of Albanian mafia guys were hot on his trail, wanting him dead and clearly us along with him, and all he could think about was the diamond. He was a treasure hunter, through and through. But I had a hard time figuring out whose side he was on—whether he was the villain or the misunderstood hero. Because at that moment, he was looking a hell of a lot more like Long John Silver than Jim Hawkins.
“You drag us into your shitty business with lies, then expect us to continue on like blind idiots?” I said. “You’re a real piece of work.”
I turned away from him and hit the stairs. Ange and Jack followed me, leaving Pete and Walt alone up in the flybridge. I couldn’t talk to him anymore. It seemed like the more I did, the more upset I got.
We headed into the saloon and sat around the dinette. Atticus curled onto the carpet beside us. I grabbed a few coconut waters from the fridge and handed them out.
“You believe the nerve of that guy?” Ange said. “He seems completely oblivious to what just happened. He’s either certifiable, a filthy liar, or both.”
“All I know is once he steps off, he’s not welcome back on my boat,” Jack said. “I don’t care if he’s got the coordinates to the damn Aztec treasure 2.0.”
We kept talking for half an hour. Jack piloted from the main deck cockpit, checking to make sure that our path was clear and making occasional adjustments to our course. There’d been no sign of the others until Pete finally stepped down from the flybridge
and entered through the sliding glass door.
Without a word, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and plopped down beside us on the dinette couch. Popping the cap, he took a few long pulls before clearing his throat and eyeing each of us.
“I’m sorry for getting you three into this mess,” he said. Glancing out a crack in the starboard porthole curtains, he added, “If you guys want out of this, I understand. But the two of us are gonna continue the search.”
We eyed him like he was crazy.
“You can’t be serious, man,” Jack said.
“How can you work alongside someone who flat out lied to us?” Ange added.
It was a good and important question.
“He and I go way back,” he said calmly. “Longer than any of you have been alive. Look, I believe we can find this thing, and I want to see it through.”
“And when those Albanians come back?” Jack said.
“Then we’ll deal with them,” he said. “You three aren’t the only ones who’ve dealt with bad guys, you know.”
I sighed. “Pete, you—”
“Look, guys,” he said, cutting me off. “Walt’s in serious trouble.”
“Yeah, that much is pretty clear,” Jack said.
“These Albanians want him dead,” Pete continued. “If they get him, they’ll force him to find the diamond, and then they’ll kill him. So the way I see it is we have two options here: we can either walk away and let these criminals sweep in, kill him, and make off with the diamond, or we can do something about it.”
We fell quiet for a moment as we let his words marinate.
“And if he’s lying again?” I slid out from the seat and rose to my feet slowly. “Pete, I know he was a close friend of yours. But how well do you really know him now? You said it’s been what, nearly twenty years? Who knows what he’s been up to all this time? Hell, he could be part of the Albanian mafia himself for all we know.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” Pete said. “All I know is that he’s fallen on hard times and he came to me for help.” He paused a moment to clear his throat. “He’s family, son. A thoroughbred conch, through and through. He’s my brother and I’ll have his back through thick and thin.”
I took a swig of coconut water and leaned back into the cushion, thinking back to earlier that year, when an old Navy friend of mine who was supposed to be dead had shown up out of the blue. A convicted traitor to the United States, I’d been mad as hell at him at first and hesitant to help him salvage his life. But I’d helped him nonetheless. Despite the danger and the many risks it had posed to me, I’d helped him. I wasn’t certain what Pete was feeling, but I figured it was similar to how I’d felt—conflicted, but genuinely wanting what was best for someone I’d once called my brother.
“If you’re pressing on, man, then I am too,” Jack said, catching me off guard. “I can’t sit here and pretend I’m not itching to go and check out this next clue. I haven’t been this excited since we found that pirate shipwreck.”
I glanced over at Ange. She was shooting me a look I’d seen a few times before. It was her this is crazy and stupid but I support you look. Pete’s words on family had hit home the hardest. With my mom and dad gone, Ange was the only legal family I had left. But I had my island family, and I wasn’t about to let them dive headlong into danger without tagging along.
“You guys are both nuts,” I said flatly.
And I’m nuts too for not leaving it at that and walking out of the room.
Instead, I smiled and added, “Alright. With all of the close calls you’ve had lately?” I said, raising my eyebrows at Jack. “Someone’s gotta keep you from getting yourself killed.”
But after the smiles, I explained that the entire dynamic of the endeavor had changed drastically. We were no longer just looking for a diamond. We were looking for a diamond with a group of criminals breathing down our necks. We had to keep our eyes on the prize while also watching our backs.
And we had to keep a sharp eye on Walt. In light of everything, I couldn’t help feeling like there was a lot more that he still wasn’t telling us.
SIXTEEN
Two and a half hours later, just after 1300, we motored back into the Conch Harbor Marina. We’d used the journey to shower, gather our gear, and eat. We’d also talked to Jane again, letting her know what had happened, and authorities were notified up and down the islands. When the hull pressed against the fenders at slip forty-seven, Ange and I carted our gear to the Baia, then left Atticus with Gus at the marina office.
“You guys missed a lot of festivities yesterday,” Gus said as he greeted my happy Lab. “They lost control of the pirate float. It took off full speed straight into the side of the Tiki Bar.” He laughed hysterically. “I think the mainlanders thought it was part of the act, but you should have seen Bert’s face when he saw the spanking new entrance through the south wall. No one got hurt, but maybe he can add a new patio or something.”
I laughed and petted Atticus.
“That would’ve been a sight to see.”
“Yep. You guys do anything exciting out on the water? Word on the water is that the blackfin tuna are early this year.”
“Not really,” I said, choosing to withhold the truth for the time being. “And we’ll have to go out on the Calypso and get a haul.”
“After the fest, I’ll be free as a bird. You guys going to watch the fireworks tonight? You can see them from the marina, but the view’s much better over at Mallory.”
My mind was too busy thinking about Walt, the diamond, and the Albanian mafia to take in much else.
“Maybe,” I said. “If we do, we’ll call and meet up.”
“Alrighty.”
I thanked him for watching Atticus, then joined the others and headed down the dock toward the parking lot. The five of us crammed into my Tacoma four-door, and I pulled us out onto Caroline Street.
The city was already abuzz. After pulling onto Duval Street, I remarked that it might have been quicker to walk the roughly three-quarters of a mile as people crossed the streets in seemingly never-ending clusters.
We passed Jimmy Buffet’s first Margaritaville, then headed down a cross street, turned onto Whitehead and passed the Green Parrot Bar. Three slow blocks later, we somehow managed to find a parking space right down the road from the Lighthouse and Keeper’s Quarters Museum.
Stepping out into the warm afternoon air, I glanced across the street and saw a large crowd of people standing in a line just outside the entrance to the Ernest Hemingway Home and Museum. I smiled as I spotted a white-and-orange cat sitting in the shade on top of the brick wall surrounding the renowned novelist’s compound. I thought back to the first time I’d visited the house as a kid. The tour guide had told me that Hemingway had favored the six-toed cats since they were regarded as better mouse hunters and were able to keep their balance better while out on the water. Unfortunately, I was too far away to count its toes.
I joined the others, and we walked down the sidewalk to the lighthouse. After standing in line for a few minutes, we greeted the woman at the counter and paid the entrance fee, then she handed us a brochure.
Most everything on the well-kept ground was painted brilliant white, the only outliers being a few sections of the picket fences and the shutters of the keeper’s house, which were painted in a fresh coat of dark green.
We walked along the concrete path that cut between short, manicured lawns. Rising up at the back was the eighty-six-foot lighthouse. It towered over the coconut palms and the large mahogany beside it.
We walked the grounds slowly, trying to fit in with all of the other people who were just enjoying one of the island’s many historic sites. But we weren’t like the others. We were there to perform reconnaissance.
The Albanian mafia was ever-present in my mind, and I constantly looked around and over my shoulder for any sign that they might be following us.
Ange held out the information pamphlet we’d been given at the entrance.
She had it unfolded and was looking over old pictures and small lines of text.
“She was built in 1825,” Walt said, not bothering to look at the pamphlet.
“Actually, this lighthouse wasn’t constructed until 1848,” a voice said from behind us. We turned around and saw a short chubby guy wearing a polo shirt that said Staff, plaid shorts, and a gray ball cap. “You’re thinking of the first lighthouse that was built close to the water.” He nodded toward the towering lighthouse and added, “This one was also only fifty feet back when it was built. It’s seen many improvements and has been built higher over the years.” He paused a moment, then waved at us and added, “I’m Marty. I’m a tour guide here. Any of you interested in the tour? We run it every hour on the hour from nine until five.”
The five of us looked at each other. We were all hoping for someone else to answer.
After a few seconds, I said, “We’re not interested.”
Marty shrugged.
“Suit yourself.”
He walked past us and raised his voice, speaking to a group of people who’d gathered under a tour starts here sign. We waited for Marty to finish his welcoming spiel, complete with the usual touch of corny jokes guides like to throw in now and then. When he led the group past us and into the lighthouse, we had the courtyard mostly to ourselves.
“Alright,” Walt said, grabbing the compass from his pocket.
“Buried at the base of the city’s undying sun,” Ange said, having memorized the riddle.
We were standing right beside the lighthouse, keeping cool under the shade of a gumbo-limbo tree.
“The secret deed was done,” Pete said, completing the first line.
“Facing the ten score,” Jack said.
Walt took a quick look around, then stepped right against the lighthouse and held out the compass. Generally, when using a compass, in order to gauge your proper direction on a map, you need to account for magnetic declination. This refers to the angle of difference between magnetic north and true north. Due to Key West’s location, these two are essentially equal, making the declination close enough to zero not to be a factor.