by Matthew Rief
Blue holes are geological phenomena that are formed when a sinkhole or cave fills with water and becomes a vertical aqueous void in the landscape. Some descend for less than a hundred feet, but many go on and on, seemingly forever.
I’d dived one before, off the coast of Belize. The Great Blue Hole, arguably the most famous of its kind in the world, is over four hundred feet deep. It made for an incredible dive, and the round dark blue speck is an amazing sight from the air as well.
“It’s about two hundred and fifty miles from here to Andros Town as the gull flies,” Pete said. “And that’s just south of Spaniard. It’s closer to three hundred miles if you go by boat since you’ll have to motor around the northern tip.”
Frank brought up a distance tracker on the GPS. It verified that the distance between Key West and Andros Town was precisely what Pete had said.
“It’s almost scary how much you know about the Caribbean, man,” Jack said. “I mean, I know a lot, but if you were any more conch, you’d have a hard outer shell instead of skin.”
Pete went on to inform us that there are over fifty documented blue holes in that region, and many of them are relatively untouched. Based on the satellite imagery we looked over of our destination, there didn’t appear to be any structures or roads nearby.
“The tricky part will be depth,” Pete continued. “These holes could be a hundred feet deep or five hundred. With an off-the-beaten-path one like this, there’s no way of knowing until you get there.”
I thought it over for a quick moment. My underwater drone had a three-hundred-foot tether, and I felt comfortable diving even deeper than that if necessary for a short duration.
“Ange and I will take the Cessna,” I said. “We’ll make it faster with just the two of us. Should be just under two hours of flight time.” I glanced at Ange, who nodded, verifying that my quick math was correct. “If we get in the air within the next half hour, we can be at the hole before sundown. Maybe even make it back in time for a late dinner.”
It took a little bit of convincing to get the others on board with the plan. They wanted to come, of course. But I was confident that it would be quicker just the two of us. Plus I was looking forward to the idea of spending some time just the two of us. I liked the group, don’t get me wrong. But we’d spent every moment together the past few days, and a quick getaway sounded nice.
“What about the Albanians?” Walt said. “We managed to rid ourselves of some of them, but Val got away. She doesn’t take kindly to failure. In fact, it only pisses her off more. She’ll be back. She’ll be back with more people. Just a matter of time.”
“I seriously doubt she’ll manage to follow us to the Bahamas,” I said. “But if she does, we’ll be ready for her.” I paused a moment and added, “As far as you three, I’d recommend sticking close together. We can call in Jane and have her send a few guys to hang out nearby just in case. Plus I was thinking of calling in Scott, seeing if he can spare a few days.”
“Scott?” Walt said, raising his eyebrows.
“An old friend and a hell of a warrior.” I glanced at my dive watch, then motioned to Ange. “Time to go.” I rose to my feet and addressed the others. “You guys be careful.”
They each nodded, except for Jack. He was sullen and hunched over.
“You two better not find this diamond without us,” he said, shaking his head. Then he smiled and added, “Because I’ll be forced to kick your ass if you do, Logan.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“Not to worry, bro,” I said. “Remember, on his deathbed, Hastings said that the diamond was hidden somewhere in the Keys. This is just another clue.”
TWENTY-SIX
I ran into Jane on the way out the front door. I told her what was going on and that I’d appreciate her helping to keep an eye on Jack, Pete, and Walt. It wasn’t that I doubted their abilities to defend themselves, but I knew that having uniformed officers nearby would most likely dissuade criminals from taking action.
She’d also informed me that my truck had been raised from the water and was sitting in a salvage yard across town. As I’d expected, the truck was a total loss and would most certainly cost more to repair than to replace. Though Jack had been apologetic about his car chase escape tactics, he’d also pointed out that I was in need of an upgrade anyway.
I thanked her for taking care of it but didn’t have time to worry about it then. Ange and I would need to get in the air soon if we were going to reach the hole before sundown.
After a quick stop at the Conch Harbor Marina to pick up a few bags of dive gear, the underwater drone, and an inflatable raft, Jack dropped us off at Tarpon Cove Marina. Ange had kept her Cessna there since she’d first moved in with me in the Keys.
Once loaded up, we did the preflight checks, and she called the ATCs. She gave them our flight plan and they gave us instructions for the flight. After giving us our unique transponder code to be used during the flight, they gave us the all clear.
Atticus got comfortable in the backseat. He’d flown a few times before and knew the drill. We’d decided to take him, knowing that we’d be glad to have him around when trekking into the middle of nowhere on Andros.
There was a little chop in the cove, but nothing Ange couldn’t handle. She started up the 230-hp engine and had us up in the air within minutes.
She turned us around onto a easterly course, then brought us steadily up to a cruising altitude of a thousand feet. We were flying at 105 knots with an eight-knot crosswind. With the sun at our backs and just a few sporadic patches of clouds, the view was beautiful.
Using my satellite phone, I punched in a quick number, then inserted the headset so that I could hear over the roar of the engine and passing wind. Sometimes people exaggerate other people’s abilities, as well as their own. But calling Scott Cooper a hell of a warrior was actually an understatement.
He’d been my division officer back when I’d first shown up to my SEAL team nearly fifteen years ago. Our friendship grew over time, and we’d gone on a handful of vacations and other adventures over the years. Smart, athletic, and presentable, he was the kind of guy that can do anything. Currently serving as a senator representing the state of Florida, he often took “vacations” down to the islands to get away from the political grind.
I told him what was going on and asked if he could offer some help. Given his government position and ties to Naval Special Forces, he had an impressive network of influential and helpful people.
“I’ll get Wilson on this,” he said, referring to the CIA deputy director. “See what he can do. Also, I think I’m overdue for a little fun in the sun.”
I laughed. Like myself, Scott had a unique idea of what he considered fun. We were both men of action, plain and simple. Though he often claimed that the bug had worn off a little when he’d hit his forties, I wasn’t convinced. Men like us don’t change. We may age and get different careers, but our core selves remain what we are and always will be.
“One more thing,” I said. “We need a customs agent to meet us at Fresh Creek in Andros Town. We tried calling the airport there but haven’t gotten anything.”
“Don’t worry about it, brother. I’ll take care of it.”
He told me he’d be down in the Keys as soon as he could. I thanked him, and then we ended the call.
After relaying the gist of the conversation to Ange, I gazed out the passenger-side window at the dark blue ocean below. Just ahead of us, I spotted a giant stretch of turquoise with a handful of small dark specks intermixed. It was Cay Sal Bank.
I’d traveled there back in March. Kyle Quinn, a man who’d been one of my best friends before being accused of treason while serving in the Navy, had returned from the dead one evening. In order to attempt to prove his innocence, we’d traveled to the dangerous and remote group of islands and run into trouble when a Russian assassin had tried to blow us and my boat to pieces. Somehow we’d managed to come out on top, and the last time I’d heard from Ky
le, he was happily living with his wife and daughter in Costa Rica.
“Alone at last,” Ange said.
I glanced back and saw that Atticus was passed out on the backseat with his head under a blanket.
Ange leaned over, tilted her head, and batted her eyebrows at me. She was giving me her cute sexy look, and it was driving me all kinds of wild. It had been a busy last couple of days and we hadn’t had much of a chance to spend time just the two of us. I was happy to see that she was as eager as I was to make up for the lost time.
She leaned over and kissed me slowly and passionately. Her hands traveled down my shirt, then unclasped my belt.
“Autopilot’s on,” she said seductively. “Care to join the mile high club?”
I smiled. The two of us had already met the requirements for that club a few times before. But I wasn’t stupid enough to bring it up and possibly dampen the excitement of the moment.
“I’d love to.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
By the time we finished, our bodies were covered in sweat, and the cockpit windows had a thin layer of condensation. Putting our clothes back on, we directed our gaze forward and could just make out Andros in the distance.
Ange shifted our course and called into local ATCs. Scott had messaged me back and told me to meet the agent at the Andros Escape Hotel. He said that the guy would meet us on the dock to do a quick inspection, and I thanked him for his help.
Before landing, I was able to spend a few minutes searching for information about the Bahamian paradise I’d visited years earlier. The islands that make up Andros are mostly remote, especially when compared to the rest of the Caribbean. The total population is only about seven thousand people, and most of the settlements are along the eastern coast.
To put Andros into perspective, its islands have a population density of roughly three and a half people per square mile. That’s about half that of Wyoming, a state that’s only second least dense after Alaska.
We flew over the massive cluster of land separated by intricate, weaving waterways. Ange brought us down over the eastern coastline and did a flyover to look for a good splashdown site. We would need a vehicle to reach the blue hole and figured Andros Town would be our best bet, though the place looked more like a tiny settlement than a town.
The largest group of buildings were to the south of Fresh Creek. Based on the maps I was looking over, it appeared to be the Atlantic Undersea Test and Evaluation Center, or AUTEC for short. The military installation has a wide deepwater channel that extends out into a region of dark blue ocean known as the TOTO. TOTO stands for the Tongue of the Ocean, a twenty-mile wide, hundred-and-fifty-mile-long trench. For most of its length, it drops nearly straight down from less than a hundred feet deep to well over six thousand. The unique geological formation is similar in size to the Grand Canyon but completely underwater.
Ange brought us down just north of the military installation, at the mouth of Fresh Creek. The water landing was much easier than in the Keys given that there were far fewer boats out on the water.
Most of the small handful of docks were private, but we spotted a small promenade in front of a hotel and dive shop that looked promising.
“Looks like the only hotel around, so I’m guessing that’s it,” Ange said.
As Ange brought us slowly to the dock, I positioned two white fenders, then leapt onto the wood planks and tied us off. Sure enough, an agent met us at the plane and performed a routine inspection before giving us authorization.
“Thanks for coming to us,” I said. “We tried the airport, but—”
“Nuh a problem,” he said in a Bahamian accent. “Nuh much plane traffic here di past few days. Plus mi just dung di street. Gi mi regard to mista Cooper.”
I smiled, told him I would, then he walked off. It always seemed like my old friend had a contact everywhere.
After a quick look around, I spotted a young woman hanging a few dripping wetsuits behind a counter. It looked about as close to an office as anything nearby.
Since the drone and dive gear were heavy, we left them in the cockpit until we could secure a ride. After locking up, we walked side by side down the dock. Atticus was excited as always and sniffing everything in sight.
It was 1700, so we still had a few more hours of sunlight left. But we’d brought our dive flashlights just in case the trip took longer than expected.
The small promenade had a dive boat tied off that shared the same name as the hotel in front of us. Andros Escape, the words on a softly flapping flag said. It was small, maybe a couple dozen rooms, and had a little restaurant with scattered people sitting in chairs and at the bar. The place had a great view of the creek and the ocean beyond.
“Nice plane,” a woman’s voice called out as we walked from the dock onto the promenade.
I realized that it was the same young woman I’d noticed from the dock. She was still behind the counter and was up on her tippy toes, leaning over to get a view of the Cessna.
“You both pilots?” she asked.
“Technically,” I said. “But she’s much better than I am.”
Ange and I walked around the counter and got a good look at her for the first time. I pegged her at just over five feet with dark hair and a tan complexion that was lighter than that of the dark-skinned locals we could see.
“You guys need a slip?”
“Just for the day,” Ange said. “We probably won’t even stay the night.”
“Careful,” she replied. “That’s what I said. Been here for two months now.”
“You’re American?” I asked, judging by her accent.
She nodded.
“Born in the Philippines and moved to the States when I was little.” She motioned toward our plane and added, “It’s twenty dollars for the day. But I can put it toward some food or drinks if you want. The jackfruit mango smoothies here are the bomb.”
“We’ll have two, please,” Ange said excitedly.
She called to one of the workers, relaying our order.
After checking out every sniff-worthy thing on the dock, Atticus trotted over and headed right behind the counter to greet the woman. She lit up as she petted him. I heard the distinct patter of little paws, then spotted a small French bulldog as it ran happily into view from behind a row of avocado trees.
The two dogs smelled each other for a few seconds, then started to play.
“Aw, a Frenchie!” Ange exclaimed.
The woman picked up the little dog and handed her to Ange. She was still a puppy and had a blue brindle coat with white patches on her belly and sparkling blue eyes. Without question, she was the cutest dog I’d ever seen.
“What brings you two to Andros? It’s not exactly common for people to visit just for an evening.”
We told her that we were explorers of sorts and that we were looking to dive a remote blue hole. I brought up the GPS and showed her our desired destination.
“Oh, that’s Hastings’ Hole,” she said.
The mention of the name caught both Ange’s and my attention quick.
“Hastings?” Ange said.
“Some American who used to have a house near there, or so I’ve heard. Apparently, he used to work up and down the islands here, doing various engineering projects. Then his wife drowned, and he left. Never came back. Kind of sad, really. Anyway, I’ve only been to the hole once. Middle of nowhere and it’s a difficult hike.” She paused a moment, looking us over. “You both seem like good people, so I’ll give you a tip. Just before the end of the nearest dirt road, you’ll see a turnoff, a gate, and a bunch of signs. Danger, no trespassing and all that. Don’t let them scare you. There’s an old guy that lives up there. He’s a recluse and can’t stand people. But he’s harmless, and that road’s way faster than the normal footpath. I also haven’t seen his fishing boat in a few days, so you should be in the clear.”
“Isn’t this place located within the national park?” Ange said.
“Yeah, but good luck telli
ng him that. His family’s lived there for generations.”
“And if we run into this guy?” I said.
She smiled and waved a hand.
“You shouldn’t, but if you do just tell him I sent you. I spotted him solo diving last month over at the edge of the TOTO. He got caught in a fishing net, and he’d still be down there if it weren’t for my shears. He owes me.” She paused a moment, then added, “You two got a ride?”
We told her that we didn’t, and she recommended a rental place right down the street.
“Gonna be rough terrain,” she said. “I recommend one of their little off roadies.”
In just a few minutes, Atticus and the woman’s Frenchie had become good friends and were sad that they couldn’t run around more. The woman handed us our smoothies, and I gave her a hundred-dollar bill. I asked if she could use the extra to prepare us a to-go dinner for when we got back.
“No problem,” she said. “I’ll make sure they leave some aside.”
“Thank you, Miss…?”
“Jenny,” she said. “I’ll see you later this evening. And be careful. Being such a remote destination has its disadvantages. Criminals tend to like remote just as much as adventurous tourists.”
Following her directions, we walked down to the rental place and picked out a red four-wheel-drive two-seater UTV. After driving back to the dock and transferring our gear from the Cessna into the storage space in the back of the UTV, we headed out of town.
“Hastings’ Hole,” Ange said. “Sounds like we’ve sure found the right place.”
We took the Queen’s Highway north for seven miles, then turned onto a dirt road. The small off-road vehicle was a blast to drive, and I pushed it up over forty miles per hour for most of the trip. The wind whipped past us as we took in the scenery and enjoyed the seclusion. Tall ironwood and mahogany trees littered the landscape on both sides, providing a canopy for the lush vegetation below.
I felt like a kid again, racing a go-cart or riding a bike down a steep hill. My face clearly showed my excitement, which caused Ange to smile and giggle as she kept her arms wrapped around Atticus.