by Matthew Rief
Wanting to try and outrun them until he thought of a better plan, he wrapped around the shallow reefs surrounding Garden Key and the fort. Turning onto a northeasterly course, he looked back and saw that his pursuers were gaining on him.
More power than I assumed, he thought. Way more power!
Flying right past shallow reefs off the starboard side, he thought back to a similar predicament he and Logan had been in a year and a half earlier. While being chased by the notorious Mexican drug cartel, Black Venom, Logan had used their knowledge of the area to their advantage.
I’m not gonna outgun them, he thought, glancing at the Desert Eagle snug on the dash in front of him. But maybe I can out pilot them.
Still gunning the engines full throttle, he skirted around Hospital Key and headed back toward the fort. As the RHIB passed by, the bad guys aboard fired off their automatic weapons.
Jack dropped to the deck as the repetitive explosions echoed across the water. Bullets slammed into the hull and shattered holes in the windscreen just inches above his head.
As his pursuers were forced to turn around, Jack rose and focused his gaze on his destination less than half a mile ahead of him. Slowing just enough to let the RHIB fly into the Baia’s wake, he gunned the throttles again, roaring toward a large patch of shallow water.
Iowa Rock sat mere inches below the surface off the northern shore of Bush Key. It formed a few whitecaps, but not enough to draw suspicion. Staying over fifty knots, and with the RHIB right behind him, Jack navigated into a narrow channel that only locals knew about.
Bullets rattled the air again, and he dropped down moments before cutting a hard right, the engine groaning as the Baia’s hull tore through the water less than ten feet from the dangerous shallows.
Come on, baby, come on!
He completed the turn with a gasp and turned around just in time to see his pursuers play right into his hands. Trying to cut the distance between them, they took the inside on the turn, the fiberglass hull of the RHIB slamming into the massive jagged rock with a loud crash. The sudden impact smashed the hull to pieces and flipped the small vessel. It spun violently over the rock and water, sending metal, fiberglass, and bad guys flying. The accident had occurred so suddenly that they hadn’t had time to scream.
Jack watched the seconds of chaos unfold. When the sprays of broken boat and water settled, there was nothing left but spread-out wreckage all over the shallows. As would be expected, none of the three guys were moving.
Jack eased back on the throttles, turning around and idling the Baia. He let out a triumphant yell and pumped his chest with his fist. Atticus jumped up and down, then sprang up to the sunbed for a better view. Jack smiled and grabbed his Desert Eagle before taking a survey of the water surrounding them.
“Not a single shot fired, boy,” he said proudly, patting Atticus on the head. “Wait till I tell Logan about this.”
He paused a moment, then lit up and moved for the radio.
Logan, he thought. If those assholes came after me, what kind of trouble are they in?
He had to warn them. Had to do everything he could to help his friends.
Grabbing the radio, he tried to call them but got no answer. Three more times he tried, and each time he came up empty.
Am I too late? Are they already…
“Get down, Atty,” he said, grabbing the helm and throttles once more. “We gotta get to the fort.”
He pushed the throttles forward. Instead of the healthy roaring engines and adrenaline-inducing acceleration, the engines moaned and sputtered. They sounded terrible, and if the Baia had accelerated, he hadn’t noticed.
He stepped aft, grabbed hold of a flush lift ring in the deck, and pulled up the engine hatch. A plume of thick black smoke engulfed him, and he had to turn away to protect his lungs. The bad guys on the RHIB might have failed, but they’d managed to put the Baia out of commission with their rounds.
After waiting a few seconds to let the bulk of the smoke clouds disperse in the ocean breeze, he peered down into the engine room and saw that the damage was beyond repair.
Great, he thought. Absolutely fantastic.
He glanced over the bow at Fort Jefferson and the white, sandy northern tip of Garden Key. He was about a mile off. A swim he could make in less than twenty minutes if he needed to. But that would mean abandoning the Baia, and Atticus if he didn’t take him along.
He quickly thought over the situation. Stepping over and grabbing the radio, he was about to make another attempt at contacting the others when he heard an engine in the distance. It was coming from behind him, to the east, and he gripped his Desert Eagle before turning to take a look.
Let me guess, more bad guys coming to ruin my day out on the water?
He turned, prepared to raise his weapon and take aim in a heartbeat. But as he looked over the stern, he kept his pistol at his side and smiled. A boat he’d recognize from miles away was thundering straight toward him.
By outward appearance, the vessel looked like an ordinary fishing trawler. Sixty feet long, the decrepit-looking old boat was in serious need of a paint job. It had rust all over and broken-looking topside equipment. But Jack knew from personal experience that it was a lot more than met the eye. Beneath its grimy façade were large, powerful engines and top-of-the-line technology.
As it motored up alongside the Baia, Jack could see Scott Cooper at the helm. When it came to an idle, the six-foot-tall, athletic Florida politician and former Navy SEAL commander stepped out. He was wearing cargo shorts, a black tee shirt, and sunglasses.
Seeing the wreckage and no doubt hearing the explosion, Scott’s face was all business.
“Where are the others?” he said, his voice low and powerful.
After a quick catch-up on what was going on, Jack and Atticus came aboard the trawler and Scott thundered them toward Fort Jefferson.
THIRTY-FOUR
Angelina walked with her hands on her hips alongside the young, energetic park ranger. She looked incredible, her tank top and denim shorts doing justice to her toned, tanned frame. Her looks, combined with her interest, were driving the young guy mad and causing him to get sweaty and talk really fast.
“So that’s basically how and why the fort was approved by the government,” he said, finishing a few deep breaths worth of history. He pointed at the large brick walls surrounding them and added, “Then construction began, bringing on a whole new set of—”
“It looks like that lady over there’s calling you,” Ange interrupted, motioning toward a middle-aged woman dressed in a park ranger uniform standing in front of a small group of people over by the entrance. The woman was waving toward them and calling Connor’s name.
He looked over at the group, then back at Ange.
“Oh, no, she’s fine,” he assured her. “That’s just the sunrise tour. I usually do it, but it’s about time she learned to do that by herself. Have you seen the hotshot furnace?”
Ange grinned and let out a soft sigh. The plan of distracting the curious kid had worked well. Too well. She’d hoped to lead him away from Mudd’s secret cell, then head back to join in on the party. But glancing at her watch, she saw that it had already been twenty minutes since she’d left them.
Probably missed my chance.
She shrugged and smiled when she thought about how she’d have Logan make it up to her.
The young ranger led her over to the hotshot furnace and enthusiastically explained how it worked and what it was used for.
“The fire was built down at the bottom,” he explained, motioning toward the bottom of the rectangular brick structure. “Then cannonballs were loaded in through this opening and eventually rolled down to this position here at the other end due to gravity.” He walked to the other side, then paused a moment, clearing his throat. “By the time they came out this end here, they were cherry-red hot. These superheated balls of iron were then fired by the cannons and were more effective against the wooden warships of the time.”<
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Ange nodded and gave a childlike smile. Despite wanting desperately to be somewhere else, she’d never heard of the hotshot furnaces and found them fascinating.
As the ranger led Ange to the next stop on his little private tour, Ange froze suddenly as she heard the loud growling of distant boat engines. Turning around, she realized that the sounds were coming from the channel where they’d anchored the Baia. They were far off, but it sounded like the Baia’s engines, and like they were being gunned full throttle.
What reason could Jack have to haul ass out of here? Unless…
No, she needed to see for herself what was happening before drawing any conclusions. She took two strides toward the other side of the fort while the young ranger spoke behind her.
“Hey, what the heck?” he said. “You can’t have guns in here.”
Ange froze in her tracks. She spun around suddenly and gasped as she laid eyes on Val, Walt, and two other mafia members. They were just outside the entryway into Mudd’s cell, heading for the nearest stairs.
Before Ange could do or say anything, Connor yelled out, “Hey, you! You guys—”
Hearing the young guy call out, Val’s head snapped to look straight at them. In the blink of an eye, Ange grabbed Connor and jerked both their bodies behind the hotshot furnace. Just as they vanished from Val’s line of sight, a barrage of gunfire echoed across the air. Bullets struck the edge of the brick, sending shards and dust into the air.
Ange expected the young kid to be scared out of his mind from all the action and noise. But when the shooting stopped, and Ange looked him over, he just looked pissed off.
“Stay here, ma’am,” he said, shaking his way out of Ange’s grasp. “I’ll take care of this.”
“You’re a brave kid.” Ange peeked around the corner as Val and the others moved toward the other side of the fort and ran up the stairs to the top level. “But I think you’ve played one too many video games. This is way over your head.”
“No, I need to stop them—”
Ange snatched him again, placing him in a quick chokehold, then twisted his right arm back.
“Make one move toward those bastards, and I’ll break your arm,” Ange said, pulling his arm dangerously far back into a position it wasn’t intended. He winced, and Ange added, “What are you going to do, huh?” Ange grabbed her Glock 26 with her free hand and held it so the young guy could see it. “Now, head over to the visitor center and get help. Call the police. Call the Coast Guard. Hell, call anyone and everyone and get them here now!”
The young man froze for a moment, then nodded. Ange loosened her grip, helped him to his feet. He turned around and sprinted for a cluster of trees in the center of the fort for cover. Once he reached them, he veered left, heading toward the visitor center. The small group of people and the other ranger had vanished, running away after hearing the gunfire.
Ange gripped her Glock with both hands and peered around the corner. Scanning the area around them, she saw no sign of Logan or Pete. Val’s head popped into view, followed by the others as they reached the top level. Ange raised her Glock and fired off a quick succession of rounds that caused them to hit the deck and disappear from her view.
Seizing the minuscule window of opportunity, Ange took off. She darted from the back of the furnace to the base of Bastion Alpha, reaching the lower staircase in seconds. Without a moment’s pause, she flew up to the second level.
When she reached the staircase to the top level, she slowed and held her Glock out in front of her. She controlled her breathing and listened intently as she took the stairs two at a time.
She swiftly reached the top and, before stepping out the entryway, glanced through a thin partition and saw the two big thugs heading around the corner to cut her off. Taking aim quickly, she fired off two rounds straight into the first guy’s chest. Blood splattered out, and he whipped sideways, crashing to the floor.
Seeing his buddy go down, the second guy dropped to the side and fired a rapid series of automatic bullets in Ange’s general direction. She was forced to take cover as a few of the rounds ricocheted through the partition and slammed into the brick wall behind her.
Moving in a low crouch while hugging the wall, she paused at the edge and waited for the second thug to make his move. It didn’t take long. The first thing she saw was the barrel of his AK-47 as the big guy swung it around. Ange grabbed the middle of it with her left hand and forced it up. The thug held the trigger, spraying bullets into the ceiling while Ange fired a 9mm round into his leading foot.
He yelled out in pain from the blow and lurched forward. Ange used his momentum to her advantage, sliding into his path and throwing him over her body. He hit the hard ground with a loud thump and dropped his weapon.
In quick retaliation, he slammed his fist across Ange’s face. She managed to go with it, but it still hurt like hell and caused her lip to bleed.
Pissed off beyond belief, Ange grabbed him from behind, put him in a chokehold with his arm back, and pressed her Glock into his temple.
“On your feet!” she said forcefully.
He did as he was told, wincing in pain and keeping all his weight on his good foot.
“Now walk.”
He staggered around the corner with Ange holding him from behind, keeping her weapon jammed in place. She spotted Val and Walt standing over at the far corner of the bastion. Walt was wrapping a rope around a narrow section of what looked like a type of battlement and tightening it in place. The other end disappeared over the wall toward the ocean. Ange couldn’t see what the other end was tied to, but she imagined it led down to their yacht.
They’re making their grand escape attempt.
Val stood beside Walt, facing Ange and her human shield. Her eyes were shooting daggers, her jaw was clenched, and she had her Beretta .45 raised.
Ange forced the injured, bleeding thug to move until they were within fifty feet of Val and Walt. The old man raised Pete’s Taurus .44 Magnum as well and said something to Val that Ange couldn’t hear. He looked spooked and anxious to get out of there.
Damn well should feel that way, Ange thought as she faced them, aching for them to make a move.
“You really are a pesky little vermin, aren’t you?” Val said. “I figured you would have gotten the message when we fought a few days ago.”
“Clearly not,” Ange replied, tightening her grip on the bleeding thug in her grasp. “I guess you’re just not as tough as you thought.” Val was about to spit out a rebuttal when Ange beat her to it. “Where are they?”
Her eyes slid back and forth between Val and Walt. She’d take an answer from either one of them.
“Your husband isn’t here to save you this time,” she said. “In fact, he won’t be saving anyone ever again. I hope you said your goodbyes.”
Ange’s eyes narrowed to slits. Her pulse quickened.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Not just me,” she replied coldly, patting Walt on the back. “Walt here led you all right into our hands. He’s been playing you all this time. He deserves a lot of the credit.”
Ange locked her eyes on Walt. He was angry, but more than that, he just looked worried.
“So, you’re a traitor, huh?” she yelled. “You sold out your only friends for what? A damn rock?” She shook her head. “Some hero you are—”
“Enough chitchat,” Val snapped. “Drop your fucking gun, or I’ll blow your brains out just like I did your pathetic husband.”
Ange’s anger was rapidly delving into new territory. She could feel it overflowing inside her with every word out of Val’s mouth.
Is she lying just to get me to react? Whether she is or not, it’s working.
After a few stretched-out seconds of tense silence, bullets echoed from far across the water. Beyond her enemies, Ange could see two blurry boats far in the distance. One was the Baia, and the other clearly wasn’t the good guys.
“They have my son!” Walt shouted, catching all of the
m off guard.
“Shut up, old man!” Val barked. “Or I’ll feed them to the sharks.”
He bowed his head slightly, staring down at their feet. Slowly, he lifted up his head and looked right at Ange.
“Help them,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes.
Val looked like she was about to tear him a new one. But before she acted against him, a loud crashing sound thundered across the air. Val glanced over her shoulder momentarily and watched as the small boat her men were piloting blew to pieces in the shallows a mile away.
With Val distracted, Walt suddenly sprang into action, no longer able to justify what he was doing. He swung his body to aim the Taurus at Val, but the experienced mafia leader saw what was happening and punched the weapon from his hands at the last second. Ange knew that it was now or never. Her trigger finger was just starting to flex with the barrel aimed at Val when the big thug in her arms yelled and slammed his shoulder into her chest. She lurched forward and loosened her grip enough for him to knock her Glock out of her hands.
Val’s weapon fired into the air as Walt engaged the menacing mafia leader. Ange blocked a blow from the bleeding thug in front of her, then put him out of commission with a blinding roundhouse kick that snapped his neck and caused his body to collapse.
With the thug dead, Ange directed her gaze back to the others. Val was on top of Walt. Blood flowed from his chest. He gasped for whatever breath he could get and tried to force Val away.
Val looked over at Ange, a sick smile forming on her face before she raised her blood-soaked Albanian jambiya dagger and stabbed its razor-sharp tip through Walt’s heart. It was over quickly. His head lowered and he breathed his last before going limp in the grass.
Ange rose to her feet. Val wiped the blood from her blade on Walt’s shirt, then did the same. They were only twenty feet from each other. The nearest handguns were too far to go for, but that didn’t matter. Staring each other down, the two experienced fighters knew how it had to end.