by Matthew Rief
Just before we broke out from the water I pushed him aside, then grabbed my Sig from my leg holster. Reaching for the side of the boat with my right hand, I pulled myself up and scanned the shoreline, holding my pistol in my left and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. I caught a glimpse of movement behind the truck parked up on the edge of the cliff. A moment later a guy appeared. It was the driver, and he was holding an Uzi in his hand. As soon as I saw him, I took aim, ready for him to try something stupid. He looked around the lake, then froze as he saw me. He began to move the Uzi up towards my direction, and I fired off three shots, each hitting him square in the chest. He swayed a little, then fell over the cliff, doing two front flips before splashing into the lake below.
Seeing the shoreline was clear, I hoisted myself up onto the boat, pistol at the ready. Scott was at the stern, standing over the body of the other cartel member, who appeared to be unconscious. He stripped the man of his weapons as I walked towards him. The young man whom I’d let go was struggling to stay afloat on the surface beside the boat. He coughed a few times before calling out for help. I reached into a small space just below the helm, grabbed a life ring and threw it out onto the water. The young man grabbed it eagerly.
“Time to get the hell out of here,” I said, stepping around the console behind the helm.
I quickly scanned the horizon; the only other boat in view was probably a quarter of a mile away and sat idling near a dock on the northern shore of the lake.
“Wait one,” Scott said. He grabbed a life jacket and wrapped it around the unconscious man at his feet. “Help me put him in the water.”
Scott grabbed his shoulders and I grabbed his feet. Together we lifted him up, then dropped him slowly into the water beside the boat. The young man didn’t swim over to help him but instead just treaded water and stared at us. He looked like he was still in shock. I hoped that he would live but knew that the drug runners he worked for wouldn’t be too happy with him for letting us get away.
I stood behind the helm, grabbed the throttles and shoved them forward. The dual 150-hp engines roared to life and shot the small boat through the water with ease. Within a few seconds, I had her up on plane and doing about forty knots. I didn’t care about appearing suspicious to the other boat. I wanted to put distance between us and the cartel, so I drove to the western side of the lake, keeping as far away from the other boats as I could and driving as fast as the boat would let me. When we reached a small cove about ten minutes later, I pulled in and eased on the throttles.
“Do you still have that phone?” I asked.
Scott replied that he did and pulled out his satellite phone from his pants pocket. He dialed a few numbers and was routed to an emergency point of contact in Mexico City. He relayed the new information and gave the dispatcher the coordinates for the entrance into the cave. When Scott finished, the dispatcher asked for his information, but Scott quickly told her that he’d prefer to remain anonymous and hung up the phone.
“ETA five minutes for the first responders,” Scott said. “They sent a platoon of armored trucks from the military base just south of here. The government isn’t messing around with these drug lords down here anymore. They’ve launched an all-out war on the drug trade.”
“Must be why they’ve grown desperate enough to go after ancient treasure.” I grinned, adding, “Damn, I would have loved to see the looks on their faces when they discovered the treasure was all gone.”
“Probably looked something like ours when we realized it,” Scott said, grinning back.
I looked out over the lake with the scope and watched as a trail of trucks appeared from the main road leading to the entrance. They were far away, and all I could see was their green canopy tops flapping in the wind, but I counted over a dozen of them in all. I watched as the other boats scrambled away but knew that it was unlikely they’d make it far. I looked across the lake to where we’d put in with our dive gear. Just up the hill from there, I saw a few cartel running on a dirt road and jumping into their vehicles as the Mexican military closed in on them.
“Shit,” I said, “looks like they’re making a run for it.”
“They won’t get far,” Scott said.
“You can’t underestimate these guys. I’ve been fighting them for years, and they’re powerful, smart as hell and reckless.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of automatic gunfire echoing over the lake.
“Time to go,” I said. “Sorry about your Jeep, but I’d rather not get caught up in all of this any more than we already have. If we stay, it will be a lot of questions and a lot of dealing with crap, and that’s all before the media gets ahold of it.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy another one when we find the treasure. Got any idea how to get out of here? We’re too close to the action to call in for a chopper here.”
“I saw a river coming into the lake just a short ways from here. We should drive over to it while sticking close to the shore, then go upstream as far as we can, beach the boat and call in for a pickup once we’re far enough away from this mess.”
Scott looked around and nodded. “Sounds good. Just keep a steady eye out for any cartel. We’re far from the cave, but you never know. A few may have staggered from the pack.”
I surveyed the area around us one more time, then hammered the throttles. Within a few minutes, we reached the river I’d spotted earlier when first examining the lake. It was much smaller than I’d expected, and the mouth was narrow, but the water was deep enough for me to navigate without the propeller grinding against the riverbed. It was a beautiful river with crystal-clear water that weaved through cuts in the rock faces and eventually right through the side of a mountain, giving us views of sheer cliffs on both sides. Small waterfalls splashed down around us from hundreds of feet above. Brilliant green vegetation grew on the cliffs and hung over the water. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen.
“The water’s getting pretty shallow up here,” I said as we neared a part of the river where the shore became flatter. I gave the engine everything she had and forced the small boat up a shallow patch of white-capped water. Rocks scratched the hull of the boat, and I turned sharply to port and forced the boat up onto the shore. Even with having to overcome the river, we hit a small sandbar at about fifteen knots. The boat slid up onto the sand, and I killed the engine just as our momentum brought us completely out of the water. Scott and I grabbed our things and jumped out of the boat onto the shore.
“Let’s see if we can find a good extract point up the hill a ways,” Scott said, leading the way.
A moment later, we disappeared into the jungle, still putting distance between ourselves and the conflict on the other side of the lake. After an hour of trekking, we reached the top of a large hill that flattened out to form a plateau.
“Time to call in the bird,” Scott said, reaching for his satellite phone.
Within thirty minutes, a dark blue-and-white Bell 206 helicopter appeared on the horizon. Grabbing a small signal flare from my pocket, I removed the cap, held it downwind and pulled the tab. A burst of orange smoke filled the air, and within minutes the pilot landed, loaded us up, and took off, taking us away from Sierra Gorda. The pilot flew quickly, nearing the helicopter’s top speed of 138 miles per hour.
“This place will be swarming with air support soon,” the pilot said into the mic. “Just got the call to clear the airspace as soon possible. You two going back to International?”
He was referring to the airport in Mexico City, but I knew that we would have to go somewhere else. Landing at as big of an airport as that and coming from Sierra Gorda would look suspicious.
“Take us northeast to Tampico,” Scott said. “Logan, I have the jet waiting for us there.”
I nodded and looked back out the window at the ground below. This part of Mexico was rural, filled with farmers and cattle drivers. The landscape was far less green here than back in Sierra Gorda; few rivers and no lakes in s
ight for miles.
Scott shifted over beside me and changed the channel on his headset so we could talk privately. I looked at him and then did the same.
“They took it, Scott,” I said. “Somehow the conquistadors found it and made off with the entire haul on one of their ships.”
“They were mad with it. Possessed. Willing to annihilate an entire civilization for it.”
“And yet the ship never reached its destination, or any destination for that matter. You and I both know damned well where that treasure is. There can be no doubt about it now.”
Scott shook his head. “We’ve searched that ledge over and over again and never found a thing.”
I sighed and paused for a moment. “It has to be there somewhere, and I’m going to find it.”
Scott smiled and patted me on the back. “I think I can extend my trip for a few more days, especially since it involves a trip to the Keys.”
I turned and gave my old division officer a you’ve got to be kidding me look.
“To hell with that,” I said sternly. “I don’t want you involved in this any more than you have to be. Those were some close calls back there. Far too close. You’re too important to be getting into stupid shit like this, Scott. You’re a damned senator, for goodness’ sake.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m going to the Keys,” I said. “I’m going, and I’m going to find the gold, and you’re going back to Washington where you belong. For the sake of your family and everyone you represent, don’t come with me.”
He looked away from me, shaking his head in frustration. Scott was smart, much smarter than me, but he had a wild side to him. It was the side of him that had kept him as well as the entire platoon alive countless times in countless skirmishes. But it was also a part of him that, now that he was a senator, he would have to let go of now and then.
“What about Black Venom?” Scott said. “What are you going to do if and when they come after the treasure?”
I shrugged. “It’s a big ocean. All they know is that it left Central America on a Spanish ship and never arrived at its destination. It could be anywhere for all they know. They have no reason to assume it’s in the Keys.”
“Just be careful, and watch your back.”
Telling a Navy SEAL, former or active duty, to watch his back is a useless statement, but I knew what he meant. What he was really saying was don’t do anything stupid, and don’t try to take on too much for one guy, SEAL or not, to handle.
“And promise me that if you get in over your head, you’ll give me a call.”
I assured him that I would, then looked out the window and thought about the Keys and what I would do first when I got there. An endless basket of coconut shrimp to go along with a hogfish sandwich was in order. Then I’d wash it all down with a margarita big enough to wash my cares down the drain. Of course, once I’d enjoyed the Keys Disease life for a few days, I’d be back in business, hunting for the treasure. Looking at my reflection in the window, I saw the big ear-to-ear smile on my face.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Miami
Scott’s jet dropped me off at the private terminal at Miami International Airport. I told him once more to keep his distance and to be expecting a phone call with an update as soon as I learned anything, and he told me that if I did something stupid like get myself killed, he’d never forgive me.
“Still alive,” I said. “You know how much I hate to disappoint.”
His jet fueled up, then took off for D.C. while I made my way to the car rental pavilions and got myself a red Mustang convertible. Before leaving Miami, I made a quick stop at Dante’s Armory and purchased two new Sig Sauer P226 pistols along with a holster, three magazines and a hundred 9mm rounds. I ordered a few more specialty weapons and arranged to have them delivered to Jack’s house in Key West. A few hours out of the city and I was on US-1, heading south to one of my favorite places in the world. A little piece of paradise where anything involving a boat, a scuba tank, or a fishing pole is possible.
I decided to get a hotel in Key Largo in order to get an early start in the morning and avoid the tourist traffic. It was March in the Keys, meaning it was that perfect time of the year where it wasn’t too hot for Northerners or too cold for Southerners, and I had just barely caught the end of the lobster season. I stayed at the Largo Inn, a quaint place littered with beautiful palm trees, and rooms just steps from the sandy beaches. My room had a small balcony with two chairs and a little charcoal barbeque. I was on the ground floor, which made it easy for me to haul in the fish I caught using a small spear gun and a net I’d purchased at a dive shop just down the street from the inn.
Since spearfishing isn’t allowed in the parks, I went after the one fish that no one would ever bat an eye at you for spearfishing in Southern Florida: the lionfish. Lionfish are colorful, alien-looking fish that are an invasive species in Florida. They have thirteen long, needle-sharp dorsal fins, along with a few pelvic and anal fins that are coated with venom. Though not deadly to humans, their venom is incredibly painful once it enters the bloodstream and can lead to immense swelling. Due to their overpopulation and lack of predators, killing of lionfish is allowed and highly encouraged at all times.
I cleaned each of the eight fish, careful not to poke myself with their spines as I cut two filets, one off each side, and disposed of the rest properly. I seasoned the fresh white meat with No. 1 and a dash of Swamp Sauce, a local seasoning made just a few miles north near the Everglades. I sat in the chair and watched the sun drop down below the horizon, the smell of grilled fish tantalizing my taste buds. Eating fresh fish was the perfect ending to a perfect day of snorkeling and spearfishing near John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park.
“Sure smells good over here,” a voice said, coming from the direction of the beach.
I’d been so relaxed with my eyes closed, enjoying the fresh salt air, that I hadn’t noticed someone approach. I opened my eyes, looked up and saw a woman standing with her bare feet in the sand, wearing a thin sundress and smiling at me invitingly. She was beautiful, with short blond hair and smooth tanned skin.
“I promise it tastes even better,” I said, smiling back at her. I sat up and lifted the lid from the barbeque, and smoke filled the air as I grabbed and plated one of the cooked filets. After blowing a little to cool it off, I handed it to her.
The woman looked down the beach, then back at me. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a sexy, athletic build.
“I really wouldn’t want to impose,” she said, taking a step down the beach. “I’ll let you enjoy it.”
I held it out in her direction. “I have more than enough for two,” I said. “Besides, it would be a shame if I were the only one to enjoy it.”
She hesitated a moment, then walked over, grabbed the plate from my hand and took a bite of the lionfish. Her eyes grew wide.
“This is incredible,” she said, then chewed quickly and took another bite. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
I smiled. “I’m glad you like it. My dad taught me. There’s nothing like fresh fish. These were swimming right out on that reef just a few hours ago.”
She joined me on the patio, and we ate all of the fish, along with a few grilled mushrooms I’d picked up at a small market down the street. We talked about what had brought us to Key Largo and how we were enjoying it so far, and of course, I left out everything about the Aztec treasure. Her name was Catherine and she was a paralegal from Atlanta who’d come down to the Keys for a wedding and decided to spend a few extra days here with some of the other bridesmaids. When the food was done, I wanted to offer her a drink but realized that I hadn’t purchased anything but the seasoning, spear gun and other snorkel gear since I’d arrived.
Catherine stood up. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve got it handled. Just give me a minute.” She stepped down and moved quickly down the beach, shooting me a smile before disappearing
out of sight.
A few minutes later, she returned with a bottle of rum and a case of six glass-bottled Cokes. She told me they were her favorite drink and after putting down three quick glasses I believed her.
The next morning, I woke up to find that Catherine was already awake. The smell of coffee lured me from the bedroom and into the kitchen. She was wearing one of my shirts, and it reached only to the top of her thighs.
“You sure know how to show a girl a good time for her last day on vacation,” she said. She smiled as she grabbed a nearby mug, filled it with coffee and handed it to me.
We migrated over to a nearby restaurant, had breakfast together, then exchanged numbers before parting ways.
“If you’re ever in Atlanta, I’d love to show you the town,” she said with a smile. I told her that sounded good, kissed her on the cheek and watched as she walked down the beach, back towards the resort where she was staying. I smiled and shook my head. Keys Disease was kicking in much faster than even I had thought it would.
Walking back to my room, I took a quick shower, packed up the Mustang and headed south. At 0930, it was already over seventy degrees, and the breeze with the top down made the drive all the better as I headed down US-1 out of Key Largo and towards the Middle Keys. The drive down through the Florida Keys is probably my favorite drive on earth. I love looking out at the endless blue in all directions as I hop from one island to another over the bridges. I tuned my radio to Island Vibes, a local station that plays classic island jams, and turned it up to pay homage to Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville”.
Grabbing my phone, I texted Jack, letting him know I would arrive in Key West in about an hour. I’d called him the day before, letting him know I was in Florida and that I was going to be heading to his neck of the palm trees. A few minutes later, he replied, telling me to meet him for lunch at the Greasy Pelican, a local restaurant we’d both enjoyed as kids.