Shark Eater

by K D McNiven

  “Truthfully? With all the noise around the place, I’m having a difficult time pulling it all together. I need to have it done by the end of the week, and that seems to be creeping up on me.”

  “Sorry.” She touched his arm. “Is there anywhere you could go to find some quiet time?”

  He grinned. “The library. And believe me, I’ve been tempted a few times.”

  Callie realized how trying it must be for her husband with all the chaos around them. She had been excited when Florida Public Archaeology Network contacted Decker and asked him to write a documentary about the Florida Panhandle Shipwreck Trail.

  The site allowed scuba divers and snorkelers along Destin, Panama City and Port St. Joe, Florida, to have access to twelve shipwreck locations to observe the archaeological treasures lying under the clear green waters. The area also included artificial reefs, and the marine life was nothing short of spectacular. One of the purposes for the Shipwreck Trail was to give visitors a chance to understand the significance of archaeological shipwreck sites. It also allowed room for those directly involved in the program to be active through social media by putting together presentations and short videos productions for public appreciation, including documentaries, such as the one Decker was working on.

  Programs affiliated with the Shipwreck Trail were in depth and an impressive means of catching new audiences. Much of what FPAN offered included webcasting, which was an invaluable tool used to educate and reach thousands of children around the world.

  Brae Pascal, a social media director working with the production company, had contacted Decker in hopes of bringing Decker on board to promote the project when they’d returned from their expedition to Trujillo, Honduras, where they’d been searching for the “Lost City of the Monkey God” in the La Mosquitia area.

  Though they enjoyed doing it, Decker and Callie didn’t depend on the money they brought in from writing articles and doing documentaries. They’d become independently wealthy when Callie’s parents had been killed in a car crash soon after Decker and Callie had married. Callie inherited a staggering amount of money which supplied them with ample funds to continue their archaeological research—work very close to her parent’s hearts.

  Brae’s invitation was right up Decker’s alley. He had done a couple documentaries, but that was several years ago. Writing the script was arduous. It was a process of gathering data and interviews, then using a format that sews it together using visuals, sound and narration.

  When Decker agreed he’d not anticipated the turmoil that was going to take place in their Malibu home.

  “I have confidence you’ll meet the deadline,” she said.

  “I’m excited to see how the documentary turns out,” he admitted, showing signs of excitement. “Lars Bridger will be in Florida taking care of the video portion, and then we’ll meet up and piece this thing together. Hopefully, this will stir up more interest in underwater archaeology, especially with the younger generation.”

  “If anyone can motivate them, it is you, Decker.”

  Decker loved archaeology. And he loved the ocean, which for him was like a large playground in the middle of a giant metropolis teeming with life. Whenever he had the opportunity to share his heart with others, he was like a child in a candy shop, eyes wide with wonder.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Callie.”

  “You’re welcome.” Memories from a few months ago flashed in her mind of their time in Honduras when Decker had taken a bullet in his shoulder from an evil madman. She didn’t take her time with him for granted and was happy he’d recovered quickly and was able to pick back up where he left off.

  “I see the cogs turning in that pretty little head,” Decker said. “What’s up?”

  “Thinking about our life and realizing how fortunate we are.”

  He draped his arm over her slender shoulders and dropped a kiss on her head. “My sentiment exactly.” He stood and offered his hand. “Now, back to clanging and banging.”

  Decker and Callie showered, changed, and headed down to the third floor.

  “This looks amazing, Garrett,” Callie told him and saw his eyes light up.

  He rubbed his hand through hair and sighed. “It certainly has been a lot of work, but well worth it. I can’t wait for Holly to see the finished remodel.”

  “I’m sure she’ll love it,” Decker said. “And after all of this hard work, you’ll have two wonderful weeks to enjoy your honeymoon in Hawaii and recover.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Garrett responded.

  ***

  That evening before bed, Decker strode out of his study, papers in hand and a wide smile on his face. “Done!”

  Callie was stretched out on the bed reading a magazine article on the preservation of under-

  water material regarding shipwrecks. She raised her hand and removed her black-rimmed glasses from the bridge of her nose, put the arm in the corner of her mouth and smiled. “Your documentary?”

  “Yup.” He exhaled with relief, his blue eyes twinkling with childish exuberance. “My deadline was coming up fast. I wasn’t sure if I was going to meet it. But…listen…”

  She cocked her head, a frown of puzzlement creasing her forehead. “What?”

  “Silence!”

  They both grinned, and Decker added, “Would you like to give it a read?”

  “Sure.” She tossed her magazine aside and patted the mattress inviting him to sit down beside her. She knew there would be little to nothing for her to comment on. Decker was an old hand at writing, and his expertise in archaeology was beyond reproach.

  He sidled up next to her, peering over her shoulder to read the documentary script. This would be a testament of archaeological significance to hundreds, if not thousands of people via internet and television. He wanted every word to hit the target. Lars had been sending snippets of video footage through the email which helped Decker pull the documentary format together. Of course, he’d have to wait until he met with Lars before they could put the script in a precise order to correspond with the video footage.

  More and more Decker was becoming involved with marine archaeology. Shipwrecks had always intrigued him, much the same as prehistoric archaeology which he and Callie had been involved with over the years. Sunken ships recovered after hundreds of years below the ocean floor provided many intriguing clues to the past. Decker and Callie were determined to protect both historical and cultural artifacts from looters.

  Finishing her reading, she turned to Decker. “This is some of your best work, Decker,” she said. “It captures the message Brae wants to convey. Can’t wait to see the underwater video shots Lars took, and how your team will pull it all together.

  “I’m quite excited myself,” he said. “But we have tight deadlines, and we have to fly to Florida by the end of the week. I’m hoping there won’t be any major snares with the wedding so close.”

  “Not to worry, we have plenty of time, and I’ve already purchased our tickets. We’ll be there by Friday.”

  “Glad you are on it, Callie. I’ve been so consumed with the writing. I haven’t done anything else.”

  ***

  The following morning Holly joined them for breakfast. Garrett put his chef skills to work and had thrown together a vegetable omelet, pan fried potatoes with onions and red peppers, a side of toast and coffee. It all looked delicious, and Decker and Callie were ravenous.

  Leaning forward, Callie gave Holly a welcoming hug. “I’m so glad you joined us this morning.”

  “Traffic was atrocious,” Holly said. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make it on time. Everything looks wonderful.”

  Holly was a warm-hearted woman in her mid-forties. Her dark hair was drawn back, secured with combs at the sides, and then tumbled into soft curls to her shoulders. She was dressed in black slacks, a purple silk blouse, and black strapped sandals.

  “You’re getting yourself quite a chef,” Decker said.

  “I already know that,
” she agreed, her eyes looking adoringly over at Garrett. “He’s whipped up some scrumptious dishes these past weeks. Lucky me.”

  “No, lucky me,” said Garrett, bending to kiss her cheek.

  “Are we still on for shopping?” Holly asked Callie.

  “You bet,” Callie replied. “Can’t wait to see what dress you select for the wedding. And it will be fun helping you find some summer things for Hawaii.”

  “And we have to find you a dress since you are my maid of honor,” Holly said.

  “Looking forward to it,” Callie grinned. “Tomorrow around two?”

  “That’s good for me. I’ll pick you up here at the house.”

  Holly had been married to Leonard Romero, an archaeologist Decker and Callie had met on a dig in Montana. Holly had come along with Leonard, and they had spent some time getting acquainted. It wasn’t until Leonard had gone to Honduras in search of the lost city, Ciudad Blanca, that their paths crossed again.

  Leonard had stumbled onto the lost city and wanting to make sure he had proof of his find, he sent a crude map along with a stone statue to Holly to hold for him. Unfortunately, Leonard never made it back to the U.S. He and his team were murdered, and those responsible came looking for Holly and the map. When her house was ransacked, and two men took up chasing after her, Holly called Decker and Callie for assistance. They were more than happy to help her out. Once they’d determined the statue was a pre-Columbian artifact, they boarded a plane to Honduras and met with the crew of the Jade, where they made plans to find the lost city, and seek justice for the death of Holly’s husband.

  It was during this time that Holly and Garrett became close friends, and then a little more than close friends. Since Garrett had lost his wife several years before, fate seemed to propel them together.

  CHAPTER 3

  Tallahassee, Florida

  The tires squealed against the asphalt tarmac as the plane set down at the Tallahassee International Airport. Decker and Callie were happy to be off the plane and stretching out their leg muscles as they made their way to baggage pick up. The airplane terminal was not large so it didn’t take long picking up their luggage and make their way outside to hail a cab.

  Decker slid into the back seat beside Callie and gave the driver the address of the hotel where they would be staying. It was a short drive, so they had time to freshen up before the meeting with Lars Bridger later at the Oceanic Cultural Heritage Institute and Land Management.

  “Nice,” Callie remarked as they entered their room. On the right-hand side of the room was a four-poster, mahogany king bed, with a white spread and several pillows which made a tempting invitation after several hours on the plane. However, they didn’t have time to take advantage of that now.

  Decker’s cell phone rang, and he dug it out of his coat pocket. Opening the French doors, he settled onto one of the chairs next to a small metal table on the balcony to answer the call.

  “Decker, this is Lars here. Checking in to make sure you got here okay.”

  “Checked into the hotel,” Decker said. “And now we’re going to go grab a cup of coffee downstairs, and we’ll meet you in about an hour.”

  “Perfect,” he answered. “I can’t wait to see what you have. Brae Pascal will drop in on us to talk a little about promotion. He mentioned taking us all out for dinner.”

  “I’m all for that. What’s the most expensive restaurant in town?”

  Lars laughed. “Not sure. But Brae has deep pockets. I’m sure we won’t be going for fast foods.”

  “See you shortly, Lars.” Decker ended the call and went back inside to find Callie sprawled out on the bed. “Come on, lazy, let’s go find some coffee.”

  They opted to sit out on the patio for their coffee even though there was a bit of chill in the air. It was March, and the weather was unpredictable. The fresh air was exactly what they needed to shake off jet-lag and revive them before their meeting.

  “I think Lars will be quite pleased by your manuscript, Decker,” Callie told him, lifting the cup of steaming coffee to her lips.

  “That’s my goal.”

  “You’ve always had a knack for writing.”

  “I think maybe you’re a bit biased?” he arched his brow humorously, but very flattered that his wife appreciated his talents.

  “Not at all,” she replied. “Give credit to where credit is due.”

  Decker laughed. “I believe what you mean is, ‘give honor to whom honor is due.”

  She grinned. “You’re probably right. But you’re due credit for your good work. You’re very committed, and you’ve put long hours into this project. I want you to know your efforts don’t go unnoticed.”

  “How did I ever get so lucky to find you?”

  “I’m not sure, but it was your lucky day,” she laughed softly.

  Decker wore casual tan slacks and his usual Hawaiian shirt, a bright blue with white palm trees. Callie teased him frequently that he looked like a tourist because most of his shirts were bright tropical flora patterns, but that was what he felt comfortable wearing, and Callie doubted he would ever change.

  After calling for a taxi, they waited out in front of the hotel. The day had warmed some, enough so that they both shrugged off their jackets. Climbing into the cab, Decker gave the driver the address.

  They were surprised to find that they were only ten minutes away from their destination. No sooner had they gotten into the taxi, then they were sliding back out to stand in front of a large, red brick building with a portico held up by two white stanchions. Dark green ivy curled up the sides of the older, two-story structure, softening its brick and mortar exterior. The grounds were surrounded by an abundance of magnolia trees, dogwoods with wide pinkish-white blossoms, fire-red maples and an assortment of elm and birch trees. More predominately dispersed on the property were hundred-year-old oak trees draped with grayish-green moss.

  “My goodness,” Callie released her breath, “This reminds me of being in the bayou or Oak Alley Plantation in Louisiana. Stunning.”

  Decker pointed to the moss. “I’ve always been intrigued with what the French dubbed, Spanish Beard, actually it’s a flowering plant if you can believe it. And it comes from the same plant family as the pineapple.”

  Callie shook her head. “Okay, smarty pants, do you study the encyclopedia every night while I’m asleep?” As they neared the front door, Callie caught the scent of gardenias, her favorite flower, wafting in the air.

  He laughed.

  A young woman in her thirties was seated at the reception desk. Her brown hair was drawn back into a bun, held with two long wooden pencils that crisscrossed. It reminded Decker of chop sticks. She wore round yellow-rimmed glasses with gray swirls on the ear piece, and the front of her bangs sported a wide swath of dark burgundy color.

  She looked up and smiled warmly. “What can I help you with today?” she asked politely.

  “I’m Decker Hayden. My wife, Callie. We have an appointment with Lars Bridger.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Please have a seat.” She pointed at a row of chairs opposite and picked up the phone. “Lars, the Haydens are here to see you.”

  She listened for a moment, then said to Decker and Callie, “Lars said to give him two minutes, and he’ll be right with you.”

  And that was all it took before the door to the left swung wide and Lars stepped into the reception area with a wide smile. His hand was stretched outward to greet both of them. “Glad you made it. I’m anxious to get the ball rolling on this. Follow me.”

  “We’re eager to see how it all comes together as well,” Decker said. “It has been challenging and gratifying at the same time.”

  “Know what you mean.”

  Lars was a wiry, hyperactive man. Decker and Callie nearly had to run to keep up with his high-speed steps while making their way down a lengthy hall. They stopped just outside a room and waited for Lars to zip his key card through the lock. The room was la
rge and on the far wall was an over-sized television screen fasted to a dark violet wall. Scattered throughout the area were several stuffed chairs and closest to the windows was a long wooden table with sixteen chairs pushed up against it. Lars pulled one of them out for Callie, then took a seat at the end.

  “I have a conglomerate of film and photos, so it’ll be a matter of matching up your script with my film clips,” Lars began. “I am grateful you’ve kept in such close contact with me. It gave me better insight as to what shots would have the most impact on our audience. We want this film to be like a one-two punch.” He hunched over and took a fighting stance, followed by a boxing move to illustrate his point.

  Decker laughed at Lar’s exuberance. If nothing else, their time with Lars would not prove boring. Lar’s long, shoulder-length brown hair was parted in the middle and was interwoven with sprigs of gray. He wore round, metal-rimmed glasses, that reminded Decker of the early seventies’ look. His wide hazel eyes snapped with anticipation and excitement as he began pulling papers out of his dark leather portfolio.

  This was a project Lar’s had been working on for a long time and had contacted the Haydens because Decker and Callie had done many dives along the Shipwreck Trail. They were familiar with wreck diving, as well as marine archaeology. They were also involved with the Oceanic Research Society. All in all, Decker was the perfect choice for writing and formatting this documentary.

  “I’m excited to see what we come up with,” Callie said, peering over at some of the clips Lars laid out across the table top.

  “Brae would like this to be done as a webcast,” Lars said. “He’s all in for educating and finding what venue works best to draw in the widest viewing audience. We need to wait for him to determine what his promotional strategy is. With Brae, you never know until the last minute what he’s going to do. Keeps me on my toes.” He chuckled.