by Matthew Rief
“Well, if he hated his father, he might not even want the money,” I said.
Scott shrugged. “We’ll see. But he deserves to know the truth, so we’re gonna track him down. And…I don’t know. There’s something about this kid’s file and story that’s just nagging at me. It doesn’t add up. I want to meet him.”
I laughed. “Hopefully, the apple fell far from the tree, or you might end up fighting him,” I said. “And why do you have to be the one to go? You’re still a senator, you know. Just let Wilson and Murph handle it.”
“No,” he said. “I want to. I…” He looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “I’m just not cut out for this, Logan. The meetings, the paperwork, the parties, the dirty campaign tactics, the constant talking without action. Maybe in another ten years, I’ll consider running for office again, but for now I need to get back into the thick of it. Not as full throttle as I used to be. After all, I have two daughters now and my wife would give me hell if I brought up going back to the Navy. But I need something. Some kind of balance between my old life and new one.”
“That organization you were telling me about?” I said, recounting the conversation we’d had before going after Wake in Honduras. “A group of covert operatives, each with their own particular set of skills, tracking and taking down bad guys around the world?”
He smiled. “Caribbean for now. The world someday.”
“Well, you’ve got my help whenever you need it, brother,” I said. He thanked me, and I added, “When you going to Texas?”
“Probably not for a while. But I’ll keep you in touch with the progress.” He sat quietly for a moment, listening to the sounds coming from the balcony. “Music sounds good tonight. I could sure use a drink.”
He stepped toward the door. Given the way he looked, that was the understatement of the year.
“You got a name for it yet?” I asked when he reached the door. He looked over his shoulder. “For this organization you’re forming,” I clarified. “Its gotta have a good name.”
He shot me a smile. “It wouldn’t be covert if it had an official name, would it?”
I shrugged. “It needs some kind of name. Maybe a made-up, innocent-sounding thing to hide behind.”
“I’ll think about it.” He twisted the knob, then added, “If you come up with any ideas, I’m all ears.”
He waited for me at the door. I rose to my feet and stretched.
“You know, Scott, most people buy a sports car when they have a midlife crisis,” I said. “Not form a Justice League.” He laughed and we strode out of the office. I motioned toward the packed balcony ahead of us. “And the music is good tonight.”
FORTY-FIVE
A week later, a large portion of the Conch Republic came together to pay their respects to Gus and Mayor Crawford. In addition to the normal funerals held at St. Paul’s Church downtown, the city thought it fitting to see off two of its best by having a large celebration of life.
Thousands of locals and tourists alike packed Mallory Square for the usual sunset celebration, which included special tributes to Gus and the former mayor. A stage was set up where people could grab the mic to share memories, and a live band played as the sun sank into the water.
As the sunset reached its brilliant zenith, a chorus of conch shells echoed out over the water. It was a fitting send-off and a party that would never be forgotten.
Two months after the events involving Richard Wake had ended, Ange and I traveled to Miami to finalize our adoption of Scarlett. We walked hand in hand up the limestone steps of the Miami-Dade County Courthouse. When the judge smiled and declared us Scarlett’s new parents, she ran over and jumped into our arms.
It had been a long process, but after nearly a year of background checks, home studies, preparation courses, and various parenting training, Ange and I walked out with our daughter between us. It’s amazing how fast and powerful emotions can set in at times. In an instant, our lives changed forever. I’d had a similar feeling on the day Ange and I had gotten married. With the quick stroke of a pen and the utterance of a promise, the world becomes something completely new.
Something better.
Scarlett carried everything she owned in a suitcase and a backpack and said goodbye to her caretakers at the St. Mary’s foster home. We loaded her stuff into the back of our Cessna tied off along the Miami waterfront, and Ange brought us up into the air, heading home. None of us could stop smiling. I looked out through the windshield as our beautiful archipelago came into view.
It had been three years nearly to the day since I’d returned to live in the islands. I shook my head as I thought about all of the things that had happened since then, how drastically my world had changed. Close calls, deadly scrapes, lost treasures found. And evil men handed their dues.
So much had happened in those three years. And yet, at the same time, it felt like the time had flown by in a blur.
We spent a few days back in the Keys adjusting to our new life. I came up with an idea to commemorate the milestone and celebrate our newly expanded family by taking a trip to the Dutch Caribbean. We flew south to the island of Curaçao, one of my favorite slices of tropical heaven on earth.
It had been my dad’s favorite place in the world. He’d bought a condo on the northwest shore of the island near the mouth of Santa Martha Bay. We landed on the dock and made the newly renovated condo home.
Our days were spent swimming in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, exploring the island’s unique landscape, walking along the seemingly never-ending white sandy beaches, and enjoying an abundance of freshly speared seafood.
One afternoon, while Scarlett played in the sand with Atticus and Ange lay sprawled out in the shade reading Cussler’s Treasure, I lay in a hammock between the same two palms I’d been lounging between when I’d received a coded text message from Scott three years earlier. It had been that message which had prompted a trip to Sierra Gorda, Mexico, to investigate the lost Aztec treasure with him.
I thought about the new path and venture that Scott was embarking on. He’d been in contact with me since our conversation in Pete’s office. They’d finally found Wake’s son, or at least they thought they had. Apparently, he’d been living at a top-secret training facility in the middle of rural Texas for the past year. Code named Chrome Canyon, the place was more commonly known by the name of Tenth Circle, or Dante’s Tenth Circle of Hell, by those who’d been there.
Run by former Special Forces of various military branches, as well as retired CIA agents, it was a breeding ground for some of the best covert warriors and government assassins on earth. The place had a brutal reputation. Many well-trained soldiers didn’t last a week before waving the white flag, or worse, getting medevacked to the nearest hospital.
I had a difficult time picturing an Ivy League kid, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, being able to take on such incomprehensible challenges. What would lead a kid who had the world at his fingertips to run away and sign up to be beaten to hell for a year? And why had the hard-headed ex-military men running the show even agreed to let him in in the first place?
They were questions that ran circles in my mind for days. Question that we wouldn’t have an answer to until Scott visited the site to investigate the situation. He’d told me that he was looking to visit the training facility soon. The status of Wake’s fortune and the future of his empire hung in the balance, and I half expected to receive a call requesting backup at any moment.
I took in a deep breath of fresh ocean air, then let it out. It would be hard for me to leave if he did call.
I watched as Scarlett bounded for the surf with Atticus right on her heels. They splashed into the water and laughed as they fell into a small crashing wave. Ange glanced over at me, then marked her page and shut her book. She strode toward me, wearing a loose light blue skirt over the bottom half of her white bikini.
She eased onto the hammock, pressing her body against mine and draping a hand over my chest. She sme
lled of jasmine and sweet orange. Her stunning legs glistened in the light through the overhead palm fronds.
“Tell me we can stay here forever,” she said.
I smiled. “If all I had was this day with you and those two,” I said, motioning toward Scarlett and Atticus, “I’d die a very happy man.”
She kissed me, then rested her head on my chest and closed her eyes.
THE END
LOGAN DODGE ADVENTURES
Gold in the Keys
Hunted in the Keys
Revenge in the Keys
Betrayed in the Keys
Redemption in the Keys
Corruption in the Keys
Predator in the Keys
Legend in the Keys
Abducted in the Keys
Showdown in the Keys
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About the Author
Matthew has a deep-rooted love for adventure and the ocean. He loves traveling, diving, rock climbing and writing adventure novels. Though he grew up in the Pacific Northwest, he currently lives in Virginia Beach with his wife, Jenny.
