Infiltration

by Scott B. Williams

  “What do you think they’re up to?” Jonathan asked.

  “They’re coming ashore, what else? Probably to go and look for something else to steal.”

  “They’re going to see your kayak if they land on that sandbar. What are you gonna do?”

  “Nothing yet. Just be quiet and watch.”

  Eric had been hoping the two men would stay put aboard their boat. He knew he might have to wait for hours, but they would probably go below to sleep eventually and then he could leave without them ever knowing he was there. Now they were complicating everything by heading straight to where his kayak was hidden. Just as Jonathan had speculated, they’d noticed the little channel winding into the mangroves and probably figured it would be a discreet place to land, just as Eric had when he’d arrived here in the dark that first morning. Even if the kayak weren’t there for them to see when they came ashore, they would probably stumble across Jonathan’s campsite on their way to the road. If Eric hadn’t returned, this would be real trouble for the kid, considering these men were armed and he wasn’t.

  The two of them didn’t stand a chance now, of course. Eric could easily take them out before they knew he was there if he wanted to, but he had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t behind enemy lines. These men were probably up to no good, but they hadn’t proven that yet and they were fellow Americans, after all. He would wait and see, and give them the benefit of the doubt and a chance to simply leave if they did indeed prove bad intent. He hoped that would be enough, but he was ready to do what was necessary if it came to that, and as they were now approaching the channel, it was time to find out.

  “Wait here, Jonathan. I mean it this time. Do not follow me!” Eric whispered.

  “What are you gonna do man?”

  Eric didn’t answer. He got to his feet and slipped through the mangroves adjacent to where his kayak was hidden, the M4 in hand and at ready as he watched the dinghy approach. The man at the oars was having a hard time keeping it going straight, not only because of the low quality of both the boat and oars, but also his obvious inexperience. The other man had a small flashlight that he flicked on intermittently, just enough to keep his buddy somewhat lined up in the channel. His reluctance to use the light more than necessary told Eric the man was aware of the dangers of being seen, and that this kind of nighttime shore excursion was nothing new to him. The oarsman banged his blades against the mangrove roots on either side of the channel as he attempted to stay in the middle, and Eric heard the other scold him in a low whisper for making so much noise.

  He watched as the flashlight illuminated the sandbar once again, just before the bow of the inflatable touched. Then, just as he’d expected, the man swept his light along the bank and stopped when the beam found the black hull of the Klepper. The covering of branches he’d placed over it when he tied it up was never meant to hide it from close-up scrutiny such as this. It was enough to keep it from standing out to anyone traveling the waterway that happened to glance into the channel, but from ten feet away, the makeshift camouflage was far less effective.

  “Hey, look at this!” the man with the light whispered.

  “What is it, Tom?”

  “Some kind of boat; I think it’s a kayak. Look at these branches! Whoever left it here tried to hide it. That means they left and probably aren’t coming back for a while. We ought to get it! It looks like it’s big enough for two people.”

  “We can get it on the way back, after we see what else we can find.”

  “No, forget that! Let’s just take it and go while the getting is good. Whoever left it here might already be on the way back. There’s probably stuff inside it too. Let’s tow it out to the boat and go anchor somewhere else where we can check it out.”

  When the man with the light began pulling the branches off of his kayak, looking for the lines securing it to the bank, Eric knew it was time to make his presence known. He still hoped he wouldn’t have to kill these two, but since there were two of them and they were armed, he knew it was a possibility.

  “That kayak belongs to me!” he said, causing the one with the light to stumble back in surprise before waving the beam in the direction of the woods, looking for the source of his voice. “Step away from it and get back in your dinghy and leave!” As he issued his command, Eric squeezed the pressure switch that activated his Surefire weapon light, putting a 300 lumens beam directly in the eyes of the man holding the flashlight. Temporarily blinded, the first man was no longer a threat, but Eric could see the other one stepping out of the dinghy into the knee-deep water. He was about to move the light to him when suddenly another beam of light from behind him lit up the second man, causing him to raise a hand to shield his eyes. Eric knew it was Jonathan’s powerful flashlight, but he said nothing, as he was focused on the two strangers until he knew if they were going to comply.

  At first, it seemed like they were. Eric swept the weapon light back and forth between them, ordering them to keep their hands where he could see them. But suddenly, the one in the water closest to his kayak turned to one side as if reaching for the dinghy, instead making a grab for the big revolver in his shoulder holster. Why he would make such a dumb move while at such a clear disadvantage, Eric couldn’t fathom, but he swung the M4 into line with the man’s chest and squeezed off two quick rounds. He would have let the other one live but even as his buddy was falling the second man was reaching for his own handgun. Truly they were men with nothing to lose, and just didn’t seem to care. Eric took him out with a single round, and seeing that no follow-up shots were needed after sweeping his lights over the bodies where they fell in the shallow water, he shut off his light and told Jonathan to do the same.

  “Damn, dude! You got ’em both before they knew what hit them! That was awesome!”

  “They gave me no choice, unfortunately. But now I’ve gone and attracted no telling how much attention to our hideout with those three rifle shots.”

  “It may not matter. It just depends on whether or not there was anybody nearby on the road.”

  “Well, I don’t intend to wait around and find out. If you want to come with me, go get your stuff together, and make it quick!”

  “No shit? You’re gonna let me go? Will my tent and everything fit in the kayak?”

  “No, but it won’t need to. We’re going to sail to the Gulf Coast. It’ll be faster and it will allow us to keep well away from the dangers alongshore.”

  Jonathan started rattling off questions but Eric hushed him with firm orders to get his ass in gear and make it quick. While he was off to collect what he wanted from his camp, Eric took the weapons off the dead men and then dragged the bodies away from the channel and into the tangle of mangrove roots where they would remain hidden in the shadows until daylight. Unless someone came quickly to investigate the sound of the gunfire, it was unlikely they would be found before the crabs and other sea creatures made quick work of their return to nature.

  Eric had no use for the piece of junk inflatable the men had used as a dinghy, so he slashed the tubes with his knife and pulled it over the bodies as it quickly deflated. Before Jonathan returned, he worked to rearrange his gear under the decks of the kayak, making room for the kid to sit in the forward seat. There was a spare two-piece paddle stowed below as well, but Eric didn’t bother with it now, as they only had a short distance to go out to the anchored boat. His decision to bring Jonathan along was made the instant he killed the two thieves. Their stolen sailboat was an opportunity that had fallen into his lap, and if it was seaworthy enough, as it appeared to be from where he’d studied it, the trip to the Caloosahatchee River was about to happen much quicker. Sailing around the tip of Florida offshore meant long hours at the helm though, with no opportunity to stop and sleep, so unlike in the kayak, Eric needed crew. Jonathan wanted to get out of here, so it was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Besides, the more he was around him, the more Eric liked the kid. He talked too much and he’d disobeyed Eric’s orders to stay put, but in the
end he’d been helpful by slipping up out of the dark and lighting up that second guy while Eric was focused on the first. Jonathan had a lot to learn, but Eric could tell that he was teachable, and more importantly, he had proven he had the balls to act in the face of danger.

  When he returned to where Eric was waiting, Jonathan had his arms full of his possessions. The fishing rods and cast net were a top priority, and he also had his sleeping bag, machete and extra clothes.

  “I left the tent, but I brought the tarp. Even though we’ve got the boat, you never know when we might have to make camp ashore somewhere.”

  “Good thinking. It’ll work for shade when we’re anchored too. It looks like the hurricane shredded the bimini top that was already on it. Come on, just get in and I’ll paddle. You can just hold onto your stuff until we get out there.”

  “I hope nobody was following them from wherever they sailed from. It was pretty stupid to sail here in the daylight. At least it’s dark again now.”

  “Yeah that’s why we’ve got to make it quick and get the hell out to sea. We don’t have far to go to get to the inlet, and once we get out to open water there’ll be less chance of running into trouble, especially at night.”

  Eric said this to reassure Jonathan, but he didn’t completely believe it. The truth was that a sailboat was much more visible than the kayak, even at night if someone hit the white sails with the beam of a powerful spotlight. And, if they were pursued by almost any kind of vessel with an engine there wouldn’t be a chance in hell of getting away. But Eric was prepared to fight his way out of trouble, and deemed the risk acceptable because of all the days it would save him from paddling.

  Jonathan grabbed hold of a lifeline stanchion on the starboard side of the sailboat when Eric drew the kayak alongside it. The metal manufacturer’s plate mounted on the cockpit coaming proclaimed that the boat was a Catalina 25, just as Eric had thought when he first saw it. He had spent many summer afternoons as a teenager sailing with a friend who had a Catalina 22, a smaller sister to the 25. They were cheap production boats that could be spotted in practically every harbor in Florida, but they sailed well enough even if they weren’t meant for offshore voyages. The faded vinyl lettering on the stern told him the little boat’s name was Gypsy, much overused and unoriginal, but maybe that was a good thing now. Eric doubted anyone would be looking for it specifically by name anyway, unless the two thieves were being hunted by men like those from last night.

  “It looks pretty rough, dude. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s perfect! We’re not going to be entering any regattas. It’s got a mast and sails and a working rudder; what more do you want?”

  Nine

  ERIC CLIMBED ABOARD THE sailboat with his M4 in hand and opened the hatch to clear the cabin before letting Jonathan board. There was no one down below, but the interior of the cabin was filthy, with dirty dishes piled in the tiny galley sink and on the table, and potato chip and pretzel crumbs smeared into the bunk upholstery and scattered all over the cabin sole. The interior also reeked with the odor of human waste coming from the small, enclosed head that was probably stopped up or overflowing. A quick scan of the lockers revealed that there were some unopened canned goods and gallon jugs of drinking water on board, but practically nothing in the way of safety or navigation gear, not even local charts. He hadn’t expected much, since most owners of boats in that class used them for daysailing or racing, rather than cruising, but this one was bare bones. There wasn’t even a working electrical system—no cabin lights, navigation lights, depth sounder or radio. But they didn’t need any of that. He had his handheld with which to monitor the airwaves for marine traffic, and he certainly didn’t intend to give away their position with nighttime running lights. Eric stayed below just long enough to inspect the bilges to make sure there weren’t any serious leaks, and then climbed back out and waved Jonathan aboard.

  “How is it, man?”

  “It’s filthy and it smells like shit, but it’s a boat and it’s not sinking. Come on aboard! We will pull the kayak up and lash it down on one of the side decks, but first I’ve got to get back in it and get the heavy stuff out. Stand right here and I’ll pass stuff up to you. We need to hurry. I don’t like sitting out here in the open with the anchor down, even if it is dark.”

  Eric dropped to his knees in the cockpit of the kayak and quickly opened up the heavy zippers that closed the fabric over the bow and stern decks. The boat was easy to unload that way, as most of his gear was packed into purpose-made elongated dry bags that fit well in the narrow storage compartments of the hull. Although he could have broken down the folding kayak itself and stowed it below deck in the sailboat, Eric didn’t want to spend the time it would take to do that, and besides, he wanted the kayak ready at all times in case they had to abandon the larger boat for some reason.

  “What in the hell have you got in these bags, dude? It feels like they’re full of bricks!”

  “The heavy stuff is ammo, spare weapons, magazines, explosives… most of the rest of it is food and water and assorted survival gear.”

  “I sure hope we don’t get stopped by the Marine Patrol or the Coast Guard with all this shit!”

  “Me too, but it’s a chance we’ve got to take. What do you think would have happened just now if I hadn’t had my rifle? Oh, and by the way, why don’t you hang onto this? You might need it.” Eric handed him the revolver in the shoulder holster the man who had tried to pull it on him had carried it in.

  “Whoa, that’s awesome, dude! A .357 Magnum? Hell yeah, that’ll work!”

  “It’s definitely the better of the two. The .45 Auto the other guy was carrying is a cheap piece of junk.”

  “Thanks man! I feel a lot better about this situation already. Having a weapon gives a man a little piece of mind, you know?”

  “Yes, I do know.”

  When most of the bags were out of the kayak, Eric resealed the decks and climbed back aboard the boat. Then he pulled it up over the rail by the bow until Jonathan could get ahold of it, and the two of them carried it forward, wedging it on its side between the lifeline stanchions and the cabin house. The curved decks of the Catalina 25 were far too short to accommodate the full length of the 17-foot kayak without the ends hanging overboard, but that didn’t bother Eric because he didn’t plan on coming alongside any docks. As long as the jib sheets could run clear, that was all that mattered.

  “How much sailing have you done, Jonathan?”

  “None! I’ve spent plenty of time on motorboats, but I don’t know shit about sailing.”

  “That’s not a problem. You will by the time we get to Fort Myers. But since outboards are your thing, see if you can get that kicker on the stern started. We’ll have to motor until we get through the cut.”

  Eric didn’t like the idea of running the outboard in this relatively narrow waterway where it could be heard by anyone on the bank on either side, but they were in the lee of dense trees in the short section they had to follow north, and once they turned east for the exit at Jupiter Inlet, the east wind would be dead on the nose, leaving little choice. At least the little Honda four-stroke was relatively quiet though. Running it at half throttle, the sound wouldn’t carry far. With Jonathan steering as he directed, Eric leaned against the cabin bulkhead and studied the passing shoreline with his night vision monocular, checking for movement, as they were within rifle range of land here. Despite the fact that the sailboat would be much easier to spot than his low kayak, Eric knew it presented a less-menacing profile. Anyone that saw the blacked-out kayak slipping in at night might assume the paddler was up to no good, whereas a sailboat could belong to an innocent family simply trying to get somewhere safe.

  As they passed the park on the south side of the inlet, Eric spotted a man and woman among the shadows of the coconut palms there. They had seen the boat, as there was enough ambient light out on the open water that they couldn’t miss it, and now they were standing rock still, thinking they wer
e hidden in the dark. Studying them in the green night vision glow, Eric determined they weren’t a threat, as they didn’t appear armed and seemed only to be waiting for the boat to pass so they could get back to whatever they had been doing.

  Unlike the morning he had first slipped ashore here, Eric and Jonathan were exiting the inlet on a falling tide. The ebb was helping them now, the current assisting as the small motor pushed the boat along, but once they reached the jetties; they faced a stretch of rough water they would have to punch through to get out. The Honda seemed to be running fine, but Eric didn’t trust it completely, so with Jonathan steering and the sheets running free, he hoisted the main and then quickly unfurled the jib so as to be ready to sail the moment they had a bit of room to fall off the wind.

  “Just keep it as close to the middle of the channel as you can, Jonathan, and give it some gas! Don’t let the current turn us sideways!”

  Eric studied the breaking waves they were facing through the monocular, judging their size. The wind was around fifteen knots this evening—nothing out of the ordinary—and he guessed the seas were running about four to six feet. He had little doubt that the Catalina could handle it, but she would take a pounding for a few minutes until they reached clear water beyond the breakers. He cleated off the main so it would be close-hauled as soon as they fell off the wind and then took the helm from Jonathan when they reached the worst of it. The jib was flogging, its slack sheets beating against the hull of the kayak and adding to the noise of the crashing waves, the darkness amplifying the effect and adding to the confusion. Eric could tell Jonathan was concerned, uncertain of what was about to happen.