Sabotage: A Reece Culver Thriller - Book 2

by Bryan Koepke

  Julian rolled until he was shielded by the side of the yacht where the bracing for the mid deck rose from the lower deck. Alex was staring blankly like he’d seen a ghost.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Julian said, reaching a second time to touch the fresh wound a few inches above the bridge of his nose. He brought his index finger down and spotted fresh blood.

  “I’ll get you a Band-Aid,” Alex said as he retreated back into the bowels of the ship.

  Julian cursed himself. This guy Reece Culver was an adversary like none he’d faced off against. This was one of those guys that’s good at whatever he tries- one of those lucky bastards with just the right genetics, muscle, and brains. I don’t need this today. Maybe I should end Alex James, dump him over the side, pull up the anchors and head back out to sea.

  Julian looked over at Alex, weighing that option.

  “Suck it up and take this guy out,” Julian said quietly to himself.

  Chapter 88

  Reece stared through the binoculars, having seen the assassin roll off his perch and drop into the safety of the ship. He was out of sight now, and Reece considered pelting that side of the boat, hoping one of his bullets would punch through and hit the assassin. No, I don’t know where Marie is. I can’t chance it.

  “Stay down, Haisley,” he said before handing off the rifle to him and springing into the palms behind them. Reece ran at full speed, knowing someone could fire bullets at any moment and take him out. This was a hired gun. A man who knew how to kill. Up ahead he spotted the same area where he’d earlier found the big log.

  He dodged deeper into cover and found a teepee-shaped clump of four-inch-thick palm logs each about eight feet long. Someone’s been here. Reece dismissed the thought that someone might be living on the tiny island and wrapped his arms around half of the logs. He felt a pull in his groin as he lifted them from the ground, but he didn’t care. He lifted them up so they were a foot or so off the ground, turned, and ran back toward Haisley.

  “Boom, boom, boom!” shots rang out in the distance. Not good.

  “Pow, pow, pow!” A different pitch of roaring echoed ahead of Reece. It’s Haisley returning fire.

  Reece ran as fast as he could back toward their position. He knew if Alex had been able to spot them from the fly bridge, the assassin could aim from there and hit Haisley. The shots had stopped and he could see Haisley standing with the rifle on the top of the wall resting on the log he’d put in place. That way Haisley was a perfect target from high up. Damn it.

  Reece tripped on a rock and fell forward, dropping the logs as he landed in the sand. He lay there catching his breath and listening to the quiet. Was the assassin heading to the fly bridge? “Haisley, get down.”

  Reece got back to his feet and sprinted toward Haisley. Just as he got there he heard the clang of something metallic hitting what sounded like a rock. The rifle had dropped at Haisley’s feet.

  “Did you drop it when you took cover?” Reece said.

  Haisley looked down toward his feet. “I guess I did,” he said, picking up the gun and pulled the action backward blowing into the chamber, and then letting the slide come forward. “It’s okay.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Reece said.

  “Okay, if they can see us from the top of the boat, they can hit us with that rifle,” Reece said. “I want you to sight out of this hole like I did earlier. Keep your head down and shoot at the stern. Don’t shoot toward the bow. Marie is probably in one of the forward cabins,” Reece said.

  “Where are you going?” Haisley said.

  Reece ignored the other man’s question. “Squeeze off a round every fifteen seconds, and whatever you do, don’t shoot at the bow.”

  Haisley poked the weapon through the same hole in the rocks that Reece had used earlier and squeezed the trigger.

  Reece got to his feet and ran back toward the pile of palm tree logs he’d dumped when he’d stumbled. A second shot rang out from the .22 behind him. He reached down and grabbed the wood, bringing it up into his arms. He was running on pure adrenaline at this point, knowing a shot could come at any time from the assassin’s rifle.

  Reece ran wildly with the load of logs behind the piled rocks. Haisley made eye contact, looking over, and pulled the trigger again. “Click,” the .22 semi auto dry-fired. It was out of ammunition.

  “It’s out of bullets,” he said. “Here give it to me and I’ll reload.”

  Reece took the gun from Haisley and reached under the barrel to turn the brass bezel. Then pulled out a long steel tube from under the barrel. Reece moved on his knees toward the pile of stuff and found the green ammo can with a thousand rounds of .22 caliber long rifle cartridges. He flipped open the latch and scooped up a handful. He took several of the bullets and stuck the rear stock into the sand, pointing the rifle toward the sky at a 45-degree angle. He deposited the bullets one by one into the slot in the side of the tube underneath the barrel, ensuring that each of them faced forward.

  A barrage of shots broke the silence, and both Reece and Haisley dropped to their bellies in the sand. Bullets ricocheted off the top of their rock-walled fortress. Reece listened and hoped they were out of view of the assassin as he continued to feed the last of the twenty bullets into the gun.

  The shooting stopped. Reece handed the rifle back to Haisley and he resumed his position behind the rock wall. Reece gave him the thumbs up and waited. Haisley held the weapon up and fired. Reece ran to the logs and seized five of them. He rose quickly until he was standing and put them down on top of the corner where the north and west facing walls came together. He continued each time gathering up five or so logs and bringing them back to their fort. Haisley was firing more rapidly now, as if he got what Reece was doing and knew if he kept firing the men in the boat wouldn’t.

  *

  Reece left Haisley, satisfied that he was out of harm’s way now that he’d successfully fashioned a roof for their rock-walled hiding place. He turned toward the equipment he’d piled up and spotted the diving gear. Seizing the tank in one hand and the black mesh bag in the other, he squatted down and waited for his friend to start shooting.

  A shot rang out and Reece sprinted into the palm trees, carrying the diving equipment. He raced as fast as he could, knowing the men on the boat had a clear line of fire. There was only twenty yards to go until he reached the cover of the thick palm trees, but it seemed like miles.

  “Boom, boom, boom,” came three equally spaced shots. Each round ricocheted off tree trunks on each side of Reece. He cringed at the sound and watched splinters of wood pelt him from each side. The air was full of dust and smelled like burnt wood.

  In the distance behind him Haisley was firing faster now as Reece reached cover on the far side of the gap. The ground changed in texture from sand-covered rock to a scattering of loose volcanic chunks of black rock as he made his way towards the water’s edge. He slowed his progress, avoiding the sharp rocks and choosing his steps more carefully as he went. There was no need to be anxious about what lay ahead. No need to clip one of his feet on a rock and draw blood, which would ultimately, once in the water, attract sharks. Reece smelled the salty breeze, heard crashing waves in the distance, and smiled, knowing his plan was going to work.

  The waves crashed violently on this side of the island. It was no good. He needed a relatively calm spot to enter the ocean. Damn it. Reece retreated back into the edge of the palms and picked up his pace. The weight of the air tank was oppressive, and he felt fatigue in his left forearm. There wasn’t time to stop and switch arms. He had to find a good spot. Once he’d entered the ocean he could rest while swimming around the island.

  Up ahead Reece spied a shallow section with a small beach. It reminded him of the spot they’d all gone that day when Woodbine had stayed behind after his equipment malfunctioned. What a way to go.

  Reece took a seat on a fallen thick palm tree a few feet from the water’s edge. He reached into the mesh dive bag and pulled out the
contents – flippers, dive gloves, a belt with seven lead weights, and a scabbard. He pulled open the top of the rubber sheath and took the handle of the knife in his right hand. Then held it upward and admired the long blade.

  The knife looked like the keel of a boat curving upward toward the sharp point. Five inches of it on the left side were serrated and it looked like it had been designed to serve many purposes. The handle was made of black molded rubber with an indentation for each of finger on his right hand. It was a formidable weapon and had heft to it. Perfect for taking out muscular assassins.

  Chapter 89

  Julian finished his clip and reloaded. The counter fire from the rocks stopped and he wondered if the gunman was reloading. He put the binoculars to his eyes and panned the beach. Where was Reece Culver?

  Julian knew he’d run to the east. He’d seen him and figured he might be trying to return to the airplane to get more supplies or get more wood to replace the logs he’d chopped up with his bullets. Or maybe he was scouting out an alternate spot to set up a crossfire. Someone with Culver’s skill probably had come out of the military. He would know about stuff like crossfire.

  For the first time Julian started to become nervous. It would be night soon and any thought of assault would have to be called off. It was likely that Reece Culver had called for help when he was crash-landing the airplane, and that meant someone could come looking for him. The more time passed, the more risk that the authorities would arrive.

  “You hear that?” Julian said.

  “The quiet?” Alex said, taking a cigar from his lips and letting out a big puff of smoke as he spoke.

  “They’re out of ammo,” Julian said, standing from his perch against the side of the fly bridge. “Grab my case and the binoculars. I’m going back down to my spot on those crates. It’s a better line of fire.”

  Alex did as told, picking up Julian’s shooting gear and followed the assassin down the stairs to the stern. Once down on the lower deck he took Julian’s weapon from him and held it out to his side awkwardly, as if afraid the weapon might go off by itself. Julian spread a thick green blanket over the bullet-marked wooden crates, sat down on the center crate, and then turned and lay face down.

  “Hand it over.”

  Alex passed the firearm to Julian and retreated into the salon on the first floor. He stopped and turned back.

  “You want a beer or something?”

  “No, not now. I’ve got work to do, but once I’ve killed these pests, I’ll be tapping into that big bottle of Patron,” Julian said.

  He aimed for the center of the black rock wall he knew Culver’s companion was hiding behind. The firing had stopped and the silence seemed deeper in comparison to the constant exchange of gunfire. Julian slid forward so that his head was exposed. He eyed the side and saw a smattering of small-caliber bullet holes all along the white fiberglass. Many were close to the water and he wondered if they might be taking on water.

  “Alex James?” he yelled. Julian waited, but didn’t hear a reply.

  “Alex, get out here.”

  He heard steps and the other man appeared with a bottle of Patron in one hand and what looked like a ham sandwich in the other. Always looking out for number one, Julian thought.

  “Hey, we’ve got bullet holes all along the side here. Go up to the bridge and turn on the bilge pumps if they’re not on already.”

  Julian watched Alex climb the stairs. The other man was annoying, but for now he still had a purpose.

  He aimed and fired. One, two, three toward the black rock wall on the beach. He’d shoot at the same spot halfway down the wall until he shattered a rock. Then go to the next one until he took out another. Eventually the wall would give and come tumbling down. Then he’d fire two last shots—one into Reece Culver and the second into his good buddy. One, two—they’d be gone just like clockwork.

  Chapter 90

  Reece pulled himself forward underneath the water, adjusting to the task of breathing air underwater. From the first time he’d gone scuba diving, he’d learned to calm himself and lower his need for air by descending to the ocean bottom and sitting there for a few minutes taking in his surroundings, calming himself, meditating.

  Today wasn’t normal in any fashion. He was jacked up to the max and wanted to reach the yacht on the opposite side of the small island worse than anything. He knew he needed to save what little air he had left in the single tank, so he came up to the surface and reached around his neck.

  Turning off his air supply on the beach would be easy, but doing it while in the constant chop of the ocean was more challenging. Reece spit out his regulator and twisted his body to reach the valve. He twisted until he felt its bottom. It was off. He’d keep the mask on, and by doing that would keep the sting of the salt water out of his eyes.

  He eyed the shore of the small island, and the foul smell of something burning made its way to him. He knew it was the Aero Commander still smoldering. It seemed like days to Reece since he’d lost the second engine and glided in toward the island for their landing. It must be the adrenaline that’s tiring me out.

  He checked in with the ringing sound of tinnitus in his left ear. It was still gone. Marie, she’d done that. Ever since he’d begun spending time with her, once again relaxing, and getting back to his old self, the ringing had subsided. I need that woman.

  Reece kicked at the water behind him with his fins, but he was still moving away from land and away from the yacht. The sun was closer to the water’s surface ahead of him and he guessed there was an hour or less till dark. It was silent except for the ocean’s constant movement, the splashing of small waves as they collided with his mask.

  He kicked hard and threw his arms into it, battling against the ocean’s current. Marie was a little less than half a mile away. He had to rescue her before something happened. Reece knew all too well what happened to the people doing the kidnapping. At first it seemed like a great idea, but when the captive’s needs surfaced and the pressure on the criminal increased, their doubts gnawed on them. Paranoia began—thoughts that the police will come. Reece wasn’t going to have anything go badly for Marie.

  *

  Reece was achieving a good rhythm now, kicking and doing the crawl stroke. The boat was ahead of him and he was coming straight into the bow like he’d planned. The anchor chain was taut at a forty-five-degree angle a little ways ahead of him. He’d get to it, put his air on, and dive underneath the boat to avoid detection.

  The sun was close to the water now on the western horizon and that helped too. With less light he’d be harder to spot from the fly bridge. He thought about Marie and eyed the small windows on the left side of the bow. Reece wanted to peer in and ensure she was ok, but he knew better. If she made noise, a scream, it would alert the others.

  The thing he needed most was the element of surprise.

  Three shots rang out from the stern. There was no return fire. That’s not good. That meant one of two things—the gun was jammed or Haisley was dead.

  Reece took the air regulator into his mouth and let himself sink below the surface. The water seemed warmer here than it had on the far side of the small island. It was darker here with less sun, but looking back to the west he could see the dark shape above that was the hull of the Brilliant Blue. From here it looked huge.

  He worked his way toward the stern. There was only one more element that he needed for his plan to work, and Reece had no control over it. That part depended entirely on the assassin. Time will tell if this works out.

  Because the sun was setting to the west, on the far side of the yacht it was almost dark. He inched along the smooth sandy bottom with his head craned backward looking up. The surface of the water was not far, maybe ten to fifteen feet above him. It wouldn’t take much to launch his body up off the bottom.

  He still had the regulator in his mouth, but he would be shutting it off soon. There could be no hint that he was approaching. This was it. One chance. Reece edged sideways,
looking up, and spotted what he’d come for. He ran his hand down the side of his

  body until he came to his waist. On the weight belt he found the scabbard. Reece pulled up on the snap and took out the huge dive knife.

  It felt good in his hand and the rubber handle fit perfectly. He squeezed it hard and took two more steps to the right. Up above the water’s surface he could just make out the blurred image of a man. This person was leaning out over the side of the boat. Reece could see the narrow black image of the assassin’s rifle barrel up above. A wave rolled in, breaking against the boat, and the image went wavy-looking.

  Reece took a big breath of air, then another, and spit the dive regulator out of his mouth. He undid the clasps and let the tank slide off his body to the ocean floor. He tilted his head back and raised his right hand over his head with the tip of the knife pointing straight up. Next he squatted down until his ass was even with his calves. He then sprang upward off the sandy bottom, kicking his feet relentlessly.

  The top half of his torso punched out of the water. The sharp knife in Reece’s hand pierced the skin of Julian Cross’s throat, and the handle jammed hard against the man’s larynx. Reece felt himself falling back into the water, and he instinctively reached out to grab the gunwale.

  Chapter 91

  Pain coursed through Julian Cross’s throat. He tasted the salty iron of his own blood. At first he thought the rifle’s recoil had caused him to bite his own tongue, but immediately he was face to face with a man in a blue dive mask. Where did he come from? This guy’s hair was brown and draped down over the front. He’d seen the face before through binoculars, but couldn’t find the name. A howling pain filled his mind.

  Julian reached with both hands and tore at the mask. He’d managed to slide it half way off when he felt something hard below his chin. It was moving— wrenching side to side. Someone had their hand on top of his head and was pulling him down against whatever was below. His mouth filled with blood and he started to cough, then choked, and struggled to breathe. This is really happening. With each cough the calm surface of the green blue water below him splattered with bright red droplets. Blood.