Just Needs Killin

by Jinx Schwartz

  For the certification process, Chino made us hit the books, studying manuals, familiarizing ourselves with the equipment, and taking all kinds of written tests. After two days, we were actually ready to suit up. Since my less than illustrious scuba career years before, dry suits had come a long way in their comfort level. We headed for the beach in a panga, waded into the shallow water, and the hard part started.

  "He says we'll get used to it, but we haven't even actually done anything yet but learn the drills and I feel like I'm training for the Olympics."

  Jan nodded. "I guess the good thing is that now we can carbo-load with the other divers."

  "Can we call for take out? If I drag myself back to my cabin, I'll probably never leave it again."

  "The hell you won't. Our dive master's got us scheduled for two more days of this torment, and I'm not going through it alone."

  "Might I remind you, Miz Jan, no one asked you to suit up?"

  "You know danged well I can't let you do something like this alone. Besides, I have a feeling you're up to no good, and I want in."

  "That's my girl."

  A week later, Jan and I were getting the hang of this shallow dive thing, and secretly boning up on what it would take to go down sixty feet, all by our lonelies, with zero backup.

  I say no backup, because it was our intent to snag that vase.

  "Ya know, if Chino even suspects what we're up to, he'll have a conniption fit."

  "You're the ship's mistress, so book him outta here. Think up something only he can do, and send him away to do it. All we need is one night."

  "Lemme think on it. Say I do get rid of him, how are we gonna slip off, with our gear and all?"

  "I haven't thought that through yet. One thing for sure, though, we have to get Kazoo and Moto to take us with them on one of their nighttime lobster snagging dives."

  "Bless their little lobster-lovin' hearts. Problem is they also grab those icky sea cucumbers." Jan gave a visible shiver. Then we both laughed while recalling the hissy Rosa threw when the two men brought several sea cucumbers on board, put them in white plastic buckets, and asked her to change their seawater every twelve hours until they could harvest their gonads. Dried sea cucumber gonad soup is a delicacy where they come from.

  "Lobster, she okay. Pepino del mar, no!" I said, mimicking Rosa when she dramatically put her foot down. "No in mi cocina!"

  "I guess we won't see sea pickle tacos on her menu any time soon?"

  "I think not. Last I heard, Granny Yee had talked some guy in town into letting them process those slimy critters at his ranch, but you can bet your sweet arse there will be no sea cucumber soup cooked on this ship."

  I grinned and nodded. "I kinda feel sorry for those two. The rest of us have so much more in common, even if the language thing gets a little complicated. It's no wonder they put all their energy into their work."

  "They haven't taken a single day off since we boarded. Even when the rest of us go somewhere on Sunday, and we do invite them, they stay on board. They gotta be getting a little lonely by now."

  "Maybe I'll check into getting some Japanese movies for them. Got to butter them up so they'll take us lobster diving, anyhow." I stretched and yawned. "I am so done for. I'm headed for dreamland."

  "Me too."

  "Think about how we're gonna send Chino on a wild goose chase. Like I said, all we need is one night."

  She stood and headed for the door, then turned. "Okay, say if, by some miracle we get our hands on that vase. Then what?"

  "We find the highest bidder. Those Chinese millionaires are buying this stuff up for their private collections."

  "Hetta, you ever heard the term, plunder? How the hell do we even sell something like this vase? You have lots of friends in low places, but not the right low places for this kind of thing."

  "Never you mind. You help me grab it, and I'll find a fence."

  "Fence? Jesus, we're going to jail."

  "No we aren't. We look crappy in orange."

  "I liked it better when we were only plotting to kill someone."

  "Yabbut think how interesting your resume will look with Global Antiquities Thief on it."

  "More like, under international experience: Learned fluent Spanish in a Mexican jail."

  "They'll never take us alive."

  "Gosh, that's reassuring," Jan said, then we both fell into a giggle fit as Jan left for her cabin.

  I sent a quick email to Jenks, then climbed into my bunk and read a new novel on my new Kindle for a millisecond before dropping it onto the bridge of my nose.

  Kindles are much harder on the old schnozzola than paperbacks.

  As I drifted off, I wondered if Amazon has some nefarious plan to branch out into plastic surgery.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jan and I made our first sixty-foot dive the day Chino got a hit on the ship's side-scan sonar fish, and then, on a second sweep, the ship's magnetometer started pinging. Something was down there, and this was our chance to get trained on a deeper dive. We'd made every-other-day twenty-footers for two weeks, were getting pretty comfortable with our equipment, and gaining confidence with the entire process by the day.

  So far our dives had produced a couple of anchors, various fishing equipment, and general trash, but just being down there with all those beautiful fish, shells, and even the occasional turtle, made it worthwhile. Even better, we were burning calories like a furnace, so we got to carbo-load the night before each dive.

  When I checked the underwater camera monitor before suiting up, I was pleased to find the water particularly clear, which helped assuage that old fear factor. And even better, Chino decided to go down with us. I think he really just wanted to keep an eye on her preciousness, but having him, as well as Kazoo and Moto—three expert divers—along just might keep me from doing something stupid. But then, they are only mortals.

  Both Jan and I confessed to sleeplessness the night before, and when I had finally dropped off, I awoke in a cold sweat during a nightmare involving toothy great whites. Maybe I yelled, because Po Thang left his upper-berth perch and snuggled up to me, evidently picking up on my need for comfort.

  I finally gave up getting any more sleep, got a cup of coffee from the galley, then sent an email to Jenks that I hoped didn't come off as my last will and testament.

  Chino insisted on overseeing the refilling of our breather mixture tanks. He was adamant that we use all fresh CO2 absorbent for each dive after he caught Kazoo and Moto mixing previously used stuff with new. Turns out this is a fairly common practice—potentially a deadly one—used by many divers using rebreather equipment. If the mixture isn't scrubbing all the CO2, the diver is breathing it back in, and may not even realize they're in trouble until it is too late, especially on deep dives.

  In addition to our rebreathers, we also carried an extra compressed air canister for this dive, and Jan and I had been schooled on how to switch over if need be.

  Once in the water, we pulled ourselves down the anchor line, which I held onto like the lifeline it was. Even when we reached the bottom and I saw how good the visibility was, I was loathe to let go until Jan slapped my clenched hands. We trailed Chino, with Kazoo and Moto following close behind.

  My fears soon vanished once we started exploring. Schools of curious fish followed us, seemingly unafraid. Jan and I found ourselves poking each other, pointing out neat stuff, and actually having a great time.

  Chino, maintaining the lead, carried a hand-held metal detector, as did the two Japanese divers. Jan and I were not confident enough to handle any more equipment, but we had underwater cameras. When Chino suddenly stopped, picked up a broken sand dollar, and started to fan the sand with it, my excitement rose, and I practically forgot I was under sixty feet of water. We all hovered over Chino, anticipation climbing. He'd fan for a few seconds, let the cloud of sand and debris settle, move the detector over the spot, fan again. I dug out my camera and zoomed in on him just as his arm shot up, thumb held high.


  The next thirty minutes were magical, as we spread out along the bottom and did our own fanning after the detector picked up a signal. Jan and I worked together, and we were the ones who found what looked to be a cannon ball encrusted in hundreds of years of sea gunk.

  Chino found a cannon.

  Kazoo and Moto found another.

  Ka-ching!

  I didn't want to surface. Ever. I could have stayed down there forever, or so I thought. Chino thought otherwise, pointed to his dive watch and computers, and steered us back to the anchor chain, where we reluctantly started our ascent.

  A medium sized shark swam by, and I waved!

  "Jan, we're gonna be rich! And we don't even have to sneak back down there and steal those cannons." We were in my cabin after dinner, polishing off a bottle of wine and celebrating our success. Both of us were so stoked, it wasn't until about then we realized how tired we were.

  Jan yawned. "Like we could. Might I remind you they weigh a ton, and Chino says we'll have to bring them up with that big old winch thingy on the back of the boat."

  "Winch thingy? That a new technical term?"

  "You know what I mean. So, does this mean we don't have to do that night dive for the vase?"

  "Nope. We still gotta have it. I see no reason to let the Mexican government glom on to my find. We'll get a piece of the action on the cannons, but that Ming might bring big bucks. I'll get a bigger boat. You can buy Chino his own whale. Jenks and I can stop working and be together for a change."

  "Or, we could go to jail, like, forever."

  "Nah. So, when can we get rid of Chino and the gang for a night? Have you come up with any ideas yet? After today I'm sure we'll make that dive just fine all by ourselves."

  "Not me. We've never done a night dive."

  "I'm gonna remedy that. Moto and Kazoo take off every night for fresh sushi fixin's, and I'm gonna get us an invite. You work on getting everyone off the boat for one night and we'll be golden."

  Jan yawned again. "I'll come up with something. I gotta get some sleep. Tomorrow I go back to being a bookkeeper for a day instead of my moment as Jackie Cousteau."

  "Speaking of which, how are we doing, financially?"

  "Not all that hot. Even with all our free labor, expenses are eating us alive. We spent a lot on equipment, even with your careful shopping. We've blown through almost half of Ishi's money, and Chino was only able to get another twenty-five grand from the Mexican government. At this rate, we'll only last another month and a half."

  "I have a little I can throw in, maybe ten grand."

  "How generous of you," Jan said sarcastically. "Is that before or after you steal the vase."

  "You wound me. Before. I have some bucks put away. How about you? And Chino's family?"

  She shook her head. "Chino and I tapped out everything we had to refit the boat into livable shape. Tanuki had gutted the entire living quarters level, evidently planning to retrofit the area into a whale canning factory."

  "Just as well. Made for us having much larger cabins. So, I guess I'll have to cut Po Thang's rations?"

  "Nah. Abuela Yee is providing meals two days a week so Rosa can have those days off, and Chino's family's contributing what they can, mostly fresh fruit and veggies, but we are definitely a low-budget operation when it comes to treasure hunts."

  "We could use some investors, but investors in what? This ain't no Atocha we're looking for. Maybe we'll find more cannons, but everything of real value goes to the government. Except my vase, of course."

  "And it'll probably take years to get any money out of it."

  We'd done some snoopery into selling ill-gotten artifacts, and realized it wasn't quite as easy as listing the vase on eBay. We had to be very careful, or we'd find ourselves in deep ca-ca. "Did you take care of the paperwork?"

  "Yep. Somehow that vase find got lost in a morass of Mexican bureaucracy. By the time it gets found, we'll have a lot of gray hair."

  We gave each other a high five, then Jan lost her smile. "I feel guilty, though. Chino is so honest and trusting, and here we are...."

  "Dishonest and untrustworthy? Damn right we are. In the end, it's for Chino's own good. You know damned well someone in Mexico City will end up rich on this deal, and Chino won't get squat. So why shouldn't we take out a little insurance?"

  "I know you're right. But...."

  "No buts. Now, get some sleep and try to come up with something to get everyone off the Nao de Chino for one lousy night."

  Jan handed me the salt shaker at breakfast and whispered, "Mother's Day."

  What is scary is that I knew exactly what she meant. Mother's Day in Mexico is huge, and all the Mexicans on our ship would want to spend time with their mothers, wives, and grandmothers. Jan and I would graciously volunteer to man the boat. All we had to do was get rid of our Japanese buddies, as well, and we'd have Nao de Chino all to ourselves long enough to grab the vase.

  Maybe even in broad daylight, which was a good thing because no amount of hounding had gained us an invite to join Kazoo and Moto for their nightly dive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Po Thang's chip, along with the animal cam I'd also requested from Craig, finally arrived. Chino hadn't implanted the chip as yet because Po Thang rarely left the ship, and when he did it was only to roam remote beaches where chances of him getting nabbed again were slim. Also, he now took to swimming with us when we dove, so Chino decided to not do anything right away, fearing even the slight incision might become infected.

  We took a dark blue rubber raft with us for Po Thang to climb up on when we were down on a dive, just in case he got tired, but he seemed tireless. He could easily dive down six or seven feet and retrieve a shell or a toy, so sometimes when we surfaced there would be a pile of his treasures on the raft. If we ever found anything of value in shallow water, I decided I'd just send him down and save myself the trip.

  I looked into getting him his own scuba equipment, and found it was possible, but extremely expensive. He'd just have to be content with paddling his way through the dog days of summer.

  The great Mother's Day heist was fast approaching.

  Fabio was taking three days off and going to Ensenada to be with his wife and mother. Chino's family planned a two-day reunion at Abuela Yee's house, so that got rid of him, Rosa, and the two cousins. All we had to do was figure out how to get Moto and Kazoo off the boat for a guaranteed two hours or so while we made the dive and snatched the vase.

  Meanwhile, I was still scheming to do in Dickless, but with less enthusiasm since I now felt that, after the summer, I'd take Raymond Johnson back to the States, and away from the SOB. Then I'd sell the vase, and hire a hit man to do the deed, since that rat Nacho wasn't returning my calls.

  After the cannon and cannon ball finds, we hadn't made anymore discoveries, but had tightened the search area to where we found both them and the vase. The vase was a quarter mile from the other finds, but Chino put that area on hold for the moment, which was fine with me.

  Keeps away anyone more dishonest than I.

  As it turned out, the Japanese divers already had plans for the weekend. They left in a panga at dawn on Mother's day, taking camping gear, dive tanks, and enough food for a two day campout a few miles south, on the Pacific side of the bay. They'd heard of abalone there, and promised to bring us some.

  "Okay," I said to Jan as we waved goodbye to the last crew member, "let's roll."

  "Ya know, Hetta, we are about to break every single, solitary, expedition rule."

  "And when did we start caring about rules?"

  "Like, never?"

  Preparing to break rules is hard work. Disregarding Chino's hard and fast policy, NEVER LEAVE THE MOTHERSHIP UNATTENDED, was unavoidable, as I didn't dare move Nao de Chino over the vase, then try to move back. Someone was sure to notice.

  We spent a couple of hours preparing for our snatch, taking care to load the panga with a net, basket, and line for bringing up the vase, then repac
king our rebreathers, and making sure our conventional canisters were full. The dive itself would not take nearly as long as the prep, but that was normal.

  Leaving the ship's workhorse—a twenty-foot panga with a 60-hp Johnson outboard—on the surface unattended was also a no-no, so we figured Po Thang left on guard got us around that one.

  Chino had carefully photographed the vase, then reburied it, but we knew where it was, and the GPS coordinates told us where to anchor the panga so as not to drop ten pounds of steel smack on top of our future fortune.

  "So, the way I figure it, a vase that size, packed with sand, has got to weigh a lot, but with the basket and net, bringing it up should be no problem. I'm not even going to try carrying it to the surface. We'll haul it in with the net's line once we get back into the panga."

  "Good plan. You got the package ready?"

  "You betcha."

  "Okay, then, let's do it."

  Po Thang whined and paced when we went over the side, but I told him to stay, and by some miracle, he did. We also attached and floated his raft nearby, just in case his little doggie mind forgot he was supposed to stay put. Getting himself over the water-slicked gunwales of the panga was beyond even his magical canine talents, even though he'd tried over and over, only to slide back into the water.

  We just followed the twenty-foot panga's anchor line down, as I was afraid we'd dislodge the anchor if we pulled ourselves to the bottom using the rope. The water was clear, and Jan and I were comfortable by now with the equipment, if not the idea that we were out here on our own for the first time on a sixty-foot dive.

  I heard Jan make a noise and turned to see her pointing to a large school of sardines, their silver sides whirling in the blue as if in a kaleidoscope. We hovered and watched for a few seconds before remembering we were international artifact thieves on a mission.

  We located the vase site easily, since the small white flag Chino planted was still there. Digging the vase out was harder and took more time than we thought it would, as the sand kept collapsing back into the hole. Finally we managed to run two lines under it, lifted one end and began working the net around the base, one inch at a time.