What Lies Beneath: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 10)

by Scott Cook

“Poetic,” I said calmly. “Real action movie stuff there, Tanner. Pak, you’re not really going to use that gun, are you? I mean… seriously?”

  Pak clenched his jaw, “Drop your rifle, Jarvis.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, ‘no’?” He asked indignantly.

  “No is a negative response denoting my unwillingness to acquiesce to your oh so polite request,” I said a little wearily. ‘Now why don’t you be a good Ph.D. and lower that weapon… or point it at one of these evil doers, for example. You’ll be much better off, I assure you.”

  “You really do have a screw loose,” Pak muttered.

  “Fuckin’ shoot the prick!” Donniker demanded.

  “No, no,” I advised. “Don’t do that… you’ll just make me mad.”

  “Come on, Pak!” Donniker snapped.

  I reached down to grab my rifle.

  “Stop!” Pak ordered. “Don’t!”

  “Pak, either shoot or lower the weapon,” I replied. “Make up your mind right now who’s side you’re on.”

  I was mildly surprised that he actually pulled the trigger. Pak hadn’t struck me as someone who was capable of killing. As I’ve explained in the past, my feeling on the matter is that most humans will have a far harder time killing another of their species in cold blood than most might believe. Once they have, however, it does become easier the next time.

  Perhaps Pak had already crossed this line in his past. His apparent hatred of black people could’ve been an indicator. He grew up in L.A. and his father had owned a convenience store. Maybe in this neighborhood there had been a few robberies committed by black folks. Perhaps Pak had even done something rash that he tried to conceal.

  Whatever the reasons behind it, Pak evidently had the grit to pull the trigger of the .45 pistol he held. Although I was mildly surprised, Pak was terribly shocked by it.

  Mostly because when the gun barked out, nothing else happened. No bullet plowed through my vitals. No shell whizzed past my head.

  “What the…?” Pak asked absently, gazing down at the smoking gun in disbelief.

  “I’m impervious to your pitiful Earth weapons,” I said casually as I brought my M4 to bear. “Are you?”

  “Blanks…” Donniker… Tanner… muttered. “Fuckin’ blanks! You idiot, Pak! You didn’t check the load on that gun?”

  “I…” Pak muttered.

  “This high-powered automatic weapon is most certainly not loaded with blanks,” I explained. “Drop the iron, Pak. Guess you’re my prisoner now, too.”

  From off to my right, I heard the sound of an engine and the crunch of tires on gravel. A moment later, two headlights arced around the stand of cypress trees and bathed us in bright light. The vehicle came to a stop thirty feet away and both front doors opened even as I recognized the SUV.

  “You boys havin’ a pow-wow?” Sharon asked as she raised her pistol.

  “I told you we should’ve grabbed some wieners,” Lisa added as she too raised her weapon.

  “Oh, that’s what you always want to do, Lis,” Sharon japed.

  “Welcome to the party, ladies,” I said. “Do I have a story to tell you.”

  “Chyeah,” Sharon chuffed. “Bet ours is better.”

  31

  4 boobs, 2 guns and a Mercedes

  Lisa’s Journal Entry 10

  There seems to be some kind of really annoying trend for bad guys not to have any I.D. on them. It’s like, they all know never to bring their wallets anywhere in case they’re caught or something.

  I hate bad guys…

  Carver was no different. No wallet, no nothin’! When the Sheriff’s department arrived, they took some pictures of the body, of course. Sharon and I did too. Both Deputy C.J. Wright and Sharon said that with good images and prints, they would be able to find out something about him in the NGI system. This system, run by the FBI, was apparently the twenty-first century equivalent of the mug books. A database of biometrics that allowed law enforcement to find people using a variety of different biological clues not just limited to prints or photos.

  We took Macey back to her house where her people were very glad to see her again. They thought she’d run off earlier that afternoon. When they reported that they’d seen a strange car around and that it had parked on their street, we went to take a look. No identification in their either. Cops lifted some prints and took the license plate number. The consensus was that the car was most likely stolen.

  So it wasn’t until well after dark that Sharon and I left Chokoloskee Island. Deputy Wright gave us a lift back to Rick’s business in Everglades City.

  “What’s Jarvis up to right now?” Wright asked as we crossed the causeway.

  Sharon scoffed, “Probably sneaking aboard an alien spaceship to confront the intergalactic emperor or some shit.”

  I chuckled, “Yeah… he’s not much of a TV watcher.”

  “Guy knows how to find trouble,” Wright observed.

  “Trouble is his business,” I tossed off. Then I laughed ruefully. “Mine too, I guess.”

  “Yeah, these two get into more crazy situations than you can imagine,” Sharon added. “Way more than me, and I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake! I used to primarily work vice on top of it, and still I don’t have like… eight or nine books worth of stories to tell.”

  Wright looked surprised, “Books?”

  “Yeah… Scott writes books about his cases,” Sharon replied. “You didn’t know that? Never read a Scott Jarvis Private Investigator novel?”

  Wright frowned and shrugged, “Now that you mention it… that sounds familiar. I think one of our guys has… mentioned something about a Florida crime adventure series or something. Course there are quite a few of those, going back to the good old days of Travis McGee… guess I should look into it.”

  “They’re… quite interesting,” I offered. “Hard to believe in some spots.”

  Wright pulled up next to my GLC and we got out and thanked him. He admonished us to try and stay out of trouble for an hour or two. He also asked that we keep him in the loop. His department already had issued a silver alert and a BOLO for Richard Eagle Feather. A BOLO, or be on the lookout, was a new term for APB they told me.

  “So now what, Jessica Fletcher,” Sharon asked.

  “Who put me in charge?” I replied.

  “Hey, I’m just a lowly police lieutenant.”

  I flipped her off, “Well, we can get in touch with Scott… kind of surprised he hasn’t called or anything.”

  “How do you know?”

  I pulled out my phone, “Because my phone hasn’t… oops…”

  “Let me guess,” Sharon said with a wry grin. “You had it on mute, didncha Stephanie Hawking?”

  I grumbled something disreputable and saw that Scott had called and sent several texts asking how we were. I looked up sheepishly and saw that Sharon was grinning at me and holding up hers.

  “Mine too,” she admitted. “He sent me a text also. Probably worried about us. Better call him back.”

  I did, and I got no answer. Figures.

  “Okay, it’s like seven-thirty,” Sharon said. “Let’s grab a bite to eat and y’know… keep our phones off mute… and then we’ll see if we can track him down if he doesn’t call. Can you find him via that friend finder app?”

  I tapped the phone a few times, “Yeah… looks like he’s in Fort Myers.”

  Okay, cool, then let’s grab a bite and then see where he is,” Sharon suggested. “We can track him down afterward. There’s a couple of great places to eat here, although some are closed already. We can hit Camellia Street Grill. Great seafood including stonies.”

  We were just paying the check when I noticed that Scott’s locator pin was beginning to move. It looked like he was on I-75 and headed south toward us. When he continued east on Alligator Alley, though, I started to wonder. Then when he stopped maybe fifteen or twenty miles into the trip, I found that odd, too.

  We were already headed north on State Roa
d Twenty-nine to meet up with I-75 and head back to Sanibel. Sharon said that we could get on Alligator Alley and head east at the intersection and be at his location shortly. I handed her my phone.

  “There’s an app on there,” I instructed her. “It’s called Icicle. Open it and tell me what you see, if anything.”

  “Icicle?” Sharon puzzled.

  “Yeah… it’s a sophisticated GPS tracker,” I explained. “One of the little perks of Scott’s other job. If he’s tracking a vehicle, it’ll show up on there. And if he is, then I’ll bet — “

  “Dollars to navy beans?” Sharon tweaked.

  I chuckled, “Yeah, right? I was gonna say my bottom dollar… that Scott’s following any vehicle you see on there.”

  Sharon twiddled with the phone and chuckled, “Sure enough. And what do you know, the locator says the vehicle is about half a mile south of Alligator Alley on… unnamed road. Oh, and look, Scott has just stopped on the north side of the Alley, probably an overlook, where this unnamed road meets it. Fascinating…”

  “Guess we’d better step on it,” I suggested, accelerating. “Because something tells me he might be in trouble or at least need the assistance of a couple of smart girls.”

  “What man doesn’t?”

  “Exactly,” I giggled. “Poor testosterone driven fools. What would they do without us?”

  “Probably flog the dolphin even more than usual,” Sharon quipped.

  You can only imagine our surprise when we turned off I-75 and onto unnamed road, rounded a cypress hammock and found three vehicles, four tied up men, Doctor Pak of all people holding a gun on Scott and Scott himself, aiming an M4 at everyone. Yeah, real shocker.

  “Welcome to the party, Thelma and Louise,” Scott said. “You remember Doctor Pak, right? Sharon’s new boyfriend? Well, I hate to break it to you, Sharon, but it turns out he’s a bad guy. A thief, a liar and even more shocking… almost a murderer.”

  He told us what had just happened before we pulled up.

  “Who are these other clowns?” Sharon asked, gently kicking one of the three black men who were kneeling in front of the fire.

  “These fine utes are Stick, B.B. and Diesel,” Scott announced.

  “Did you say utes?” I intoned in a deep southern accent.

  Scott grinned, “They’re gang members of a Miami group calling themselves the Vice Squad. Ain’t that cute?”

  “Vice Squad?” Sharon asked. “Why, cuz you kids sell dope? Clever.”

  “Yes, I thought so,” Scott said. His voice was pleasant but I could tell by the look on his face that he was not pleased. Firelight flickerd in his eyes, intensifying the anger showing behind them. “This gent here is Tanner Donniker… the man who kidnapped your uncle.”

  “Tanner…” I muttered scornfully.

  “Donniker?” Sharon asked, strolling over to the white man who was standing near the fire with his hands zip tied behind his back. “Isn’t that a slang term for a dick? Fits I guess.”

  “Fuck you, bitch,” Tanner scoffed.

  Sharon smiled and then kicked him hard in the gut. The man let out a howl, doubled over and sank to his knees.

  “If I fuck you, Donniker,” Sharon said in a voice that gave me a shiver. “It’s gonna be up your ass with a gnarled stick. Where the fuck is my uncle?”

  “You… Ung… you twat…” He gasped.

  Sharon reared back for another kick but Scott stopped her with a hand held up, “Hold it, Sharon. I have a better way. First, we need to tie up the good doctor.”

  “What’re you gonna do?” Pak asked as Scott zip tied his hands and had him kneel on the ground and cross his ankles. He tied them as well.

  “I’m going to torture you one by one until I hear what I want to hear,” Scott said flatly.

  “You can’t do that!” Pak said.

  Scott looked into his eyes. From where I stood, I could see them too and I got another shiver. There was definitely cold fury in them and in his tone. It was a little scary. Seeing the amiable, gentle and humorous man I loved appear to transform. For all those pleasant qualities to fall away and leave only a cold and ruthless persona that would do whatever was required and that was attached to a body very capable of carrying it out.

  I could almost pity these men. In their world, they probably had nothing like this. Sure, the three gangsters no doubt did some very bad things. Beat the hell out of somebody, maybe killed their rivals. Even this Donniker guy probably didn’t know what it was to be a soldier. To do horrible things that were necessary for his or others’ survival. They had no concept of how dangerous Scott could be.

  It was an odd thing to watch, because this deadly man before me was one I’d rarely seen and that would never be directed at me, Sharon or anyone else he loved. It was reserved for dealing with evil. The closest I’d ever come to seeing it aimed at me was in Costa Rica when Scott had made it clear that nothing would stop him from rescuing Clay and Declan. That our former relationship… at the time… wouldn’t stop him from doing what it took and that if I got in the way or continued to back the man responsible, then he wouldn’t trust me. Not that he’d do anything, he just wouldn’t let me into his circle. Of course, I did come around and here we were.

  “I can and I will,” Scott said coldly. “And we’re going to start with Donniker, here. Sharon, please guard these men. Lisa, can you look in the truck and the Cadillac SUV and see if there’s any water and possibly a rag? Oh, and please lower the tailgate of the truck. Some rope would be nice, too.”

  I moved off. Behind me, I heard Donniker protest and a sharp smacking sound. When I saw Scott leading Donniker around to the back of the pickup truck, his nose was gushing blood.

  “I found a couple of gallon jugs of water,” I said. “A couple of rags and a length of line, too.”

  “Good,” Scott said. “Give me the rope first.”

  I handed over a cheap polyurethane rope about fifty feet long. Scott smirked at it.

  “Get up and lay down on the tailgate,” he instructed Tanner.

  “Fuck you, Jar— “

  Scott’s fist plowed into his gut, although higher. Just under the sternum in the solar plexus. Tanner’s face went red and his knees began to buckle. Scott picked him up and dropped him onto the tailgate on his back. The man was unable to move long enough for Scott to wrap the line around his ankles, the tailgate and then repeated the process around Tanner’s middle. When it was done, he was secured to the tailgate and could only squirm a little.

  “Now please bring me the rag and water,” Scott instructed.

  “What are you gonna do?” Tanner asked, his voice quavering now. Only partly from the strain to his diaphragm.

  “You’re familiar with waterboarding?” Scott asked as I brought back the water and handed him the rag.

  “You can’t do that!” Pak shouted.

  “Shut up!” I heard Sharon bark. “You’re lucky that’s all he’s doing to you pack of fuck sticks.”

  Tanner snorted, “Big deal. What, you pour water on my head and that’s supposed to make me talk?”

  Scott laughed and the sound sent tingles dancing along my spine, “Tanner… it’s not like that at all. In truth, it feels like you’re going to die. Many people who have gone through this… interrogation technique… report psychological trauma for years afterward. And those were members of the CIA or the military who volunteered just to see what it was like… they knew they were in no real danger. You, my friend, are not in that group. I can drown you to death with a lot less water than is in one of these jugs. So even though you seem like a hard-headed hunk of dog shit, I’m going to ask you one more time… where is Rick Eagle Feather and who hired you?”

  “Go to hell, Jarvis!”

  Scott sighed and placed the dish rag over Tanner’s face, leaving his nose and mouth exposed. He then slowly began to pour water and soak the rag. At first, Tanner said nothing. Then Scott lowered the rag so it covered the man’s whole face, including his nose and mouth.
/>   “Lisa, please go guard those men with Sharon,” Scott said.

  I didn’t want to go, yet I sensed he didn’t want me to watch. As I turned away, I heard water trickling and Tanner’s muffled moans and maybe even a scream. I suddenly felt much colder than I should’ve with the temperature in the sixties.

  “You okay?” Sharon asked quietly as I stood next to her. “You look pale.”

  I nodded.

  Sharon reached out and put a hand on my arm, “He’s doing what needs to be done, Lisa. That’s one of his strengths. Scott can do things he hates when he needs to. I don’t know many people who have that kind of grit. Not sure even if I do. Or you. At least… we’re not quite on his level.”

  “I know, Sharon, it’s just…”

  “Disturbing,” she empathized. “You feel like you’re seeing the man you know melt away and leave something unpleasant behind. Like his true self revealed, right? But that’s not it at all, babe. It’s more like… he’s putting on a mask to cover his true self… the true Scott we love. Don’t worry.”

  Suddenly I was angry. Really angry. I was pissed off at these men because they had forced Scott into this situation. They’d brought it on themselves and hadn’t taken the opportunity Scott had offered to do things the easy way.

  I didn’t like seeing the man I loved turn so cold, calculating and even cruel. I knew it was just as uncomfortable for him and it was all these pieces of shits’ fault.

  “You fuckin’ assholes,” I growled at them. “You filthy, low-life, scum-sucking pieces of garbage… and that means you, too Pak! You bring this shit on yourselves. I honestly ought to do all of us, and especially that man over there, a favor and put a bullet in you all right fucking now! God-damn you!”

  “Take it easy, Lisa…” Sharon said cautiously.

  “Why? For what?” I almost shouted. “So we can let these fuckers go? So they can hurt more people or even be so stupid as to try and get revenge? And this little fucker here. Doctor Pak! A filthy little thief who actually tried to kill the man who was trying to save him. Thankfully Scott had the foresight to know what a cocksucker you really are, Pak. Luckily he loaded that weapon with blanks… because so help me, Christ… if we’d shown up and you’d succeeded… then I’d be the one doing the interrogating and it’d be with this!”