by Chris Niles
The men crowded around and quickly divvied up sections of the grounds for each to search. Then Shelby spun around. “Wait. Where’s Keane? Has anyone seen Tim?”
Steve ran down to the hedge, then shouted up, “His boat’s gone.”
While Kate waited on the deck, everyone scattered and searched the campground and the remaining boats.
Jodi returned with Colton.
“I don’t know, Mom. We were playing hide and seek. I was hiding behind Mick and John’s shed, but he never found me.”
One by one, the searchers returned without Eddie. Then Tony’s head jerked up. “Slothie’s tracker!” He waved Michelle over. “Get your laptop.”
Michelle sprinted down to the Knot and returned with her computer. She fired it up and opened a window to display a map of the lower Keys. A small blue dot glowed in the water, racing through the Gulf about thirteen miles north of Shark Key.
“Tim’s boat isn’t that fast.”
Kate whirled around. “Justin. Can you describe the woman you saw?”
“The one from the yellow boat? Yeah. She was gorgeous. Thick dark hair, about five-seven, red dress, amazing—”
Kate cut him off as his cupped hands were bouncing in front of his chest.
“And a huge goon was with her?”
Michelle pulled up a marine traffic tracker and found just one AIS signal in the region. Slothie’s blue dot was barreling directly toward it. The signature belonged to the R/V Andromeda, listed as a two-hundred-foot research vessel registered to a Colombian shell corporation.
Michelle’s fingers flew across the keyboard as Justin nodded. “Yeah. Dude spoke Spanish with a stutter.”
“The Rojas.” Kate’s shoulders sank.
Shelby’s hand flew to her forehead. “They took Eddie?”
“And Keane went after them. Alone.”
Kara grabbed her phone as Tony spread a huge chart on the table and calmly but quickly laid out a plan issuing orders and positioning their little team. He threw a set of keys to William, then he rolled the chart back up and stuffed it in a bin behind the bar.
“Saddle up, y’all.”
Chapter Fifty
The sky flashed, and a moment later a deep growl of thunder rolled over the sound of rain pelting the foredeck of the speedboat. In the narrow cabin, Gloria shook the stuffed sloth as the boat slammed through another swell on the choppy surface. “He’s not heavy enough. They must have—” She flipped the toy over and tried to tear at the seam near its green tag with her long fingernails. “This is the one.”
Her cousin took the toy. But when he whipped a folding knife out, the little boy screamed and launched across the little cabin, scratching and clawing at Coco. He grabbed the toy and flung it wildly, hitting Gloria’s cousin repeatedly in the face.
“Leave Slothie alone! He’s just gotten better from last time!”
Gloria winced as the boy’s shrieks filled the salon. When her cousin showed no sign of subduing the child, she grabbed the kid by the shoulders and pinned him against the bulkhead.
“Shut up.” She yanked the animal away from him and buried her fingernail in a seam, ripping the belly apart and tugging the stuffing out. “Where are they? Where are the emeralds?” She grabbed the kid by the shoulders and shook him.
His screaming turned to wails, and his red puffy face was streaked with tears.
“Where are the emeralds?”
He shrieked, his eyes darting wildly around.
“There’s no getting away until you tell me! Where are they?”
The roar of the engine subsided and the boat slowed, then finally jerked to a stop, the hull slamming against their destination. Gloria tugged the kid out into the cockpit by one arm, then yanked him up a ladder and dropped him on the wet deck aboard the larger ship. The rain peppered her back, and her red dress clung to her skin.
The boy scrambled to his feet. He turned to run, but Gloria flicked her hand at one of the guards and the man tackled the small boy, lifting him up and throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The group marched down a companionway into the cargo hold of the rusty research vessel, the rain dripping through leaks in its deck hatches, the shadowy space dotted with pale light filtering through gaping holes ripped in the upper hull.
“G-G-Gloria? Look.” Coco’s stammer snapped Gloria’s attention around as he slammed the hatch shut behind them. He lifted the shell of the soaked stuffed toy high, holding it tight in his fist. He showed her a tiny chip stitched into a seam.
She smiled. “Excellent work, Coco.” She threw the toy to the steel deck and ground her pointed heel into the little chip.
Coco turned to her. “We should go. Find another place. A safer place.”
Gloria smiled at her naive cousin. “No, this is perfect. They will be here soon.” She turned to the four guards. “Set up defensive positions along the gunwales. Bring the Irishman and the two women to me. Kill all the others.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The four of them stepped out into the blinding rain.
Gloria turned to Coco. “I know they will come. I didn’t expect the storm to move in this quickly, but it’s a good thing. The rain will cover the sound of gunfire.”
“What are you going to do, cousin?”
“I’m going to do what my father should have done years ago. I’m going to end this war the Irishman began. I’m going to kill him. But not before I make him watch me kill that double-crossing courier and the meddling blonde. I want there to be no doubt among anyone in our business. There’s no betraying a Rojas without paying the price.”
“But what about the b-b-boy?”
Gloria looked Eddie up and down. “He’s young. He’s resilient. He’s a scrapper. Bring him back home with us. We can make use of him in Bogota.”
The little boy began to scream. “I won’t go! My mama’s gonna come. My friends will save me!”
Gloria flicked her hand toward the boy. “Shut him up, Coco.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Coco crouched before the boy. “C-c-can you stop and be quiet?”
In spite of herself, Gloria’s cheek ticked up in a sly smile as she watched the boy kick his foot out and make contact. Coco rolled to the floor, clutching himself and crying out. Then she stalked over and yanked the boy to his feet. “He deserved that for leaving himself vulnerable. You have promise, little one. But right now, your only job is bait.”
She wrenched his arm high, holding his wrist between his shoulder blades, and steered him toward the door. She yanked it open, peered across the black water, and waited for the rescue party to approach.
Chapter Fifty-One
Tim Keane’s fingers burned as he gripped his boat’s wheel. The craft flew across the choppy surface of the Gulf, his aching knees absorbing every slap against the swells.
As he sped toward the wall of rain ahead, he watched the radar screen, the blip pulling further and further away. Thick drops stung his face, but he couldn’t dare take the time to put up the dodger. He pulled his hat lower and ducked his head against the thickening rain.
The celebration at Shark Key had been everything he’d hoped for when he had chosen the Keys location for his retirement home. For Elaine’s dream house. While her family was long gone, he had hoped to find a community of locals from all walks of life, enjoying a feast, talking and playing and singing together.
He’d watched as Eddie and his friend played and all the adults watched and laughed at the boys’ joy.
He’d let his guard down.
As the party grew crowded, he’d heard murmurs from the men in the crowd about the beautiful speedboat tied up on the eastern dock, but he’d thought nothing of it until he spotted Gloria Rojas Restrepo sauntering up the path in a tight red dress, her hulking cousin Coco lumbering behind her.
Keane glanced over at the cluster of his new friends. Shelby stood in the center of the group, smiling and sipping a drink. She deserved some peace.
As Keane crossed the deck, climbed down the steps and s
tarted toward his nemesis, Eddie burst from the hedge, his toy sloth tied around his neck like a superhero’s cape.
When Rojas saw the boy, she whirled. Pointed. Her cousin scooped the boy up, then they both ran back down to the dock. It only took a second.
Keane heard the roar of the speedboat’s engine as he raced toward the hedge. He reached the dock just in time to see the glamorous boat tear out into the basin. And without skipping a step, he ran to his own boat, cast the lines off, and followed.
Now, the full deluge pounded his head as he approached a rusty ship, the bright yellow speedboat rafted to its port hull. Here, outside the twelve-mile limit, Keane was prepared to give his life to rescue Shelby’s boy. He eased his own boat against the vessel, looked up the boarding ladder at the armed guard standing above him on the ship’s main deck, and began to climb.
The woman waited for him on the main deck. An armed guard nudged the barrel of his rifle toward him.
Keane raised his hands. “Gloria Rojas Restrepo.”
“Timothy Keane.” The woman’s musical voice sang a note of menace. “The Irishman.”
He stepped toward her, his hands dropping closer to his shoulders. “We can go inside and have a civil conversation, can’t we? We don’t need all this.” He nodded to her men, then glanced across the deck toward the ship’s rusting superstructure.
Was one of their team hiding behind the bulkhead? On an upper deck? On the cargo crane?
Keane had no way of knowing where the enemy lay, so he assumed they were everywhere. Rojas was nothing if not thorough in her staffing, but he also doubted she could have rousted a full team in the US in just a few days.
“Shall we?” Rojas gestured toward a hatch, then led Keane into the shelter of the crew lounge. Rain pounded the glass of the portholes, a thick dirty trickle dripped down the bulkhead beneath one of them.
Keane chose a table in the center of the room, pulled out a chair for the woman, held it for her, then sat opposite her facing the hatch. That the woman was willing to sit with her back to the hatch spoke to her trust of the men guarding her. But Keane hadn’t given her much choice. He leaned forward on his elbows.
“You had my wife killed.”
The woman’s shoulders bobbed up, and she leaned back in her chair. “Last I checked, she was still alive.”
“In body, maybe. Her heart still beats, but you know as well as anyone that she has no chance of recovery. And I hold you responsible.”
“Yet we sit here. This speaks to your weakness, Irishman. Were the tables turned, you would have been dead long ago.”
“Yet, I sit here.” He waved around the deck. “And a lovely ship it is, too.”
“What do you want, Irishman?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
She snorted. “The only reason I’m still alive is because you think I have something to offer you.”
“Perhaps that’s how you operate, killing anyone who has nothing to offer. Decent humans have a little more respect for life — even lowlifes like you — than that.”
The woman adjusted her still-damp skirt and crossed her legs, her foot twitching. “Perhaps it is you who misunderstands. I respect the lives of my family and those close to me, and I’ll do anything to protect them and make them successful. And that includes eliminating threats.”
“My wife was no threat to you.”
“Ahh, again you misunderstand. You are the threat. But without you, I have no supply chain. She was a strategic choice.”
“A choice that’s backfired on you, Gloria. How’s your father taking the news of this latest escalation? I know how much he loves when you get your hands dirty.”
“Leave my father out of this.”
“How can I? He started it, all those years ago. You simply inherited his war. Except you’re not the heir apparent, are you?”
The woman’s nose pulled tight against itself as she sucked a deep breath in, then slowly blew it out.
“No, that honor goes to your cousin Javier, doesn’t it? Your father doesn’t even respect you enough to let you have your wish once he’s gone. In fact, I think I respect you more as an adversary than he respects you as an heir.”
In the woman’s lap, her fists balled up tight, their knuckles white against her tanned brown skin. Keane fought a satisfied grin as she took his bait. Then he moved in for the kill.
“And because I respect you, I’m going to give you one opportunity to return the boy and let me leave here without a fight.” He looked up and glanced to one side, then the other. “You can return home, lay your father to rest, and put your energy into finding a new product. I will no longer stand for you to steal my emeralds, or anyone else’s for that matter. Your business here is finished.”
Rojas pushed back her chair and looked around the small room. Her men surrounded them, but Keane was resolute.
The woman shook her head, but Keane smiled, his heart steady and confident. “You could perhaps even stay here. In the U.S. Start a new life somewhere away from your family business. A new business that can be yours and yours alone. You could leave all this violence behind, if you chose to.”
“And become what? A dishwasher? A housekeeper? Without papers, you know as well as I do what would become of me.”
“You’re a smart woman, Gloria. I have no doubt you’d figure something out.”
She shook her head. “You know me better than that, Irishman. I would never abandon my family like you’re willing to do.”
As the pounding rain slowed outside, for the first time since he’d boarded the ship, Keane’s heart pounded faster and he felt his face flush.
“Where is the boy?”
Rojas laughed, but Keane watched as her eyes dropped down and to her right before she recovered her taunting expression.
Below.
As his mind began to race through potential diversions, he caught a glimpse through one of the grimy portholes of a steady light piercing the darkness just above the horizon line and speeding toward them faster than any boat he knew of.
Chapter Fifty-Two
“Andromeda at eleven o’clock, two thousand meters ahead.”
Kate adjusted her headset then lifted the infrared binoculars to her eyes. She peered into the distance as Tony’s voice crackled into her ears. Beside her, William sat in the pilot’s seat, deep in concentration, piloting Fish’s helicopter toward the blip on his screen.
“I still don’t see her.” William muttered into his mic.
Kate dropped the binoculars for a moment, scanned the black horizon, then lifted them again. The large ship’s heat signature lit up behind the lenses. “They’re running without lights. But they’re there, all right.”
Behind her, Tony was strapped into dive gear, his full face mask propped on the top of his head and dry bag slung over both shoulders. She twisted to look at him, then grabbed her side and turned forward.
He brushed her shoulder. “Here. Once I drop in, you’ll need this.”
She took the rifle.
“Find the biggest threat then work your way down from there. William will keep the bird steady, won’t you?”
“Mm hmm.”
William’s eyes stayed focused on the helicopter’s sparse instrument panel. “The storm will give me some cover, but it’s moving off to the west, and I can’t afford to hover for long, so be ready.”
“Copy that.” Tony replied. “I only need a few seconds.”
A rush of swirling wind and rain filled the cabin as Tony slid the door open and planted himself on the chopper’s deck, his feet lightly resting on the top of one skid. He pulled the face mask down, adjusted it, then spoke.
“Test, test. You copy?”
Kate nodded. Paused.
“Kate, copy?”
“Oh. Right. Yes. Loud and clear. I got you.”
She could almost hear him rolling his eyes.
“Tony, I’m sorry you—”
“There’ll be time to talk later. Right no
w, I need a sit-rep. How many men on deck? What can you see?”
Kate lifted the goggles and began to count. “Four on deck, spread out. One at the bow, one at the stern. Stationary. The two in the middle are pacing.”
“Copy. William, how close can we get?”
“I’d prefer to stay on the backside of the cloud, so maybe a mile astern?”
“One mile. Copy. Should take me about ten minutes if this new scooter is worth its name.”
As they approached, William eased the bird to the east, raised the nose and bled off some speed, then Tony pulled to his feet on the rail as William dropped the craft to a hover just a few feet above the choppy sea.
“Lower … lower … good. Catch ya on the flip side.” And in an instant, Tony grabbed Steve’s new Sea Flyer with both hands, took a giant step from the rail, then dropped below the surface. William pulled the helicopter up as Kate held her breath.
A second later, Tony’s voice burst through Kate’s headset. “All good. Dropping to thirty feet.”
Just as Kate opened her mouth to answer a loud ping clanged against the aircraft’s fuselage.
“Son of a…” William banked the bird to the east and raced away from the gunfire coming from the stern of the large boat. He wove the chopper higher and higher, zipping farther away before circling back around for a view of the enemy vessel.
“So much for surprise,” she muttered
“No worries, Kate. I’m leveling off at thirty and getting my gear set. William, see how close you can get without risking too many holes in Fish’s baby. Draw them out on deck and let’s see what I’m up against.”
“Copy that.” William eased the helicopter in a wide arc toward the ship as the storm cloud drifted away to the west.
“Kate, if you can get me a headcount, I’d be much obliged.”
“You got it.” She swept the binoculars across the water and located the vessel.
“William, once Kate’s had a good look, get out of there. Hang off their stern and see if you keep their attention.”
