Tortugas Rising

by Benjamin Wallace

  “Steve.” She wasn’t whispering anymore. It was of no use.

  The black clad figure stood above them on the hill of the beach. The barrel of his weapon was trained on Bennett. A slight shake of the gun indicated that the man wanted them back on the island.

  Steve dropped his head in surrender and gripped the side of the boat until his hand turned white. Mud oozed from the lines of his palm. He whispered frantically. “Go, go, go, go!”

  The wail of the Sea-Doo drowned out his voice.

  Shock caused hesitation, and the gunman stumbled to find the trigger. The delay was enough for the water-jet to force the boat into motion.

  Steve strangled the rail of the craft and tried to lift himself as far out of the water as possible. It wasn’t far enough. The drag on his body turned the craft back toward the island as the water forced him below the surface.

  There was a banging; he wasn’t sure if it was gunfire or parts of his body being forced into the hull. His heels danced below the waterline. He gasped for air; water rushed into his mouth and forced its way into his lungs. He coughed and tried desperately to breathe as he strained his arms to pull himself free of the water’s grasp.

  Bullets chased after the fast-moving craft, but the gunman’s window was short and his balance was off. Earth dug from the Intracoastal Waterway mixed with the pounding of the surf did not make for sure footing.

  The jet-boat quickly turned the bend. The black boat was in the water and throttling up.

  Steve suddenly found himself able to breathe and it was only then he realized that the boat had slowed. A hand touched his. He looked up to see Katherine motioning him into the boat.

  “They’re coming!”

  Steve pulled himself over the side as she tugged at his shirt and shorts to help drag him in. With his feet still in the water he shouted at her, “Go!”

  The sudden lurch of the Sea-Doo rolled him on the floor of the sun deck as the craft accelerated.

  A series of coughs drove the seawater from his lungs. The sensation made him dizzy and he struggled to focus.

  “They’re right behind us,” Katherine yelled as she wrestled the wheel back and forth to dodge bullets she could not see.

  Steve pulled himself into the passenger seat and looked aft. The dark boat was gaining. Fast.

  “Keep turning! Stay out of the main channel. I don’t think we can outrun them!” Steve fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. The touch screen remained dark. He rubbed its glass facing against his wet shirt and tried it again. “My phone is soaked. Where’s yours?”

  “There’s no service here.”

  Frustrated, Steve shoved the iPhone back into his pocket. It was the one purchase he had actually enjoyed making with his father’s money.

  With every turn the nimble Sea-Doo pulled away from its pursuers, but with every straightaway they lost ground.

  “This isn’t good.” Katherine screamed back at him. Her piloting skills were amazing. Though he was being tossed about the cockpit, Steve never felt that the craft was out of control. She was amazing; but it wasn’t enough.

  Katherine veered again into another tributary of the main channel. The primary causeway would take them to Master Key and the rescue of ImagiNation’s security forces. But, out-powered, they had no way of staying in the channel for more than a short distance. If they weren’t turning they were losing the chase.

  Steve tried to stand and put a hand on her shoulder, “I have an idea. Head into the main channel.”

  “They’ll catch up.”

  “Right. Trade places with me and hold on tight.”

  Katherine didn’t budge. “Have you ever driven a boat like this?”

  “No. But Paul made me rent a jet ski a few months ago.”

  She stared at him but did not take her hand off the wheel.

  “Trust me.”

  Gunshots spouted geysers behind them. The dark craft was close. Only her erratic turns kept the gunfire from being lethal.

  Katherine turned into the main channel and pointed the boat at Master Key. She let go of the wheel and traded places with the man she barely knew and put her life in his hands.

  “Hold on tight,” Steve crashed down in the pilot seat and gripped the throttle. It was already pushed to the stops, but he pushed it harder pleading for every bit of speed the engine had in it.

  The shots came closer and Bennett swerved to cause a sway in the wake that would hopefully throw off their pursuers’ aim. He straightened and pulled closer to the left bank of the channel.

  The dark craft gained. Every moment brought their pursuers closer. The boat settled into the wake of the smaller craft and pushed the twin engines of the boat to overtake the smaller craft.

  “Hold on, Katherine. They’re almost on us.”

  The dark craft loomed behind them for only a moment. They had jumped Steve’s wake and run wide, but quickly pulled alongside the jet-boat.

  “Steve!” She could see the barrel of the gun pointing right into the cockpit of the Sea-Doo. Bennett was watching the other side of the boat. There it was.

  Bennett cranked the wheel and reversed the throttle. The nose of the boat dove into the water throwing Steve and Katherine into the dash; the rear of the boat continued its momentum, trading places with the bow. The jet-boat came to a stop in a distance less than the length of its hull.

  The dark and powerful boat sped past the stopped craft; the advantage of its speed turned against it.

  Bennett thrust the throttle forward and turned into the channel tributary. They had gained time and distance on their pursuers, and Steve was not about to waste it.

  Katherine let go of the handle grip. Her fingernails had cut the plastic coating, and her fingers hurt as she uncurled them. She gasped at the maneuver, knowing that the only person more surprised that it worked than her was the man behind the wheel.

  She stared at him as he watched the water before them. She reached over and touched his hand. “I can’t believe that worked.”

  When he glanced at her, she was smiling. “Me either.”

  They wove in and out around several islands before they felt confident enough to turn the engine off and listen. They heard nothing. They strained to hear the other boat’s engine, but it seemed clear they had lost it in the chase. The Sea-Doo drifted, the gentle slap of the waves against the hull was the only sound. Steve reached for the key to restart the ignition.

  The faint sound of a distant engine piqued their ears. It grew louder.

  Steve scrambled to turn the key but lost it in his panic. He padded around the dashboard trying to find it.

  The approaching engine roared and the boat came around the corner of the nearby island. Steve focused and found the key, but, before he could turn it, the boat was upon them and slowing.

  It was different. Smaller. The boat drifted next to the jet-boat and the engine died. He had seen it and others like it at the dock – an ImagiNation water taxi. A figure appeared in the canopy’s opening.

  “You know boats are surprisingly easy to hot-wire.”

  “Paul! Thank god you’re... you stole a boat?”

  “You left me alone. I needed something to do.”

  “Is there a radio in that thing?”

  “Yeah, but I think we’re too far from Key West to get FM. And, you two look like you’re doing fine without the soft music.”

  Steve hadn’t even noticed that Katherine had grabbed his arm when they first heard Paul’s boat. “Call security! We’ve been shot at.”

  “Get in the boat.” Paul’s constant smirk vanished. With the order given, he disappeared into the cabin.

  Steve jumped into the ImagiNation water taxi, and helped Katherine aboard. As she boarded he asked, “Can you work the radio?”

  “Yes.” She moved forward to the cabin.

  “Who shot at you?” Paul moved from one side of the passenger craft to the other, peering into the now black night.

  “Don’t know. They dressed in black, shot gu
ns, and didn’t give their names.”

  Katherine studied the radio and flicked the power switch several times. “Nothing. The radio is dead. Almost as if it’s shorted out.” She turned to Paul. Paul could feel her stare. Steve was glaring as well.

  “Okay, so, maybe it’s not as easy to hot-wire a boat as I thought.”

  “Back into the Sea-Doo. It’s got to be faster than this thing. Chances are they still haven’t a clue as to where we are.” Steve ushered Katherine out of the water taxi. Paul moved forward to the cabin.

  “Now, Paul.”

  “Go ahead. Just let me get this thing moving in the other direction. Then come and get me.” He moved toward the cabin and Steve jumped back into the Sea-Doo. He waited for Paul to start the taxi’s engine, and turned the key on the Islandia. The water taxi’s engine roared and it began to move. A moment later Paul was in the water. Steve pulled alongside and fished his friend from the Gulf.

  Paul wiped the water from his face. “At the very least, we should be a little harder to hear now. Tell your girl to keep it slow, and maybe they’ll go for the noisy one.” He settled into one of the seats behind the cockpit and was quiet. But, only for a moment. “Only you could inherit a billion dollar fortune, come to paradise, meet a hot girl, and screw it all up by getting shot at. You at least did it first, right?”

  “Dude.”

  “Just asking.” His voice faded off. “Hoping. Whatever. It’s been a while for you.”

  “Just shut up and start thinking what we do if they don’t fall for your second boatman plan.”

  Paul reached behind his back and pulled a gun from a concealed holster.

  “Where in the hell did you get a gun?”

  “Academy Sports. As your Head of Security I felt I needed to be prepared.”

  “I never made you Head of Security.”

  “You never made me your Envoy to the Nudie Bar either, but I diligently fulfill those obligations at least twice a month.”

  “Put it away!”

  “Calm down, Pinko. I didn’t think you had a problem with guns.”

  “I don’t have a problem with guns. I have a problem with you having a gun.”

  Paul tucked the gun back into the concealed holster. “It’s not like I didn’t practice with it.”

  “Don’t let me see you with that again.”

  “We may need it Steve.” Katherine pointed over the windshield to where a dark craft floated silently. A searchlight pierced the dark stretch of beach, and played upon the shoreline. “They’re looking for us on the beaches. I guess they figured we’d take refuge on this overgrown island.”

  “What is this? A rainforest?” Steve stared into the dark mass of vegetation.

  Katherine shrugged, “You rich people do funny things.”

  Steve shook his head. “Turn us around. Head to the next channel. We’ve got to make it back to Master Key.”

  THIRTEEN

  The resort’s premiere restaurant stood in brilliant contrast to its island location. Fine linens covered the tables. The waiters were dressed in tuxedos, and the walls were lined with amber panels gilded with gold leaf. The Amber Room had been meticulously recreated to match the original that once resided in Catherine Palace in St. Petersburg.

  When Baxter had heard that the famous plundered treasure was being recreated in Russia, he contracted the artisans to make two – one for the palace in St. Petersburg and one for the hotel and casino on Master Key.

  It had taken more than a simple request. The Amber Room, the eighth wonder of the world, was to have been a one-of-a-kind. Baxter spent the next few years hiring away the master craftsmen working on the project. One by one he built a team to create his own “one-of-a-kind” wonder.

  Inside the room, tuxedos and black evening gowns filled, drifted, and mingled. The guests in formal attire popped like silhouettes against the luminescent walls. Even those representatives of the absentee investors were in their finest, as they mingled around the room expanding their networks and drinking heavily.

  A string quartet played. Waiters and waitresses made their way among the crowd, holding aloft silver platters filled with the finest foods and gold crested flutes, pausing long enough only to serve, never to eavesdrop or observe.

  Warren Baxter surveyed the room from the corner. Rick Savage stood close by with a radio headset that squelched in his ear.

  Baxter smiled broadly; the power he had gathered in the room was amazing. Before him stood a group that represented an impressive percentage of the world’s wealth and influence. He had done it.

  Captains of industry, masters of finance, entrepreneurs, and visionaries milled about, basking in the glow that was the Amber Room and ImagiNation.

  He studied the crowd.

  A frown grew across his face and he spoke, interrupting Savage’s conversation. “I don’t see Mr. Bennett or his associate.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “I want them here.” Baxter said.

  “We don’t know where they are.”

  “What do you mean? Everyone was to have a discreet escort.”

  “Everyone had an escort. Bennett was last seen with Ms. Bernelli. Nelson gave his escort the slip.”

  “The slip? Him? They must be somewhere on Master Key.”

  “Bennett left on what appears to be a personal tour. And then Nelson stole a boat,” said Savage.

  “Stole a boat?”

  “Borrowed will most likely be the story.”

  “Find them and get them back here.” He gestured to the gathering. “They simply must see this.”

  Savage glared and turned back to his radio. It squelched again; he listened intently. He turned back to Baxter, “I think we found them.”

  “Get them here.”

  The security chief did not run for the door. He never ran. Running conveyed panic. He nodded at Baxter’s request and started to walk toward the doors.

  “Chief Savage.”

  He stopped.

  “It seems it would be worthwhile to keep a better eye on Mr. Nelson.”

  Savage nodded again, turned, rolled his eyes and left, barking commands into the radio as he made his way toward the docks.

  # # #

  They drifted away from the searchlight until they felt it was safe to run the engine. It wasn’t until then that any of them felt it was safe to talk.

  “They fell for it. My brilliant plan worked.” Paul peered into the darkness behind the boat.

  “Yeah, who’d of thought hot-wiring a boat would end up being a good thing? What the hell were you thinking?” Steve surveyed the quiet coastline of a nearby island.

  “You’re going to give me crap for this? You have a boatload of masked gunmen after you and I’m the one that made an error in judgment?”

  Steve glared at his friend, “You’re going to get us kicked off the island.”

  “It’s your island, Steve. Didn’t you see the paperwork? Without your money these islands would still be underwater.”

  “It’s not my money.”

  Paul met his friend’s gaze. “Oh, shut up you crybaby. There are a lot worse problems to have than being so rich. I’ll give you an example: being chased by gunmen in a boat!”

  “Two boats,” Katherine’s voice pulled them from their argument. The pair stared behind them fearing that the boat they had left behind had caught up. There was nothing there.

  “Out front!”

  They spun in time to see bursts of gunfire from the front of the boat. Katherine dropped and pulled Steve to the floor. Paul fell into the water as the unmanned wheel spun free.

  The jet-boat spun wide and struck the beach of a nearby island. The engine was stuck at full throttle. Water streamed from the back of the craft as the water-jet engine forced the nose of the boat into the sand. Steve and Katherine were thrown forward in the deck seating. Steve leapt to his feet, found Katherine’s arm, and steadied her. He could not see Paul.

  “Paul?” Steve scanned the water.

&n
bsp; His search was answered with gunfire. The boat’s fiberglass hull splintered as it was raked with bullets. Bennett grabbed Katherine and pulled her onto the beach.

  “Where’s Paul?” He yelled over the shots.

  She was shaken and did not respond.

  “Run!” The voice was faint but Steve heard Paul yell the warning as the gunmen’s boat beached up shore from their location.

  Grabbing Katherine by the hand, he led them over the shoreline and into the island.

  # # #

  The water was warm but the sudden impact with the ocean had shocked Paul. He floated under the channel for only a moment before he swam for the surface.

  The Sea-Doo was beached; its engine screamed as it tried to drive the boat further onto the sand; the back end swayed back and forth in the shallow water.

  The black craft that had opened fire was turning towards the land. He grasped at the small of his back and retrieved the gun. Miraculously, it had not come dislodged in the fall.

  Fire opened from the attacker’s boat. Fiberglass splinters floated around him. Kicking furiously he drew the slide and aimed for the closest gunman. As instructed in his weekend class, he took a breath, exhaled half of it and stopped. He relaxed, stopped moving, and quickly sank to the bottom. They had never covered firing from a floating position. He resurfaced quickly, fired a blind shot and yelled to Steve to run.

  Wiping the seawater from his eyes, he watched as Steve and his new girl ran over the breaker and toward the center of the island. Men clad in black leapt from the boat and pursued the couple. None of them seemed to be concerned or aware of him floating in the channel.

  Paul realized that they might not have seen him, and if they hadn’t found the water taxi, they might not have realized they were chasing more than two people.

  “I have an edge,” Paul whispered to himself. Land was close and he began to kick. He moved closer to the enemy boat. He didn’t know much about taking on a host of armed gunmen garbed in black, but he had seen in countless movies that the element of surprise was a powerful one. It had always worked for Michael Myers. He approached the hull of the boat.