The captain, still confused at the situation, struggled. He was much older than these men, but his footing was sure. Planting his feet against the deck he used the rocking of the boat to draw extra force into his legs. With a mighty shove he threw the men off balance.
The two crew members quickly found themselves against the rails.
Richards looked around desperately for a weapon. The only item he could reach was the worn Jesus rope the crewman had just untied. Its weight was substantial. Heavy knots on the rope served as a last grasp at life should a crewman fall overboard near the cutter’s arms. The saying went that if they didn’t grab the rope, only Jesus could save them. He hoped it could save him now. He knew he was fighting for his life.
The captain swung the end of the heavy rope as Rogers came at him. The final knot caught him in the face. Rogers screamed and threw himself to the ground, spitting teeth as he fell.
The knot had broken his jaw. Blood and teeth littered the deck of the dredge. Carlson came at the captain.
Richards swung the rope back to intercept him, but it was too heavy; without a long arc he could not force enough speed from the rope.
He felt the wind leave his chest and several ribs crack as Carlson drove his shoulder into his chest. The railing dug into the captain’s back. He screamed in agony as he drew in a breath to replace the one he had lost.
Carlson was quick. He dropped to the ground and grabbed the captain’s ankles, one in each hand. With one swift move he lifted the man off of his feet and swung him over the rail and into the full hopper.
Captain Richards did not struggle in the slurry. He couldn’t. Earth and rock mixed with water – it was too thick to swim in, and too watery to stand on. Captain Richards sank quickly to the bottom of the hopper, drowning in the earth that he had helped reclaim.
# # #
The ride back to Master Key had jolted every last bit of energy out of him. Steve’s arms burned from swimming and the cut on his leg still ached. Without hesitation, Steve vowed to get into better shape should he survive this vacation. Once he had rested.
They skirted the central island until they found the cove adjacent to their villa and beached the wave runners in sight of the hammock. The lights were on inside. After a quick discussion, they determined that neither could remember if they had left them on.
“It might have been me,” Steve said as he let the water drip from his shorts. He was certain that neither his cell phone nor driver’s license would ever work again. And despite the tropical climate, he found himself beginning to shiver.
“You never were very green, Steve. I told you to try harder.”
“This from the man who throws out artificial Christmas trees.”
“They are really hard to get back in the box. It’s worse than folding a map.”
“If I left the lights on, there’s a good chance I left the back door unlocked.”
“With my whiskey in there? What if someone broke in?”
Steve dropped to the ground and pulled Paul with him. One of the island’s electric golf carts whirred up the path beyond the villa.
The cart passed without incident. The security guard at the wheel had looked bored.
“They don’t seem to be looking for anyone. I think we’ll be okay.”
“Shouldn’t we have flagged him down?” Paul asked.
“No, I want to talk to Baxter about this. I don’t really trust Savage’s little private army.”
“Good point. But they’re going to want to talk to us if we try walking into the party this wet.”
Steve nodded at Paul and rose slowly to his feet. They ran, doubled-over to the villa’s patio door, and stopped. They heard nothing. They saw nothing inside. Steve tried the door. It opened smoothly.
Again they waited and listened. They heard nothing but the hum of the kitchen appliances. They crept inside.
Steve moved toward his room. “Don’t turn any other lights on. Change and meet back out here. If you want to talk to me come get me. Don’t yell.”
Paul strode into his own room. His luggage was still packed and on the bed. His suitcase was open and he tore into the largest of the cases. Inside a plastic case was what he was looking for – an extra clip for the XD. He pulled the gun from his waist, dropped the expended clip, and drove the fresh clip in. It was longer and held an additional three rounds of .45 ammo. He raked the slide and placed it on the bed.
He dumped a box of rounds onto the bed and began to fill the empty clip. It wasn’t easy. The spring of the new weapon was still stiff, and the skin on his fingers had become waterlogged and pruned. “I spent too much time in the tub.”
# # #
Steve stripped. Every layer of clothing struggled to stay on his body. His undershirt stretched as he tugged on it, and he had to tear it off his chest. He could feel the grit of the sand grind against his skin.
His suitcase sat unpacked, and he stared at it, sitting there on the bed with the shotgun lying next to it. He moved to the closet where his garment bag was hung. The tux inside was a rental. On such short notice there was no way to get one made. Paul had taken care of it.
The dinner was a black tie affair and as he tried to brush the salt from his skin he thought it odd that he would now be dressing to the nines. They were running for their life, and to be on the safe side they had to dress the part of the super-spy simply to avoid attention.
He pulled the tux from the bag, but left the shoes on the hanger. Since prom, he had vowed never to wear rented shoes again unless bowling was involved.
He pulled a pair of highly polished Skechers from his suitcase. They were casual, but could pass for tux shoes as long as no one looked at them. They would be easier on his feet than the rental, and he figured that the rubber soles may come in handy.
His thoughts turned back to Savage. There was no way to tell if it was Savage alone, some of his men, or the entire security force that now had it out for him. Was he acting with the “environmentalists”? It was obvious to Steve that even eco-terrorists weren’t this well trained or armed. It had to have something to do with his island, but he had no idea what it could be.
Steve looked back at the shotgun. He would talk with Baxter. But he wouldn’t trust him.
TWENTY-TWO
More guards had entered the room where Katherine sat huddled with the other hostages. There were now two dozen total, each wearing the same black outfit and carrying the same menacing machine gun. The hostages had not been approached or spoken to since they were placed in the conference room. The guards had just stared through black eyes from behind the hoods.
But something had changed – they were now talking to each other. One of the new men leaned close to one of the original guards, murmuring softly. Katherine could not make out the words. With the masks covering their mouths she could not even read their lips.
The posted guard looked back at the hostages. He let his rifle sling to his side and approached them. He lifted his palms to indicate that they should stand.
The hostages hesitated. A shot rang out behind. Another guard had fired his pistol into the plaster ceiling. Debris filtered down. The guard fired a second shot, and the first guard gestured again.
The crowd rose on unsteady feet.
The commanding guard drew his rifle back. The other men in black moved in amongst the crowd and separated them into groups of four.
Vinnie held close to Katherine and Brittany, placing himself between the girls and the guards. Brittany gasped as one of the kidnappers approached their group. Vinnie reached back and grabbed her hand.
Once the groups of four were formed, the armed men began to lead them out the door. Vinnie Carlito tried to position himself, the girls, and another older man to be the last group out the door.
He offered a hand to the older gentlemen who was breathing heavily and looked to be in pain. It was an act of courtesy and concern, but at the same time it allowed Vinnie to stall, making his group as the last in line. The apprehensio
n in the group had oddly waned over the last couple of hours. Now it returned.
Two guards escorted each group through the hotel.
Katherine wondered, like everyone, where they were going and what these men wanted. It was silly to try and stop the island project’s progress now. All but one island was completely reclaimed. Did they seek revenge for what they saw as a crime against nature?
She found herself standing closer to Vinnie. His identity was still in question, but he seemed to have their best interests in mind.
Did he know Steve? Was it just a miscommunication? Steve and Paul had come at the last minute. Perhaps Vinnie did work for Steve.
No. She shook her head more confused than ever. His name was not in the file. She had memorized the guest list and the only surprises were Steve, Paul, and the terrorists that now led them down a dark hallway.
# # #
They walked the grounds trying to be as cautious and inconspicuous as possible while wearing elegant evening wear. Steve was already thankful for the Skechers. They hid the sound of his footsteps.
Paul touched the USP in his waistband to reassure himself it was still there. In addition to the gun, he’d pulled a full clip from Savage’s body; which he’d stowed in his jacket pocket.
Steve kept the smaller XD in his trouser pocket. Its size made it easy to slip in; its weight made it a challenge for the trousers’ built-in belt. Steve found himself constantly adjusting, trying to compensate for the pistol’s heft.
Bare paths and dim lights were all that met them on the walk to the hotel. They had seen no other guards since the ones by the villa. They heard no voices. They may have been responding to a call from Savage’s men, but the lack of activity made little sense.
The hotel was well-lit and quiet. Steve and Paul stopped just across from the entrance. Steve pulled the itinerary from his jacket pocket.
“They should be in a place called the Amber Room. Some formal dinner.” Steve said.
“And, undoubtedly another lecture from the King of Creativity.”
“I’m sure we’re on the guest list. We could just walk in.”
“If you trust Baxter, but you don’t.”
Steve nodded, “We can’t be sure he didn’t order Savage to kill us. Any ideas?”
Paul thought for a moment and came up with nothing. “I’m all out of great ideas. I did the runaway boat thing, tackling you off the other boat, and sticking a gun in your back. Anything I think of now might get us hurt.”
“I don’t know what else to do. We have to talk to Baxter. If Savage was acting on his own, Warren shouldn’t be upset that we killed him.”
“You killed him. I just shot him.”
“Either way, it shouldn’t matter. He’ll call in the cops and get it taken care of.”
“Fine. So what’s the plan?”
# # #
They approached the large doors of the Amber Room. Inside they could hear music. Steve pushed open the door. A sea of men in black ties and women in their finest gowns milled about the room. They were celebrating.
Steve scanned the crowd for Katherine. He couldn’t find her but wouldn’t be surprised if she had decided to skip the party and rest.
A hand landed on Steve’s shoulder. His stomach knotted. Just walking in hadn’t been the best idea. Bennett turned to face the man with the hand. Warren Baxter’s grin was bigger than he had seen it all day. Steve could see his reflection in the old man’s teeth.
“Steve, my boy! I’m so glad to see you here. You don’t know how happy I am. I trust everything went well on the island.”
Steve felt his muscles relax. He hadn’t realized that he had quit breathing. He didn’t figure that he would ever enjoy seeing the corny old man’s smile. He sighed. “We need to talk, Mr. ...”
Warren stopped him with the wave of his finger.
“Warren,” Steve continued.
“Absolutely. I’m thrilled you’ve joined us here tonight. You must have a million questions. But, I’m afraid our conversation must wait. I’m about to break the big news. The real name of this place.”
“It’s important.”
“Not as important as this.” Warren gestured to the podium. “I’m sure you have a ton of questions. Savage obviously didn’t have time to fill you in on everything. We’ll talk after I start the real party.”
With this Warren Baxter sauntered off towards the podium. Ever the showman, he stood behind the mic and bellowed. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to our new nation.”
“ImagiNation.” Paul said mockingly.
“The Liberated States of America.”
The room erupted in applause.
Steve and Paul spun to the face the podium in time to see a drape behind Baxter collapse to the ground. A large map behind him displayed the islands. They had seen the image a thousand times in the countless pieces of literature in the prospectus, on the web site, in their luxury hut. But, now, across the islands were the words that Warren Baxter had just spoken. The Liberated States of America.
“This is the eve of the birth of a nation. A great nation. A nation without poverty. Without crime. A nation built by all of us from the ground up. A nation created like no other to be the greatest nation in the world. The L.S.A.”
“The L.S.A.?” Steve whispered.
“It does sound better than ImagiNation.”
“What’s going on?” Steve looked around again for Katherine. Did she know about this? Where was she?
Baxter continued. His genuine enthusiasm replaced the false grins he had been putting forward over the course of the day.
“The Liberated States of America is the realization of all our dreams; and tonight we are here to celebrate what we have accomplished – what we have built together. A perfect nation. A perfect world. An independent state that will grow on our ideals. A nation that will prosper without the burden of common men. What freedoms have been taken from us are now ours again. What restrictions have been imposed on us are now lifted. This is our country, ladies and gentlemen. And, we will only share it with those who we see fit. In one week we will secede from the Union. Remove ourselves from the United States and become one unto ourselves.
“Accountable to no one. Answering to no man. We will rule ourselves as we wish to be ruled. On your own island, there shall be only your law. It is your land. No one else’s. But we shall share in the prosperity of the L.S.A. This paradise will better Disney World in attraction. The casinos will rival Las Vegas in the take. And we all shall share in the windfall.”
The rhetoric went on. Baxter promised everything: peace, prosperity, security, leisure, and more. He didn’t read from a teleprompter or deliver a rehearsed speech. He spoke with passion. It was frightening.
“Holy crap, Baxie is the evil mastermind behind this.” Paul tried to whisper but was too stunned. The applause drowned out his words.
Steve could hardly speak. “I can’t believe this.”
“Actually, it makes sense. I mean he’s got a giant map and everything.”
“How could...?” Steve trailed off.
Steve had turned ashen. Paul put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Steve, it’s okay. It’s not like you fell for this. You’re not a part of it. It was your...oh, right.”
Steve shrugged Paul’s hand from his shoulder. “Let’s try and find Katherine and get out of here.”
They started to move through the crowd. Steve peered into the traitorous cliques, trying to spot Katherine’s long dark hair.
Baxter was lost in his own fervor. The crowd wailed in approval as he struck the podium. Even with the microphone, Baxter had to shout to be heard over the cheers of the crowd.
The large doors to the Amber Room opened once more. Baxter didn’t miss a beat. “And our island nation shall be secure. Thanks to our Secretary of Defense, General Richard Savage.”
Steve and Paul crouched a half a foot each. They slowly rose to hide the conspicuous movement. They couldn’t see Savage clearly. They did catch
glimpses of the stringy dark hair and the crimson scar. It burned furiously as the man made his way to the stage.
Steve and Paul could not picture Savage saying anything they wanted to hear. They backed against the wall and began to look for a door. The crowd’s pats and handshakes slowed Savage’s movement; Baxter continued to praise the man.
Steve and Paul found a door and stumbled into a long hallway.
“You said he was dead!”
“I’m a drunk, Steve. Not a doctor. I thought he was dead. His arm kept doing that floppy thing.”
They ran down the hallway and tried to put as many corners between themselves and the party as they could.
“What the hell vacation did you put us in?”
“Me? This wasn’t my idea. It was Campbell’s.”
Steve stopped. Paul realized he was running alone and turned.
“What’s wrong? Let’s go. Killer behind us, remember?”
Steve spoke slowly and quietly. “Was this my dad’s idea?”
“What?”
“This whole thing. Was he one of the founding fathers?”
“Steve, now is not the time.”
“Was he a traitor?”
“No, he was a Canadian; so not a traitor. Look. I’m sure that not everyone who put a penny into this paradise was bent on starting a nation. Your father had to be one of the innocent ones. Right?”
“I don’t know who my father was?”
“Daddy issues later, please. Armed men are trying to kill us. We have to find a way back to Key West.”
Paul reached out, grabbed Steve’s lapel, and tugged at him with his free hand. Steve snapped out of his daze and realized that Paul was holding the pistol. He dug into his own pocket for the XD. Despite the streamlined gun, it caught on the fabric and he had to wrestle with two hands to get it out.
It finally came free from his pocket.
“Let’s go.”
They ran down the hall. It seemed to stretch on forever.
Tortugas Rising Page 12
