At first, though, even this small risk seemed strange. Uncle Gord always does things the safe way.
Then I figured it out. They were here to look for three hundred milliondollars in pirates’ gold. They had spent every weekend searching in secret. They didn’t want anyone to know where they were. So why should this weekend be any different?
But it was.
Two people were on board the boat who didn’t belong there.
chapter twenty-six
I nearly fell asleep. I was standing in the locker, but the wet suits pressing against me kept me from falling. Nothing had happened for at least an hour.
It was weird. None of them had even gone into the water yet. The boat just sat in darkness. The four of them just sat without talking. If this was a search for treasure, why weren’t they underwater?
Were the four of them waiting? If so, for what?
Judd Warner had been just as quiet as the rest of us. Wherever he was hidden, he was deciding to wait too.
I nodded off. My face hit a wet suit. It woke me.
I heard the faint sound of another engine.
A boat?
A few minutes later, I decided it was an airplane.
The sound grew louder.
I decided to risk poking my head out of the locker.
Suddenly, the boat’s lights flashed on.
Then off.
Then on.
Then off. This time, the lights stayed off.
The airplane passed over us low and loud. It kept going.
I didn’t get it. What had just happened?
Whatever it was, it meant action. When I heard scrapes of movement on the deck, I pulled my head back into the locker. Good thing. The three lawyers from Miami weremoving around to get geared up. One of them passed so close to the locker I heard his breathing through the crack in the open door.
Then they were gone again. I heard splashing. One splash. Two splashes. Three. They had all just entered the water.
I pushed open the locker door just enough to see the dark shadow of Uncle Gord standing at the edge of the boat. Far away were the faint lights of the shoreline.
What was happening?
I opened the door a little further. Uncle Gord had his back to me and was looking out over the water. I tried to see past him to figure out what he was waiting for.
I saw another dark shadow move quietly behind Uncle Gord.
Judd Warner! With his pistol pointed at Uncle Gord.
I slowly pushed open the locker door.
It was all in front of me. The deck of the boat. Judd Warner standing behind Uncle Gord. Uncle Gord looking into the water. And the black, black ocean beyond.
“Hands behind your back,” Judd said in a low voice.
Uncle Gord started to move.
Judd stepped forward and pressed his pistol against Uncle Gord’s back.
“Hands behind your back or I pull the trigger.”
Slowly, Uncle Gord put his hands behind him.
Slowly, I stepped out of the locker. With the loaded speargun in my hand.
“Good,” Judd Warner said to Uncle Gord. “It’s a lot easier taking you before those three gorillas get back on the boat.”
I heard a click. Judd Warner had just handcuffed Uncle Gord’s wrists together.
I raised my speargun. The safety was still on, but Judd didn’t have to know that. I was afraid I might trigger the spear by accident.
“Drop your gun,” I said in a shaky voice. “I’ve got a speargun, and I’ll shoot if I have to.”
chapter twenty-seven
“You don’t know what you’re doing, Ian,” Judd said. “You’re making a mistake.”
“I’m going to count to three. Then I shoot. One...two...”
Judd bent over and set the gun on the deck.
“Now unlock the handcuffs,” I said.
“If you’ll listen to me,” Judd said. “You would know that—”
“One...two...”
Judd reached into his pocket. I watched carefully to make sure he wasn’t going fora knife. A few seconds later, he unlocked Uncle Gord.
Uncle Gord turned around.
“Ian?”
“I followed him,” I explained. “I didn’t want to tell you until I knew what was happening.”
“I owe you one,” Uncle Gord said. “Keep him covered while I get the gun.”
I pointed the speargun at Judd’s chest. Judd kept still. I couldn’t see his face in the dark. Just the outline of his body.
When Uncle Gord had the pistol in his hand, he handcuffed Judd Warner and put the key in his pocket.
“We can relax now, Ian,” Uncle Gord said, stepping away from Judd. “This guy won’t be able to do anything to us.”
“What is all of this about?” I asked. “It doesn’t look like a treasure hunt.”
“You’re smart, Ian,” Uncle Gord said. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you.”
Uncle Gord was backing away from Judd as he spoke. He kept the pistol pointed at Judd as he moved beside me.
“You want to know what this is about?” Uncle Gord said.
“Yeah,” I said. “All of this is weird. And what is Judd doing?”
“I’ll tell you in a second,” Uncle Gord said. He turned to me and in a single movement pressed the pistol against my head. “First, I want you to throw the speargun overboard.”
“Huh?”
“I’m not joking. Throw your speargun into the water behind you. Or I’ll put a neat little hole into your head.”
I was frozen with disbelief.
I heard the pistol click as Uncle Gord brought the hammer back.
I threw the speargun behind me. It splashed into the darkness a second later.
“See,” Uncle Gord said. “You are smart. Now stand beside Judd where I can watch both of you.”
This wasn’t real, I told myself. It felt like I was walking through waist-deep glue as I moved to stand beside Judd.
“Look behind you,” Uncle Gord said. “That’s your answer.”
At first, I saw nothing but black. It hurt my eyes, I was looking so hard. Finally, I thought I saw something. For a moment, I wondered if it was my imagination. It seemed like a speck of light on the water.
A few seconds later, I knew my eyes were not playing tricks on me. The speck of light glowed brighter and brighter. It was heading right toward the boat.
Then, in a flash, I put it all together. The boat sitting in the dark for an hour. Waiting for an airplane to pass overhead. Lights flashing to let the airplane know the boat was there. Something in the water, marked by a glowing light.
I didn’t want to believe it, but it couldn’t be anything else. It was a safe guess that Uncle Gord wasn’t searching for treasure on his Friday and Saturday nights.
Instead it could only be one thing.
Drugs.
chapter twenty- eight
I knew a little about it. A person can’t spend much time in Florida without knowing that smuggling and dealing drugs is big business. Florida has the wide-open ocean. It was the perfect place to move drugs into the United States. It’s against the law, of course. But that doesn’t stop people. Drugs mean big money.
My Uncle Gord. A drug dealer? Maybe pretending his business was failing so no one suspected what he was doing?
I wanted to kick myself for not seeing this earlier. For believing his three friends were lawyers. Guys who were built like football players. These were the kind of guys you wanted around if you were breaking the law. These were the kind of guys you wanted around if you were working with dope dealers who didn’t care if they murdered to make their money.
Thinking about it, I saw his plan was perfect. First, he told people they were spearfishing at night. It was easy to believe that’s why they went out on weekends. After all, Uncle Gord ran a scuba-diving business for a living.
Then, to make sure people really were fooled, he probably started the rumors about a treasure hunt himself. It was
like a lie within a lie. No one would ever guess there was a third lie within the second lie. And then the fourth lie: that his business was broke. Nobody in Florida who was a drug dealer ever looked broke. A bunch of perfect lies.
“You use this boat for a pickup, don’t you?” I said to Uncle Gord. “You make it look like business has been bad, and you’re making extra money by coming out here to pick up drugs dropped from an airplane. Those three guys went into the water to get it.”
“You’re almost right,” Uncle Gord said. “We’re anchored on the edge of the strong part of the Gulf Stream. Whatever drops from the plane will pass close to this boat. And yes, the three men are out there to look for it and pick it up.”
Splashing noises reached us. They were close to the boat now. I took a quick peek. The light bobbed in the water. I couldn’t see much around it except the heads and shoulders of the scuba divers.
“Boys,” Uncle Gord called out to them. “Come in real easy. We’ve got company. Nothing for you to worry about, but I didn’t want you surprised.”
“The FBI clown?” one of the voices called up to the boat.
FBI?
“Yup,” Uncle Gord said.
“How do we know he isn’t holding a gun to your head?” one of the other voices asked.
Uncle Gord stepped over to the control panels of the boat. He flicked on a light. It showed him clearly. His gray hair. His bushy mustache. The gun in his hand. And the cold, cold look in his eyes.
Uncle Gord snapped the light off again. “You saw enough to know I’m in charge?”
“We’re coming aboard,” came the answer.
There were more splashing sounds.
One man stepped onto the deck near us, dripping water from his wet suit. A second man. And a third. All big. Very big.
What surprised me was the fourth man. Much shorter than the other three. Where had he come from?
“What is going on?” the short man asked in an angry voice. He had a strong Spanish accent. “FBI? This was not part of our agreement.”
chapter twenty-nine
“Yes, Ian,” Uncle Gord said. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not into drugs.”
I wasn’t sure anything could make me feel better. Judd was an FBI agent and I’d put him in danger. My uncle was pointing a gun at me. Three big guys were behind him to help. And a fourth guy had come out of nowhere.
“Enough talk,” one of the big guys said.
“What difference does it make?” Uncle Gord said. “I’ve got the gun. They’re notgoing anywhere. And this is our last run anyway.”
To me, Uncle Gord said, “Cubans. That’s what we do. Help Cubans make it into the United States. We help them become citizens. We help them leave behind a terrible life.”
“Don’t buy into that,” Judd Warner said. Coming out of the darkness beside me, his voice surprised me.
“Oh, really,” Uncle Gord told Judd. “If you’re so smart, you tell Ian.”
“Not many Cubans can afford your uncle,” Judd said to me. “The man standing in front of us is a wanted criminal. He got his money by dealing drugs in Cuba.”
“Shoot this man!” the short Cuban shouted.
“Not yet,” Uncle Gord said. “I want to hear more.”
Judd didn’t say anything.
Uncle Gord pointed his gun at my chest. “Tell us what you know, Mr. FBI, or this kid dies.”
“I know it was me you were trying to kill with the broken valve on the scuba tank,” Judd said.
“Yes,” Uncle Gord said. “We’ve been onto you for a least a week. Ever since that letter came from the IRS saying your identification was phony.”
Judd frowned. “What?”
Uncle Gord ignored the question. “Plus you asked a few too many questions. We did want you dead before tonight, but it had to look like an accident. Too bad the wrong guy went down.”
“You wrecked the tank?” I said to Uncle Gord. “But, but...”
“Sorry,” he said. It didn’t sound like he meant it. “That’s the way it goes.”
Sorry? All he said was sorry? This was my uncle. My sister’s brother. The guy I had been visiting nearly every summer I could remember.
“Keep going,” Uncle Gord said to Judd. “What else do you know?”
The boat bobbed gently in the waves. A nice warm breeze crossed my face. Justa regular Florida night. It seemed unreal to be watching my uncle with a gun in his hand.
“It’s a simple way of doing it,” Judd said. “You’ve got a pilot in a seaplane who picks them up from a rowboat off the coast of Cuba. You know that airplanes are watched on radar and that it’s too risky to bring them into Florida that way. So the plane drops them into the water, and you pick them up. You hide them on the boat and bring them in. You have fake passports ready for them and you send them on their way.”
“A hundred thousand dollars,” Uncle Gord said. “Cash. Divide it four ways. That’s twenty-five grand for each of us every Friday and Saturday night.”
He shook his head sadly. “It was a great way to make money. Too bad it ends tonight. You work for the FBI. I’m sure you’ve been filing reports. Even after you’re dead, we’ll have trouble. So we decided this run is our last.”
After you’re dead? My uncle was going to kill a man?
“And by the way, Ian,” Uncle Gord said. “We’ll have to kill you too.”
chapter thirty
“After we drop the Cuban off at Key West, we’re going to the Bahamas anyway,” Uncle Gord said to the men behind him. “So on our way east, we might as well put weights on these two and let them go off the wall. That way, no one will ever find their bodies.”
I felt my knees go weak.
Off the wall.
Uncle Gord was talking about the continental shelf. For about the first three milesfrom shore, the ocean didn’t get much deeper than 150 feet. The land beneath the water was like a shelf.
But three miles out, the land just dropped away. It was like stepping off the edge of a table. Divers called it going off the wall. The ocean went from 150 feet deep to 10,000 feet. Nearly two miles straight down into deep, deep blackness.
“Good idea,” one of the men said. “No bodies, no more trouble.”
Uncle Gord handed the pistol to the closest man. “Cover me,” Uncle Gord said. “I’m going to handcuff them together. If one of them even blinks, shoot.”
Uncle Gord dug the handcuff key out of his pocket. He unsnapped the cuffs. Then he cuffed Judd’s left hand to my right hand.
“Keep covering them,” Uncle Gord said. “One of you get behind the wheel. Take the boat in so we can drop off the Cuban.”
As the boat began moving again, Uncle Gord wired a length of anchor chain to the middle of the handcuffs. The other end ofthe chain was attached to the anchor.
I kept hoping that Judd would do something to save us. I mean, he was an FBI undercover agent. Didn’t he have some kind of training?
But there was a pistol pointed at us. Judd didn’t try anything.
“How could you do this?” I said.
Uncle Gord shrugged. “Twice a week since the beginning of May. Do the math. I’m nearly a million dollars richer. I’m not going to jail, not when I’m that rich. And I can’t trust you to keep your mouth shut.”
“But I’m your nephew.”
He shrugged and taped my mouth so we couldn’t yell for help when we got to Key West.
The boat reached the docks. They kept us out of sight. They dropped the Cuban off and headed back out in the darkness.
Toward the deep, deep water. Where they were going to drop us off the wall.
chapter thirty-one
I guess the worst way to die is to see it coming. If you’re in a car accident or something like that, you don’t have time to worry.
Instead I was on a boat going thirty miles an hour, knowing that in less than ten miles I would be thrown overboard. There was hardly any time left, but there was also way too much time to think.
> I thought of everything nice I would miss. Orange sunsets. The feel of sand on bare feet, of sun on skin.
Milkshakes with Sherri.
Then I thought of how my dad had left me.
I thought of how my uncle had betrayed me too.
I thought of how Sherri had said she wanted me to be her guy.
I cried. Not sobbing crying, like a baby. But tears of sadness that the wind pushed across my face.
I was scared.
When the GypSea stopped, it took all four of them to get us into the water. Uncle Gord and the three big ugly guys.
One of them lifted me. One of them lifted Judd. And two of them lifted the anchor that was hooked to the middle of the handcuffs that held Judd and me together.
I couldn’t yell at them. My mouth was still taped shut.
Even though I had one hand free and one hand attached to the handcuff that was wired to the anchor, I didn’t try anything.
I had given up. What chance did I have? It was two miles straight down in the black water. If the anchor was so heavy it took two guys to lift, it was going to pull me and Judd down like a piano falling through air.
Judd didn’t fight either. We were just a couple of sacks of potatoes.
“We’ll toss them on the count of three,” Uncle Gord said.
“One...”
They swung once.
“Two...”
A bigger swing.
“Three!”
They let go on the third upswing. We cleared the edge of the boat and dropped through the air.
I drew one final breath through my nostrils.
Then...
Splash. Just one sound. Judd and the anchor and I hit the water at the same time.
The water was cold. We dropped in total black silence.
chapter thirty-two
We fell and fell and fell. We sank so fast that the water peeled my shirt and pants upward.
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