Mega #02 Baja Blood

by Jake Bible

  Bart and Mike gulped loudly and Espanoza turned his attention on them.

  “Mr. Stern never married, but he does have a mother living in Yuma, Arizona that will get the same treatment,” Espanoza said. “And Mr. Pearlman is a homosexual, both parents deceased.”

  Several of Espanoza’s men spat on the dock at the word “homosexual”.

  Espanoza frowned at the actions, but didn’t reprimand them. Instead, he just shook his head, looking over at Mike. “Forgive them, they come from another culture,” Espanoza continued. “I, myself, have nothing against the gays. As long as they do as they are told like everyone else.”

  He turned to a man standing off to the side. Tall, thin, with a ragged scar across his throat, the man walked over to Espanoza, leaned in and whispered into his ear.

  “Ah, thank you, Diego,” Espanoza smiled. “I have been told we have a list of some of your former lovers, Mr. Pearlman. It wasn’t easy since you did not come out as gay until after your president rescinded your country’s Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell law. But, as I have said, I am a man that understands the importance of information. It only took a little digging to find your gay friends.”

  “Fuck you,” Mike snarled.

  “I hate to break it to you, Mr. Pearlman,” Espanoza replied. “But I am not gay, so that will not be possible.”

  ***

  “Here are blankets and pillows,” Gunnar said, dropping the stack of bedding on the couch. “They can fight over who gets the floor.”

  “Don’t you have like an inflatable mattress or something?” Kinsey asked.

  “No, Kins, I don’t,” Gunnar replied. “I have a guest room instead with a very comfortable bed. But it’s occupied by a woman that figured out how to turn pancakes into flaming projectiles.”

  “You still pissed about the drapes?” Kinsey asked, planting her hands on her hips. “Or is that attitude about me staying with you? I’ve said a hundred times I’m ready to move out on my own again.”

  “No, no, sorry,” Gunnar said. “I’m just still tired, okay? I don’t want you to move out.”

  He went to her and wrapped his arms about her, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Get off me,” Kinsey said.

  “Come on, don’t be a poop,” Gunnar said. “Who’s my favorite junkie?”

  “Fuck you, Gun,” Kinsey replied, struggling not to smile.

  “Come on, say it,” Gunnar grinned, nuzzling his head against hers. “Who’s my favorite junkie?”

  “Kinsey Thorne,” Kinsey said.

  “Damn right,” Gunnar said, pushing back and holding her by the shoulders. “We cool?”

  “Yeah, we’re cool,” Kinsey said.

  ***

  Espanoza turned and watched as the last bales of cocaine kilos were loaded into the subs. He smiled as the backs of the subs were sealed up tight, leaving not a trace of a cargo area, returning them to their almost perfect whale facsimiles.

  “Remarkable,” Espanoza said. “You have done an excellent job, Dr. Morganton.”

  “Thank you,” Dr. Morganton replied quietly. “I have one more adjustment to make.”

  “No time, I’m afraid,” Espanoza said. “Unless you want to argue the point?”

  “No, that’s fine,” Dr. Morganton said as she looked at one of the subs. “They’re set.”

  “James? Are your pilots ready?” Espanoza asked, turning to McCarthy. “There is a time schedule to keep.”

  McCarthy looked at John, Bart, and then Mike. The three men glared at him, but one by one they nodded. McCarthy gave them an apologetic nod in return.

  “They’re ready,” McCarthy said. “But this is it. After they make the delivery, then we are out, got it?”

  “Of course,” Espanoza said. “I have paid you a great amount of money and I am sure you would like to spend it.”

  “I would,” McCarthy said. “And so would my pilots.”

  Espanoza nodded and motioned towards the subs.

  “Time to get to work, guys,” McCarthy said. “Sorry about this.”

  “I’ll make you pay for this, McCarthy,” Mike said. “You hear me?”

  “Yeah, I hear ya,” McCarthy replied. “But nothing I can do about it, kid.”

  Dr. Morganton started shouting commands to the techs and the subs were prepped for departure as the three pilots shimmied their way into a sub each. Three techs hopped onto Wave Runners and pushed the subs out of the marine hangar until they had enough room to turn them around and pointed out to sea.

  “Is there a lounge?” Espanoza asked as the subs submerged and were lost from sight. “I would like to sit down and enjoy refreshment while we wait.”

  Dr. Morganton looked at McCarthy, but he only shrugged and waved his hand to a side door in the bay.

  “Yeah, there’s an office here where we have the monitoring equipment set up,” McCarthy said. “It’s probably not as comfortable as you are used to, but there’re folding chairs for everyone.” He looked at the men with the sub-machine guns. “Well, almost everyone.”

  “They’ll wait out here,” Espanoza responded, nodding to Diego. “It will only be my associate and I.” Espanoza tapped his temple. “I’d hate for too much information to get free.”

  “Right, of course,” McCarthy nodded. “Follow me.”

  Dr. Morganton watched the men closely, her hand in her pocket as she frantically typed blindly at her phone.

  ***

  The cockpit of the sub barely allowed John to shift his shoulders from side to side without nailing them on one of several control panels. There was some room when he backed away from the main controls, but not much. Like many subs, the controls were old school analog- switches and toggles, dials and levers. Except for the bank of video monitors that covered the entire front of the cockpit and wrapped around slightly for a “peripheral” view.

  “Are you reading me, Dr. Morganton?” John asked through the headset he wore. “Am I coming through?”

  “Loud and clear, Mr. Sherman,” Dr. Morganton replied.

  “I’m here too, John,” McCarthy said. “Just maintain your heading like before. You’ll follow the same route until you get across the maritime boundary and into US territorial waters. At that point you’ll be given new coordinates.”

  “Looking forward to it,” John responded.

  “I am sure you are, Mr. Sherman,” Espanoza said.

  “Get that ass off the com,” John replied. “I don’t need him in my ear.”

  “Don’t worry about it, John,” McCarthy said. “We’ll be losing contact in just a few minutes once you hit cruising depth.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” John said.

  “What’s this?” Espanoza asked. “Lose contact? The subs are supposed to have state of the art communications systems.”

  “That is part of what still needs to be worked on,” McCarthy replied. “They can speak to each other, and even if the Coast Guard is listening it will be encoded and sound like whale song.”

  “Yes, that is what you had told me,” Espanoza growled. “But there will need to be communication with the subs once they are in US waters.”

  “They’ll surface and then communication will be restored,” McCarthy said. “We just won’t be able to communicate with them until then. It’s temporary for now, I assure you, Mr. Espanoza.”

  “Do you two mind?” John snapped. “We need to concentrate on piloting these things. Can you bicker off com?”

  “Careful with your tone, Mr. Sherman,” Espanoza warned.

  John just sighed and focused on driving the sub.

  The subs continued their progress through the warm waters just south of Salsipuedes Bay. The coastline was a barren stretch, unmarred by tourist villages and condos, which made it ideal for launching three covert submersibles. Changing his heading to north by northwest, John led the other two subs out away from the coast and into deeper waters.

  He checked his sonar readings and once in the correct position, began to dive deeper until
he was at 500 feet and following along the San Benito fault. The occasional chatter from Dr. Morganton and McCarthy died away until nothing but static was left. John waited for several minutes before radioing the other pilots.

  “We clear?” John asked.

  “I think so,” Bart replied. “What the fuck are we going to do, man?”

  “We’re going to do as we’re told,” Mike said. “Then kill every last motherfucker once we reach those fishing boats.”

  “I got a family, Mike,” John said. “You heard what that psycho fuck is going to do.”

  “What do you think he’s going to do to us?” Mike asked. “Give us a pat on the shoulder and tell us we did a good job?”

  “But my family!”

  “Fuck your family!” Mike shouted. “I want to live!”

  Behind the three subs, three shapes emerged from below, locked onto the machines that looked like young blue whales.

  ***

  “Thanks, Uncle Vinny,” Max said. “I owe you one.”

  “You owe me a lot more than that,” Thorne replied. “And I never told you this, got it? McCarthy is an asshole of a frogman and he’s going to be pissed if he finds out I’ve been snooping in his business.”

  “He recruited two others also?” Max asked. “Both amputees like Sherman?”

  “That’s the scuttlebutt,” Thorne replied then changed the subject. “Am I going to see you two this weekend?”

  “Sure are,” Max said. “We’re hanging until the end of the month.”

  “No hippies to train?” Thorne asked.

  “Nope,” Max said. “We’re on hiatus. Training pot growers to be snipers and defend their crops isn’t nearly as fun as working for Ballantine. But it’s a lot safer, so we’re trying to figure exactly which direction we want to focus on. And, speaking of Ballantine…”

  “Just sit tight,” Thorne said. “I told you I’d call as soon as he has another assignment. Enjoy the paycheck and vacation until then.”

  “Yeah, but there are more of those fucking freak sharks out there,” Max said, lowering his voice so Helen and the kids couldn’t hear. “We need to get Team Grendel back on the water and do some hunting.”

  “Ballantine said he’d call once he had a lead,” Thorne replied.

  “You hear from Ditcher lately?” Max asked, using the nickname he and his brother gave Darren Chambers when he walked out on their cousin Kinsey.

  “He took some time off to deal with Bobby’s death,” Thorne replied. “But he’s now back overseeing the outfitting of the new ship.”

  “New ship?” Max said. “Please don’t tell me it’s named what I think it will be.”

  “I don’t care what it’s named,” Thorne said. “All I care about is that it can’t be taken down by a mega shark.”

  “I hear that,” Max said. He turned about and smiled at Helen. “Listen, I better go. Thanks for the info on the Sherman guy. It’ll help ease his ex-wife’s mind.”

  “Any time,” Thorne said. “Just not while I’m napping next time, hear?”

  “Got it. See ya,” Max said and hung up. “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

  “What’s the good news?” Helen asked.

  “Your ex found a job,” Max said. “One that needed his specific qualifications.”

  “Who needs a frogman without legs?” Helen laughed. “The circus?”

  “Ouch,” Max frowned, looking at the kids. Their faces told him they were used to their mother denigrating their father. “Want the bad news?”

  “Sure, why not,” Helen shrugged.

  “The job is down in Mexico,” Max said. “And could be a while.”

  “Of course,” Helen snorted. “The jerk loses his legs, but still finds a way to get deployed.”

  “Want me to go back to the good news?” Max asked.

  “Unless it’s that I won the lotto then no,” Helen snapped.

  “Close,” Max smiled. “If my uncle’s intel is correct then the job pays some serious coin. Your ex should be able to get caught up on that child support as soon as he gets back.”

  “Whatever,” Helen replied. “I’ve heard that before. That would be the responsible thing to do. And John’s not so good at being responsible.”

  ***

  John was quiet for a minute as he thought about how he had helped recruit the other two men for McCarthy. John had known McCarthy from the SEAL community and when the man offered him a chance to get back into some action, he jumped for it. Maybe not literally jumped, but he was ready and willing to do whatever kept him active. McCarthy said he needed two more men and John knew just who to ask, having met Mike and Bart at the San Diego VA Medical Center while being fitted for prosthetics.

  Former frogmen all, they bonded quickly and took McCarthy up on his very lucrative offer. Just sucked he had to keep it secret and couldn’t let his ex-wife know where he was going or how long he’d be gone. He hoped to make that up to her and the kids.

  The job had turned out as McCarthy said, as they worked on fine tuning the piloting controls of the subs under the supervision of Dr. Morganton. John never really trusted her since he couldn’t get a straight answer from McCarthy on what her story was. He did learn she’d been a major researcher for a bioengineering company that specialized in advanced bio-alternative mechanics.

  John didn’t have the faintest idea what the hell that meant.

  All he knew is that the whale-like subs were seriously futuristic SDVs, or SEAL Delivery Vehicles; basically mini-subs designed to move people or cargo. Although the cockpit only had room for one operator, the cargo hold, which was sealed and filled with breathable air, could hold a dozen or more men with gear. John was more than glad to work on a project that would help SEALs in the field.

  But that wasn’t to be, it appeared.

  “Let’s work through this,” John said finally. “There has to be a way we can deliver the coke and get Esperanza to not kill us.”

  “Espanoza,” Bart corrected.

  “What the fuck ever!” John shouted. “I don’t give a good goddamn what the man’s name is, I just want my family to be safe and to get out of this alive!”

  “What if we get lost?” Mike asked. “Just disappear and not show up at all. There’s a lot of ocean between here and there.”

  “The man will think we’ve double crossed him and still kill my family,” John replied.

  “And my mom,” Bart added.

  “Then, what?” Mike asked.

  But before the others could answer, proximity alarms rang out in each sub.

  “What do you have?” John asked. “Anyone have visuals?”

  “Three, right behind us,” Bart said. “Please don’t let them be whales coming to hump us. It is mating season for blue whales, right?”

  “Fuck if I know,” John replied. He played with a couple of dials and brought up the rear cameras. “Holy shit. Are you guys seeing this?”

  “Yeah,” Bart said. “Are those what I think they are?”

  “Jesus,” Mike replied. “Whoa! Where did they go?”

  “They dove pretty fast,” Bart said. “Think they figured out we aren’t real?”

  “Either that or they are going deeper so they can come at us from underneath,” John said. “That’s how sharks hunt.”

  ***

  Max lifted Jack into his car seat in the minivan while Helen helped Carli with her seatbelt.

  “Thanks,” Helen said as the van’s doors slid shut. “You really didn’t have to do any of this.”

  “Not a problem,” Max said.

  The two stood there awkwardly.

  “So, I better go,” Helen said.

  “Can I get your number?” Max asked at the same time.

  “My what?” Helen asked, completely surprised.

  “Too soon, I get that,” Max said. “Sorry. Forget I asked.”

  “No, no, that’s cool,” Helen grinned. “It’s just, well…”

  “You could do better,” Max said, pointing to h
is scars. “No worries.”

  “Oh, God, no!” Helen exclaimed, her eyes involuntarily checking out Max’s very tone body. “You don’t look bad at all.” She glanced at the van and the faces of her two children watching her. “I’m just not sure frogmen are good for me.”

  “Totally get that,” Max said.

  “Hey!” Shane shouted as he crossed the parking lot to the minivan. “You ditched me, dude!”

  “Who’s that?” Helen asked.

  “My brother,” Max said as Shane ran up to them. “Helen, this is Shane. Shane, this is Helen.”

  Helen looked back and forth between the two. “Are you twins?”

  “Nah,” Shane said. “Irish twins. Nine months apart.”

  “Reynolds is Scottish,” Max said. “And we’re obviously not twins since I’m the good looking one.”

  Helen smiled and took Max’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “You bet,” Max said. “Take care of those kids. And don’t worry about John. He’ll turn up and when he does I bet he’ll have a nice, fat check for you.”

  Helen rolled her eyes and hopped in the van. Max and Shane stepped away as she backed out of the parking spot, waved and drove off.

  “Now that’s a MILF,” Shane smiled. “You get her number?”

  “Don’t be a jerk,” Max said. “She’s nice. Her ex was a SEAL.”

  “Huh,” Shane said. “Maybe that’s why she has a tail.”

  “I said not to be a jerk,” Max replied. “You don’t have to talk about her ass.”

  “Not her ass, dumbshit,” Shane said, nodding towards the black pickup truck that pulled out behind Helen’s minivan. “I mean that right there. Tinted windows. No plates. She’s being followed. And we both know who uses vehicles like that when they need to.”