Fallen Palm (Jesse McDermitt Series) (15 page)

She looked over her right shoulder at me and smiled. Then she pushed her throttle to the stops and that little, red Mirage shot away from us, as though out of a cannon. The big Mercury made hardly a sound. In less than a minute, she was nearly a half mile ahead, skimming across the water, with only the last foot of hull in contact with the surface. She turned sharply and came flying back toward us, passing between us like a blur. The closure speed had to be well above a hundred knots. She made another sharp turn and came roaring back up between us, slowing at the last minute, to match our turtle pace.

“Mother of God,” Rusty said. “That thing must’ve reached seventy knots!”

“Sixty-four,” Alex said, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s over seventy miles per hour, which is what Skeeter promised me. That’s gonna come in handy when I take a client out during a tournament.”

“Yeah,” I said, “if you can find a client with cojones enough to let you do it.”

Friday morning, October 28, 2005

It was Lester’s watch again. This, he thought, is really starting to get boring. They’d been cooped up on the boat for over 24 hours now and the only excitement since they got on the boat had been yesterday morning, when the hot blonde had walked down the dock. They were taking turns in six-hour shifts on the bridge. It was already getting hot, and it wasn’t even noon yet. He’d played cards most of the night and lost even more money to Walt. He knew the guy was cheating, he just couldn’t figure out how. Now he wished he’d just gone to bed instead. Not realizing how important sleep was going to be, he was really tired. If they could catch this McDermitt guy there’d be a good chance that he’d have more of the treasure, or could tell them where it was. Better still if they could force him to bring it up. It’d seemed so easy that day when he and the old man had found that gold bar. How hard could it be to find more?

Benny poked his shiny, black head out of the cabin. “Yo, mon. I got di watch now. Tomas say he know a place wid good jerk fowl. Walt be sleepin’. Weh yuh tink ’bout dat, stead of dem deh greasy burgas we been eatin’?”

Damn, Lester thought, I can’t hardly understand a word that Bahamian guy says. Fowl? Must be chicken. Way better for the metabolism than burgers. “Yeah, I could go for some chicken. Way better for you than those greasy hamburgers.”

“Dat wah I and I jest say, mon.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll be in the cabin, watchin’ TV,” Lester said, as he went below. Tomas went out, right behind Benny, with the keys to the rental car. It was a pretty nice boat at least. Too bad the boss didn’t let them cook though. It’d save a ton of money. But then again, who gives a shit? The boss is buying. He and Walt were sharing the rear bedroom, so when Walt got up in six more hours, he’d get a chance to get some sleep. The bedrooms were kinda small, but each one had two beds, at least. He guessed they were okay for boat bedrooms. The bathrooms were really small though. He couldn’t fit his shoulders inside without leaving the door open. He flipped through the channels on the TV, until he found one that was showing an infomercial about diet and exercise, then turned it up to drown out Walt’s snoring.

After ten minutes of watching, he heard Tomas up on the deck, talking to Benny. A minute later, he came into the cabin where Lester was sitting. He was carrying bags from a place called Caribbean Delight. “Lestah, mon”, Benny said. “I tink yuh guh lacka dis.” He started pulling out square styrofoam boxes and round containers. “Got some goid Caribbean eats, mon. Got mhanish wata, rude bwoy joik fowl, oxtail, curray goit an fi mi own favrit, brahn fish stew.”

It smelled good, but then Benny opened the one he said was his favorite, whatever he called it, Lester saw a whole fish, looking up at him. “You eat that shit?” Lester asked. “It’s looking at you.”

“Ya mon,” Benny replied. “Yuh not be knowin dis be goid food.”

“Lemme try the chicken,” Lester said. No way to fuck up chicken, he thought.

Benny handed him a styrofoam tray and he opened it. Didn’t look half-bad and smelled good. It was a seasoned, baked chicken breast, white rice, and vegetables. He sat down and dug right in. Suddenly, he bolted for the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, and guzzled it.

“Oh ya, mon, fogot to woin yuh. Joik fowl be hot, mon.”

“Hot?” Lester said. “That shit’s volcanic.”

He walked back to the table with a second bottle of water and said, “Maybe if I scrape all that hot stuff off, I can eat it.” he scraped the skin and seasonings off the chicken breast and tried another bite. “Yeah, that’s not quite so bad,” he said.

“Git a boil, mon. Trah some a di mhanish wata. Ah a soip sposed ta mek yuh lass fah a loing tahm, wid di ladies.”

“An aphrodisiac soup?” Lester asked. “Sure, I’ll try it.” He grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and Benny poured some into it. Lester tasted it and it was pretty good. He went back to the vegetables, wolfing them down, and then ate more of the soup, before going back to the chicken and rice.

“That soups good,” he said. “What’s in it?”

“Goit meat, goit head an goit haht,” Benny answered.

“Goat head? Goat heart? You’re shittin’ me right?”

“No mon, goits are di moist verile ah anmals.”

Lester ran to the bathroom leaving the door open and puked in the toilet.

Saturday morning, October 29, 2005

I woke up at 0300 and again eased out of the bed, so as not to disturb Alex. I’d set the coffee maker for 0250, so the smell of fresh coffee motivated me to get up. I’d wake Alex after I had a cup. When we got back from the stilt house, Julie was already gone. Rusty ran off a couple of local shrimpers, closed up early and had Rufus make an early supper and stock the
Revenge
with enough provisions for three days. He always counts on the worst. Alex showed me all the special features Skeeter had included in her new boat. It had hydraulic power steering and electric trim tabs. The casting deck also had a platform, that could be raised and lowered by a small electrically operated hydraulic motor. The poling platform was also Kevlar reinforced. The console had all digital gauges, with a built in GPS and marine band radio. It was really nice and I could tell she was proud of it. Rusty drove over to Dockside, gave Aaron his doubloon necklace, and filled him in on what we wanted him to say when Lester stopped by. After Alex and I had eaten, we retired to the
Revenge
to get plenty of sleep. Well, some sleep anyway.

I woke at 0300, went into the galley and poured two mugs of coffee. I went back into the forward stateroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Alex opened her eyes and smiled, as she reached for the mug.

“Mmmm, thanks,” she said, taking a sip.

“Afraid I’m gonna have to make you walk the plank, wench,” I said.

“Julie and Deuce get here yet?” she asked.

I stood and looked through the long narrow porthole above the shelf. “Just pulling in now,” I replied.

“She and I are going to the Wooden Spoon for breakfast at five o’clock, before we leave. We should get to the Marina by seven.”

“Make sure you park as close to the boat ramp as you can, okay,” I said. “I want Deuce and Rusty to be able to get in and y’all be gone in minutes.”

“Don’t worry, Jesse,” she said. “They’re not going to try anything stupid at a public boat ramp in broad daylight.”

“I know. I just don’t want them to see you. Remember, Lester already saw you once. If he sees you picking up my ‘charter’, he’ll get suspicious.”

We heard steps on the deck outside and then Deuce’s voice, “Permission to come aboard?”

“Come aboard, Deuce,” I said.

“Go,” Alex said. “Let me get dressed.”

I stepped up to the salon as Deuce and Julie came up the steps from the cockpit. “Good to see you again, Captain,” Deuce said.

“You too,” I said. “Y’all want coffee?”

“None for me,” Julie said.

“I’ll have a cup,” Deuce said.

I poured a cup and handed it to him as Alex came up the steps from the stateroom. “Have a seat,” I said to Deuce.

“Come up to the house with me Alex?” Julie asked. “I want to make sure dad’s up.”

“Sure,” Alex replied. She kissed me on the cheek and headed out the hatch with Julie.

Deuce sat on the settee and I sat down across from him. He was deep in thought and I could tell he wanted to talk about it. I just sipped my coffee and let him sort it out in his mind.

Finally, he said, “Do I strike you as crazy, Jesse?”

“No,” I replied. “You strike me as a pretty level headed man. Besides, BUDS would have found out any crazy side and washed you out.”

He laughed and said, “You were married, right? Is it fair to a woman to be married to men like us?”

I knew exactly what he meant. “Look,” I said, “someone way smarter than me once said that it takes a strong woman to be in a relationship with a warrior. Weak women can’t handle it. Dude, Julie is definitely not a weak woman.”

“Yeah, certainly not. But, is it fair to become involved even with a strong woman? My new job will often entail grabbing a bag in the middle of the night and leaving without a word. I could be gone for weeks or months, without even a phone call. I don’t know, man. That just doesn’t seem fair.”

“Take it from me, Deuce,” I said. “I was married twice. And there were a few times, I had to do the ‘go bag drag’ in the middle of the night. It pisses them off. Mostly because they weren’t prepared for it. Be straight up, tell her all you can and prepare her for that night. Her dad knows how it goes and he can help. That is, if you two get serious.”

“It’s serious,” he said. “I’ve known a few women, Jesse. I’m thirty years old. But I’ve never met anyone like her in my life. That girl literally takes my breath away.”

“Well, like I said, be straight up with her. She’s only twenty-four, but she has an old soul. She’s never been serious with anyone before. Me and Rusty figured she’d know when it was time. If it’s time, she’ll let you know.”

We heard footsteps on the dock and Rusty’s voice called out, “Reveille, reveille, reveille. On your feet maggot! It’s 0315 and time’s a wastin’. ”

“Come aboard, Rusty,” I said.

Rusty stepped through the hatch and said, “The girls are getting things ready up at the house. They said to tell you they’d see us at the docks. We ready to cast off?”

“Just waiting on Jimmy,” I said. “He should be here any minute.”

“If you’re waiting on me, dude,” Jimmy said from the dock, “you’re backing up.” He dropped his bag in the cockpit and said, “I’ll get the bow line, Captain.”

Rusty set a cooler on the deck under the settee and dropped his go bag next to it. Deuce went up on the dock to cast off the stern line, while Rusty and I climbed to the bridge to start the engines. Each engine fired instantly and settled into a low rumble. The
Revenge
was facing open water and seemed to be anxious to get there. I checked the gauges and everything looked fine.

“Cast off!” I called down to the dock.

Both men secured the lines, already c
oiled, onto the fore and aft cleats. Jimmy shoved the bow away from the dock and then hurried aft, where he and Deuce stepped down into the cockpit. Deuce then started to climb the ladder to the bridge.

“I’ll double check the engine room, Captain,” Jimmy said and Deuce stopped half way up the ladder.

“Mind if I have a look, Captain?” Deuce asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Have at it.” I nudged the port engine into forward and turned the wheel slightly toward the dock. The
Revenge
moved forward and sideways away from the docks. Once clear, I nudged the starboard engine into forward and brought the helm back to center. As we idled slowly down the canal, Deuce and Jimmy climbed back up to the bridge. Deuce took the seat next to Rusty on the big bench to port. Jimmy took his usual seat to my right.

“Everything below decks looks good, Jesse,” Jimmy said.

“Better than good,” Deuce said. “I could eat off that engine room floor.”

I nodded to my right and said, “Jimmy takes his work very seriously.”

As we passed the last light pole on shore I switched on the forward spotlight, as well as the navigation and stern lights, and switched the overhead light to red. I nudged the throttles a bit higher as we cleared the end of the canal and started into the channel. Jimmy reached up, switched on the Furuno radar system, and adjusted it to a two-mile radius.

“Everything looks clear ahead,” Jimmy said. “Checking further out.” He switched the radar to a ten-mile radius and said, “Looks like a big tanker out on the stream to the southwest, heading east, nothing else.” He switched it to a 50 mile radius and said, “A couple of shrimpers further southwest heading toward Key West and several pleasure craft, out at the edge of the reef, to the east about fifteen miles. Nothing else, Jesse.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s get out ahead of that tanker.” I slowly pushed the throttles up to 1600 rpm and the bow lifted for a few seconds then we planed out and it came back down. I increased speed to 25 knots, which is where I get the best fuel economy. In just a few minutes, we’d cleared the reef. I turned northeast and punched in a saved destination for Conrad Reef and turned on the Furuno autopilot. It would automatically keep us off the reef, all the way there.

Jimmy checked the radar again and said, “The pleasure craft to the east seem to be stationary, Jesse. Should be able to see them in ten or twelve minutes. Probably a couple of early morning anglers. Alert’s set for four miles.”

Since Jimmy didn’t know everything we were going to be doing, I told Deuce, “Jimmy here’s a squid like you, Deuce. But, I’ve found him to be completely reliable in just about any situation.”

Jimmy said, “Dude, I was a Machinists Mate, First Class. But that was a past life.”

Deuce understood my subtle indication that Jimmy could be trusted and nodded his assent. I’d already told Jimmy we were going to Conrad, but to keep the rest of the day clear, also.

Rusty leaned over and looking down in the cockpit said, “Hey, where’d your dog go?”

“He’s not my dog,” I said. I turned around and didn’t see him below either. I knew the hatch to the salon was closed, so I stood up and looked forward. “I’ll be damned,” I said. The others stood up and looked forward, to where the dog sat on the expansive foredeck, ears cocked and alert, with his nose in the wind. I cupped my hands and yelled, “You okay up there, Pescador?” He turned his head, looked at the four of us and barked once, then turned his head back into the wind. He seemed to be studying the far horizon, even though it was still completely dark.

Rusty laughed and said, “You could probably turn that radar off and he’d let you know if anything was ahead of us.”

We all sat back down and I turned to Jimmy and gave him the whole scoop on what we’d planned to do today. He listened, nodding when needed and didn’t ask a single question. When I was finished, he said simply, “So, what you’re saying is, I’ve been shanghaied, man?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. You okay with it?

“No worries, man,” he replied. “Party on.”

It only took us about ten minutes before the alert signaled we were coming up on Conrad Reef. I disengaged the autopilot and slowed to ten knots, while I studied the GPS and turned on the Furuno sonar. The waypoint I had set for Conrad was about a half mile due south of the reef. Conrad is a patch reef, about fifteen hundred feet inside the reef line. There was a natural cut in the reef, just one hundred feet north of the waypoint. I adjusted the sonar so it read the bottom in front of us and dropped down to idle speed as we neared the waypoint. I turned the wheel so we were headed due north and passed the waypoint, as the sonar started to show the gap in the reef just ahead. The gap was plenty wide enough for the
Revenge
and the reef head was at least fifteen feet from the surface, but it’s always best to play it safe. I’d heard of many boats that crashed on debris that had been snagged by the reefs.

We cleared the gap and the sonar was showing twenty-one feet under the keel and the southern edge of the little patch reef, just a few hundred feet ahead. The bottom was twenty-five feet and Conrad came to within ten feet of the surface. The tide was slack and what little wind was blowing was coming out of the south. Ninety feet from the reef, I told Jimmy to release the anchor and it dropped into the water with a splash from the bow. I took the engines out of gear and shut them down, then adjusted the sonar so it showed the bottom directly below us. The anchor dropped onto the sandy bottom and I told Jimmy to pay out fifty feet of chain. Slowly, the
Revenge
drifted forward, and then began to swing slightly, as the chain tightened. I readjusted the sonar toward the stern and it showed the southern edge of the little patch reef getting closer. As the anchor took hold and the slight wind straightened us, the sonar showed the southern edge of the reef to be directly below the boat. If it was daylight, we could look down from the bridge and see it, the water was so clear. I turned on the underwater lights at the stern and sure enough, the top of the reef lay just below the stern. Though it was ten feet down, it looked close enough to touch.

“This is Conrad Reef,” I solemnly told Deuce.

“Thanks, Jesse,” he said and reached under the bench seat and pulled his bag out. He unzipped it and pulled a small, square, sealed box out of it. Taking a knife from his belt, he slit the seal on the top. He opened it and withdrew a brass urn, in the shape of an old hardhat diver’s helmet. “I think dad would have wanted you and Rusty to join me,” he said.

The three of us climbed down to the cockpit and Rusty and I stood on either side of Deuce at the stern. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jimmy standing on the bridge, where he lowered the colors to half-mast. I fly both the American flag and the Marine Corps flag. Then Jimmy reached into his pocket, pulled his mp3 player out, and plugged it into the stereo on the console.

Deuce opened the urn and placed it on the stern. Then he looked at Rusty and me in turn and said, “Dad was gone a lot when I was a kid. I used to resent him for it. But, as I grew older, I realized why he did what he did. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far, does it? Now I’m the one leaving and staying away for weeks and months. I’m going to miss the old war horse.”

I cleared my throat and recited the last verse of a poem I’d recently read, “His face is rough, his shirt is torn. He’s tired of fighting, in this war of the sea. He lost his ship of gold and diamonds in battle, now he floats alone. The Warrior of the sea.”