“What do you need these for — padding?” Pam asked when she came back in.
“No,” Mike said, taking a handful of each and putting them in gallon Ziploc bags. He sealed them with as little air as possible and set them to the side. “Could you ladies go topside and watch our position? When we get to N24 40.656 W78 46.228 — it’s marked on the GPS — come down and tell me. And, of course, keep an eye out for unfriendly locals.”
Mike continued to assemble what he considered essential gear for the mission until Courtney came down. He’d been pretty sure they were at the entrance to the channel when the boat slowed.
“We’re pretty close,” Courtney said. “There’s breakers off to the east. Close.”
“The edge of the Banks.” Mike sighed, getting up and stretching; his joints ached from the weather change and sitting on the floor. “Now comes the fun part.”
The wind was still blowing pretty steadily from the northeast and it was fairly cool up on the tuna tower. But it was the only place he might be able to see if the channel marked on the map was imaginary or not.
“There it is,” Mike said, pointing to a break in the surf line. He eased the boat over and blanched at the narrowness and depth of the channel. “We’re going to go aground, I just know it.” He pulled up the tide tables for the area and nodded. “Tide’s making, so if we do go aground, we’ll be able to float off. But I’ll need to find a deep hole to set this thing or we’ll be screwed when the tide goes out.” He flipped a switch and the speakers started to boom with heavy bass.
“More Goth?” Courtney asked, sighing.
“I’m going to take you to a Goth concert, someday,” Mike said, grinning. “You’ll have a blast. And I need to get my head into mission mode. And in this debt, a better world is made…” he whispered. “In the fury of this darkest hour, we will be your light. You ask me for this sacrifice and I am Winter born… I hear the angels call my name…”
Mike carefully negotiated his way into the channel, which widened out a bit beyond the entrance, and then began the process of trying to find his way through the maze.
Much of the channel marked on the maps was gone, storms and currents having torn down the walls of the channel and created shoals where clear water had been. But by luck as much as anything he was able to make his way through. He realized after a bit that it must have been dredged once upon a time and wondered why. Possibly for a salt extraction plant, long defunct. Now it was a ruined remnant of civilization in an uncivilized area.
Finally, well after dark, he reached the crop of keys that he’d spotted on the chart. There was a small open area on the northeast side of the islands, well out of sight of the target, and he dropped anchor while watching the area carefully for signs of life. This seemed like a natural spot for the local criminals to use for a base, but when he swept the islands with a thermal imager there weren’t any hot spots. He still intended to circle the keys before he went in.
He’d kept navigational lights off as he approached and had the girls turn off all the interior lights, both so they wouldn’t betray their presence and to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.
Now he slipped below, using a blue lens flashlight to make his way to the weapons room. Pam and Courtney were in the darkness of the lounge and, having run out of things to talk about, were now sitting on the couch and looking nervous.
“When I’m gone,” Mike said, “lock the doors and hunker down. If anyone but me comes to the boat, just tell them to go away. If they don’t, just put a round through the door. If that doesn’t work, get in the Bluebeard Room; it’s got reinforcing that’s not exactly noticeable and the door is armored. They won’t be able to take the boat anywhere, so just let them take whatever they want to take. I can replace anything except you two,” he added with a smile.
“Okay,” Courtney said unhappily. “I don’t suppose going with you would be better.”
“Not hardly.” Mike grinned. He handed the light to Pam, then made his way to the weapons room, turned on the bluelight in there, then picked up his packs, going back out to the fishing deck.
The boat had had a nice center console inflatable for a dinghy when he got it. He’d replaced it with a black Zodiac for reasons that had never been clearly articulated in his mind. Now he knew why and why he’d also gotten an engine silencer installed. He undid the Zodiac, then swung it over the side, bringing it around to the fishing deck to load.
There was another bluelight on the fishing deck and he turned it on, then stripped and put on pantyhose. Over that went a black 3mm wetsuit. He wouldn’t need it for the water, but it was better, he thought, than using fatigues for a combat swim, and the pressure of the neoprene tended to reduce bleeding in minor wounds. Once he had the suit on he camouflaged his face, then loaded all the gear he’d assembled from the weapons room into the Zodiac. Last he got out a Kryton rebreather and dropped that in the Zod. Rebreathers, which were underwater breathing apparatuses that didn’t release bubbles, instead “rebreathing” the diver’s exhalations, were generally considered to be military gear. However, modern rebreathers not only gave very long endurance underwater, up to twenty-four hours, but because there were no bubbles they also made spearfishing much easier. Fish tended to run from the sound of the bubbles with normal SCUBA. He’d picked up the rebreather for sport diving, but it would work just as well for a combat swim.
Once the Zod was fully loaded he climbed in and put on a set of NODs. The night was clearly lit with the goggles on and he started up the Zod, first circling the small string of keys and making sure that there was no sign of life, occasionally switching to a small thermal viewer to look for heat signatures. There didn’t appear to be anything there, so he picked up his GPS, keyed it on, and headed south.
“This really sucks,” Pam said as she heard the tiny sound of the motor fade into the distance. They were sitting in the near darkness of the lounge with only the small bluelight filtering out of the Bluebeard Room.
“I know,” Courtney replied, fingering the pistol. “I really don’t want to think about trying to defend this boat. I’m scared and bored at the same time.”
“And horny,” Pam said. “Is that crazy?”
“I dunno,” Courtney said. “But so am I.”
“I don’t want to stay here,” Pam said, looking around the room. “It’s too spooky. But I don’t want to put on a light, either.”
“There aren’t any windows in the Bluebeard Room,” Courtney pointed out. “And it’s got that reinforcing he was talking about.”
“Right,” Pam said, standing up and making her way into the room.
“Well, now I’m really bored,” Courtney admitted after a minute, setting the pistol on a locker. “And still horny. I wonder when he’ll be back.”
“I wonder if he’ll be back,” Pam said, leaning into her. She paused as she did it and cleared her throat. “Uh, Courtney… ?”
“I was wondering what you were waiting for,” Courtney said, putting her arms around the girl and lying back on the bed.
Chapter Twelve