Two nights on this island, and I’m soaked from head to toe…again.
He slipped into the water from the eastern half of the island and swam in the darkness laterally — not toward the approaching yacht, but where he expected it to be at a certain point. His biggest advantage was that he could see the boat just fine to his left along with the island to his right.
Keo swam at a leisurely pace, slowing down and treading water only when he could feel the waves pressing against him more urgently than before. The vessel, bright white against the black canvas, glided in front of him, its half-dozen floodlights on full blast. They definitely weren’t trying to hide themselves. Either they actually did come in peace, or they really, really wanted the island to think that.
From his angle, he was able to count all three decks on the boat, with the highest one also the smallest. He eyeballed the length of the craft at just over forty meters, so he wasn’t too far off when he had guessed from the pier. Keo let it glide smoothly across the water in front of him and read the name written along the side: Trident.
He reached the boat’s stern just as it was passing him by and grabbed at one of the two ladders half-submerged at the back. He thought he had missed it for a moment but felt smooth metal at the last second and tightened his grip, then let himself be dragged through the water. He reached out with his other hand, got a good grip on the wet ladder, and slowly began climbing. The only sound other than the engine was the tricolor Mexican flag flapping from a long metal staff above him.
Keo crawled onto the lower deck, dripping pools of Lake Beaufont everywhere. A large floodlight created a giant halo with him in the center. This part of the boat was designed for lounging and easy access to the water. Fortunately, there was no one around at the moment to see him. He didn’t worry about being overheard, either. The churning engine, “whisper quiet” or not, still overwhelmed most noises around him, especially at night.
He swung the MP5SD forward and flicked off the safety, then darted out of the pool of light.
Keo could feel the vibrations of the boat’s engine room under his bare feet, humming as it pushed the Trident at a ridiculously slow pace toward the island. The boat was definitely moving at speeds well below its capability. So what was the point of that?
Even from his limited angle in the back of the luxury yacht, he could see the well-lit beach of Song Island spread out like a huge welcome mat. The piers in front, the long stretch of white sands, and the ring of solar-powered collector plates looked like glittering jewelry.
Windows and glass doors in front of him provided a nice view of a dimly lit dining room. No movement, so he ignored it and moved to the side toward one of the ladders leading up to the main deck. Keo climbed as quickly as he could, very aware that he was still dripping water with every rung he took.
He was almost at the top when he heard voices. He flattened his body against the ladder as two men walked past above him. Male voices talking in English, with heavy footsteps. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, though they sounded excited.
Keo waited until the voices faded before continuing up.
He swung over the rail and landed in a crouch in the back of the main deck, the MP5SD swinging in front of him at the ready. Keo scanned the boat, wondering what he looked like at the moment if someone spotted him. A tall barefoot guy in wet black clothes with a silenced submachine gun. He wouldn’t blame them if the first person who spotted him started shooting. He would, in their shoes.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He was operating under the assumption that the people on the boat had ulterior motives. Lara thought the same, which was why she had agreed to let him take this approach.
“Don’t shoot unless you have to,” she had said.
“Trust me,” he had replied, “if you hear shooting on the boat, there’s a very damn good reason for it.”
She had nodded solemnly back at him.
Tough girl, he remembered thinking. Tough call. Ballsy call.
He was impressed with her. Keo wasn’t a leader; he didn’t give orders, but he appreciated people who could. Lara was one. He wondered if she had known she possessed that kind of fortitude before the world crapped out on them. Not everyone knew their full potential until they were faced with a cliff and had to take the leap. Lara had, in his eyes, passed with flying colors.
He was squatting in another lounging area, one that was open to the moonless sky, with a darkened room in front of him. Sofas, chairs, and a bar. Entertainment center. The bridge was above him on the upper deck, and he moved toward another rung of ladders and climbed again. He wasn’t dripping quite as much water this time and didn’t encounter voices above him, either.
He went into a crouch next to the ladders and took a moment to orient himself with the boat’s layout. Then, after about ten seconds, he found an unlocked door and slipped inside.
Another entertainment room, with a big-screen TV on a wall with a wide array of media players and electronics facing comfortable sofas. There was plenty of evidence that the place had been lived in, but the details were hidden in semidarkness. He slipped through the spacious room, reaching a spiral staircase to his right that led back down to the main deck. The bridge was in front of him and around a slight turn in the narrow passageway.
He tiptoed down the hallway, then peered around the corner and into the bridge through an open door. There were two men inside, one standing at the helm, the other one next to him looking through binoculars at the island. They wore gun belts with sidearms in hip holsters, and an AK-47 lay across an empty chair, another one leaning against the console. Their backs were to him, so he couldn’t see their faces and only caught glimpses of their reflections in the wide windshield up front. The one with his hands on the steering wheel was wearing a white captain’s hat that didn’t look like it quite fit him.
They were in the middle of a conversation, so Keo leaned back and listened.
“How many do you see?” the “captain” asked.
“Just three,” the other one said.
“What does Rod say?”
The man with the binoculars grabbed a radio off the console and said into it, “Give me a count, Rod.”
“I see two,” a third muffled voice said through the radio. “But I saw four about thirty minutes ago when we were on approach. One’s gone and one’s just disappeared. I think one of them went into the woods.”
“Where’d the fourth one go?”
He’s behind you, Keo thought.
“I have no idea,” the man named Rod said.
“Do you have a shot?” the captain asked.
Rod didn’t answer right away.
“Rod,” the captain pressed, “do you have a shot?”
“One’s moving around too much,” Rod said. “But the other one’s pretty still. He’s crouched on top of a building. Looks like a storage shack. Short fucker, too.”
“Can you take him?” the second man asked.
“Probably,” Rod said.
“‘Probably’ isn’t good enough.”
“Yeah, well, that’s all you’re gonna get,” Rod said. “Take it or leave it.”
The captain grunted. “We should have put Hank up there instead. He always follows orders.”
“Rod’s okay,” the second man said. “You think they got diesel in that place?”
“Fat chance of that. But you see those things around the island? Those are solar panels. That means they have a constant reliable power source. When was the last time we had that?”