Barracuda (31 page)

“Hey, man, can you please front cuff me?”
Colavito begged. “These charges are so bogus. I don’t need the
other tenants to see me being dragged out of my home in handcuffs
over this nonsense.”

Gomez hesitated for a moment and then said,
“Okay, but if you fuck with us, I’ll jack you so freaking hard that
your head will split like a god damn watermelon.”

Micko didn’t like this. He always rear cuffed
suspects, not only for safety reasons but because it was
regulation. But he didn’t want to get into a pissing match with
Gomez in front of the suspect, and it was his case, so he let it
go.

“Hey, man, can I throw these old newspapers into
the incinerator?” Colavito pleaded. “I don’t know when I’ll be
back, man, and I don’t want no stinkin’ roaches.”

“Yeah, fine,” Gomez returned, “but you have to
carry them.”

Mr. Colavito grabbed a stack of newspapers and
gave his house keys to Micko to lock up. While Micko was trying to
figure out which key fit which lock, Gomez escorted his prisoner
down the hall to the trash room. The suspect leaned down to place
the papers on the floor and suddenly swung around with a
nine-millimeter pistol.

His first shot got Gomez right in the heart.
Gomez was dead before he hit the floor. The next shot flew past a
shocked Micko’s left ear. When the smoke settled, Micko was
bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to his upper thigh, and the
prisoner lay dead from Micko’s gunshot wound to his right eye.

The investigation revealed that Gomez had
neglected to inform Micko that Mr. Colavito was also being charged
with a lesser crime of menacing/harassment, but that the harassment
was with a gun. According to Mr. Santiago’s complaint, Colavito
menaced him with the firearm, so he made out a second complaint
against the man. Gomez must have misfiled the second complaint and
been unaware that the perp had a weapon.

Mr. Colavito had previously hidden the gun under
the stack of newspapers. No one knew if it was for protection or a
premeditated attack against the landlord or the arresting
detectives. Many mistakes had been made by the detectives, and many
high-ranking officials played “Monday Morning Quarterback” for
months after the tragedy.

Thinking about Gomez and his family, Mico
suffered through bouts of depression, leading to his mental melt
down. That was then, but now he was at the top of his game again
and must save his own life.

***

Micko snapped out of this memory and back to the
present, where he was struggling for life. He fought to locate his
second-stage regulator, and with a swinging motion of his right
arm, touched the hose floating just behind his head. With a swift
motion, he had the regulator in place and sucked sweet air into his
deprived lungs.

He breathed heavily until he was aware of the
professor’s computer alarm beeping. He had to begin making his
slow, controlled ascent right away. He was still in a pitch-dark
world and couldn’t waste time searching for the mooring line to
guide him up. He had no idea how far he had been pushed from the
sub after the explosion, and even worse, he had no idea which
direction to go. Without a light and a mask, he was blind.

Micko had to do a controlled free ascent from
the spot he was currently in. He looked straight up and exhaled out
of the side of the re-breather mouthpiece to purposely blow
bubbles. The bubbles were translucent and he knew that if he rose
to the surface slower than his bubbles did, he would be all right.
He watched as his bubbles flowed upward and maintained enough
buoyancy to follow well behind his exhausted balloons of mixed
gases.

The ascent was slow and painful. The torpedo
blast had injured his eardrums, and trying to fight off vertigo,
upon ascent, was difficult and distressing. When he finally reached
the surface, he yawned and moved his jaw in odd angles until his
ears equalized and the ache diminished.

Micko slowly turned in a three hundred and
sixty-degree angle until he saw a light in the distance. The light
was very low to the water, so he immediately assumed that the
Hummingbird
’s crew had launched the life raft. He reached
for the water whistle that was attached to the professor’s dive
gear and blew with as much gusto as he could muster. The light
began swinging back and forth in his direction, so they must have
heard him. Micko kept blowing the whistle as he swam toward
them.

As he swam toward the raft, Micko heard the
scientists arguing over the paddling strokes they were doing. He
was just about to let out a laugh when he caught something out of
the corner of his eye. It was a life jacket floating a few feet to
his right.
Maybe I better grab this
, he thought.
Who
knows how long we’ll be out here?
The chop was steady with the
wind still blowing strong. An extra life jacket certainly couldn’t
hurt, so he diverged from his swim to the raft to gather the errant
jacket. When he reached it, he was out of the beam of the
flashlight, immersed in darkness again.

Micko reached out for the life jacket and pulled
it to him to clip it to one of his BC vest D rings and then
continue swimming toward the raft. He pulled the jacket closer, but
there was some drag that he couldn’t understand. In the dim light,
he saw an apparition barely sticking out of the vest. When he
pulled it closer and the vest popped upright, revealing the
repulsive remains of his friend Celestial.

Micko opened his mouth to scream in both horror
and agony over the loss of a friend, but a wave washed over his
head and down his throat. A volley of violent coughs and spitting
followed. He regained his composure after he resumed his normal
breathing. Micko fondly rubbed the head of the gentle giant and
whispered, “I will miss you, my friend, but I will never forget
you.”

Just then a cell phone began to ring. Micko saw
that Celestial had the presence of mind to place his cell phone in
a waterproof case and stick it in the life vest pocket. The phone
was on its fourth ring before Micko was able to answer.

“Hello, this is Micko,” he spoke.

“Hi, Micko. This is Shorty, the captain of the
Thor
. We brought the survivors to the Bikini resort and they
will be okay. I don’t see your boat’s lights. Where did you guys
go?”

Micko gave him a brief synopsis of all that had
happened, and Shorty assured him that he would head out immediately
to rescue them. Micko hung up the phone and looked up to see the
bright red life raft pull up.

“Micko, are you all right?” the professor asked
as they helped him into the raft.

“I’m fine, and the
Thor
is on the way.”
Micko looked about for the remains of his friend, but Celestial had
drifted back into the eternal darkness. “I just said goodbye to a
great friend,” he mourned. “He’s at peace now. Celestial is
drifting to the final resting place of his ancestors. He is one
with the sea forever.”

The men in the raft bowed their heads in honor
of a dearly departed pal. James explained the attack on the
Hummingbird
by the mutant barracuda. Before the narration
ended, the
Thor
was sighted, and the four men were
rescued.

13

Micko and the others were shivering on the ride
to the Bikini resort. The
Thor’s
crew had given all the
blankets and warm refreshments to the rescued VIPs. Regis retold
the story of Celestial’s bravery and demise as they suffered
through the windy ride. “You look terrible,” he said to Micko.

“Why?” Micko asked. “What are you talking
about?”

“Look at your eyes. They’re all bloodshot, and
there is blood tricking from your ears and nose. Maybe you have a
brain aneurysm.”

“I don’t have a brain aneurysm, Regis” Micko
mocked. “The shockwaves probably just burst some blood vessels in
my nose, and I think damaged my ear drums. I lost my mask, so the
salt water screwed up my eyes.”

The two scientists laughed nervously, each
hoping that the damage was not worse.

“My good man, I’ll give you a thorough
examination later,” Dr. Collins offered.

Just then, the
Thor
pulled up to the
Bikini resort dock, and the deck hands secured the boat. Jaynnie,
the hostess for the Bikini resort, was at the pier to greet them,
and after exchanging introductions said, “We placed your VIPs on
cots in the cafeteria, and they are eating a hot meal right now. I
can put you guys in an empty room at the lodge. It seems that two
Australian brothers’ room is unoccupied at the moment. I placed
cots in the living room area, and you should all rest comfortably,”
she said with a warm smile.

Jaynnie wore cut-off shorts and colorful shirts,
where Tanya had preferred business attire. In fact, Jaynnie was the
exact opposite of Tanya in every way. She was a shorter, athletic
young woman with long blonde hair and sky blue eyes. A native of
Denmark, she had first arrived at the Bikini resort as a scuba
instructor. The owners knew that her million-dollar smile would
work great as the resort hostess, so she was promoted to her
current position with no regrets.

“Never mind me,” Regis announced. “I’m going
home.”

“But you’re already here,” the professor stated.
“How will you get back? The
Thor
is tied up, and the crew
and staff are busy caring for the survivors.”

“I’ll get my buddy Pete the Prairie Dog to sail
me back home to the fishing village,” Regis explained.

“Have a hot meal in the room first, and I’ll
send someone to get Pete,” Jaynnie offered.

“I’ll go back with you, Regis,” Dr. Collins
added. “I need my work journal. Then I’ll come back here with your
friend Peter.”

Jaynnie led the men to room twelve in the lodge.
The accommodations didn’t look nearly as opulent as the Majestic
Hotel suites, but they were surprisingly cozy.

“You’re all banged up, Micko,” Dr. Collins
stated. “You should take a nice hot shower while we await the
food.”

“Good idea,” James piped in.

“I guess I’m outnumbered,” Micko said with a
laugh.

“The Barrett brothers’ suitcases are on the
beds. I’m sure you’ll find something to fit each of you,” Jaynnie
said with a smile as she left. Micko admired her shapely tanned
legs and firm butt as she walked out the door.

He jumped right in and took a short hot shower,
knowing that the others were also cold and wet and would require
showers as well. He walked into the den, wrapped in a towel, and
saw the men laughing and eating hot tacos.

“I’m next,” Regis yelled as he ran into the
steamy bathroom and closed the door.

“I’ve laid out the Aussies’ clothes on the bed,
Micko,” James said. “Pick out something you like.”

“These are magnificent,” the professor commented
as he handed Micko a fist-sized taco. “Have one.”

Micko took a bite. It was hot and made of
chicken. He chewed while he perused the clothes. The scientists
were laughing from the other room.

“I can’t wear this stuff,” Micko lamented. “It
looks like retarded biker threads.”

The scientists laughed louder. The selection of
clothing that the deceased brothers had chosen to wear did not fit
into the style of either a scientist or a conservative cop. Micko
found an offensive black tank top that had a picture of a hand
flashing the middle finger, and a pair of plain sweat pants.

“Not bad,” James applauded when he saw Micko’s
new outfit.

“Wait until you see what’s left for you,” Micko
laughed.

Micko helped himself to another taco as the
professor kept flashing him the bird and laughing hysterically.
Regis popped out of the shower dressed in the same damp clothes. No
one made a comment. Everyone guessed that it was common for the
natives to do this.

“Professor, you better go next,” Regis said.
“Pete will be here soon.”

“Quite right, quite right,” Dr. Collins replied
as he finished his last bite and went into the bathroom.

Regis greeted Micko with a double bird salute,
which brought on another wave of juvenile laughter. Micko was
feeling a bit mischievous, so he took it upon himself to pick out
the professor’s new wardrobe. The three men enjoyed some
lighthearted, amicable conversation while the professor took a
leisurely shower. When he finally exited the bathroom, the three
men quickly handed him clothes and urged him to dress. When the
professor was dressed, he stood in front of the full-length mirror
that was attached to the rear of the bathroom door.

“I wish I had a camera,” James laughed.

The professor gasped in shock as he looked at
himself wearing a pair of oversized ghetto jeans and a T-shirt
bearing the resemblance of Che Guevara. Micko tied a black
Renegades bandanna around the professor’s unkempt white hair to
complete the make over. The four men loved the levity of dressing
in an uncharacteristic manner and laughed cordially. Each man felt
deep sorrow for the loss of Celestial, but at the moment, they
needed a bit of lighthearted amusement.

Jaynnie came back with another platter of tacos
and a cooler of cold beer. She was accompanied by a native dwarf.
No one had to be told that this must be Pete the Prairie Dog. Pete
laid the cooler down in the middle of the den as Jaynnie placed the
tacos on a table.

“Dig in, guys. You deserve it,” he bellowed.

Micko couldn’t take his eyes off the beautiful
Jaynnie. Her teeth were perfect and her pretty face could brighten
an entire room. She was the most wholesome woman he had ever
met.

She noticed him staring and offered, “Beer, Mr.
Detective?”

“Yes, please,” he stammered.

Micko’s interest in Jaynnie had been picked up
by Pete, who added, “Hey, copper, she’s available. Her idiot
boyfriend went back to Germany for good.”

Micko realized that his body language had given
him away, so he smiled and said, “I’m sorry if I was staring,
Jaynnie, but you look like a pretty cherub, who brought us all this
fine food, just like an angel.”