The second the door closed, Kinsey, Max and Shane picked up their rifles and sprinted towards the door. Just as they reached it, it swung open and Kinsey almost put two rounds into Darby.
“Fuck!” Kinsey snapped. “You have a death wish?”
“Where’d he go?” Max asked, stepping out onto the dock, his rifle sweeping back and forth as he searched the night for McCarthy.
“He got away,” Darby said as she walked past them and back to the office. “Oh, well.”
She bent down, picked up a cell phone, and dialed a number.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Kinsey asked.
Darby held up a finger as the person on the other end of the phone answered.
***
“Is it done?” Espanoza asked.
“No,” Darby replied. “But you are. Better run, Espanoza, because I am coming for you.”
Espanoza’s blood ran cold and he turned to the ensign that was by his side suddenly. “Fire on that ship,” he growled. “Blast it out of the fucking water!”
The ensign lifted a pistol at Espanoza and shook his head.
“No, sir, I don’t think so,” he said. “By orders of the Mexican Naval Command, you are relieved of your commission and under arrest for murder, drug trafficking, and corruption of duty as a naval officer. Everything you have said and done has been recorded and transmitted. You are done.”
“What’s wrong, Espanoza?” Darby asked over the phone. “Things didn’t work out how you thought?”
Espanoza looked at the gun in the ensign’s hand then slammed the phone into the young man’s face. The gun fired, but Espanoza had stepped aside. He grabbed the ensign’s arm and wrenched the pistol free, turning it on the young man and shooting him in the belly.
As the ensign crumpled, Espanoza raced around him and out of the bridge. Men were running at him from every direction. He fired over and over and the men hit the deck or ducked into hatchways. He sprinted away from the bridge and hurried down to the upper deck. Someone shouted and he spun and fired, shooting the man in the chest.
Espanoza quickly realized there was nowhere for him to go. He had to get off the ship. But where? Then, as he got to the rail, he saw the sub waiting there between the ships. He looked down at the dark water below, climbed over the railing, then jumped, holding his legs closed and arms to his sides.
He felt the impact of the water all the way up his legs and into his hips, but he knew he didn’t break anything when he was able to start swimming towards the sub.
***
“And he’s in the water,” Ballantine said. “Ingrid, bring the com back online. Full encryption protocols. No more of this open, sometimes snooped on, cat and mouse crap.”
“Yes, sir,” Ingrid said.
“Lake? Where is it?” Ballantine asked.
“Closing fast,” Lake said. “It’ll be a race between it and Espanoza as to which one gets to the sub first.”
“Com is secure, sir,” Ingrid said.
“Good,” Ballantine said. “Darby?”
***
“All is as it should be,” Darby said into her com.
“Whoa,” Shane said. “Com’s on? I thought we were staying quiet?”
“And the package?” Ballantine asked.
“Wrapped and ready for delivery,” Darby said, walking over to Dr. Morganton’s body. She knelt down and gave the corpse a nudge.
But it wasn’t a corpse.
Dr. Morganton stirred then opened her eyes and looked over at Kinsey, Max, and Shane who stood by the door.
“Who are they?” Dr. Morganton asked, sitting up.
“Team Grendel,” Darby said.
“Ah, Ballantine’s crew,” Dr. Morganton nodded as Darby helped her to her feet. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to play dead? I’ll be working out the kinks for weeks. Good thing I do yoga daily.” She stepped forward and offered her hand. “Dr. Lisa Morganton. It’s good to meet you.”
“Uh, you too,” Shane said as he shook her hand.
“Gonna need some answers, Darby,” Kinsey said.
“In good time,” Ballantine said over the com. “For now you stay quiet and get the package safely back here. Understood?”
“You’re the boss,” Kinsey said.
“Yes, he is,” Darby said. “Let’s go.”
***
Most of the crew of the Beowulf III stood at the railing of the upper deck and watched as spotlights illuminated Espanoza swimming frenziedly towards the sub.
“It’s kind of sad,” Ingrid said. “He has no idea what’s about to happen.”
“Screw him,” Gunnar said. “He killed Beau.”
Everyone looked over at him and nodded.
“Here it comes!” Lake shouted from the bridge.
Espanoza reached the sub and grabbed onto the faux skin. It took him a minute, but the sub was low enough in the water that he was able to get himself up onto the back. He looked around for a second and then pounded where he thought the cargo hatch was.
“I can’t look,” Ingrid said and turned away.
“Not missing this for anything,” Popeye said.
“Me neither,” Cougher said.
Espanoza raised both hands up over his head and brought them down hard onto the cargo hatch one more time.
Then the water exploded around him and the sub was lifted into the air, clutched in the jaws of a sixty foot shark. The shark took the sub twenty feet into the air before twisting around and bringing it back to the water. Espanoza’s screams could be heard all the way to the Beowulf III.
“Oh, shit!”
“Damn!”
“Holy fuck!”
“Awesome!”
“What’s happening? Guys? Tell me!”
“Open your eyes!”
“Moshi,” Ballantine said to the woman at his elbow. “If you’ll do the honors.”
Moshi swiped at her tablet, and the controls she had been remotely piloting the sub with disappeared, replaced by a single red button.
“For Beau,” Moshi said and all the cheering and yells and talking stopped instantly.
They all looked at the woman that never spoke and hands went over hearts, heads lowered and as one they said, “For Beau.”
Moshi pressed the button as the shark took the sub under and began to dive. The water exploded into a geyser of blood, metal, and skin, both faux and real.
The crew of the Beowulf III watched, many with tears in their eyes.
“Thorne?” Ballantine asked into his com. “You and Mr. Pearlman are up.”
***
The water was chaos, but Thorne, and Mike with flippers strapped to his legs, swam hard towards the spot where the sub had exploded. Their goggles searched the waters for any sign of the giant shark.
“There!” Thorne said, pointing below them.
“Holy fuck! It’s still alive?” Mike exclaimed. “What the hell are these things made of?”
“I don’t really care,” Thorne said. “As long as I can kill them somehow.”
Both Thorne and Mike put channel rifles to their shoulders and watched as targeting sights came up in their goggles. They led the shark slightly and then each fired six rounds.
***
The shark fled, most of its jaw mangled and hanging loose. It felt its lifeblood leaving, but it didn’t slow as it dove faster and faster. Then there was more pain as it was hit over and over from behind. It pushed itself to go faster, but it couldn’t outrace what had already punctured it.
All twelve rounds exploded at once and the shark was sent to the bottom in a hundred pieces.
***
“Kill confirmed,” Thorne said. “Heading back to the B3.”
“That was crazy,” Mike said. “And this is what you do all the time?”
“Not all the time,” Thorne said. “Just when Ballantine calls.”
“Wow,” Mike said. “How do I sign up?”
“Well, we’ll- LOOK OUT!” Thorne shouted as a shape came up behind Mike and grabbed him around the neck.
Mike jammed an elbow into a bleeding Espanoza’s belly and swam towards Thorne. Thorne pulled his channel pistol and brought it up, taking careful aim. He fired and the round twisted through the water, nailing Espanoza right in the mouth. A second later Espanoza’s headless body slowly sank towards the bottom of the ocean.
“Thanks,” Mike said.
“Anytime. Stupid motherfucker thought he could take two frogmen in the water,” Thorne smirked. “Now let’s get inside and get dry. I’m fucking hungry and need a nap.”
“That’s my condo,” Gunnar said, pointing up at the smoking ruins of his home. “I...it wasn’t like that when I left.”
“Sir, the whole building has been cordoned off until the arson investigation is completed,” the police officer said as he stood by the barricades that surrounded the Vista Continental Luxury Condos. “I’m sorry, but you can’t go in there.”
“I just need to see if there’s anything left,” Gunnar said. “All my clothes are in there! Everything I own!”
The officer turned and looked over his shoulder and laughed. “Man, there’s nothing in there now. Three quarters of the building is scorched. And even if there was anything, I can’t let you in. No one goes in until the arson investigation is completed. Please don’t make me say it again.”
“Did you just laugh?” Kinsey snapped as she grabbed the barricade, ready to toss it aside. “I really hope you didn’t because I’d stick my foot so far up your-”
“Thank you, officer,” Gunnar said, pulling Kinsey back with his one good arm. “I understand you are just doing your job. How do I find out when the investigation is finished?”
“You’ll get a call,” the officer said, his eyes boring into Kinsey. “Until then, just stay away.”
“On my list, man,” Kinsey said, her finger jabbing towards the officer. “On my list.”
Gunnar winced as he yanked Kinsey away from the barricade. Kinsey ignored the nagging pain in her ribs and tried to fight him, but he just kept yanking. Six more people took their place and the officer started all over with his tired spiel as the sun rose across the late morning sky. Gunnar was already sweating heavily, mainly from the fact he hadn’t taken a pain pill in a couple hours. Kinsey was about to protest the way the officer blew them off, but she saw the look on Gunnar’s face and stopped.
“Shit, Gun, I’m sorry,” Kinsey said, calming down instantly. “I totally forgot you were hurt.”
“Not bad,” Gunnar said. “I’ll live.”
“No, no, it is bad
,
m
y
bad,” Kinsey said and switched from being held to doing the holding as she walked Gunnar over to the long, white passenger van that sat across the street. A car honked as they crossed and Kinsey flipped the driver off.
“That guy on your list too?” Gunnar smirked.
“Shut up,” Kinsey said as she got Gunnar into the van. “It sounded cooler in my head.”
Popeye sat in the driver’s seat. The boatswain looked as exhausted as they all did, but nowhere near as irritated. “Ballantine said it was all gone.”
“I had to see,” Gunnar said as he leaned into the back seat. “Why the hell did Espanoza’s men do that?”
“Like Ballantine said, we’re at war with the Colende cartel now,” Popeye said.
“Because giant fucking sharks weren’t enough,” Kinsey replied. “Where are the boys?”
“On the phone,” Popeye said as he pointed over at the Reynolds as they paced back and forth on the sidewalk down the street.
Both brothers were pretty much yelling into their phones, arms gesticulating. A mother jogging by with two toddlers in a double stroller looked at them with angry, reproachful eyes as she went by. Kinsey guessed the Reynolds’ language wasn’t child friendly. After a couple of minutes they both hung up, looked at each other, then up at the sky and screamed.
“That’s not good,” Kinsey said. The brothers stomped back to the van and jumped in, both red in the face and twitching with anger. “What’s up, cuzzes?”
“Everything’s gone,” Max said as he struggled to stay under control. “Everything. Just got off the phone with the Sheriff. Our cabin, our gear, all of it was burned to the ground. Not a fucking thing is left.”
“No Jeep, either,” Shane said. “Impound lot was broken into. Our Jeep was torched as well as all the cars around it. Gone.”
“Gone,” Max echoed.
“All fucking gone,” Shane said.
“Goner McGonerston,” Max said.
“The gonest,” Shane added.
“Stop,” Gunnar said. “We get the picture.”
“Back to the B3?” Popeye asked.
“My dad first,” Kinsey said. “We should check on him.”
Popeye nodded. “No need. He’s on the ship already. His place was torched too. Lake just called.”
Max’s phone rang and he answered quickly. “Hey, Sheriff, what’s up-” He listened for a while, his eyes darting to Shane over and over. He ran his hand down his face and sighed. “Thanks... No, I get it... Yeah, yeah, sorry... Let us know if we can help. Right...sure...you have our numbers.”
“What’s up?” Shane asked.
“Jerky, Smut, and Hashwad are dead,” Max answered. “Sheriff got the call from the State Troopers. Their fields were poached then scorched. Each guy was found strung up and flayed open. The Sheriff is already sending guys out to our other clients’ fields, but he has a feeling they’ll find the same thing.” Max leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. “We have been asked not to come back north for a long time.”
“Fuck,” Shane said. “They’re dead?”
“Dead.”
“Well, that part of our life is done,” Shane said. “What do we do now?”
“We fight,” Kinsey said.
Everyone turned and looked at her.
“What?” she asked. “You think the Colende cartel is just going to call it even? They aren’t. I know these fucks. Or fucks like them. It’s never an eye for an eye; it’s every part of your body, plus the bodies of your friends and family, for an eye.”
“You’re right,” Max said. “They won’t stop.”
“So we fight,” Shane said.
“Can we eat lunch first?” Gunnar asked.
“On the B3, “Kinsey said. “Popeye? Put that metal leg to the metal. Get us out of here.”
“We’re now boat people, aren’t we?” Max laughed. “So much for the choice of the good life of smoking joints and teaching hippies to shoot.”
“Sometimes the choice gets made for you,” Kinsey said. “Trust me.”
***
“It’s been two days,” Darren snapped as Lake blocked him from the bridge. “Get the fuck out of my way, Marty!”
“Ballantine said the effects of the drugs can last up to ten days,” Lake said. “So until ten days are up, I’m still acting captain.”
“Dude!” Darren shouted. “I’m fine!”
“Don’t care,” Lake said. “You have been relieved of duty for the next ten days. Go have a drink.”
“Can’t drink,” Darren said. “Can’t do shit.” He balled his fists and glared at Lake. “Just let me hang out, okay? I’ll stay out of the way. I’ll even be your CO. How’s that?”
“No,” Lake said. “You have a flashback or something and I don’t want to deal with it on the bridge. Plus, it’s confusing to the crew, Darren. I’m acting captain for now, deal with it.”
“I hate you so much,” Darren growled.
“Don’t hate the messenger,” Lake said. “Now, are you going to go chill the fuck out or do I need to kick your ass?”
“No, I’m going,” Darren said as he walked away and headed for the observation deck above the briefing room. “But I’ll be back!”
“Looking forward to it,” Lake said.
Darren walked up the steps to the observation deck and plopped into a deck chair next to Lucy.
“No go?” Lucy asked, lying out in a Coast Guard red bikini, soaking up the sun. She had a small bandage around her head and lowered her sunglasses as she looked over at Darren. She saw the look on Darren’s face and smiled. “Welcome to convalescence. Enjoy it, D. Odds are we won’t be relaxing much for a while.”
Darren eased into his deck chair, wincing as he took his shirt off. His torso was a mass of black, blue, green, brown, and yellow from being crushed in the shark’s jaws. Three broken ribs and an almost burst kidney, but otherwise the wetsuit did its job and kept him from any permanent damage. He looked out at the Pacific Ocean, and the San Diego coastline that was just visible, and sighed heavily.
“Prisoner on my own ship,” he complained.
“Knock it off,” Lucy said. “Self-pity makes you look weak. Despite your tie dyed torso there, tough guy.”
Darren rolled his eyes. “I hate this.”
“Yes, you’ve made that clear,” Lucy said. “You think I like any of it? We’re all stuck here. Ballantine’s orders. At least you got to do some fighting before it went to shit. I got knocked out in the first round and spent the whole time sleeping.” She picked up a tall glass with beads of sweat running down it. “At least there’re cocktails.”
“I can’t drink because of that messed up shit that could still be in my bloodstream,” Darren said.
“And I can’t drink because of the concussion,” Lucy said, jiggling the ice in the glass. “It’s sweet tea.”
“Sweet tea?” Darren laughed. “Where are we? Georgia?” He looked at the glass and smiled. “Gimme some.”
“Just a sip,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to get up and get more.”
Darren took a sip of the sugar sweetened tea. “Needs lemon.”
“I don’t like lemon,” Lucy said, taking the glass back. “Get your own and put lemon in it.”
A dot in the sky got larger and larger and Darren shielded his eyes.
“Looks like everyone is coming back,” Darren said, pointing at the helo that moved towards the Beowulf III at a fast rate. “I better go meet them.”
“Don’t bother,” Thorne said as he walked up onto the deck. “We’re meeting in the briefing room in a few minutes. Let them get aboard and settled.”
“Meeting?” Darren said. “Ballantine finally going to let us in on the plan?”
“I hope so,” Thorne said. “And it better be a good one. This ship is nice, but one perk of being retired from the Navy is not having to live on a boat.”
“But there’s sweet tea,” Lucy smiled.
Thorne shrugged. “I like mine straight. It’s the West Coast in me.”
The helo circled the ship twice, causing everyone to shield their eyes from the rotor wash then landed on one of the helipads.
“Damn it!” Lucy snapped. “There’s crap in my tea now!”
“You can get more,” Thorne said as he left the two up on the observation deck.
Thorne took off his sunglasses and rubbed them on his shirt as he descended the steps past the bridge and down to the upper deck. The new helo, another MH-65F Dolphin appropriately named Wyrm III, opened and Kinsey, the Reynolds, Gunnar, and Popeye jumped out as Darby sat in the pilot’s seat and finished the power down.
“Hey, Daddy,” Kinsey said.
“Was it like Ballantine said?” Thorne asked.
“Worse,” Gunnar replied. “There’s nothing.”
“That’s what Ballantine told you it would be like,” Thorne said. “How was it worse?”
“I got to see it with my own eyes,” Gunnar said. “I’m going to shower and fix a very stiff drink.”
“Wish I could join you,” Kinsey said and held up a hand at her father. “Kidding.”
“No, you’re not,” Thorne said, his lips pursed.
“True,” Kinsey shrugged. “But a girl can dream.”
“Keep dreaming,” Thorne said then looked at Gunnar. “Shower fast, but no drink. Ballantine has called a meeting.”
“That’s what Darby said,” Gunnar nodded. “And I’ll bring the drink to the meeting.”
“Hey, Uncle Vinny,” Max said as he slunk past.
“How’s it going?” Shane asked then followed his brother, not waiting for an answer.
“What’s up with those two?” Thorne asked. “They look like their dog died, but they don’t have a dog.”
“Cartel hit their clients,” Kinsey said. “They aren’t welcome in NorCal for a while. Too much heat.”
“Which clients?” Thorne asked.
“All of them,” Kinsey said. “They’ve been on the phone since we left Gunnar’s condo trying to get a hold of people. No one has answered or called back. We’re all assuming the worst.”
“Good assumption,” Darby said as she hopped out of the helo. “Colende is one of the Evil ones.”
“Are there good cartels?” Thorne asked.
Darby shrugged. “There are bad, worse, and Evil.”
Kinsey and Thorne heard the capitol E in her voice.
“Mike still onboard?” Kinsey asked.
“No choice,” Thorne said. “Like the rest of us.”
“Where’s he at?” Kinsey asked. “He might cheer Gunnar up.”
“Down in the Toyshop with the nerds and Dr. Morganton,” Thorne said. “I still don’t trust that woman. She had a lot to do with the shit we’re in and the shit we’ll stay in.”
“She’s was fucked before us,” Darby said. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to trade places with her.”
“I’ll have to take your word on that,” Thorne said. He looked her up and down. “What’s different about you?”
“Nothing,” Darby said and then walked away from the Thornes.
Kinsey waited until the woman had stepped through a hatchway and below deck before turning to her father. “She got highlights,” Kinsey smiled. “In her hair.”
“I know where highlights go,” Thorne said. “I was married and do have a daughter.” Thorne smirked at Kinsey. “Although you look like one of the boys most of the time.”