Wood's Reef (26 page)

The XO came out to greet him, and they spoke quietly for several minutes. 

“Get Garrett for me,” the XO finally told the duty officer. “Find out where Captain Gillum is and who is with him. We’ll be in my office.”

Garret arrived several minutes later. The three men were assembled in the XO’s office, Garrett again reciting his story, both men intent on every detail. The phone interrupted him. The XO answered, made some quick notes. “Gillum signed out an SUV and flat-bed trailer this morning. He’s got two divers from the Underwater Training School and the local guy he detained. This is not good.” He turned to Garrett. “Get a truck and bring a couple of guys with you. You’re going to Marathon.” 

The XO returned a minute later with a radio that looked more like a satellite phone. He handed it to Gordon. “Captain Gillum is not answering his cell phone. I’ll try and raise him or the divers on the satellite-linked two-way radio. They should have one with them.” He turned on the unit, set the frequency and began to hail. “Captain Gillum or crew, please respond.” He repeated this over several times before he got an unexpected response.

***

Sue picked up the radio, looked at Wood, and shrugged. He nodded back, indicating she should answer. 

“Hello?”

“Press the button on the side, girl. It’s not a phone.”

She pressed the button. “Hello?”

“This is Commander Gordon NCIC, with whom am I speaking?”

“Sue Phillips, RN.” She added the RN with a quick wink to Wood.

“Miss Philips, please explain how you have that radio in your possession.”

Wood signaled for the radio. “This is James Woodson, Petty Officer, retired. What can I do for you?” 

“We are looking for Captain Gillum and two divers with him. You have the radio. How did it come into your possession?”

“You investigating that son of a bitch?”

“Let’s just say I have an interest in finding him.”

Wood gave a thumbnail sketch of what had occurred. 

“Can we set a chopper down there?”

“Negative. There’s not enough open area here.” He glanced at the small clearing cluttered with the boat wreck and bomb. The way the wind is blowing, anythings gonna be tough.”

“We can do a low drop from a chopper. We’ll be feet wet in twenty. Should take thirty minutes to reach you. Is the seaman stable or do we need a doctor?”

Wood looked at Sue. She glanced at the sailor, resting comfortably now. “Just a trauma kit and IV with some antibiotics and pain killers. Better make that for two,” she said, eyeing Wood.

“Roger that.”

***

The rotor wash hit the water as the helicopter hovered over Wood’s Island. The pilot did a quick reconnaissance, looking for a spot to offload. The island was too small to land, covered almost entirely with mangroves. The clearing was as Wood described it. Too small to land even without the bomb and wreck. He steered in a circular pattern, quickly deciding that his information was correct. He would need to drop his cargo in the water. The helicopter moved fifty feet away, to an area where the water looked clear of obstacles, and the pilot gave the thumbs up as Gordon moved toward the rear. A green light came on by the cargo door, and the inflatable was cast out first. It landed in a bundle and immediately started to inflate. Three large waterproof cargo boxes were next. One contained the outboard, the others medical equipment and weapons. The crew bailed next, feet down and together, dropping the ten feet into the water. They were in shortie wet suits, each with a yellow inflatable pfd around his neck. 

Once in the water, the outboard was skillfully mounted to the inflatable and the men eased over the side. The two other boxes were loaded and the motor started. Seconds later, they coasted to a stop on the beach. 

***

The first man ashore was a medic, carrying a dry bag. Sue directed him to the injured sailor and watched him get to work setting up an IV drip and checking the dressing. Satisfied, he moved over to Wood and followed the same procedure as Sue explained his history. 

Gordon, after having introduced himself, was huddled with the other two men around the bomb. He was clearly disturbed that the access plate was off. He approached Wood. “Where’s Captain Gillum?”

“That horse’s ass took my buddy’s boat and took off. I should say he
stole
the boat. Son of a bitch.” 

Sue went over to him. “He’s hurt and should be in the hospital, but he’s out here playing Army with you guys. 

“You can have your damn IV,” He pulled the needle from his arm. “Could use something for the pain though.”

“Before we give you any pain killers, we need some answers.” 

“Just hook it up and start the antibiotics. I’m worried he’s got an infection. He’s starting a fever.”

Gordon signaled for the corpsman to start the drip, but then turned back to Sue and Wood.

“A little respect wouldn’t hurt. I’m the best friend you have here. Why don’t you two give me a rundown about what happened here, and start with why that bomb is opened up.”

“Son, respect is something earned.”

Gordon ignored the jab. He looked into the bombs carcass. “Harmless, huh?”

“As long as that reactor core is out it is. The detonator might give a little blast, but it’s pretty safe. What about that fool Gillum out there trying to find the other bomb? You know there’s two of them, don’t you?” 

Gordon put his best poker face on. He had hoped this was over and he could make a quick case against Gillum, but apparently not. “They’re not answering the radio. I had it pinged to pull the location off it.” 

“You don’t need to be wasting time with that GPS nonsense. You just head out on a course towards the NE about 65 degrees. Watch the sandbars and you’ll be on it in a couple miles. Mac’s trawler should be there, and that other fool’s outboard. They should be sitting right on it. My daughter and Trufante should be on the small boat.” 

Gordon ordered the medic to stay behind and monitor the two patients. The other two men followed him back to the boat. One stayed behind and pushed it off the beach, jumping in when it was deep enough to start the motor. Then they were off in a spray of foam.

Chapter 49

Mac surfaced and scanned the debris, looking for Mel and Trufante. Where were they? Had they been killed in that explosion? A seat floated by, smoke steaming from the burning cushion. Desperate for a better vantage point, he pulled himself from the water and climbed on. He just started to focus on his boat, relieved that it was still intact, when the first bullet entered the water. 

He was treading water, blood streaming from the shot to his arm. He tore back his shirt and realized that there were two holes, entry and exit. At least the bullet had passed through. But he needed to stop the bleeding. Blood was pouring from the wound, leaving a slick in the water. Desperate, he kicked to tread water as he removed his shirt and wrapped it around his arm, tightening it with his teeth to fashion a primitive tourniquet. The flow was stemmed temporarily, but he knew it wouldn’t hold. A piece of fishing line floated by, moving through the water slithering like a snake. He grabbed at it and started wrapping it around the shirt. With nothing to cut it, he continued to wrap, figuring the end would appear. The line in the water started to tighten, and then went slack, as a dorsal fin cut through the waves on the surface. 

The fin moved closer attracted by the blood in the water. It started circling around the edges of the blood slick. 

***

Gillum yelled at the sailor to keep shooting. 

“I don’t see him. He took a shot for sure.” The sailor opened the revolver and spun the chamber. “There’s only one bullet left, you got any ammo?”

“Doubt it. Did you see the bomb when you were down there?”

“Yeah, I’d just started digging around it when my air ran low. Looks old for sure. Not in good condition either. The case is rusted out. I came up to see what you wanted to do with it.” He headed into the cabin, searching drawers and cabinets for bullets.

Gillum was thankful to be alone, if just for a moment, to process this information. Finally, things looked like they were going his way. They had a boat and he’d found the other bomb. One was better than nothing. The bomb at Wood's was far from his mind now as he concentrated on the situation at hand. He just needed to recover it and get out of here. It was almost 5pm now — still an hour or so of daylight to get the bomb up. His best scenario to avoid an investigation and garner the attention of Ward was to secure this bomb. He tried to recall if Ward knew about the search for the other bomb and came up blank. He might have to drive through the night, but he could make the rally tomorrow with this bomb and secure his retirement. 

The sailor emerged a moment later, empty handed. “Nothing.”

“Never mind. We won’t need any. We need to recover that bomb and get it to shore.”

The sailor scrounged through the deck storage, pulling out pieces of rope and cable he could rig a sling with. “We’re gonna need some torque to pull it out. You sure it’ll hold?”

“Yeah, just tie it on and we’ll pull it free.”

The sailor swapped tanks, went over the transom, and did a giant step entry off the dive platform, arms full of rigging. 

***

Mac heard the splash from the boat as the diver entered the water. The shark sensed something as well. Its instincts told it to go deep, and that’s what it did, pulling Mac behind. There was enough slack for him to take a deep breath before the shark pulled the line under. He managed to hold his breath as he bounced off the bottom, unable to control the shark’s movements. He was squinting, trying to avoid any obstacles, when the dive tank came into focus. With all he could muster, he kicked toward the tank, temporarily halting the shark’s progress. 

Fear subsiding, the shark refocused on its prey, its senses easily picking out the blood stream coming off Mac’s shirt. It turned and made a run for him. He saw the line go slack, but the shark was out of his field of vision, so he used the opportunity to go for the tank. As he was about to grab the air hose, he glanced over his shoulder and saw the shark bearing down on him.

The years of training paid off now; he released the air in his lungs, grabbed for the regulator, and took the breath he sorely needed. In one movement, he grabbed the second stage hose connected to the air gauge and pulled the tank free. Using the knife attached to the BC he cut the high pressure hose attached to the gauges. The air hose recoiled in his hand but he gained control in time to shove it in the sharks face as it attacked. The shark took the shot of air square to the head. Stunned for a moment, the anger in its eyes was clear as it regained its wits and came back toward Mac.

Mac had the hose bent back on itself, temporarily stemming the air flow. He watched the shark as it came at him. Slower this time, wary of its prey. Mac released the bend and stuck the hose in the sharks mouth as it approached. It twitched and rolled as it dropped to the bottom. He took several breaths watching for any movement. With the shark belly up now and no longer a threat, he transferred the multi-tool, knife extended, to his right hand. His left hand gripped the air hose, again bent back on itself as the knife quickly cut through the fishing line. The tool's pliers gripped the bend in the air hose as he tied a piece of line around the handle. The airflow was cut off now, only small bubbles exited the hose. He finished tying the loose ends of the line around the wound. The blood appeared to have stopped, only a slight misty trail coming from the t-shirt now. He couldn’t feel anything, which worried him in the long term, but he knew the benefit in the short term. As long as he didn’t pass out from shock, he would be able to make a go at saving his boat. 

Mel crossed his mind for the first time since he’d been shot. The experience, the emptiness inside at her loss, was a new feeling for him. He knew this was not the time to analyze his feelings though, so he took stock of the situation and began to formulate a plan to take out the Navy man and get his boat back.