'That won't be necessary,' said Jock. 'I do need you to take charge of a prisoner and keep him incommunicado at your station until I get there.'
'I understand, sir. I'll need to put a lifejacket on him. Can I untie his hands for that?'
'No problem.'
'Sir, just so you'll know, we've thrown a cordon around Blood Island. I don't know what's up, but I was told to let you know that.'
'Thank you, Petty Officer. Would you ask the commander on the scene to contact me on the VHF?'
The Coastie untied Simmermon's hands, put a life jacket on him, and then used handcuffs to restrain his arms behind him. He and another man helped the Rev onto the Coast Guard boat, and they were gone into the night, their stern light receding into the darkness.
'Mr. Houston?' I asked.
'One of many names,' Jock said, and grinned.
'What now?'
'We're going to meet the Coast Guard commander. We may need to get back on the island, and then we need to talk to Simmermon and the people you've got stashed.'
The radio beeped, and then a voice came over it. 'Recess, Recess, this is the Coast Guard cutter Intrepid.'
'This is Recess, Intrepid.'
'I'm in command of the operation at Blood Island.' He gave his coordinates, and said, 'Can you come to me?'
I looked at Jock who nodded his head. 'Roger that,' I said. 'We're on our way.'
I dialed in the new coordinates and we headed west.
The Intrepid was a 210-foot Reliance-class cutter, carrying a crew of seventy-five and sporting a 25- millimeter chain gun and two 50-caliber machine guns. These guys were serious. The chain gun could fire two hundred rounds per minute and was accurate to a distance exceeding one mile. It would blow anything less than a warship out of the water.
The cutter was lit up like a downtown square. Deck lights bathed the white ship in a brightness that would let anyone within miles know she was there. She was hove to about a mile from Blood Island, staying to the deep water of Boca Grande Channel. I could see the running lights of other smaller Coast Guard vessels hovering on all sides of the island.
I radioed the cutter as we approached, identified myself, and was told to come alongside. Lines were thrown down from the deck along with a rope ladder.
Jock grabbed the ladder and told me he'd be right back. Logan and I let go the lines, and I backed Recess off several yards.
In a few minutes, a Coastie on the cutter's deck waved me back in. Jock came aboard, and I backed off again.
'We're going in,'Jock said.
'In where?' I asked.
'Back to Key West, to the Coast Guard station. A Delta Force team out of the Hurlburt Field in the panhandle is going to drop on Blood Island in about an hour. In the meantime, the Coasties have the place bottled up tight. Nobody's going to be leaving.'
Logan said, 'From what the Rev just told me, I think he's planning to hit some mosques. Called it divine retribution for what's going on in Israel.'
'He could start a war,' Jock said.
'I think that's his intention,' Logan said.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
It would be daylight soon, and we were all tired. We still had a lot to do, and we had to make arrangements for Peggy. She was sitting next to me at the helm. 'Peggy, you need to call your dad,' I said. 'And I'd like to talk to him too.'
I handed her my cell phone and she dialed the number. In a moment I heard her say, 'Daddy, I'm with Matt. I'm okay.'
They talked for a minute, and she handed the phone to me. She was crying loudly, sobbing, her head buried in her hands. Logan came to the helm and put a hand on her shoulder, just letting her know he was there.
'Matt,' Jeff said, 'how can I ever thank you?'
'Don't worry about it, Jeff. We're practically family. We're on our way to the Coast Guard station, and I'm sure the local cops will want to talk to Peggy. They'll be in touch and arrange to get her home. What's going on with Laura?'
His voice was low, strained, flooded with emotion. 'It's not good,' he said. His voice caught, a sob stifled. 'She's very sick. Some sort of virulent form of leukemia. She's been aware of it for some time, but she didn't tell anybody. Didn't want to worry us.'
'Prognosis?'
'Terrible. She's close to death. I think she's been holding on to see Peggy. I'm not sure how I'll live without her.'
Pain ripped through my soul; shock and despair gnawed at my brain. No. Not possible. Laura was dying. That just couldn't be. She had been awake and lucid just a few hours ago. She was going to be fine. I had banished my fear with the relief that came with that knowledge.
I knew we'd never have a life together, but as long as she was alive, there was always that glimmer of hope. When she'd needed help finding Peggy, she called me. And I knew that if I needed her badly enough, I could just go to Atlanta to see her. The despair I'd felt during the dream of her funeral bore down on me, dark and hopeless. My mind could not comprehend a world without Laura. Darkness was closing in, shutting down my emotions, drawing me into a pit from which I would not emerge. But Peggy needed me, and Laura needed Peggy. I willed the cloying dread back into its rotten corner, back there where the memories of dead soldiers hide in the shadows and lurch occasionally into my nightmares.
I choked back my emotion. 'How long, Jeff?'
'Today, tomorrow, a couple more days at the most.'
'I'm sorry, my friend, so goddamned sorry.'
'I know. Me too. Thanks for finding my little girl. I'm sure you know how much this means to Laura. She'll go peacefully, now.' I heard a sob as he hung up the phone.
I turned to Peggy. 'He told you about Laura?'
'Yes. Oh, Matt, I've got to get home.'
'We're on our way, honey,' I said, and pushed the throttles all the way forward.
I hailed the Coast Guard station on my radio as we approached their docks. Two men came to meet us, took our lines, and pointed us to the building housing the administrative staff.
On the way in, I'd told Jock and Logan about Laura's condition. Logan stood next to Peggy during the entire trip, his arm around her shoulder, cradling her head in the crook of his elbow, giving support to a young lady who was losing a mother for the second time in her short life. A somber air hovered over our little group as we climbed out of the boat onto the cement piers.
Peggy was quiet, her face showing no expression. She was still dressed in the white gown, now streaked with dirt. Her flip-flops slapped the pavement as we walked. She was holding Logan's hand.
'What about Peggy?' I asked.
'She'll come with me,' Jock said. 'We'll get her some clothes and send her home to Atlanta. I think the local cops will want to talk to her first.'
'Call Detective Paul Galls at the sheriff's office. He's aware of the situation.'
At the door to the station jock stopped. 'Can you get to those people you've got under lock and key? We need to squeeze them for any information about suicide bombers.'
