“Oops,” Harper said, jolting to her feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a mess.”
Before she could reach the popcorn she’d thrown, Atticus was already on the job. In a blink, the always-hungry Lab closed in on the popcorn and gobbled all of it up.
“It’s fine, we’ve got Atty,” Scarlett said. “And swindling’s part of the game. Remember, greed is—”
“All right, that’s enough sage advice for one night, Scar,” Ange said. “And remember what I told you about gloating?”
She sighed. “It doesn’t look good on anyone.”
She and Harper shook hands, then we told Scarlett that it was time for bed. Once she was in her bedroom with the door shut behind her, we told Harper that we’d be leaving in the morning and that Jack would be staying at the house with them.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“We’re gonna take a little boat trip,” I said.
NINE
Ange and I woke up early the following morning. After showering and scarfing down a hearty breakfast of potatoes, eggs, bacon, and a mango banana smoothie, we packed up our gear. We didn’t know how long we’d be gone or how many enemies we might encounter, so we planned for the worst. We decided on three days’ worth of clean clothes and two firearms apiece.
Cracking open our safe in the master closet, I packed my M4 and Ange’s collapsible Lapua sniper rifle, along with ammunition for both. Combined with our handguns, which we kept concealed on our persons nearly at all times, we had adequate firepower to handle whatever came our way.
I also grabbed a black case of gadgets created by a brilliant hacker and inventor friend of mine named Murph, who liked to send me his prototypes. His creations had come in handy over the years, and the case included a few new gadgets he’d sent over just a week prior, including his newest variation of a tracking device that could stick to any surface and was smaller than a Tic Tac.
Since the Baia was empty after having come out of the boatyard the previous day, we loaded up our cooler with food and ice packs. Once ready, we carried everything into the back of the Tacoma. Jack pulled his blue Jeep Wrangler into the driveway just as we were finishing up.
He and Isaac hopped out and carried their stuff inside.
“Don’t forget your rebreathers in the marina office,” Jack said. “I know how much you love sneaking up on people.”
“Thanks, Jack,” I said.
He waved a hand. “It’s no trouble, brother. You need backup I’m a phone call away.”
As they strode inside, Harper stepped out in sweatpants and a tank top. It was 0530. Ange and I wanted to get an early start on the day but had tried to keep quiet to let Harper sleep in.
She bounded down the stairs and wrapped her arms around Ange and me as we were about to climb into my truck.
“Thank you both,” she said, fighting back tears. “And be careful.”
We drove over to Conch Harbor Marina and stowed our stuff on the Baia. Using my spare key, I entered the office and filled a cart with Ange’s and my scuba and rebreather gear, along with our wetsuits and various other gear. I also wheeled our two-person sit-atop kayak from the nearby storage shed and strapped it to the inside of the Baia.
Once everything was ready, Ange cast the lines and I rumbled us out of the harbor. It was already in the upper seventies, but there was a nice steady ten-mile-per-hour breeze blowing in from the east.
We cruised around Key West, then headed northeast on the Atlantic side. It was just before nine when we reached our destination, traversing over a hundred and twenty miles and skirting nearly the entire length of the Keys, from the Southernmost Point all the way up past North Key Largo.
Beyond the Ocean Reef Club at the northern tip of Largo, the island landscape abruptly shifted from crowded housing developments along the Card Sound Golf Course to mangrove-infested islands left nearly untouched by man. The area always made me imagine a time long gone by when the entire archipelago was just as untamed.
Oh, what these islands have seen, I thought.
Centuries of storms, natives and their dugout canoes, and eventually settlers and notorious pirates. During the golden age of piracy, famous swashbucklers like Blackbeard and Captain Kidd were known to have used the islands of modern-day Biscayne to catch Spanish galleons laden with gold by surprise. Then, a hundred and fifty years after Blackbeard sailed these waters, there was the story of the Key West Avengers. I closed my eyes briefly and tried to imagine them making their desperate escape in the dead of night, with Union ships closing in.
We entered the unique area of the Upper Keys known as Islandia. Covering an area of sixty-six square miles, the unincorporated community has a population of eighteen people, most of whom live farther north on Elliot Key and work at the ranger station.
We were one of less than half a dozen boats out on the water, and most were four miles east along the edge of the reef. We cruised off the eastern shore of Old Rhodes Key, then cut west through Caesar Creek. Entering the southern rim of Biscayne Bay, I turned us south to perform a full lap around the cluster of islands.
I kept us at a leisurely ten knots while we scanned the horizon for anything suspicious. As I brought us to the southern end of Totten Key, I heard the distinct sound of an outboard engine start up in the distance.
I immediately idled the throttles, then shut off the engines. It sounded like it came from Jones Lagoon.
“I heard it too,” Ange said.
I