“On his way.”
“Shit, he better be. We’ve been at this for hours. And it’s already hotter than the devil’s armpit out here.” The chubby guy lit up a cigarette. “There’s nothing out here.”
Skinny stepped forward and looked out over the water. For a moment, he looked right at us. But the overgrown branches and the dark shade they provided kept us hidden.
“Just crank it,” he said.
They continued their search, motoring along a quarter-mile line.
“Looks like we’ve found the killers,” Ange said.
I kept my eyes locked on the pair. “But Harper said that the man who got away from her uncle’s place was muscular. Neither of those guys come close to fitting that description. And who’s this Jake they’re waiting on?”
Ange sighed. “It can’t ever be simple, can it?”
Murders committed out of reckless anger are more straightforward. People don’t tend to think things through very well when their emotions have the wheel. They tend to leave trails that even rookie detectives could follow in their sleep.
But John Ridley hadn’t been murdered out of anger.
No, he’d been taken out as part of an orchestrated plan with a valuable goal in mind. Based on the conversation we’d just overheard, there were at least three guys still involved in the endeavor. And I was willing to bet that the number was higher than that.
I observed the two on the boat carefully as they finished up their current line, motoring right up to the opposite shore of the lagoon. When they turned to head back in our direction, I got an idea.
“Ange, stay here,” I said.
I spat in my dive mask, swirled the saliva around the lenses, then rinsed it in the water to help prevent it from fogging up.
“You’re not taking down these assholes without me,” she fired back.
“I’m not taking down anyone. Not yet. We need to figure out who they were talking to and where these guys are going after they’re done playing Dirk Pitt.” I slid my mask over my face and patted my wetsuit pocket. “I’m gonna place the tracker.”
If we’d been in open water, the idea would be ludicrous. I’d be spotted before I’d made it anywhere close to the boat. But inside the lagoon, the swirling sediment and thick seagrass made a stealth approach plausible.
“That’s a long breath-hold,” she said. “Even for you. And didn’t you just scold that kid yesterday about freediving alone?”
“I make an exception when taking down criminals.”
“You’re crazy, Logan Dodge.”
I dipped into the water, keeping only my head above the surface, and focused on the slowly approaching boat. I needed to time my entry just right.
“That’s why you married me.” I shot her a wink through the mask lens. “Just watch my six in case these guys do anything unexpected.”
She didn’t need to say a word. In her eyes, I could tell that she wanted to just paddle over, beat the two guys to a pulp, then hand them over to the authorities. As much as I liked the straightforward approach, sometimes I preferred the stealth route. And I had a gut feeling that the two guys were part of something much bigger, and I wanted to see what that was.
I shot Ange a smile, then looked back at my target, took in a deep breath, and dropped beneath the surface.
ELEVEN
The water felt good as I flattened out my body and rocketed with smooth, powerful fin cycles. The lagoon was teeming with life: varieties of fish, horseshoe crabs, and more nurse sharks than I’d ever seen anywhere else in the islands. As I’d planned, I stuck to the deeper water, finning just inches above the bottom.
I listened as the boat’s engine and spinning prop grew louder and louder ahead of me. Reaching the spot where I’d predicted them to make their turn, I nestled into the seagrass and looked up through the long green strands that swayed overhead like branches in the wind.
The current was surprisingly stagnant, and the water clear aside from the plant life. Lying on my back and letting the weights pin me to the bottom, I kept my eyes up and watched as the boat’s hull came into view. I was only in about five feet of water, so I kept perfectly still, letting the camouflage wetsuit blend me into my surroundings.
It was moments like those that took me back to my time in the Navy. Sneaking up on unsuspecting enemies, observing them for intel, and pouncing on them when they least expected it.
The boat motored closer. Thirty yards away. Then twenty. Then ten.
I grabbed the tracking device with my right index finger and thumb and pulled it free of the pouch.
Five yards.
When the dark hull of the boat loomed right overhead, I pushed off the bottom and dolphin-kicked as hard as I could. Accelerating to match the boat’s speed, I reached up and pressed the tracking device against the corner of its transom.
As quickly as I’d ascended, I kicked back to the bottom, using the bubbles of the boat’s wake for cover, then froze in the grass once more. The boat continued on, its occupants blissfully unaware of what had just happened.
I waited as the boat performed its expected turn, hooking back around with their magnetometer in tow to perform another pass. When the boat was within twenty yards of my position, it slowed suddenly, then idled.
There’s no way in hell that they see me, is there?
The thick seagrass made it difficult for me to see the dark hull, let alone for them to see me. But then why had they stopped?
I spotted sudden movement to my left. It was dark and big in my peripherals. As I turned my head to see what it was, I heard a
