While enjoying the succulent sandwiches with sides of potato chips, Scarlett brought up the incident back near the Christ statue.
“After grabbing the canister, your mask was filled with seawater,” she said. “How did you keep calm like that? Didn’t your eyes sting?”
I washed down a bite with a sip of coconut water, then chuckled. “Like hell. But I’ve experienced a lot worse.”
“When?”
I looked out over the water. I didn’t have to think hard to resurface the memories. They were engraved in my psyche as if they’d happened yesterday.
“The first time I experienced it was during BUDs.”
“Basic Underwater Demolition School?” she said.
I smiled. “That’s right. Our instructors made us fill our masks to the top, then tread water while holding ten-pound rubber bricks over our heads. Then they’d spray us with hoses as well, or knock the bricks from our hands and force us to dive down and get them. If the water in our masks ever dropped below our eyes, they’d yell at us to submerge and fill it back up.” I chuckled and shook my head. “I think I swallowed about a gallon of chlorinated pool water on those days. Good times.”
“Sounds nuts. Did they just like tormenting you guys?”
“It sounds crazy, but the training serves its function well. Since then, I’ve never been uncomfortable in the water. Ever. That’s the purpose of it. If you can operate under the worst conditions, you’ve got a serious leg up on whatever situation you encounter.”
“You should really think about being a recruiter,” Ange said with a laugh. “Hell, you’re making me want to sign up.”
I chuckled.
“Can girls join the SEALs?” Scarlett asked.
I paused and thought for a moment while looking out over the water.
“That’s a good question. I don’t think so. I know for sure that they couldn’t when I was in, but times are changing. I know they’ve just started allowing women to serve on submarines, which is a huge deal.”
“You think that’s a good idea?”
I shrugged.
“It’ll be an adjustment for sure. There’s a good saying that ‘the first one through the wall always gets bloody.’ It rings true no matter what the endeavor. But things change and adapt. There was a time when black people weren’t allowed to serve in the same units as white people. Crazy to think about now. But I doubt many women would want to be SEALs, let along be able to pass all of the training. Most men who qualify don’t even make it through.”
While finishing up, Ange asked Scarlett how school was going. Her answer was much more animated than I’d expect from a fifteen-year-old girl.
“I love it!” she exclaimed. “It feels good to be experiencing the normal high school scene.”
Having spent the past two years living at a group foster home that provided in-house schooling, Scarlett hadn’t been to public school since the seventh grade. She was smart and likeable, so Ange and I hadn’t worried about her too much since she’d enrolled as a sophomore at Key West High.
“I’m writing a paper on Henry Flagler and his Overseas Railroad,” Scarlett said. “You guys know anything about him?”
Ange and I glanced at each other and smiled.
I thought back to a series of events almost two years ago. Ange and a few local friends of ours had managed to follow clues and track down a rare diamond that had been stolen from Flagler just days before he’d announced to a large crowd that he was going to bring his railroad to Key West.
“A little,” I said. “Though Pete knows a lot more. He’s even got a corner dedicated to the railroad tycoon at the restaurant.”
While we were cleaning up, my phone buzzed to life in my pocket. Sliding it out, I saw that I’d received a message from a friend of mine in Marathon. Nick Alto owned Queen Anne’s, a boatyard that offered a wide variety of services. I beamed as my eyes trailed over the message.
“Our new baby’s ready,” I said.
Excited to take possession of our new boat, we rattled up the anchor and locked it into place, then I started up the 200-Hp engine. I quickly brought us up to thirty knots and piloted us southwest, skirting along the tropical island chain. Just under two hours later, I brought us into Florida Bay. I could see the boatyard up ahead, rows of seagoing vessels of all shapes and sizes on the hard along with cranes and metal buildings.
It had been two months since we’d returned from a three-week hiatus to Curacao in the Dutch Caribbean. Upon our return, we’d had two things on the agenda. The first was to enroll Scarlett in school, which she’d insisted on doing the day after we got back. The second had been to replace my boat, a forty-eight-foot Baia Flash that had been destroyed by a former comrade of mine who’d turned down a dark path years ago. He’d set my old boat ablaze right after murdering a close friend. Though he’d slipped through our fingers, we’d managed to take down Richard Wake, the puppet master behind the incident, and get away with our lives.
Fortunately the Baia had been fully insured. In love with the design of the boat, I’d decided to replace her with the same make and model, but with a few custom touches. And that was where Nick and his experienced motley crew came into play.
I maneuvered us toward a planked wooden dock jutting out from the boatyard.
“Ahoy, Captain Dodge,” Nick called out as I eased the starboard side of the Robalo against the fenders.
I shielded my eyes from the late-afternoon sun and spotted Nick flip-flopping toward us.
