“I’m already in,” she replied. “Jackal and I did it yesterday.”
“Good. I’m anxious to see the detail on our fellow deep-sea divers. Oh, and another idea. While you’re in there, can you nose around the email accounts of the ship’s crew? I’d like to know if any of these people tipped off outsiders. I’m still at a loss as to how they pulled off a salvage operation of that magnitude so quickly. I’m really pissed they got away with it.”
“We’ll figure it out, big guy,” said Bear with a smile and a nod. “Why don’t you get some sleep until we’re pulled out of here.”
Gunner stretched his back and rolled his head on his shoulders to relieve the tension. He glanced toward the wall of his small cabin, hoping to catch a glimpse through a porthole, but there wasn’t one.
“I have a better idea. There were some fixed tables on the aft deck just past the chopper landing pad. I could really use some sunshine. How ’bout you guys?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” said Cam. “I feel like we’ve been floating on the ocean in a tin can for days. I’ll grab my laptop and meet you up there.”
“Bear?” asked Gunner.
“Lead the way, Aquaman.”
The two men teased one another as they exited Gunner’s cabin and found their way onto the deck. The sun warmed both of their faces as they made their way to the rear of the ship. Across the water, personnel in hazmat suits were cleaning up the Sea Searcher I after the bodies had been removed. It was a grim reminder of how important it was to get some answers to the many unanswered questions.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Aboard the Sea Searcher II
One Hundred Seventy Miles North of Puerto Rico
North Atlantic Ocean
A shirtless Gunner Fox decided to soak up the sun as he pored over the satellite images and nautical charts provided by the ship’s captain. He remained cooperative to the needs of the Gray Fox team. However, the head of the Woods Hole research operation was pretty fussy. He didn’t take kindly to the DOD personnel instructing him to leave Gunner, Cam and Bear alone.
He complained that the reason he’d allowed them on his ship was to get answers, and now they were refusing to disclose their findings. He threatened phone calls and text messages to congressmen or administration officials or anyone else he could use to put pressure on Gunner and his team. Not that it mattered. They weren’t talking.
Cam was the first to render an opinion. “I think this is our transportation ship,” she said, pointing at a satellite photo. “Check this out. A similar shaped vessel appears in this photo just north of Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic. Also, here, southwest of the Turks and Caicos Islands.”
“Out of Cuba?” suggested Bear.
“Makes sense,” said Gunner. “The other islands in the region monitor their ports for illicit drug activity. Cuba may be democratic, but it’s a country full of corruption at the local level. It’s easy to buy closed eyes and ears when your people are broke.”
Cam continued. “I suppose the other option might be the west end of Haiti, but I don’t think there is an airstrip there. I seriously doubt these people would risk this valuable cargo on a small ship. My vote is the logical destination—Cuba.”
Gunner nodded in agreement. Once again, for what felt like the hundredth time since they’d gathered outside, he stood and arched his back. The stiffness was beginning to set in.
“You got smacked pretty hard, didn’t you?” asked Bear.
“I did. It’s a wonder the suit didn’t rupture. When the thing powered off and it went dark, I questioned whether I was still around or not. You know what I mean?”
Bear offered up his hands and brought his index finger to the tip of his thumb. “Do you need me to pinch you so you know it’s real?”
Gunner chuckled. “Very funny. I’ll be glad to get off this tub. I’ve had enough water for a while.”
In the distance, a helicopter’s rotors could be heard. It flew well south of their position and then circled the Sea Searcher I, making Gunner think it was not intended to pick them up. He squinted against the bright ocean that separated the two ships.
Gunner noticed it was heading toward them now. In a way, the small passenger helicopter looked like a huge white stork flying across the Atlantic on its ridiculously delicate legs. However, as the helicopter drew closer and the outline grew more distinct against the horizon, the legs grew sturdier. Now they resembled tubular supports of steel. The main body of the chopper grew in height and width. It was still bright white and had absolutely no identifying markings.
As it approached the landing area of their ship, the turbulence from the rotors threatened to blow all of their research, Cam’s computer, and perhaps even them over the nearby back railing. The trio scrambled to secure everything, with Bear using his wide bent-over body to smother everything on the fixed table. He cursed the turbulence, as did Cam.
After the pilot made a flawless landing, he shut off the rotors of the aircraft and exited. Gunner gave the pilot a glance. He didn’t appear to be a Woods Hole employee, but rather, he wore a naval uniform.
Gunner didn’t turn to the chopper to satisfy his curiosity. He was more annoyed at the intrusion and the interruption of their brainstorming session. And the fact the helicopter hadn’t been dispatched from the Coast Guard facility in Puerto Rico meant it wasn’t for them. Not to mention it was taking up their inbound chopper’s parking space.
He got back to business. “Okay, grand entrance complete. Let’s get back to these still photos of the other submersible.”
“Um, the passengers are headed this way,” said Bear.
Without looking up, Gunner asked, “So?”
“The chick’s pretty hot. You might wanna check her out.”
“Shut up, Bear,” said Cam as she playfully kicked
