with drinks ’n’ sandwiches, though I’d wait on the food till after your dive — cramps, y’know.”
Nimec sat with Annie on the cushioned chair, listened to the engine throttle up, and gazed out at the water.
He was thinking he might have enjoyed being a spectator to the aquatic goings-on at a coral reef under different circumstances.
Right now, though, he would rather have been headed out to get a closer look at those feeder ships he’d seen last night.
Wherever on the deep blue sea they might have gone.
“I believe I’ve covered it all,” Tolland Eckers said, and slid his GPS pocket navigator into the pouch on his belt. “If any of you still have questions, or need something clarified, let’s hear it before we get moving.”
None of the other three men assembled on the beach spoke. They were in a sandy little cove formed between two lumpish masses of black igneous rock, wearing skintight neoprene wetsuits with short trunks, and ankle-high zippered booties. Behind them, at the surfline, their semi-rigid inflatable strike boat sat where it had been delivered ashore, its scalloped Kevlar-reinforced hull painted bright yellow, a custom touch added to give it the appearance of a sport racer. And while the Steyr 9mm TMP compact submachine guns stowed in compartments near the speedcraft’s straddle seats could hardly be considered standard sporting equipment, Eckers had stressed that they were only to be used in an extreme pinch.
It was what had been loaded in with them that would be the unlikely weapons of choice.
Eckers looked from one face to the other. This was a team of skilled professionals, men who knew what they were doing. Having already made his critical points, he ordinarily wouldn’t have bothered to hammer on them again. But he also would not have led the group out himself under ordinary circumstances. The job they were about to launch was of greater consequence than most, and he decided it could do no harm for them to have a quick final review before kickoff.
“First thing to remember: Nature’s given us a window of opportunity. We have more speed than we should need, and water and sky patrols making sure nobody else comes near it,” he said. “It’s up to us to get in the window when it opens, get the job done, and get out.”
Eckers saw nods.
“Second thing: We can assume our targets will be the objects of an exhaustive search, and that they’ll be given equally thorough postmortems when they’re found,” he said. “This must — I stress
Eckers saw more nods around him and left it at that.
“Time’s come,” he said, and then turned toward their waiting craft.
The Aug Stingray was into its third pass of the overflight zone when its pilot sighted an immense yacht nearing the cordoned off area… surprisingly the first boat he’d encountered, but he’d heard reports of several perimeter interceptions on the shared communications channel.
He tapped his copilot’s shoulder, pointed to the tuna tower aft of the enclosed bridge.
“Looks as if’n ’twere headin’ out t’fetch some big yellers,” he said. “Gon’ be some bloody disappointed faces on that fishin’ tub, don’ ’e think?”
The copilot nodded, withholding a frown.
“I’ll notify a patrol boat to turn them aside,” he said in perfectly enunciated English, and toggled on his radio headset.
Nimec had assumed the pontoon boat would provide a smooth, quiet, and comfortable ride — that was the whole idea behind its low-drag design — but he’d thought it would be kind of weak in the horsepower department. All told, though, it moved at a faster clip than he might have expected, and he guessed Blake the Bronze must have pushed it up to a speed of about forty knots getting them to the reef area.
In the stern with Annie, Nimec was also surprised by the sense of well-being that gradually came to possess him. It didn’t quite shut out his thoughts of what he’d observed at the harbor, and he would have felt delinquent if it had. But the pleasures of the ride swung him
At one point he’d gotten up to lean quietly out over the rail, the breeze streaming over him, when Annie came over and gently took hold of his arm.
“This is how it’s always been for me on an airplane,” she said. “Even before the Air Force or NASA. When I was a teenager flying in my dad’s rattletrap Beech.”
Nimec had looked at her, smiled, gone back to staring out at the water.
They had been standing there together for a few minutes when her fingers tightened around him a bit.
“Pete, honey, look at them!” she said, and gestured excitedly to their rear with her other hand. “Aren’t they
Nimec had glanced down and seen the scythe-like dorsal fins and curved backs of dolphins breaking the water as a bunch of them raced toward the boat, stayed alongside it for a while, then shot past like light gray torpedoes.
He’d returned his eyes to Annie’s face.
“Beautiful,” he’d said, his throat inexplicably tight.
Fifteen minutes or so later Blake had cut the engine and come around out of the pilot’s station. Turning toward him, Nimec noticed a group of steel deepwater buoys some distance from the bow… far enough away, in fact, so that they might have been small red and green apples bobbing on the calm surface. He lifted his binoculars and had a look.
“That where the reef is?” he’d asked, wondering why they would have stopped so short of it.
Blake had shaken his head.
“Attaboy, ace — nice to see you payin’ attention even if you’re a tick off the mark,” he’d said with a throaty laugh. “I suggest you leave the sailin’ to me, though. We’re sitting right over the coral banks. The water’s shallow enough hereabouts, too right. Those warning buoys are to steer you ’round an underwater ledge three quarters, a half mile on… you wouldn’t want to conk into it when the tide’s low, and that’ll be soon enough by my figurin’.”
Nimec had grunted. Had his question really been that funny? Nothing like somebody having a chuckle at your expense, he’d thought.
But Blake had hardily slapped his back before he could get too annoyed. “C’mon, mate, hand off the binocs, an’ let’s see if we can’t get you an’ the missus ready for a dive,” said the Aussie.
Upon which he’d gone back across the deck to where they had deposited their equipment bags.
Although Nimec hadn’t needed assistance gearing up, Blake was determined to provide it, and it seemed more trouble than it was worth to even consider fending him off… a sentiment Annie indicated she shared with a private little wink. As she sat to slip into her fins, clip her snorkel to her diving mask, and fit the mask over her face, Blake bent over her to make some vague added adjustments, then sidled over toward Nimec and did the same for him.
“A few tips I’ll have you remember while you’re dippin’ under,” he said, fiddling with the strap of Nimec’s mask for no apparent reason. “Twenty feet down, twenty feet from the boat’s my rule of thumb. And don’t pet the cute little fishies, ’cause it can hurt’em. And don’t go reachin’ into any holes or crevices’cause some wonky creature hidin’ inside’m might want to hurt
