Chapter 22 #2
“I haven’t spotted Jean Luc yet this morning.”
Neither had she, she just now realized. Picking up a speedy staccato rhythm, her heart plunged into her gut like an elevator with a snapped cable.
How could she have not noticed? Squinting, she scanned the horizon all the way around, searching for Jean Luc.
It was the slow, systematic scan of a trained professional.
She forced herself to push everything aside and remember her mission.
Aside from surfing her heat and staying alive, she needed to see that Jean Luc, Ned and the Brazilian brothers came to justice.
She and Chauncey were in command of the beach unit for this operation right now and she snapped herself to professional mode and shed the surfer persona as if she’d ripped off her bathing suit.
“I’ll keep watch. If I need to break character, I will. I need a way to communicate, Chauncey. I can’t remain in the dark like this.”
“I know. I’ll see what I can find for you. I don’t have anything on me.”
Chauncey left her and she felt naked standing there alone knowing Ned and the Brazilians were watching her.
She could see them perched up on the second deck of their canvas gazebo.
Even without binoculars she saw them watching through theirs and stopped her pacing when Ned stood and walked to the steep metal stairs to climb down.
The sinking feeling in her gut told her he was headed her way.
Glancing around, she looked for Jean Luc once more and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.
Instead, she saw his brother Roger rounding the corner of the officials’ tent and heading her way.
This was no coincidence. The announcer called the first heat to a start, and it was time for the surfers to head to the water.
She pulled her board from where it stood in the sand and trotted out to the water, pushed off and fell forward on the board, paddling deep and strong at the head of the other three surfers and on her way into the main frame of the TV cameraman’s lens.
She hoped. Slipping one glance back toward the beach, she saw Roger meeting with Ned at the marshalling area on the beach and both of them looking her way.
Although she bought herself some time, they all knew she’d have to come into shore soon and she hoped to hell Dane got there with his jet ski before then. She hoped to hell the troops weren’t far behind to arrest Ned and Roger’s no-good asses.
* * *
Once Shana paddled out ahead of the others in the first heat, the announcer sounded confused and then started to talk about snaking and disqualification, so Dane jumped from his chair and gave the okay signal for her to go ahead.
As the head judge, he was the final arbiter for when snaking in front of another surfer was allowable.
He watched the announcer for a tense moment and then there were nods and the announcer cleared her.
That dealt with, he aimed his binoculars toward the beach to see the cause of her hasty decision and spotted Roger and Ned in the marshalling area watching her.
She was now poised to catch a wave. Dane knew he’d need to be there waiting when she made it to the beach.
He saw Chauncey on his way to Roger and Ned to engage them.
Good distraction. Dane tossed his binoculars aside and moved to the metal stairs down to the beach.
One of Ned’s henchmen was at the bottom. This called for plan B.
Dane spun around and headed in the opposite direction before the henchman saw him.
Moving under the tented area of the pavilion, he made like he needed a break and called in a time-out to the announcer and presumably to the Surfing Director—the missing Jean Luc.
He removed his judge’s jersey, grabbed the spare shirt, hat and sunglasses from his backpack and headed down the interior stairs to the floor below, presumably to the men’s room.
Once down there he walked out the back exit of the first level and circled around.
Checking his watch, he realized the extra maneuvering cost him too much time. “Shit.” He trotted toward the beach and searched the surfers for the distinctive blond hair and killer body of Shana George, and tried to keep his heart from seizing up while his chest tightened in bald fear.
The surfer jumping from her knees to a stand as she caught a wave was not Shana.
Where the hell was she? Dane searched the water past the surfing area to the far side of the beach and spotted a jet ski fully loaded.
Needing binoculars to be sure, he looked around for Chauncey and caught him running for the watercraft area at a full sprint.
“Double shit.” Dane took off after him without a second thought, weaving through the crowd along the water and trying to be inconspicuous in spite of his haste.
The announcer called out the next heat and proclaimed Shana George in the lead thus far.
Ironically, without him rigging the judging.
Glancing over his shoulder up to the judge’s perch he left behind, he saw a man looking suspiciously like one of Ned’s thugs sitting there in his place.