Chapter 8
We circled the island, making sure we were alone. Jack pulled into the bay, and we dropped anchor in the shallows. I grabbed a shovel, flashlight, the briefcase, and a backpack with bottles of water and snacks. I climbed over the gunwale and marched up the beach to the tree line.
Jack and Flynn followed.
We took a narrow path through the underbrush, crunching on leaves and stepping over fallen logs. The dappled rays of moonlight filtered through the canopy.
In the meadow, high grass swayed with the wind. Across the field was the old World War II-era bunker and artillery platform. Twisted weeds and vines reclaimed the structure. Tagged with graffiti, it was a common hangout for kids, drug dealers, and ne'er-do-wells.
We’d had our fair share of experiences on Emerald Cay, not all of them good.
Mosquitoes buzzed, and I slapped my skin when the vultures made a landing. The air was humid and sticky, and the briny breeze coming off the water felt good.
"Where the hell do you want to bury this thing?" JD asked.
I glanced around, looking for an appropriate landmark. There was a tree that had been struck by lightning and split in half. It was unmistakable. I figured it was as good a place as any to bury the case.
This wasn’t the first time somebody buried something out here. We'd dug up a few artifacts in our time.
I walked to the tree and marched off a few paces to the north. I stabbed the shovel into the ground and stomped on it with my heel. The blade pried up a mound of dirt. It was soft enough here. I figured we could dig a few feet down without too much trouble.
It didn't take long to work up a sweat as we dug out a hollow pit. The mosquitoes continued to swarm. The breeze would push them away for a bit. When it died down, they'd return.
With the three of us going at it, it didn't take too long.
But Jack had to take frequent breaks. His shoulder wasn't exactly loving the idea. I told him not to push himself, but Jack wasn’t the type of guy to pay attention to limitations.
Neither of us ever wanted to admit defeat.
Especially not against the battle of time. It comes for us all eventually.
I figured a few feet would be safe enough. I placed the case in the pit, and we covered it with dirt and packed it down. Then we grabbed leaves and twigs and covered the pit, so it was indistinguishable from the rest of the terrain.
I snapped a photo and made a note in my phone about the location. It would totally suck to bury the case out here, then not be able to find it again.
I glanced around, making sure we were still alone. It was just us, the wind, and the mosquitoes. The stars and moon were the only witnesses to our clandestine adventure.
I said to Flynn, “Not a word to anyone.”
“Who am I going to tell? Besides, where I’m going, I won’t have much contact with the outside world.”
Tired and sweaty, we twisted the tops off bottles of water and guzzled them down.
Rehydrated, we grabbed the gear and made our way back to the boat.
We tossed everything aboard, climbed over the gunwale, and weighed anchor.
Jack took the helm and fired up the engines.
He navigated us out of the bay, and we circled the island once again to make sure no one else had made their way out here during our operation.
Satisfied no one had seen us, we headed back to Coconut Key feeling somewhat accomplished. I figured the case was safe. It would buy us a little time to figure out who Nathan Mercer was and why he was killed.
Flynn sparked up a joint on the ride back.
I gave him a sour look. "Flynn! You can't do that."
He dismissed the notion. "Come on, live a little, brother. Where I'm going, I'm not going to be able to indulge in any sensory delights for 21 days.”
"Are you sure this is an adventure you really want to go on?" I asked.
Flynn looked at me like I was crazy. "Hell yes! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Plus, you’ve seen what kind of publicity this has already generated." Flynn took another drag, and the cherry glowed. He exhaled the smoke, and it drifted away with the breeze as we bounced across the water.
He leaned in with a grin, those mischievous eyes cooking up all kinds of plans.
"Think of the possibilities. There is a story in this training mission.
There is a story in the actual mission. Everywhere I look, there's a story. And together, we’re going to produce them all. I'm talking blockbusters."
Flynn loved to dream, and dream big. Nothing wrong with that.
"By the time I get back to the surface, I'll expect you to have finished the first draft of the Mickey Malibu story. We gotta stay on schedule."
“I’ll have it done,” I assured. At the time, I couldn’t have imagined how the next few weeks would unfold.
We returned to the marina, grabbed our gear, and transferred to the Avventura. Buddy greeted us with excitement as we boarded the boat. I knelt down and petted the little Jack Russell, then grabbed his leash and took him out for a short walk.
Isabella called me back when I reached the parking lot. "I've got some information on Nathan Mercer. I don't know if it helps you figure out what's in that case, but it's a start."