Chapter 32
“Pepe’s son, Pedro Sandoval, just got out of jail last week,” Isabella said. “It’s my guess that he’s looking for his father’s money.”
“Think you can track him down?” I asked.
“Keep me posted,” I said.
“I will.”
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket.
"We’re burning daylight," Jack said. "If we’re going out to Shark Fin Key, we better get moving.”
JD and I prepped the dive gear and loaded it aboard the Raptor.
We decided to bring along AR-15s, extra magazines, flash bang grenades, smoke canisters, and anything else we thought we might need in case of a hostile encounter.
If we were going up against a Colombian cartel, we wanted to be prepared—even if it was a ragtag crew of old-timers.
Before we set out, Mickey's phone buzzed with a text. It contained a video clip of Kendra. She was bound and gagged. Tears streaked mascara down her cheeks. It was hard to tell the location. The camera stayed close on her terrified face, then panned to today's newspaper, the Coconut Times.
The clip was brief.
From what I could tell, Kendra was alive and unharmed, but who knows how long she would stay that way.
The text message that accompanied the video read: [You have 48 hours to come up with the money or she dies.]
Mickey texted back. [I need more time.]
There was no immediate response.
He sent the video clip to me, and I sent it to Isabella to see if she could find any information stored in the metadata. I didn't think these guys were stupid enough to send a video clip that still had GPS data in it, but you never knew.
"What are the odds they'll let her go if we give them the money?" Mickey asked, dread filling his eyes.
I shrugged. "That's all most people care about. But if this is Pepe Sandoval's son, there may be more than financial motives at stake. You were responsible for a lot of Pepe's crew going to jail. Pepe would have gone to jail if he hadn’t been killed first.”
Mickey frowned with disappointment.
"Not to be a Debbie Downer, but you should manage expectations. JD and I will do everything we can to get her back safely.”
Mickey nodded. "I appreciate that. I know things haven't been perfect between Kendra and me. But I would do anything for a second chance to make that right.”
"You're going to get that second chance," I said, making a promise I had no business making.
I knew the location Mickey was talking about. Shark Fin Key had quite the reputation, and I knew this wouldn’t be a straightforward dive.
We boarded the Raptor, and I cast off the lines. JD took the helm, navigating us out of the marina. He brought the tactical boat on plane and cleared the breakwater.
The twin outboards howled, spitting foam. We sliced through the briny air heading out to sea, the sun at our backs, angling toward the horizon. It would be dusk soon. I didn’t particularly want to do a night dive in shark-infested waters, looking for drug money that may or may not exist.
The 27-foot boat was a demon. The HDPE center console with a hard top was decked out with all the latest gadgets and some of the best marine speakers you could buy.
It was the perfect boat for any type of adventure, tactical or leisure.
Virtually indestructible, JD and I had found ways to destroy one before.
Hopefully, this one would last longer. It had just been delivered.
We carved through the swells, and the wind whipped across the bow. The sleek, aggressive craft skimmed across the water.
This was all just a glorified movie set to Flynn.
Just make-believe. He suffered from that weird desensitization that occurs when your whole reality is based on fiction.
Sure, he’d handled guns and been around explosions and car crashes.
But that was all controlled chaos. There was nothing controlled about the chaos we were about to get ourselves into.
Life isn't a movie set.
It took about an hour to reach Shark Fin Key. By that time, the sun had slid mostly beyond the horizon, with just the crest of the amber ball visible. It glimmered the water and painted the skies in stunning pastel colors.
We circled the small limestone key, which had a few sheer cliffs. At high tide, the cave wasn't visible. You had to know it was there. Back in the day, Mickey had been all around these islands and knew every inch of them. The details had gotten a little fuzzy after 40 years.
We cruised up and down the east coastline twice, Mickey surveying the cliffs with intense eyes. He finally pointed to an area. "There!”
Jack navigated the boat closer.
Waves crashed against the limestone, spraying mists of salty air.
It was growing dark, and it was hard to see under the surface of the water.
It had been a while since I’d been out to this location. But it looked like the spot.
Mickey nodded. “Yeah. This is it.”
"And you think there’s a good chance the money is here?" I asked.
"I know I've hidden stuff here before. Money, dope. It's a good temporary spot when you get in a pinch. It’s a good place to leave it for someone else to pick up. Not many people come out here. Not many people want to deal with the sharks. And the technical aspects of the dive can put a lot of people off.”
The cave had a few dangers of its own beyond the wildlife.
"I don't expect you all to risk your lives on my behalf,” Mickey said. “I’ll suit up and go.”
“I’ll go, too,” Flynn said.
"No. You’re staying here,” I said to Flynn.
He frowned but didn’t put up too much fuss.
“I’m going with you,” I said to Mickey. “Nobody swims without a buddy. Especially not a dive like this."
Mickey gave a nod of appreciation.
We donned the gear and plunged into the water. I cleared my mask and spotted the entrance to the cave.
A quick glance around told me there were no sharks in the vicinity.
That could change at any moment. Bull sharks were prevalent in this area and were known to attack divers on occasion. A rare event, but still enough to give one pause. Drawn to the area by an abundance of fish and the natural habitat for nurseries, Shark Fin Key lived up to its name.