Clay jolted, his gaze darting around the table. The thought that had slammed into him must have hit others considering the electric vibration moving about the room. “Submarine… that’s how the cartel is moving drugs.”
The Keepers leapt from their seats, shoving down last bites of sandwiches and chips, draining the dregs of iced tea from their glasses before rushing from the room to head back downstairs. Marge and Horace’s laughter rang out behind them.
“Midget submarines or submersibles. We trained with these when I was a SEAL but didn’t use one until I was with the CIA,” Mace said. “Several of you were on a couple of those missions with me.”
Clay had not participated in any of those missions, so he read the information sent to their tablets with great interest. “You can get an entry-level, winged submersible without a pressurized cabin for about a million dollars.”
“That’s chicken feed to the cartels,” Walker said.
Nodding, he continued, “Two-million will get a pressurized, two-person submarine.” He looked toward Mace. “Are these just for short range?”
“Some of them have a battery life of twelve hours. Considering they can leave from the north coast of Maine and travel less than fifty miles to be in a remote area of New Brunswick, this would be the perfect way to transport drugs. If the cartels have some of the Minotaurs on the receiving end, that makes it easy.”
“We’ve seen no evidence of refueling in the Bennetts’ boathouse, so what about replenishment of power?” Cobb asked.
“No fuel, just charging. It says here that the charging time is only five to seven hours,” Clay responded. “Jerry doesn’t have to do anything. He doesn’t even have to be present. There just has to be a power source for whoever’s manning the submersible to recharge before making the last jump, carrying the drugs up to New Brunswick.”
“You want to go back in?” Mace asked.
“I think it makes sense,” Clay said, looking around and seeing nods of agreement from the others.
“Okay, let’s figure out Jerry and the Bennetts’ schedule and make it happen,” Mace said.
It didn’t take long for Clay to discover that Jerry was in Washington D.C. “I can get into the boathouse tonight.”
That night, hours after checking in with Christina to see how her day went, he buried deep the uncomfortable feeling of investigating the band and their finances. Moving in the night with Tate, Cobb, and Walker, he once again made his way over the Bennett estate, this time slipping into the boathouse.
Inside the large wood and steel structure, they found six docking areas, each with their own custom-made boat hoist. He recognized a sports boat, two fishing boats, and a luxury wooden boat that appeared to be a refurbished antique.
Two of the docks were empty. “The charger won’t have to be very large,” he said, looking around while the others set up security cameras covering the doors and all angles on the boat docks. Checking with Josh to make sure the equipment worked properly, he turned toward Tate and watched as he made his way slowly around the two empty docks. “Whatcha got?”
“Trying to discern if anything was here recently. Josh said that there haven’t been any vessels coming or going in the last three days, and yet there’s water splashed all around the decks.”
“Could that indicate a submersible came in under the door and was lifted here?”
“I don’t know. But we haven’t had any rough weather in the past week, so I can’t see any reason why normal tides or oceanic wave patterns would make this area so wet considering the boathouse doors were down.”
Clay deftly unlocked several lockers and containers in the area, finding a total of three battery chargers. “Don’t know if these are the right ones, but with the surveillance cameras in place, we’ll be able to see what they might be used for.”
Slipping back out, he glanced at the clock, knowing Christina should be finishing up her gig. He hated that he missed it but knew he wouldn’t be able to see all of her shows. He had tried to figure out how they could take their relationship to the next level and move in together. But we live two hours apart… Sighing, he pulled out his phone, hoping to catch her as she drove to her apartment.
21
Christina danced and played, twirled and smiled as the crowd clapped and stomped, often calling out, ‘Tiny!’ But instead of coming from her soul, tonight’s performance was definitely an act. Fatigue made it difficult to feel any enthusiasm, relying on years of professionalism and practice to make the experience worthwhile for the audience.
The orchestra conductor had decided for the last concert of the season to add a new piece, forcing several long practice sessions. Tonight, Amhrán M'anama was playing to a packed crowd in a bar they’d performed in before. The spectators were loud and enthusiastic but easy to please. She wished she could say the same for the other members of the band.
Dunk had been drinking steadily since before they took the stage. Every time he downed another shot, the crowd roared, and she grimaced. Steven had been in a piss-poor mood all evening. As usual, picking up on everyone else’s mood, Mike and Jamie avoided Dunk and Steven, keeping to themselves while leaving her feeling very much alone. It didn’t help that Clay had been unable to come tonight. It was ridiculous, but she’d already become used to having him in her life more and more. They had even started making the trip to spend the night in each other’s homes as often as possible.
Now, the final set was over, and all she wanted to do was pack up, load up, and drive home. Some of the crowd pushed forward to get the band members to sign T-shirts. Steven was calling out, reminding people to check their YouTube channel. “We’re all over social media. Make sure to like and follow!”
“Jesus, what’s got him all hyped?” Mike asked. “I’m glad people are enthusiastic, but I’m ready to go home.”
She nodded, murmuring, “Yeah, me too.” Keeping a smile plastered on her face, she accepted the accolades on the band’s performance, making sure to thank each fan. Finally, they were able to start packing up. A man she didn’t recognize was on the stage and picked up her violin. Rushing forward, she cried out, “No! Don’t touch that!”
He turned around, surprise on his face before his eyes cut over to Steven.
“Chill, Tiny!” Steven said. “This is Will. He’s been hired to help.”
“Hired to help? Is this another one of Mr. Kincaid’s ways to spend our money?”
“You don’t have a clue about our money,” Steven bit back. “Mr. Kincaid is making sure that we’re fine and can focus on the band. Fuck, you act like we’re never going to go anywhere.”
She pinched her lips together, then turned to Will. “I’m sorry, I spoke sharply since we haven’t been introduced. But I prefer to be the only one to handle my violin.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am her,” Dunk laughed, swaying slightly. “She’s just Tiny.”
She turned her back on the rest of the band as she placed her violin in its case. Fatigue warred with fury, but she was determined to get out of the bar as soon as she could.