“Let’s hope it’s not a piece of driftwood,” Danielle said.
Joe began reeling in the line, and the load made the boat slew in the water. “I don’t think it’s driftwood.”
Simon’s head popped above the waves, and he gave an excited vocalization that sounded like a trumpet as he clapped his flippers.
“Throw him a fish,” Joe said. “He thinks he deserves it.”
The winch groaned from the strain, but the line kept winding up until a dark shape could be seen just under the blue water.
“It’s a swimmer!” Tyrone drew his weapon and moved to the starboard side.
Joe saw the flash of a knife. “The guy’s armed with a blade!”
“I see it.” Tyrone pulled out handcuffs.
A hand with a knife in it arced above the waves, but Tyrone reached over and wrestled it out of the man’s grip, then snapped a cuff on that arm. In short order the big guy had the swimmer trussed up and lying on the boat deck.
The guy wore black from head to toe, even his snorkel and fins. Joe reached over and yanked the mask off the guy’s face. A blond male stared up at them. If looks could kill, his green eyes would have sliced Joe’s guts open.
“What’s your name and what are you doing here?” Joe demanded.
The man pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. Not good. This looked like an actual hostile swimmer, not a war game or a diver who accidentally wandered into Simon’s watch.
“Check him for ID,” Joe told Tyrone.
“You got it.” Tyrone leaned over and patted down the guy’s wet suit, then showed his teammates what he’d retrieved. “Looky here. Caps for plastic explosives.”
“But no explosives,” Danielle said.
“Could be he ditched them down below when Simon nailed him,” Tyrone said.
“Call it in,” Joe said. “We need divers down there to see if we can figure out what he was doing.”
Danielle nodded and went to the radio. Joe squatted beside the diver. “What’s your name? Why are you here?”
The man sneered, then spat in Joe’s face. Joe clenched his fists and struggled to keep his cool. Somehow he managed not to put his fist in the guy’s contemptuous face. Without so much as a word spoken by the swimmer, it was impossible to tell his nationality.
“No ID?” he asked Tyrone.
“Nothing I found.” Tyrone picked up the mask and snorkel. “High-end equipment though, and it’s made in China.”
“That doesn’t tell us much since so many things are made in China,” Joe said. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but his unease was at DEFCON 1. “You get Ajax?”
“I did,” Danielle said. “Here come reinforcements now.”
The diver they’d apprehended made a choking sound, and all three of them turned toward him. His hands were on his neck and he gagged before toppling to the bottom of the boat. Joe and Tyrone stood back while Danielle moved in to check him.
She pressed her fingers to the swimmer’s neck. “No pulse.” She eased off his oxygen tank and backpack before laying him out on his back to perform CPR.
She drew back and looked up at Joe. “I smell almonds. I think it’s cyanide. I don’t dare perform mouth-to-mouth.” She began chest compressions. “Grab the air bag.”
Tyrone sprang to get it out of the medical kit, and he knelt by the man’s head and put the mask over his face to inflate his lungs.
Joe’s pulse kicked. “Poison?” This didn’t make sense, but he relayed the information. “That swimmer we caught doesn’t have a pulse. Maybe cyanide poisoning. We’re administering chest compressions.”
The guy told him a medic with the team was on its way. Joe hung up and stood back while Danielle and Tyrone worked on the diver. The guy was already blue, so Joe didn’t think their efforts would be successful.
His gaze fell on the backpack, and he squatted beside it. Inside was a conglomeration of wires and explosives. “This was the real deal, guys. There’s a bomb in here.”
Tyrone paused. “Is it activated?”
Joe examined more closely. “I don’t think so. There’s a detonator in here too.” He gingerly moved it to the other side of the boat, away from his team, then went back to the radio.
“Hey, this guy isn’t Navy. He’s got a bomb with him, so he meant business.”
There was a long pause on the radio before the guy answered. “Did the diver survive?”
Joe looked back at his team, who had finally stood and moved away from the swimmer. “No. We were unable to revive him.”
Which meant his identity and purpose would be hard to decipher.
Two boats zipped toward them. One held four master-at-arms sailors, and the other boat carried divers. The two boats anchored off the starboard side, then tied up to Joe’s boat. The security officers were the first to board. Two of them flanked the prisoner, and one of the men knelt to check him out. “He’s dead.” The men loaded the body onto their boat.
The divers wasted no time and disappeared into the water without any chitchat. Danielle had already sent in Simon’s last coordinates, and Joe waited to see what they’d find. He could only pray whatever was down there was easily disarmed. If there was anything.
Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t think so.
Simon swam around the boat, and Danielle fed him fish every time he came close so he wouldn’t swim off into danger. The boat that had taken the prisoner off disappeared to the south, and the sound of its engine faded into the roar of the surf.
The divers surfaced, and their underwater transport held several items that looked suspiciously like bombs.
Joe shaded his eyes with his hand. “You disarm those things?”
“Didn’t have to,” the diver closest to him said. “He didn’t have a chance to finish up and ditched this on the bottom. Simon needs a whole cooler full of fish.”
Joe whistled. “What could he be doing here?”
“Hard to say. We’ll get more divers out here to make sure we’re not missing anything. And the Navy needs to have all the sea mammals out patrolling the area. This might not be over. This guy meant business.”
The divers loaded their loot onto the boat and headed off. Joe threw fish to Simon until the food was gone, then sent him back down.
This job just got a whole lot more real.
* * *
Why hadn’t Dad answered her text?
Alone at her desk, Torie checked her phone. Three hours since she’d texted him. Surely he was still on the island. It wasn’t like she and her dad were always in each other’s pockets, but he usually answered her immediately.
The hotel felt creepy today, or maybe it was her own jumpiness playing tricks on her. As she made the rounds checking the cameras, she kept thinking people were staring at her. Which was silly. No one knew her. She was just a faceless worker bee here to help the guests.
She’d been glad to finish up so she could hole up in her office. These four walls made her feel cocooned and protected. And Kyle wasn’t here either, which helped.
She needed to get her living situation squared away. Maybe she should talk directly to her aunt. That’s what she would expect anyway, now that Torie thought about it. Having her father intervene would be a sure way to send up red flags when Aunt Genevieve didn’t know they were acquainted.