Off Course (23 page)

Collin fumbled for his regulator, put it in his mouth and pushed the air release button on his buoyancy compensator to allow himself to sink as the speeding vessel with its search lights raced toward him. Holding his nose and blowing out to relieve the pressure on his ears, Collin dropped quickly below the water line just in time to look up and see the lights from the boat panning in every direction, followed by the hull and the propeller, and then the wake straight above him as it left a contrail of shimmering silver moonlight on the surface. The propellers were no more than ten feet from his head, bouncing up and down in the swells, as they charged toward the wreckage of the
Admiral Risty
.

It was a close call. He easily could have missed the warning signs in his state of concentration and physical exertion. All of his and Lukas’s efforts over the past six months would have been knocked over and sunk like the
Admiral Risty
. And only a handful of people on the planet would have known how close Collin and Lukas had come to their goal of ending Pho Nam Penh’s threat to the American way of life and averting the calamities Penh had cooked up for the Western world.

In the eerie darkness, Collin waited to make sure the boat with the lights would not turn around, sensing life and movement all around him as he floated. Knowing the scrapes on his knees and hands were seeping blood, as well as the poorly bandaged gash on his arm, he feared what he couldn’t see yet figured must be lurking somewhere close by. He forced himself to count to thirty as a precaution before he turned on the dive light to behold his fate.

With the dive light on low beam, he found himself in a strange aquatic world with fish he’d only seen in dive magazines. They were brightly colored and mysterious. A few hefty but harmless ones had moved in for a closer look, curious about this alien. For the most part, the other fish carried on as if he wasn’t there. When he started to move again, after checking his dive compass and getting his bearings, it was like a curtain of fish opened to allow him passage through their tight formation. It was a peculiar and exciting phenomenon. The big guys peeled off in search of something more to their liking. The little ones moved alongside him, aimlessly, for a while, then disappeared.

Retreating back into his thoughts, his heart began to ache fearing he wouldn’t make it to land in time to warn Lukas of Pho Nam Penh’s intentions and threats against his family. In Collin’s absence, he knew Lukas could do something to protect them. But he had to know what Collin knew in order to act. There was no time to rest. Ignoring the fatigue, the bruises, the torn flesh, the scent he was leaving behind in the water, and the growing hunger, Collin pushed himself forward through the water faster than before. Either the current was not as strong below the surface, or his determination and adrenaline had helped him find that extra gear. He knew he was making progress.

Twenty minutes later, Collin noticed he was swimming over a reef. It gradually rose to meet him. Then the ocean floor turned to a mix of sand and rock. He surfaced and found himself within a few hundred yards of land. It was mostly dark. To his left he spotted a few lonely lights that seemed to follow the curve of the island as it bent away from him. Straight ahead, he could see what he figured was a cluster of small buildings with orange-ish lights that oscillated in the night sky. Beyond them, to his right, was mottled darkness. The moon and stars struggled to cast enough light through the dissipating clouds for him to discern the existence of anything other than trees and bushes. From his vantage point, the land seemed to be flat to his right and there seemed to be an accessible, though rocky, beach. He headed in that direction.

London, England

June 16, 4:30 a.m. London Time

Nic’s hand and head felt heavy as he placed his phone back in its cradle. He rubbed the other hand across his face and sighed. Another blow to his career. Another failure to complete the simple assignment Alastair had given him six weeks ago to track and capture this nobody named Collin Cook. Despite his bitter disappointment, he was obligated to inform his counterparts in the FBI. Nic checked the time in Los Angeles. 8:30 in the evening. He knew Reggie would still be working.

“I’ve good news and bad news, Reggie.”

“Why don’t you start with the good news?”

“OK. The good news is the Colombian Coast Guard have picked up three Asian men floating in the Caribbean a few miles off the coast of Isla de Providencia. They’re unarmed and in pretty bad shape. Glad for the rescue, I’d imagine, but not talking. The Colombians also picked up four sailors who claim to be the Captain and crew of the
Admiral Risty
.”

“What’s the bad news then?”

“The bad news is that Collin Cook was not one of the men they rescued. He was not with the other men and could not be found anywhere near the shipwreck. The Captain thinks he died below-decks when the boat capsized. The Colombians have ordered a dive team to search the area of the wreckage at first light.” Nic paused, not so much out of grief, but more like placing a divider between tasks on his list of things to accomplish that day. “I’m really sorry to pass along such horrible news, Reggie. Since you’ve got a relationship with them, will you talk to his family?”

“I’ll wait to hear back from you before I do that,” said Reggie. “Knowing his mother, she won’t believe he’s dead until we produce a body for her to examine.”

“Right. I’ll be in touch again once the Colombian divers report their findings.” Nic’s voice conveyed a hint of his eagerness to wrap this thing up, cut his losses, and find a more fruitful field to plow.

“Thanks, Nic. And good job. I’ll let Alastair know what an important asset you’ve been throughout this whole investigation,” added Reggie, knowing he needed to keep Nic’s spirits up. “This thing isn’t over yet, Nic. We have to either recover Cook’s body or find him alive. You understand that?”

“Yeah, I understand,” said Nic, trying to hide his disappointment.

Crabtree continued. “You’ve proven to be a valuable contributor throughout this case. I know it’s dragged out and we’ve been left holding the bag a number of times, but we’re not done yet. Not by a long shot. We’re going to need you and your skills as the next phase of this hunt begins.” Crabtree paused while Nic absorbed the message. “I assume you’ve coached the Colombians on interrogating the Asians they picked up. They ought to be able to provide information that will lead us to Pho Nam Penh. They could be very useful to your search for him and the solving of some very far-reaching crimes, know what I mean?”

Nic rallied, forcing optimism into his tone. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a sliver of hope, a chance at redemption. “Yep, I’m planning to do just that. We’ll see what we can get from them. The larger question, however, is what if they don’t find Cook’s body? What if he got away again and by not searching until morning we’ve given him several hours’ head start?” Nic’s forceful breathing betrayed his inner frustrations.

There was a pause on the line. Reggie didn’t reply at first, but let out a long sigh. He sucked in a quick breath and began, as if thinking out loud, “I guess we’ll have to deal with that when it presents itself. It really wouldn’t surprise me either way. If he survives, he will undoubtedly be wanting to talk with his mother. I just got word that our rescue team has returned her to the hospital. We’ll meet with her and the girlfriend there as soon as possible. Meanwhile, we are monitoring all of their incoming calls, texts, emails, tweets, posts, messages, Instagrams, Snapchats—you name it, we’re watching it. We’ll know the minute he surfaces. If he surfaces.”

“Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful. I’m left once again with nothing to show for my work,” huffed Nic. “This case has been a bloody nightmare.”

“And it’s not closed yet,” said Crabtree. “We’ve still got work to do, so keep your wits about you. Think outside the box, like Collin Cook would do.”

*              *              *              *

Western Caribbean Sea, Providencia Island

June 15, 10:28 p.m. Caribbean Time

As he drew nearer the island, Collin came to the surface and used his snorkel to conserve air in his tank. It was down to 600 psi, just 100 psi above the critical stage where the diver knows he needs to get to the surface as soon as possible. Lost in his thoughts and worries, and glad for the faster pace of swimming underwater, he hadn’t paid much attention to his air supply. He swam hard and fought the current to move southward toward the flat, vacant area on the island he had spotted.

The journey was slow and painstaking. Collin measured his progress against a stand of trees on the shore. It was gradual and tiring, especially since the current continually tugged him westward.

Above his own splashing and the rumbling of the surf against the pebbly sand in the distance, Collin heard another mechanical noise. This time, it was coming from above. When he turned toward the sound, it was too late. The pontoon-equipped float plane was diving straight at him. It looked to be no more than twenty feet in the air and a few hundred yards away. The plane wiggled its wings as it approached. It took a few seconds to register in Collin’s panic-stricken mind, but the friendly gesture finally dawned on him.

The plane’s pontoons bounced lightly on the tips of watery peaks before settling down and gliding toward Collin. The engine shut off and the plane came to rest within a hundred feet of Collin’s position. With the island as a shield, the sea was much calmer here. Before the plane stopped, the door swung open. The pilot pulled his headphones down around his neck and yelled out to Collin, “Hey, your German friend, some dude who goes by Billy Bob, sent me out here in the middle of the night to track your cell phone signal and pick you up. Said something about you need to talk to your mom right away.”

The words didn’t sink in at first, but Collin’s bewilderment soon turned to joy. Billy Bob was a nickname Collin gave Lukas in high school after Lukas declared his undying love for Angelina Jolie. The thought brought a grin to his weary face. “I need to talk to my mom?” called Collin over the noise. Collin smiled a wide knowing smile as he began to paddle his way toward the plane.

“Come on, let’s get you in here,” said the pilot as he waved a hand toward the door on the passenger’s side.

The pilot had gray, curly hair sticking out from under a baseball cap and a handle bar mustache that matched. It was all accented with a thick soul patch of similar color in roughly the shape of an arrow below his bottom lip. The gray hair stood out from his tanned, leathery skin. He spoke with that familiar Texas drawl.

Exhausted, Collin struggled to pull himself into the plane. His weight and the push of the waves nearly tipped the plane over.

“Bring me your vest on this side,” yelled the pilot, a look of worry spreading across his face as he surveyed the waves. They were pushing the plane toward the shore and making it unstable.

Collin swam to the other side, unclipped the mesh bag and handed it up, followed by his dive light, mask, and fins. Then he unzipped the vest and wiggled his way out of it. The pilot grabbed the vest’s looped handle behind Collin’s head and yanked the vest off Collin and set it on the pontoon. It was an awkward and heavy load and it nearly pulled the pilot out of the plane, but he managed to regain his balance, open the back door of the plane, and shove the load in the back seat.

By the time the pilot had secured the buoyancy compensator and tank assembly, Collin had pulled himself into the plane on the other side and sat dripping in the seat next to the pilot.

“Welcome,” said the pilot, taking in Collin’s bedraggled appearance. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. I feel like it, too.”

“Buckle in. We gotta get outta here.” The pilot was already firing up the engine and working the switches and controls to get the plane ready to go.

Soon enough they were charging forward in the surf, headed out to sea. The ride was bumpy until the plane started to gain altitude and slowly rose above the waves. It leveled out at about forty feet, though. The pilot signaled for Collin to don the headphones hanging on a handle in front of him. Once he did, the pilot spoke into his microphone and Collin heard it through the headset. “This is known as flying under the radar, son,” the pilot replied to Collin’s unspoken concern. “Hopefully, no one saw me coming or going. A sleepy resort island like this—chances are good we’re safe.”

“Where are we going?” asked Collin once he regained his mental footing.

“That’s up to your friend. Here, I’ve got him on the line,” the pilot said as he flipped a switch connected to his headset.

“Collin, this is Billy Bob. How’re you doing?” Lukas’s soft Germanic accent was like soothing music. Collin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was the sound of security, a blessing from above. He knew he could relax now.

“All right, I guess . . .”

“Good. The pilot wants to know where to go. I’ve just texted him the coordinates of the wreck. He’s taking you there now, but you don’t have much time. You have to hurry.”

“Wait . . . what are you talking about?”

“I assume you left your computer on board the boat. Am I right?”

“Yeah, I didn’t even think about it. Why?”

“You can’t leave it there. There is too much valuable information on it. You’re going back for it before the Colombians get there. Now hurry.”

“Colombians?”

“Yes, they own the islands you just swam to. Their Coast Guard is patrolling the area, looking for boats in distress. They know about you guys. Interpol alerted them. They’ve already picked up seven people and are heading back to the islands.”

“That must be the boat that almost ran me over.”

“Probably. Their communications indicate they spotted the wreckage as they searched for survivors. Found them drifting a few miles away. You’ve got to get in and get out as quickly as possible. You can’t let them see you. This is risky enough as it is, but we have to retrieve that laptop.”

“OK,” said Collin, his voice hesitant and shaky. He shot a look at the pilot, who was pointing straight ahead at the sliver of white peeking above the surf. It was the bottom of the
Admiral Risty
. “But it’s got to be wrecked, right? It’s been in the water for hours now.”

“The hard drives I installed are solid state drives. Very durable. Maybe not waterproof, but surprisingly tough and resistant. If you know what you’re doing, the data can still be retrieved from them, and if they got in the wrong hands that would be a very bad thing.”

“But I think they already cloned the drive. They hooked it up to some sort of modem-looking thing and a satellite phone. They already have all the data,” said Collin.

“They may have gotten some of it, but they couldn’t have gotten it all. Not without my knowing,” said Lukas. “I installed a phantom drive as further protection.”

Collin shook his head, remembering his one and only priority at the moment. “But what about my mom? The pilot said something about talking to her,” said Collin. “But I need your help to save her from—”

“No, you don’t,” said Lukas. “She’s already been saved. A group of Marines from Pendleton air-lifted her to the hospital already.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about her or Emily, Collin. I’ve been tracking them both and sent a team in as fast as I could. They’re safe and doing fine. Right now, your focus needs to be to get that hard drive. Good luck, Collin.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

The pilot signaled with his hand to interrupt the conversation. “Listen up, boys. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to discuss, but for now I’m gonna have to land this plane for you—out there a ways,” said the pilot, pointing to an area ahead on the right. “You gotta swim about two hundred yards. I just can’t get any closer—not with those waves and rocks. You OK?”

“I guess I’ll have to be,” sighed Collin, the sense of security already banished.

“Good,” said the pilot. Collin looked out the window at the fast-approaching tips of the waves. “I’m going for that calm water over there, to the north. See it?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“That little rock island is creating a nice little runway for me in the water.”

Within a minute, the pilot brought the plane down the short distance to the water, spun it around, taxied toward the
Admiral
’s sunken hull, and turned away from the islet with the nose heading back the way Collin escaped.

“Well, you best be getting started. We oughta be outta here in five minutes or less,” said the pilot, gesturing with a thumb toward the dive equipment crammed in the rear seat.

Collin climbed into the seat behind the pilot and began putting his gear on. He was back in the water, head still reeling, ninety seconds later. Just before he dropped below the surface, the pilot rolled his hand as one does when trying to hurry someone along.