Treasure of Love (20 page)

She placed the coffee filter over the opening of the pitcher and carefully emptied the entire bottle of wine into the makeshift decanter. While she allowed the wine to breathe, she gathered five glasses of various shapes and sizes and handed everyone one. After the appropriate breathing time, she evenly poured the wine into the awaiting glasses and held up hers in a toast. “To a safe and successful expedition,” she said.

“Hear, hear,” everyone responded.

They enjoyed the vintage bottle of wine as they discussed a number of topics, everyone trying really hard to keep the mood light and stay away from the worries of tomorrow’s mission.

When everyone had finished drinking their wine, Dax collected the glasses and washed, dried, and put them away. He folded the towel and placed it over the edge of the sink. “I’m beat,” he said. “We have a really long day tomorrow, so I think I’ll turn in.”

“Me too,” Jack said with a wink.

“Imagine that,” Brad whispered to Mac and Dona. They all laughed, including Jack, as he took Dax into his arms and kissed his cheek for everyone to see.

“Look at you with your public display of affection,” Mac said. “You’ve really come a long way in a short time.”

Jack smiled and winked over his shoulder as he led Dax to his stateroom for the evening.

“I guess that leaves the three of us,” Brad said. “How about a game or two of Texas hold ’em?”

“Correction,” Dona said. “That leaves the two of you, because I’m turning in too. I want to get a full night’s sleep and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for tomorrow’s activities.”

“Party pooper,” Brad said. “But you’re right, I’m just blowing smoke. I’m really tired as well. You ready to turn in, Mac?” Mac nodded, and they turned off all but of one of the lights in the little salon and made sure the companionway door was locked before they retired.

Dona was putting the night-vision binoculars on her bedside table when she heard gentle footsteps and the closing of Mac and Brad’s cabin door. She’d been watching the Russian ship for any activity for the last few minutes, but all looked very still. She crawled into her bunk and pulled the covers up to her neck. She lay there as she listened to muffled voices coming from their cabin, and she had no doubt they were discussing the same thing she’d been watching. She felt a sudden tinge of jealousy that they all had someone with which to discuss the latest developments, but quickly shook it off as she reminded herself that it was her decision to be single.

Chapter 11

T
HE
next morning, everyone was up at first light and moving around with a cautious attitude. Breakfast was cooked and served in record time, and seconds after the last breakfast dish was put away, the entire crew was on deck and ready to get the day started.

Dax and Dona were putting their dive suits on while Mac and Brad casually kept an eye on the Russian vessel, still anchored a little over a mile away. Jack appeared on deck with a speargun over his shoulder and a leather holster in his hand. He placed his gun on the table in front of Mac, and they exchanged knowing looks. He looked around and saw the surprised looks on everyone’s faces, but to his amazement, no one raised a hand to object.

While Jack was getting his suit on, Dax—eager to get started—was the first to climb down to the swim platform. Brad carefully lowered the two cases of explosives and three weighted BC’s with tanks and dive masks down the short set of stairs to Dax’s outreached arms. Dax sat on the end of the swim platform with his feet hanging over the stern and put on his fins. Brad climbed down and slid the BC and tanks up behind him, and Dax slipped his arms into the BC and secured it down the front and around his waist. Dax twisted his body off of the platform and into the water in one quick move, and bobbed as he held onto the back of the boat. Dona climbed down and did the same, but before Jack descended the stairs, he put both hands on Mac’s shoulders. He looked at the gun and back at Mac, and they both nodded.

“You have what you need, brother, and you have the bridge,” he instructed. “If anything happens, do what you need to do. I trust you, man.”

Jack gave Mac a hug and climbed down to the swim platform. All three of them were now in the chilly Alaskan waters and tapping their heads to give the “okay” signal. Brad gently lowered one case of explosives to Dax and one to Dona, and they descended one by one.

Mac took the gun from the table and headed for the bridge while Brad positioned himself midship, where he could keep a look out on their Russian friends.

When Mac reached the bridge, he flipped on the radio.

“Bridge to Jack,” he said into the small handset.

“Read you loud and clear, Mac,” Jack responded.

“Dax, do you read?” Mac asked.

“Roger that,” Dax responded.

“Dona, how about you?” Mac repeated.

“Loud and clear, Mac,” she responded.

“Okay, everyone,” Dax said. “Let’s get to work.”

Jack adjusted his BC and hovered just above Dax and Dona with his speargun in his arms and a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the wreck site. He watched and admired from above as Dax and Dona performed like a well-oiled machine, their years of working together very evident in their skilled movements. Before Jack knew it, forty-five minutes had passed.

“How’s it coming down there, Dax?” Jack asked.

“Pretty good, we’re right on schedule. We’re just finishing the port side and about to move over to the starboard,” Dax responded. “How’s it looking up there?”

“Clear as a bell,” Jack said. “No sign of sharks, if that’s what you mean.”

“Perfect. Hey, guys,” Dax said. “To be safe, let’s go ahead and switch over to tank number two.”

“Roger that,” Dona and Jack replied. “Switching to tank number two.”

Jack continued his lookout while Dax and Dona diligently worked to secure the remaining explosives to the starboard side of the wreck. In just under an hour, Dax was alerting Jack that they were on the last explosive and would need about twenty minutes more to arm each electronic explosive before they could surface.

Exactly twenty minutes later, Jack glanced down at the wreck and saw two rows of flashing green lights. Dax and Dona were looking up at him, and Dax gave the thumbs up sign.

“Ready when you are, Captain,” Dax said.

“I’m right behind you guys,” Jack replied. “We’re on our way, Mac.”

“We’ll be ready,” Mac responded.

Brad was just getting down to the swim platform when Dax and Dona surfaced about ten feet from the stern. Another thirty seconds and Jack was right behind them.

Dax floated the empty explosive containers to Brad and then slipped out of his BC. Brad handed the containers to Mac one by one and then took Dax’s BC and lifted it out of the water and placed it on the swim platform. Dona and Jack did the same, and just before Jack climbed onto the boat, he carefully handed the loaded speargun to Brad, which Brad then slowly handed to Mac. They were all on board, congratulating each other on a successful dive.

“Well, this is it, boys,” Dona said. “We’re almost there.”

Brad was so excited he could hardly contain himself. “When do we detonate?” he asked.

“Shortly,” Dax said. “Once we get some dry clothes on, we’ll pick up the anchor and move the
Lindsey C
to a safe distance, and we’re ready to go.”

“Brad, any activity topside while we were away?” Jack asked.

“Just a couple of cruise ships coming and going,” Brad responded.

“How about our friends over there?” Jack said as he gestured to the Russian vessel.

“Nothing,” Mac said. “It’s almost like they know we’re watching them.”

“Interesting,” Dax said.

“Dax, maybe you were right,” Dona admitted. “It’s possible that I was just being really paranoid.”

“Time will tell,” Dax said. “But if we’re gonna have company, I would imagine that it would be right after we blow the hull. Let’s get some dry clothes on and get this show on the road.”

“Not so fast, guys,” Brad added. “Jack, I did notice one of those fishing boats you scratched off your surveillance. I think you said you knew the captain.”

“Which one?” Jack asked.

“The
Jolly Roger
,” Brad replied.

“Roger Hillstrom owns and operates that boat,” Jack recalled. “We have a few beers every now and then. I don’t know him that well, but I don’t think he would be involved in any funny business.”

“What do you define as ‘funny business’?” Brad asked.

“What do
you
consider funny business?” Jack asked.

“The
Jolly Roger
passed four times in the last two hours,” Brad said.

“That’s odd,” Jack said. “Which direction did you first see him heading?”

“He was heading out to sea the first time,” Brad explained.

“That’s pretty odd,” Jack admitted. “If he had engine trouble, he may have had to return to port, but he wouldn’t have enough time to reach port and make it back here in two hours.”

“Which means that he didn’t go all the way back to port before he turned around,” Mac said.

“You’re right,” Jack conceded. “But he could have hit one of the smaller ports along the canal instead of going all the way back to Skagway. But….” Jack held up a finger. “It usually takes a hell of a lot longer than a couple of hours to get a mechanic to any dock to diagnose and repair a problem. All we can do is keep an eye on him,” Jack said.

“One more thing,” Brad added. “On the third and fourth passes, he swung very wide, as if to avoid being seen by us.”

“Now that’s even more interesting,” Dax said.

“Still think I’m being paranoid, boys?” Dona asked as she passed them on the way to her cabin to change.

The four men all exchanged looks, no one wanting to say any more. Dax and Jack followed Dona and went down below to change into dry clothes, while Mac and Brad continued their surveillance of the Russian vessel and scanned for the
Jolly Roger
or any suspicious new visitors.

Twenty minutes later, Jack was on the bridge of the
Lindsey C
, with both engines purring like kittens. Mac and Brad were on the bow at the anchor controls, awaiting the signal to raise the anchor. Jack put the engines in gear as he gave Mac the signal to start the anchor winch. The boat started slowly inching forward in time with the anchor winch as it started retrieving the anchor from the canal floor.

Dax and Dona joined Jack on the bridge, carrying a metal briefcase containing the minicomputer used to electronically detonate the explosives. Dax opened the case and booted up the computer as Jack inched his way forward. When the computer was booted, Dax ran a check to make sure all the explosives were identified, armed, and ready for detonation.

With the anchor on board and secure, Jack headed for his anticipated position. About a quarter-mile upstream from the wreck site, he picked up the radio to do a security call.

“Security – Security – Security. This is the seventy-five-foot, dive charter vessel
Lindsey C
idling in the Lynn Canal approximately one-quarter mile north of latitude 58.9748 and longitude -135.227. We are conducting approved salvaging exercises utilizing underwater explosives at the previously mentioned position and advise all vessels to avoid this position for the next sixty minutes. I am standing by on channel one six for any concerned vessels.
Lindsey C
out.”

“Hey, Dax, sixty minutes should give us enough time to detonate all the explosives and get back into position over the wreck site, right?” Jack asked.

“I think so,” Dax responded. “That is, unless we have any explosives that malfunction and don’t detonate.”

“What are the odds of that happening?” Jack asked.

“Pretty unlikely, but certainly possible,” Dax said.

“How will you know if one doesn’t detonate?” Jack asked.

“We detonate the explosives one at a time to make sure we don’t miss one and leave a live explosive beneath the surface,” Dax explained.

“Oh, got it,” Jack said. “If we have any malfunctions, I’ll just do another security call.”

Within minutes, the system chimed, and all the lights flashed green, meaning a connection had been established with each explosive, and they were ready to go.

“Here goes nothing,” Dax said as he pushed the first button.

They felt a small vibration underfoot and looked to the site, where a large air bubble surfaced, spraying water about ten feet into the air.

“Yes!” Jack yelled.

Over the next thirty minutes, Dax detonated all the remaining explosives, one by one, counting and watching the effects until all the explosives were successfully detonated.

Brad and Mac were on the bow, jumping up and down and pumping their fists in the air like kids on Christmas morning, while Jack simply smiled like a kid in a candy store. When it appeared that the last of the explosives had detonated, Jack asked, “We’re good?”

“We’re good,” Dax replied.

Jack again picked up the radio.

“Security – Security – Security. This is the seventy-five-foot, dive charter vessel
Lindsey C
idling in the Lynn Canal approximately one-quarter mile north of latitude 58.9748 and longitude -135.227. We have completed our approved salvaging exercises utilizing underwater explosives at the previously mentioned position, and the waterway is once again open to all traffic in either direction. I am standing by on channel one six for any concerned vessels.
Lindsey C
out.”