“Hell, Nick, a couple hundred yards should be plenty of distance. A quarter mile is a long way in the dark. I know you have that new GPS navigator on your wrist, but damn.”
“Leave the approach worries to me. I’m hoping these clowns are dumb enough to not have anyone on watch. The only tricky part will be if there is a watch. With an open back, it may be tough to gas him. If I have to take care of the guy on watch, things will get ugly.”
“Couldn’t a couple of people disappear off there mysteriously without having to nuke the Shalimar?”
“Possibly, Gus, but I won’t know how this will play out until I recon the boat. Look, I’m taking a transponder with me, and we have the com gear so you can talk to me all the way if you want. You’ll be able to guide me if my GPS goes on the blink. You can also track me right to the Shalimar. Think flawless mission.”
“You would abort if your flawless mission looks like it’s tanking, right?”
“Probably not. We’ve planned for everything. I may have to tweak a couple of items when I arrive on scene. Hey… check it out, the Shalimar stopped.”
Gus glanced at the screen display to check The Shalimar’s progress. As Nick claimed, Shalimar was at dead stop. “Nice. We’ll run silent for another twenty minutes. I’m glad we tested out those new electric trolling motors you had installed last summer. Did you have something like this in mind then?”
“Maybe. I thought they were a great backup to have as a redundant system too. They sure are quiet. Running dark, we’ll be undetectable unless they have their own radar man. I’ll go get into my dry-suit, and we’ll do the com checks.”
“Check on my nerves while you’re at it.”
*
Nick kicked in a smooth rhythm with his normal fins, enjoying the blackness. If he raised his head slightly, a vista of stars came into view with stunning clarity. To prevent the feeling of vertigo where all sense of up and down plagues skiers in white-outs, or pilots flying in dense fog without instruments, Nick focused on the horizon every few moments along with his wrist GPS. He had the Shalimar’s position plotted in.
“Hey… are you ever going to speak to me?”
Nick smiled around his snorkel, and made gurgling sounds.
“Oh… of course… you have your snorkel in your mouth. The Shalimar should be in sight soon. You’re dead on course. Now I get your communications warning when you went in the water. You meant that I could talk to you all the way… prick. At least gurgle once in a while so I know Jaws didn’t chomp your pirate ass.”
Nick gurgled. A few minutes later, the Shalimar running lights came into view on the horizon. As the lights drew ever nearer, Nick welcomed the building tension, and familiar all-encompassing thrill of being the stalker. No one aboard Shalimar had an inkling of the power wielded by the lone swimmer. Nick would be life or death on a whim, yet to be determined.
He shifted the harness slightly, controlling his towed equipment array, shortening the line. Nick treaded water twenty yards from the open fantail. He pulled his mask down to his neck, and aired up his suit slightly to provide more positive buoyancy. Using his lowlight ocular, Nick examined every inch of the main deck, drifting closer while angling from one side to the other. Party rubbish, strewn over the deck moved slightly with the small ocean swells.
“Hey, Guster.”
“It speaks.”
“No watch, and nobody passed out on the main deck that I can see.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“I own this boat,” Nick replied. “I’m going on to plant my Blackheart McCarty flag. Arrrrrggghhhh… matey.”
“Don’t get cocky, you two bit swabbie.”
“I’ll let you know when to come collect me.”
“Aye, Blackheart.”
Nick rolled without a sound onto the large fantail extension, tying his equipment array off securely. After placing his fins and mask together inside the separator, Nick then crawled the rest of the way on board. He stripped off his dry-suit, and placed it next to the fins and mask. His next step was a complete search of the main deck and bridge, where he found a small surprise near the inner bridge wall, a passed out red haired woman in her late twenties, wearing only a thong. She was snoring.
Nick went back to his tied off equipment carrier, and brought it aboard. He opened the watertight pontoon, extracting first a small kit. It contained ether and an applicator pad. Returning to the bridge snorer, Nick gave her an application of ether with an expertise learned over a decade. It quieted the snoring. He covered her body with clothing lying on the deck, and a couch cover from the main deck furniture.