Operation Caribe

27

THE BAD DAWG One slammed down on the Dustboat so hard the small coastal freighter shuddered from one end to the other.

Nolan and Batman leaped from the copter, not even shutting off its engines.

They had to talk to Ramon.

They ran below, going right to the cabin they knew he’d be using. They found him stretched out on a bunk, half asleep, singing to himself.

Nolan rousted him. “Get up, dude. Naptime’s over.”

Ramon came to life, smiling broadly at first. But one look at Nolan and Batman’s faces, and he quickly lost his grin.

“When did you first see that submarine?” Nolan asked him.

Ramon automatically went into his Rasta act.

“You found it? Wow—far out, mon—”

But Batman grabbed his shoulder and shook him once, hard.

“Knock off the spaceman shit,” he said, deadly serious. “When did you first see it?”

Ramon was stunned. He thought a moment. “Five days ago,” he said. “Six, counting today, I think.”

“Was it after the storm hit?” Nolan asked him.

“What storm?”

“The big f*cking storm that went through here a few days ago,” Batman growled at him. “You told us you got caught in it.”

Ramon actually slapped himself upside the head. “Oh, yeah right. The storm. It was before that, I think. I run out of gas. I was drifting, out to sea. I saw the sub, then the storm came and it blew me back into the islands. I gets shipwrecked, then I gets home when the weather cleared. Yep—that’s how it happened.”

“OK—so now listen very carefully,” Batman said. “Did you see anyone near that wreck as you were floating by? Any ships or helicopters or anyone around that island?”

Ramon thought some more, then shook his head. “No, mon, it was just me and the sea. If I saw anyone, I would have screamed for the help.”

Batman looked up at Nolan, who nodded curtly. Batman pulled out a wad of cash and threw two $500 bills at Ramon.

“OK, again, listen closely,” he told him in an extremely stern tone. “You keep your mouth shut about this. If we find out you’ve told anyone, then I guarantee, you will go for a ride in space—but it ain’t going to be on a UFO. Do you understand?”

Ramon looked right into Batman’s eyes.

“I understand, mon,” he said. “One hundred and ’tirty percent.”

“OK, get ready,” Batman told him. “We’re flying you home.”

The rest of the crew was standing in the cabin doorway by now, alerted by the commotion. Even the Senegals looked concerned. They knew something big was up.

“Can you get our friend up top please?” Nolan asked Gunner and Twitch.

They immediately took Ramon by the arms and hustled him out of the cabin.

“We’re going back to the Mothership toot sweet,” Batman told the Senegals. The African sailors were already in motion. They ran up to the bridge and started the engines.

Only then did Batman take off his crash helmet and rub his weary head.

“Man, this is one very f*cked-up situation,” he said to Nolan. “What happened to those Russians? Before the storm? After the storm? Were they shipwrecked and then killed? Or were they killed and then shipwrecked?”

Nolan just shook his head. “Whatever happened to them, with the slashed throats and the cut-off ears, they died just like those Muy Capaz guys. And that doesn’t make an ounce of sense.”

He looked over at Batman. He’d never seen his friend so worried before. “What the hell is going on here, Bob?” Nolan asked him.

Batman began nervously pulling on his beard.

“I don’t know, Snake,” he said. “But I say, let’s drive Beevis home and then we go find out.”

They hurried back up to the main deck and headed for the helipad.

But just as they were about to climb aboard the helicopter, Nolan’s sat-phone began vibrating. He took it out and stared at it for a moment. Someone was sending him a text, something that never happened.

“What the f*ck is this?” he said.

He opened the phone and called up the message on the small screen.

It was from Crash.

He read it out loud:

“Hey Dudes. Wish you were here. Having lotsa fun. Infilled Russian cargo ship in Havana, looking for bad guys; didn’t find any but blew off ship’s ass anyway. Went aboard raghead LNG carrier, looking for same. No dice, but found/dumped ton of smack to the fishes. Just returned from largest f*cking cruise liner ever. We wired it for TV; if bad guys move on it, we’re on them like white on rice. SEALs rule. Peace out. Crash.”

Nolan could hardly believe what he was reading. Neither could Batman.

“Cargo ship? Cruise liner? LNG carrier?” Batman said. “Those are our kind of gigs. How come they’re doing them?”