 |
| Maya - Mother Goddess Destroyer of Warriors & Kings |
We boarded the boat in time to hear
Ryan's call. He repeated three times, “Home Base to Sherlock.” And, “Calling Mizz
Sherlock”
I snatched the mic off its hook,
clicked the squelch button three times and waited for his ID.
He confirmed, “This is Dang. Calling Way.”
“Hue, Roger.”
“Hue, set course for San Pedro. Rafael’s
San Pedro…at the Q. Danger is imminent.”
Emphatic, he said again, “San Pedro… repeat, at Rafael’s.”
“Roger Dang. Copy.”
Anna asked, “I get the Roger bit but
what’s this, baby talk… way-way dang-dang?”
She deserved to know as
much and I hoped she would loosen up and tell me something, anything, that
would unravel this monkey’s fist of deception.
“We use our old handles. His was Dang,
you know, for Da Nang, and mine was Way as in Hue… simple but good enough
identity shields.”
“Cool, spy talk. So, now Mr. Bond, I’m
hungry… get cookin’.”
“Yes, you’re a natural spy but take a fuckin' rain check, won't you? There's no
time to cook. Didn’t you hear the call, danger is imminent? Let’s hope we can duck in the
shadow of Arch Rock.” We were gifted by mother nature another off-season fog bank as we got underway.
“Shadow? What do you mean,
it’s dark?”
“I mean the radar shadow.
They might not see us if we can get there.”
“Are we going to San Pedro?”
“San Pedro alright. It’s
Five hundred miles north in the Bay. Point San Pedro by San Rafael. You know, the Big 'Q'.”
“You’re shitting me… How
would he expect you to know that?”
“He remembers what I called
my old haunts. Nick-names like Rafael for San Rafael and the Big 'Q'. for San
Quinton, Doc will think Rafael’s a place… a bar or friend in San Pedro. I’m
just hoping that Yuri fuck doesn’t get it.”
“Ryan knows you alright.
More than I ever did. I’m a bit jealous. What else is there that I don’t know
about you Crash?”
“Mutual, Anna, he knows you
better than I do too. It’s hard to figure what he’s on to but it’s about time
you let me in on what both of you know about this friggin mess we’re in.”
It was dark enough to
hardly make out the coast line. No sooner than we passed the pinnacles nearing
the Arch Rock, I heard the loud rumbling blast of the pipes of the ego-rette
boat off the Starboard side coming our way. She shouted, “She sounds close… not
much time.”
“He’s further away than it
sounds. They’re like Harleys… no one would buy ‘em if they were quieter.”
Before we cut the power
behind the Arch Rock, Doc’s boat must have turned into Lady's Harbor. I knew he
would have seen us had he been paying attention to his screen because we had
quite a profile this close but he must not have noticed us before we ducked in the shadow of Arch Rock.
We had to use stealth in
lieu of speed. We heard them coming out of Lady's Harbor and closer but
could see nothing from where we idled behind the rock. With my Browning, I
wouldn’t have a shot until they came within sight of our hiding place and I
could be sure that, whoever they were, they would be armed better than us.
Browning automatic side-arms were the standard issue for Counter Intelligence
in Nam. I was well-trained with one, had used it for real, and could lay out a tight pattern at over
fifty yards. Nothing I had was good enough to go against whatever I was
sure they must’ve had. In spite of my training I had no extraction plan… no
plan B and it had been a decade since I’d been on a range. This was going to be
a do or die… most likely die.
I listened to the scanner
in the cabin for radio chatter among the gossip of lobster and urchin boats
until I heard, “Shoreline? Dream Boat to Shoreline … Dream Boat to Shoreline. Lady’s Harbor... No
Sherlock?”
“Not there?” You sure? Then go Potato Harbor. You lazy turd, you know? Copy?”
I heard the Slavic accent.
It had to be Yuri.
“Dream Boat to Shoreline.
I’m sure. … copy, I’m going to Potato Harbor.”
Lazy turd… I liked that.
Okay, Yuri’s in charge. It sounds like
Doc’s nothing but an underling. Doc didn’t have the thoroughness to check out
where we were helpless and Yuri knew it. I was happy that Potato Harbor’s at
the other end of the island and far enough away to give me a lead. If luck had it, I might be out of range
of their radar. That gave us a slim chance I could’ve gotten out of this bind
if I powered along the coast in the dark.
The roar of the engines
faded so that I thought I had enough lead to skirt the rocks and slip out around Profile Point. This was a risk because we could expose ourselves. A small blip on the screen there. We we were a mere mile out from the point when the roar returned. They had a beam on us and
I couldn’t outrun her. I swung around
directly to meet them. It was a fool’s move but I had no choice. Anna stood by
me and we rode together.
She was smiling like she
was enjoying the carnival ride more than I was. The roar got closer and passed
us to come up on our stern. Anna ducked into the cabin out of sight. I
mistakenly believed she was just hiding. Doc was at
the helm with two stooges standing at ready behind him. Stooge One, who looked
like Curly, held a familiar old AK-47 on me. I had the browning out on him. The comparison ended at Stooge Two except that he was a stooge. He held a twelve gauge with a military
door-breaching muzzle.
Doctor Lawrence Spawnn grinned with a cigar
butt in his mouth. I never hated anyone the way I hated that fucker. He bore no resemblance to Moe or Larry but he was just as
arrogant as the former and as stupid as the latter. He even tried to keep up the
pretense that this was just a friendly encounter… one Yachtie to another, “Ahoy
there, where’s the whore?” he called out as Stooge Two slapped a loop over a
cleat and stepped over the side onto the deck of the Sherlock. “You may as well
drop it Crash, you’re out gunned.” Doc was unarmed. It was like him… he was
always for gun-control and preferred having his minions pack for him.
They must have had orders
to take us alive or that AK would’ve made Swiss cheese of me by then. That was
my only advantage. I dropped the Browning. Stooge Two, on the deck behind me,
held the muzzle to the deck and pumped four door-breaching rounds into and
around Mizz Sherlock's engine well. Stooge One held the barrel of the AK so steady between
my eyes I could look down into is black abyss.
This was all happening
within the time-span it takes to think, but not enough and say, “O Shit!”. Ready to
meet death, it was what I like to call, a Dostoevsky moment. It had happened a
couple times before… when mortality was surer than the next breath and the mind
fixed on something insignificant in the blink of an eye. That nano-second the
Tibetans call a bardo… the space where eternity is fixed on a flash… the
donkey’s bray … a living sparkle of light on the spire … it can drive a man
insane … resignation awakens to contrition… letting it all go… forgiving all
into action…. action that slows within that window of time…. Rather than having
an existential revelation, I was trained to act within that bardo.
Time hadn’t frozen… it was moving rapidly. I was
moving with it and fell away in time to hear a brief thrrrrrrup from inside the
cabin. Flickers of reality took wing.
Stooge One puppet dropped
to the deck. The AK fell
out from his side… his strings of life were cut before he could fire a shot.
The movies would have him fly backwards off the boat but, in real life, large
caliber bullets, a forty-five caliber Mac-10 in this case, goes through flesh,
vital organs, and bone as easily as a hot knife through soft butter. The Stooge
Two dropped his piece and dove off the stern of the Sherlock into the waters.
 |
A Mac-10 is a .45 cal machine
pistol . It is one of the most
difficult to control because
of its powerful kick. Most
prefer the smaller caliber
9 mm Mac-11
|
Anna, held the Mac-10 on Doc while I picked up and holstered my piece. I attended to
the Stooge. Death was already beginning to draw the dull film over his eyes
that stared into the heavens. Taking the loop off the cleat on the Dream, I drew it over Stooge One’s foot and tightened it to his ankle. I picked him up
and tossed him overboard where he dangled headlong off the side tied to the
cleat on the Sherlock. Doc just watched, stunned… he had no idea what he’d been
up against. I threw in anything that would float that had The Doctor’s Dream stenciled on it. Besides the required life jackets and rings, he loved his dream so much that he had its name on everything from swizzle sticks to coffee thermos.
I said Bugs Bunny, “Ahoy,
What’s up Doc?”
Great action and description.
ReplyDelete~M