Disclaimer: I do not own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Baptiste was staring at the water so intensely, he didn't hear him coming.
"A simple shove and a lot of problems would be solved, dude."
Baptiste slowly turned, alert. With Guerrero he could never tell when he was joking.
"I'm all for creative ways to dump a body and I have to admit, a shark tank is not a bad idea, but throwing the body in there without retrieving the key first, the key that the whole thing was all about…dude, seriously not cool."
Oh no, not another sermon. The Old Man's lecture had been worse enough. "What are you doing here, mate?"
"Bull sharks can grow up to 11 ft and weigh 510 lb. There are three of them in there. Figured you might need a hand." An impressive-looking fin broke through the dark water's surface. "So how do you want to do it? Harpoon all of them, then search the ground, if that turns out fruitless, drag them into the truck and cut them up elsewhere?"
Baptiste hesitated with his answer. Guerrero didn't like it.
"Spit it out, dude."
"Junior figured if the key fell to the ground it wouldn't be necessary to kill the sharks."
Guerrero closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he had regained at least enough self-control not to shove Baptiste into the tank after all.
"Don't tell me he is…"
Slowness was the key. Keeping close to the ground of the tank, Junior crept forward at snail's pace, flashlight dimmed as low as possible. Sharks didn't like large or rapid movements. They also didn't like vertical heights. No surprise there: The vast majority of creatures they encountered in their natural environment were longest horizontally. Junior also tried to avoid staring at the fish, watching them from the corners of his eyes instead.
One shark was particularly nosy, drawing rapidly shrinking circles around him.
Compared to Guerrero's quiet, anger laden voice, the hiss of a rattlesnake was tender timbres. "These are bull sharks down there. Actuary tables show they are responsible for the majority of near-shore shark attacks. Their diet mostly consists of bony fish and smaller sharks, including other bull sharks. DOES THAT TELL YOU SOMETHING, dude?"
The nosy shark was in touching distance now. Junior gripped his harpoon firmer. Moving the fish into another tank had been impossible, the one the aquarium usually used was currently under repair. Thus the police had only been able to do a shallow investigation of the tank's ground, using a shark cage. Chances were they hadn't noticed the key under these circumstances.
If one of the sharks hadn't swallowed it, together with a body part. Then things would get messy.
Junior's stomach clenched at the thought. It wasn't the sharks' fault Baptiste had used them to get rid of his victim. Killing them now, because he had messed up, was just plain wrong.
With an elegant swish of its tail, the nosy shark veered away.
"Junior said there are cases of bull sharks having been filmed without usage of a protective cage, so it would be possible."
Only years later, in a cabin with his best friend pointing a gun at him, Guerrero would feel as helpless again as in that night at the aquarium, staring at the goddamn dark water and the even darker shadows moving underneath the surface.
After what seemed like an eternity, Junior finally emerged fist first from the tank, key in hand, unharmed. With great relief all three of them thought the same thing, for very different reasons:
No bloodshed tonight.