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Chapter 5
"Well, Hello there," Michael walked up with his hand held out to the first salesman he saw. "My name is Zeke Watkins. Pleased to meet ya." Michael pumped the stunned man's hand until the salesman managed to slow the arm wrenching greeting and pull himself loose.
"Steve Traynor. How may I be of service to you today?" Steve had been a salesman at the luxury car dealership long enough to know that the rich clientele came in all sorts of packages. Steve admired the soft brown Armani suit jacket, but couldn't fathom the conditions required to make the man pair it with blue jeans and cowboy boots.
"Well Steve," Michael's accent was a mix somewhere between farmer and hillbilly. "My aunt, Martha Sue, done told me to stop by this here car lot and pick myself up a new vehicle." He pronounced it vee-hickle.
Steve gave a big enough smile to hide his grimace, "How did your aunt…"
"Martha Sue," Michael filled in for the stumbling salesman.
"Martha Sue," Steve managed to look grateful for the help, "How did she hear of us?"
"Shoot," Michael was secretly plotting Sam's demise over the creation of this cover I.D. "Martha Sue is good friends with Betty Rae and she's the great aunt to Jamaal Magloire. You know him? He's the center with Miami Heat." Next time, he would ensure Sam napped before creating fictional people that he'd have to play. He was sure Sam was listening at the other end of the wire, laughing it up.
Steve's smile became slightly more genuine. Many of the NBA players had visited the lot. "You want the same car as Mr. Magloire?"
"Heck no!" Michael looked affronted. At Steve's concerned look, Michael continued with a grin, "I want one better."
Steve's smile grew. "Your aunt, Martha Sue wants bragging rights back home in…"
"Booneville, Kentucky," Michael had never been to Kentucky, but thought the town's name suited the identity he was given. "Betty Rae became the bane of Aunt Martha's existence when good ol' Jamaal made it big time. But since that oil gusher was accidentally tapped on granpappy's farm when we set up the new irrigation lines – Woo Wee! Martha Sue has been like a tick on a hound dog; driving me crazy until I got myself down here to pick out a car."
Steve couldn't believe his luck. If he closed this sale, he`d be able to make that final payment on his cigarette boat early. "So which of our fine vehicles were you thinking of, Zeke?"
With his hands on his hips, Michael looked around the lot. "That one, right there." He heard Sam's voice from yesterday, begging for the silver Veyron. He pointed to a yellow Pagani.
Steve clapped Michael on the shoulder, "Great choice. Let's go inside and get the paper work out of the way so you can take that beauty for a drive."
Michael grinned toothily as he followed Steve to the office doors. As they were crossing the asphalt in front of the main building, Michael was sure he heard the distinctive honk from a Cadillac. He turned his head and frowned in the direction he knew his friend was parked. He had his smile firmly back in place by the time Steve was looking across the lot, trying to locate the sound.
"Sorta reminds me of Aunt Martha's goat. Always making noises and causing a disturbance if it thinks someone else is getting attention." Michael opened the glass door and waited for Steve to go through.
Not finding the cause of the noise, Steve turned his attention back to his customer. "All these beautiful cars can't help but steal the show."
Sam's bad mood was well established an hour before Michael drove his Charger onto the lot. Sam and Stoney were arguing about a 45 foot Sealine motor yacht that was docked near the sea wall. It was obvious to Stoney that the yacht belonged with the dealership. The name on the transom read 'Platinum Built'. Stoney wanted to swim to the yacht and check it out. Sam thought it would be wiser to run the ship through his buddy at the harbour master.
"Rita could be on that ship," Stoney slapped the dash, trying to control his anger. "If we wait, we could lose her."
The headache that had started even before his alarm clock went off, had grown steadily since Stoney sat down in the Cadillac and started whining about all the waiting Sam seemed insistent on.
"You're assuming she's there. We don't even know who owns that boat," Sam argued.
"We don't have to board the yacht right away," Stoney continued pressing for consent. "We swim to the far side and check it out from the water. We'll board only if you give the all clear." Stoney smiled and added what he was sure to be the winning line, "Just like in the good ol' days."
Sam cast Stoney a wary glance. "I don't think we're remembering the same days."
Stoney slapped his leg and gave a short laugh. "There's the Sam Axe sense of humour I remember so well."
With one raised eyebrow, Sam wondered about Stoney's memories, but decided to argue on another tack, "I am not swimming in that water. It may look fine from here, but I assure you, there's things in there that'll peel your skin."
"Not to worry," Stoney popped open the passenger door. "There's a scuba rental place just up the block. I'll just go sign out what we need. You sit and watch for your friend." Stoney was gone before Sam could reach out a restraining hand.
Sam was left alone to wonder how the situation had come to this. He massaged his temples, hoping to ease some of the pain building there. How was he supposed to back up Michael and swim out to the yacht at the same time? He and Michael had agreed last night that when Michael was out pumping salesmen for information under the guise of test driving the high end luxury cars, Sam would listen in, but not follow. They didn't need the Cadillac spotted and their bluff called so early in the game. Michael would also be dropping a bug in the office while filling out the paperwork to take a car off the lot. Sam was supposed to monitor that line as well. That's why he brought Stoney along. It seemed like a good idea last night when he'd proposed it to Stoney. Sam knew he could easily record the bugs, but that wasn't the point. It was supposed to be a simple surveillance gig. With two ex-SEALs it should have been a cake walk.
He wasn't worried about the swim. While the channel was dirty and full of litter, it wasn't a serious obstacle. He had been trained in, and even led several missions through, all sorts of life threatening water related conditions. No, what worried him was containing Stoney once they reached the yacht. He didn't believe for a second that if there were signs of Rita Avnet being on that ship, Stoney would listen to rational planning.
As Michael drove onto the car lot, and before Sam could come up with a plan that didn't include his butt testing the Cadillac seats' water resistance ability, Stoney returned with his arms full of rental gear. Sam unlocked the back door so Stoney could crawl in to the larger space to change into his diving suit.
Sam turned up the volume on Michael's wire so they could hear him make friends with the salesman.
"He's pretty good, your friend," Stoney waved a hand in the general direction of Michael on the car lot.
"I think it was on our third mission together, that I finally figured out what Mike really sounds like," Sam smiled as he boasted of his friend's abilities.
"Sounds like you guys worked a few gigs together," Stoney chatted as he changed.
Sam shrugged, "A few." He played with the volume on Mike's wire before picking up the binoculars from the floor to get a better view of the two men getting chummy on the car lot.
Stoney paused in his re-dressing to watch Sam, his thoughts returning to the past. It appeared that while both he and Sam had been SEALs, their careers had been vastly different. He brought himself back to the present with a shake of his head and finished changing. Stoney picked up the second set of gear and dropped it into the front seat. The heavy scuba tank bumped Sam on its way over, causing Sam's elbow to hit the horn.
Sam turned to glare at Stoney who was smiling and had his hands up in an insincere apology.
"You trying to get us caught?" Sam asked.
"Hey, Mike'll cover for us," Stoney didn't show any signs of worry.
Over the wire they heard Michael's comment about Aunt Martha's goat.
"I think he just called you a goat," Stoney laughed as he swatted Sam in the shoulder. Sam didn't comment, but glared at the man in the back seat.
"Sounds like a fun cover. Mike must be enjoying himself," Stoney changed topics as he grabbed the binoculars from Sam's hands, giving him a chance to change into the diving suit.
Sam laughed as he unbuttoned his Tommy Bahama Hawaiian shirt. "Enjoying himself? Oh, no. My friend Mikey is wondering if he has any wooden stakes and where the nearest ant hill is."
"What?" Stoney was surprised by the talk of torture.
"My creative juices are renowned throughout the land. Next time Mikey will appreciate them a little more if he agrees to my terms," Sam chuckled as he slid his arms into the rubber top and pulled the zippered sides together over his chest. It took some tugging, but Sam managed to bring the zipper pull to the top.
Stoney opened the back door and hoisted one of the scuba tanks onto the sidewalk. He leaned across the seat to grab the second tank, "Come on, old man," he met Sam's gaze in the rear view mirror. "You and your juices take up a lot more space in a diving suit than they used to."
Sam looked down at his tightly encased torso. With some thought, he smiled and patted his rounded stomach. "Ahh, there's just more of me to love."
Considering this was sunny Miami, the water was cold. Too damn cold in Sam's book. If he had to be back in a diving suit, he should at least be in the warm, blue waters of the Caribbean surrounded by beautiful women in bikinis; not fighting the urge to rub goose bumps away and getting covered in slimy brown weeds. With no little amount of disgust, he pulled a particularly nasty piece of growth away from his shoulders and tossed it away. He glared at Stoney who grinned back, his white teeth sparkling in contrast to his dark diving suit.
They had decided not to use the scuba tanks because of their bulk. And Stoney didn't want to risk losing his deposit at the rental store if they had to drop the tanks for stealth purposes. With snorkels in place they had swam from the edge of the sea wall starting a block away from the Platinum Performance lot. Now they were treading water just off the stern of the medium sized cruising ship.
They held a silent conversation using old SEAL hand signals. It didn't take long before Sam gave up and quietly huffed, "You said you'd wait until I said it was safe."
Stoney pulled himself up on the small diving platform at the back of the yacht. He took a quick peek over the side, seeing no one. He offered a helping hand and pulled Sam up beside him. "I lied," he tried to soften the blow with a smile.
Sam sighed. He knew as soon as Stoney had suggested the swim that they'd end up here. He didn't agree with the act, but there was no way he'd let a team member go without backup. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.
"I let things go this far," Sam acknowledged with a grumble, "But we will be doing things MY way from here on out."
Stoney slapped Sam's shoulder as he stood up, did another quick scan before hopping over the side rail, landing quietly inside the yacht. With a 'why me' look up to the sky, Sam silently followed Stoney.
Softly they padded across the open end of the yacht, unable to avoid leaving the tell-tale signs of wet footprints across the planking. Sticking to the shadows, they pressed themselves against the side of the cabin. Stoney made a move to open the door, but Sam stopped him by wagging his finger then pointing to his chest, indicating he was going to enter first. Pulling out his Glock from the dry bag he carried tucked away inside his suit, Sam undid the safety and readied himself. Stoney turned the knob and then quickly pulled the door open. Sam popped his head around the jamb for a peek. Seeing an empty salon, his body slid through the entryway. Stoney followed on his heels.
The salon was tastefully done with U-shaped seating and a glass covered table. Stoney wrenched open the cupboard and found a TV and small fridge tucked away.
"If your girl is even here, she won't be crammed into one of these seat storage bins," Sam whispered, indicating with the tip of his gun the additional storage available under the bench seat around the table.
Stoney pointed with his 9mm pistol towards two other doors. One led to a small galley and the other would lead to the cabins below deck. It only took a few seconds to see that while the galley was fully stocked there was no one hiding within the cramped space. Stoney tapped Sam on the shoulder and smiled as he prepared to open the second door. With another sigh, Sam nodded, if he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound. What he really needed was a cliché that worked for him, like: beer and a movie at home make Sam a safe and happy guy.
The door opened to an empty, narrow stairwell. Sam paused, listening for any signs of people below. Hearing nothing but the subtle slap of water against the hull, Sam proceeded to slink downwards. The stairs ended in a hallway with three closed doors.
As much as he didn't want to split up, they were running out of time. Sam signalled Stoney to take the port cabin, while he reached for the door on the starboard side. The cabins were mirror images. Each was finished in cherry wood with a fully upholstered double berth, vanity unit and wardrobe. They were also similar in that neither of them held a captive. Together, Sam and Stoney moved to the final door, the master cabin.
Continuing their practise, Stoney opened the door and Sam entered the room, leading with his Glock. They found another well appointed cabin with extra amenities. The vanity had a large mirror with lights, the wardrobe had two shelves and, just like the salon above, there was a cupboard hiding a TV and fridge; but still no signs of Rita Avnet. Sam decided what he liked best about this room, as he heard the unmistakable sounds of a feet treading across the gang plank and stepping onto the yacht, was the access hatch to the deck above.
The voices of the men became louder as they discovered the footprints leading from the stern to the salon. Although Sam couldn't see them, he knew guns were being pulled and men were heading their way. He pulled on the ladder hooked to the wall, and standing on the bottom rung, he undid the lock to the hatch.
"Get your ass up there!" Sam ordered.
Stoney didn't need to be told twice. He wasn't all the way through before Sam started up. The hatch opened onto the bow of the yacht. They raced past the double sized sun bed and even though he counted four bottles, Sam didn't take the time to steal any of the Samuel Adams Utopias on his way past the fully stocked wet bar. Stoney was waiting at the handrail for Sam to catch up when bullets began zinging by. He was about to bring up his 9mil and return fire when Sam shouted "Go!"
Stoney was in a 'taking orders' kind of mood as he shoved his gun into his diving suit and dove into the water. Sam dodged bullets and flying deck chips as he ran to the side. His gun already hidden safely back into his suit, he dove over the railing and entered the water with a splash.
