Read Online Absolute Pressure by Sigmund Brouwer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sigmund Brouwer
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like a speck of light on the water.
A few seconds later, I knew my eyes were not playing tricks on me. The speck of light glowed brighter and brighter. It was heading right toward the boat.
Then, in a flash, I put it all together. The boat sitting in the dark for an hour. Waiting for an airplane to pass overhead. Lights flashing to let the airplane know the boat was there. Something in the water, marked by a glowing light.
I didnât want to believe it, but it couldnât be anything else. It was a safe guess that Uncle Gord wasnât searching for treasure on his Friday and Saturday nights.
Instead it could only be one thing.
Drugs.
chapter twenty- eight
I knew a little about it. A person canât spend much time in Florida without knowing that smuggling and dealing drugs is big business. Florida has the wide-open ocean. It was the perfect place to move drugs into the United States. Itâs against the law, of course. But that doesnât stop people. Drugs mean big money.
My Uncle Gord. A drug dealer? Maybe pretending his business was failing so no one suspected what he was doing?
I wanted to kick myself for not seeing this earlier. For believing his three friends were lawyers. Guys who were built like football players. These were the kind of guys you wanted around if you were breaking the law. These were the kind of guys you wanted around if you were working with dope dealers who didnât care if they murdered to make their money.
Thinking about it, I saw his plan was perfect. First, he told people they were spearfishing at night. It was easy to believe thatâs why they went out on weekends. After all, Uncle Gord ran a scuba-diving business for a living.
Then, to make sure people really were fooled, he probably started the rumors about a treasure hunt himself. It was like a lie within a lie. No one would ever guess there was a third lie within the second lie. And then the fourth lie: that his business was broke. Nobody in Florida who was a drug dealer ever looked broke. A bunch of perfect lies.
âYou use this boat for a pickup, donât you?â I said to Uncle Gord. âYou make it look like business has been bad, and youâre making extra money by coming out here to pick up drugs dropped from an airplane. Those three guys went into the water to get it.â
âYouâre almost right,â Uncle Gord said. âWeâre anchored on the edge of the strong part of the Gulf Stream. Whatever drops from the plane will pass close to this boat. And yes, the three men are out there to look for it and pick it up.â
Splashing noises reached us. They were close to the boat now. I took a quick peek. The light bobbed in the water. I couldnât see much around it except the heads and shoulders of the scuba divers.
âBoys,â Uncle Gord called out to them. âCome in real easy. Weâve got company. Nothing for you to worry about, but I didnât want you surprised.â
âThe FBI clown?â one of the voices called up to the boat.
FBI?
âYup,â Uncle Gord said.
âHow do we know he isnât holding a gun to your head?â one of the other voices asked.
Uncle Gord stepped over to the control panels of the boat. He flicked on a light. It showed him clearly. His gray hair. His bushy mustache. The gun in his hand. And the cold, cold look in his eyes.
Uncle Gord snapped the light off again. âYou saw enough to know Iâm in charge?â
âWeâre coming aboard,â came the answer.
There were more splashing sounds.
One man stepped onto the deck near us, dripping water from his wet suit. A second man. And a third. All big. Very big.
What surprised me was the fourth man. Much shorter than the other three. Where had he come from?
âWhat is going on?â the short man asked in an angry voice. He had a strong Spanish accent. âFBI? This was not part of our agreement.â
chapter twenty-nine
âYes,
A few seconds later, I knew my eyes were not playing tricks on me. The speck of light glowed brighter and brighter. It was heading right toward the boat.
Then, in a flash, I put it all together. The boat sitting in the dark for an hour. Waiting for an airplane to pass overhead. Lights flashing to let the airplane know the boat was there. Something in the water, marked by a glowing light.
I didnât want to believe it, but it couldnât be anything else. It was a safe guess that Uncle Gord wasnât searching for treasure on his Friday and Saturday nights.
Instead it could only be one thing.
Drugs.
chapter twenty- eight
I knew a little about it. A person canât spend much time in Florida without knowing that smuggling and dealing drugs is big business. Florida has the wide-open ocean. It was the perfect place to move drugs into the United States. Itâs against the law, of course. But that doesnât stop people. Drugs mean big money.
My Uncle Gord. A drug dealer? Maybe pretending his business was failing so no one suspected what he was doing?
I wanted to kick myself for not seeing this earlier. For believing his three friends were lawyers. Guys who were built like football players. These were the kind of guys you wanted around if you were breaking the law. These were the kind of guys you wanted around if you were working with dope dealers who didnât care if they murdered to make their money.
Thinking about it, I saw his plan was perfect. First, he told people they were spearfishing at night. It was easy to believe thatâs why they went out on weekends. After all, Uncle Gord ran a scuba-diving business for a living.
Then, to make sure people really were fooled, he probably started the rumors about a treasure hunt himself. It was like a lie within a lie. No one would ever guess there was a third lie within the second lie. And then the fourth lie: that his business was broke. Nobody in Florida who was a drug dealer ever looked broke. A bunch of perfect lies.
âYou use this boat for a pickup, donât you?â I said to Uncle Gord. âYou make it look like business has been bad, and youâre making extra money by coming out here to pick up drugs dropped from an airplane. Those three guys went into the water to get it.â
âYouâre almost right,â Uncle Gord said. âWeâre anchored on the edge of the strong part of the Gulf Stream. Whatever drops from the plane will pass close to this boat. And yes, the three men are out there to look for it and pick it up.â
Splashing noises reached us. They were close to the boat now. I took a quick peek. The light bobbed in the water. I couldnât see much around it except the heads and shoulders of the scuba divers.
âBoys,â Uncle Gord called out to them. âCome in real easy. Weâve got company. Nothing for you to worry about, but I didnât want you surprised.â
âThe FBI clown?â one of the voices called up to the boat.
FBI?
âYup,â Uncle Gord said.
âHow do we know he isnât holding a gun to your head?â one of the other voices asked.
Uncle Gord stepped over to the control panels of the boat. He flicked on a light. It showed him clearly. His gray hair. His bushy mustache. The gun in his hand. And the cold, cold look in his eyes.
Uncle Gord snapped the light off again. âYou saw enough to know Iâm in charge?â
âWeâre coming aboard,â came the answer.
There were more splashing sounds.
One man stepped onto the deck near us, dripping water from his wet suit. A second man. And a third. All big. Very big.
What surprised me was the fourth man. Much shorter than the other three. Where had he come from?
âWhat is going on?â the short man asked in an angry voice. He had a strong Spanish accent. âFBI? This was not part of our agreement.â
chapter twenty-nine
âYes,
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