reason to dwell on the matter.
g
The next day, Cole was up early for his morning run. He showered and checked in at the Yankee Freedom like he did every day. Kevin was there a few minutes later, and the day pressed on like any other. Cole almost thought Kevin had forgotten about their conversation entirely. They spent the downtime chatting with the rest of the crew, but Cole found himself preoccupied with any sign from Kevin that their mission was still a go. Kevin didn’t give away anything. Had it been a late-night boarding in the Coast Guard, Cole would have spent considerable time studying the weather, the seas, and the mission, but Kevin gave no indication of any such research.
They tied back up to the pier in Key West in the afternoon and grabbed a quick dinner of fish tacos on the way home. After reaching the apartment, Kevin said he was hitting the sack and would wake up at eight. Cole wanted more details, but Kevin shut his door and Cole was left with his mind racing. He tried to sleep a bit on the couch, but to no avail. He laid there for two hours, watching the digital clock on the television, knowing that his chances of sleeping were nonexistent.
A bit before eight, Kevin emerged from his room with a grin on his face. He chugged two glasses of water from the faucet in the tiny kitchen, advised Cole to do the same, and went about grabbing a few odds and ends around the apartment. Cole drank three full glasses, remembering all too well the feeling of dehydration from his days as a Coast Guard boarding officer toiling under the tropical sun. He felt like a fish out of water as Kevin moved about the living room with purpose. Kevin had a cell phone, a small backpack Cole had never seen before, and a handheld GPS with a suction cup mount.
Kevin grinned and asked, “You ready, dude?”
Cole fired back, “Fucking A, man. Let’s go.”
As they walked out the door, Cole realized he was wearing one of his old blue Delaney t-shirts, faded even more so by the past few months in the sun. The crest of the cutter was still visible though and it made Cole smile at the thought of his former shipmates realizing what he was up to now.
The two made their way down to Garrison Bight and onto the Aquaholic . Kevin fired up the old diesel and Cole untied her from the cleats on the dock, giving her a good push away from the splintered wooden pilings. As Kevin started a slow motor out of the bight, he called someone on the cell phone and talked for almost a minute. Kevin jotted something down on a piece of paper then hung up. The old Mako blended in with the dozens of other pleasure boats out for a balmy evening in the Florida Keys. They waved at boats crossing their paths, made their way out past the Coast Guard base, and turned sharply to the north. Kevin opened up the throttles and played with the GPS. He wove a meandering course back and forth until finally the GPS gave him something to work with.
Kevin drove for almost half an hour before ducking the Aquaholic behind a small uninhabited key well north of Key West. The sun was down and twilight was fast losing its daily battle to the darkness. The air had cooled just a bit and the nighttime sky felt good. Cole was seated on the bow when he spotted something in the darkness ahead. Almost out of nowhere, a pristine Grady-White cuddy cabin emerged, anchored and bobbing in the moonlit flats. Kevin chucked an anchor over the side and threw a line over to the Grady-White. He then hopped onto the cuddy cabin and tied the Aquaholic off to the shiny factory-new cleats of the Grady-White.
Kevin put on some latex gloves from the bag and went directly to the wheel, offset slightly to the right of the console. He turned the keys—strangely enough already in the ignition—and her two 250-horsepower outboards came roaring to life, shaking violently at first against their mounts on the transom and then finding their rhythm in idle. Cole smelled the gas exhaust mixed with salt air and
g
The next day, Cole was up early for his morning run. He showered and checked in at the Yankee Freedom like he did every day. Kevin was there a few minutes later, and the day pressed on like any other. Cole almost thought Kevin had forgotten about their conversation entirely. They spent the downtime chatting with the rest of the crew, but Cole found himself preoccupied with any sign from Kevin that their mission was still a go. Kevin didn’t give away anything. Had it been a late-night boarding in the Coast Guard, Cole would have spent considerable time studying the weather, the seas, and the mission, but Kevin gave no indication of any such research.
They tied back up to the pier in Key West in the afternoon and grabbed a quick dinner of fish tacos on the way home. After reaching the apartment, Kevin said he was hitting the sack and would wake up at eight. Cole wanted more details, but Kevin shut his door and Cole was left with his mind racing. He tried to sleep a bit on the couch, but to no avail. He laid there for two hours, watching the digital clock on the television, knowing that his chances of sleeping were nonexistent.
A bit before eight, Kevin emerged from his room with a grin on his face. He chugged two glasses of water from the faucet in the tiny kitchen, advised Cole to do the same, and went about grabbing a few odds and ends around the apartment. Cole drank three full glasses, remembering all too well the feeling of dehydration from his days as a Coast Guard boarding officer toiling under the tropical sun. He felt like a fish out of water as Kevin moved about the living room with purpose. Kevin had a cell phone, a small backpack Cole had never seen before, and a handheld GPS with a suction cup mount.
Kevin grinned and asked, “You ready, dude?”
Cole fired back, “Fucking A, man. Let’s go.”
As they walked out the door, Cole realized he was wearing one of his old blue Delaney t-shirts, faded even more so by the past few months in the sun. The crest of the cutter was still visible though and it made Cole smile at the thought of his former shipmates realizing what he was up to now.
The two made their way down to Garrison Bight and onto the Aquaholic . Kevin fired up the old diesel and Cole untied her from the cleats on the dock, giving her a good push away from the splintered wooden pilings. As Kevin started a slow motor out of the bight, he called someone on the cell phone and talked for almost a minute. Kevin jotted something down on a piece of paper then hung up. The old Mako blended in with the dozens of other pleasure boats out for a balmy evening in the Florida Keys. They waved at boats crossing their paths, made their way out past the Coast Guard base, and turned sharply to the north. Kevin opened up the throttles and played with the GPS. He wove a meandering course back and forth until finally the GPS gave him something to work with.
Kevin drove for almost half an hour before ducking the Aquaholic behind a small uninhabited key well north of Key West. The sun was down and twilight was fast losing its daily battle to the darkness. The air had cooled just a bit and the nighttime sky felt good. Cole was seated on the bow when he spotted something in the darkness ahead. Almost out of nowhere, a pristine Grady-White cuddy cabin emerged, anchored and bobbing in the moonlit flats. Kevin chucked an anchor over the side and threw a line over to the Grady-White. He then hopped onto the cuddy cabin and tied the Aquaholic off to the shiny factory-new cleats of the Grady-White.
Kevin put on some latex gloves from the bag and went directly to the wheel, offset slightly to the right of the console. He turned the keys—strangely enough already in the ignition—and her two 250-horsepower outboards came roaring to life, shaking violently at first against their mounts on the transom and then finding their rhythm in idle. Cole smelled the gas exhaust mixed with salt air and
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