She of the Jade Skirt

by

Sleethr & Draflow

	Dani makes some plans and buys some hardware for her favorite hobby, blowing stuff up. Melody checks them into a hotel so they can dress for success and spend a ton of money shopping. The Navy SEALS make their own plans.
Image Credit: photo_5466834 from 123rf.com.

** Part VI **

I did not understand what set Melody off, but her giggles were kind of infectious because I soon found myself feeling happier than I should.  “What’s so funny?”

{“Oh my goddess, Dani. Sorry, but you just said the catch phrase for a cartoon show and I just couldn’t help it. If you had asked ‘Where’s Perry?’, I think I would have died!”}  Melody giggled a little bit longer before reining in her enthusiasm.

Melody’s explanation kind of helped, but I still did not see how what I said could be that funny or how someone named ‘Perry’ might factor into this.  “Okay...well...we kind of have a lot to do, umm, right now.”  I refused to say it again.

I had a lot to plan for now that the fucker had already completed the subs because that made the intel we sent to South Com outdated and potentially deadly if they sent a team to neutralize the threat those subs represented.  Hell, based on the sat setup on the roof and the fuel delivery, I think I could safely assume the two subs sitting in their pens were operational and had already completed a few runs into U.S. Territorial waters.

Now, it was not ‘just’ a rescue mission, but also a materiel remediation mission and that complicated the plan, a lot.  I know, the subs should not be my problem and I was no longer active, but I could not ignore them.  Especially, if ignoring them might cost American lives somewhere down the road. It would be far easier for me to take care of them now versus endangering a Team or causing an international incident later.

I just did not know if I would have the time to take them out as definitively as I would prefer. I had a satisfying amount of C-4 to work with, but simply slapping some C-4 to the side of the sub’s hull would not cause enough damage. I needed some shaped charges to cut into their steel reinforced hulls. I could use some buckets and some cement to jury rig some shaped charges, but it would add an hour or two to the op plan. An hour or two that I might not have.

Grrr, I hated to do even think about doing something by halves, but 8-10 lbs of C-4 with some ball bearings wrapped around it, tucked into a backpack and dropped down the sub’s hatch would definitely render the little fu-, umm, suckers inoperable, maybe even permanently if the overpressure caused enough hull damage. After my last outburst, I was trying not to swear so much around Melody. Okay, maybe I could classify them as targets of opportunity and plan accordingly?  

{“Okay Melody, it’s shopping time. We need to find a hardware store.”}

{“Yeah! Shopping! Wait, hardware?”}

{“Yep, sorry, but we need some ball bearings and maybe some nails.”}

{“Oh, okay, are we going to use those like James Bond to make the bad guys fall down or pop their tires?”}

{“Ahh, no. We are going to use that to blow the sh-stuff outta the subs.”}

{“Really?!?! Cool...”} Melody bubbled with enthusiasm and it reminded me of Danielle when she was her age.  She had so much fun when I took her to clear stumps with explosives in the Florida swamps.

A ten pound box of roofing nails was pretty easy to find. Ball bearings, not soeasy.  Pressed bearings and needle bearings are quickly replacing free bearings. So, I got two ten pound boxes of roofing nails, three small backpacks, one for each sub, plus one extra, some Ziploc bags, silicon caulk to seal the bags better, five kitchen timers, extra wire, wire cutters, solder, a rechargeable soldering iron and a bunch of nine volt batteries to help boost the kitchen timer’s voltages enough to trigger the detonators.  Of course, I did not buy all that from the same store. I could only imagine the hardware store dude calling the police as soon as we walked out of his store with all the items from the Anarchist’s Cookbook.

{“Okay Melody, now we need to buy the SCUBA gear and it is not going to be cheap.  I think we will need to pull the spoiled rich girl trick, again.  Do you want grab a bite to eat and change into our dress at the restaurant?”}

{“Heck no! We need a shower. I dunno if you have noticed, but we stink and there is no way we could pull off that kind of transformation in some restaurant’s bathroom.”}

I performed a sniff test and I did not think we smelled that bad.  Maybe a little less fresh, but still all girl versus the heavy musk I am used to smelling after a workout.  {“Melody! We don’t smell that bad and we would have to get a hotel room.  We don’t have that much time...”}

Melody did not budge. {“30 minutes! Gimme 30 minutes and we can pull it off.  Heck, order room service and it might take the same amount of time if we had stopped to eat.”}

Even though I had planned on eating at the American burger franchise, she had a good point.  While I highly doubted it would only take her 30 minutes to shower, dress and make us look put together, a hotel room would give me a good place to put the charges together. Using the GPS along with the pictures we took from the fort, I found two large hotel resorts that overlooked the harbor from the south.  Either of the two would give us an excellent vantage point to keep an eye on the harbor and the warehouse.  The GPS found only one dive shop and I found that alarming because it was already 1800 hours and I was afraid they would be closed or closing by the time we could make it.  A quick call and I felt much better when the worker at the shop informed me they were open until 9PM since they also provided night dive tours.

{“Umm, Dani...”}  The hotel was in sight, but Melody sounded worried.

{“Yes?”}

{“How are we going to get a room, exactly?”}

Why was she asking me that now?  {“Walk in and pay for-”} It finally hit between the eyes why she asked that question. In our current “disguise”, we looked maybe 16, if that.  We were able to use that to our advantage at the hardware store, but I seriously doubted a hotel would rent out a room to some scruffy 16 year old girl. Even if said girl had tons of cash to wave around. “Oh, fu-fudge balls...”

{“Hehe, you're too funny Dani.  Seriously, you can swear. I have heard it before.”}

{“Sorry, not happening young lady. Not if I can help it anyway.”}

Melody sighed. {“Fine, just find a good spot and we can wiggle into our dress.  We will look like crap, but we can play the travel weary bitch-”}

“Melody!”

{“Hey, I’m a girl, we can call ourselves that. It’s in the rulebook.  Anyway, we won’t look 100%, but it should work.”)

I let Melody drive with our makeover. With the driver’s seat all the way back it was much easier than I expected to get into the dress.  Far easier than it would have been for a guy to put on a three piece suit or a tux anyway.  

Melody touched up our makeup and sighed with frustration. “This dress does not go with our blond wig.  We need the red to make it work, but I guess it will have to do for now...”

I thought we looked awesome. {“Okaayy...are we ready?”}

“Yepper, but can I drive?”

“Ye-No.” I took back over, started the Audi and drove us the rest of the way to the hotel.

{“Meanie...”} Melody sulked in the back of our mind for a few seconds.

I did not expect to receive instant service because it was the middle of the week and I doubted they received a lot of guests who drove their own car. Most of their guests would be bused in as part of some tour package. So, I found it equally surprising and amusing when two of the hotel’s valets raced each other to reach my door.

{“Okay Melody, I need you to take over. We need graceful, sophisticated, mature and a touch bitchy, but not too much and all that has to look natural. Can ya do it?”}

Melody gasped with nervous surprise at first, but I felt her resolve quickly solidify. {“Ha! Bitchy. Got it.”} She said as the winning valet opened the driver’s side door with a slight bow.

“Senorita.” He said as he offered his hand to assist Melody from the low slung car.

“Uno momento.” Melody held out her hand impatiently signaling stop, as she pointed to her shoeless feet.

{“What do we do about the weapons in the trunk?”} Melody asked while she slipped on her heels and grabbed our purse.

{“Crap...we do NOT want them to see all the weapons in the rucksack, but we need the suitcase. Hmmm...Okay, we will get a room first, then come back for our suitcase and the other supplies.”}

{“Okay, got it.”} Melody said as the valet helped her from the car and replaced her in the driver’s seat.

Melody smiled graciously at the valet, Carlos. “Gracias Senor, Carlos.”

She was forgetting something. {“Tip him.”}

{“Oh! Umm, how much?”}

{“Give him a 500 peso note.”}

{“500!?! Just to park the car?”}

{“Yes, that’s only $40 and you’re rich, remember?”}

{“Oh, yeah, sorry. Only $40 she says...ha!”} Melody said as she pulled out a 500 peso note.

“Thank you and please park it close. I might need to get another bag and I don’t want to have to walk very far.” Melody said in accent free Spanish while she smoothly bent at the waist to give the valet a perfect view of her pushed up breasts while discreetly handing him the 500 peso note.

I had to hand it to her, she was a natural at this stuff and that still scared me. {“Good call and excellent use of our assets there to distract him.”}

{“Thanks, this is so exciting!”} Melody was giddy on the inside, yet somehow managed to appear calm and sophisticated on the outside.

I watched our reflection in the glass doors as Melody confidently strode towards the main entrance and I thought we looked just the right amount of travel weary and spoiled rich. Hell, we might actually manage to pull this off.  We had the old credit card of the Don’s ex-wife. I had no idea if it was still active, but we could always give it a try if it looked like they wanted to insist on not taking cash.

Before we could reach the doors, they were opened by another male hotel staff member and behind us, we heard the valet yell to his partner to move someone’s Mercedes so that our Audi could have the best spot. Melody smiled and I also found myself feeling very pleased by state of affairs.  Yes, a person could get used to this kind of lifestyle.  Melody graciously tipped the door man with a 200 peso note.  I thought it was a bit much, but she was in the role and I did not want to jostle her elbow.

I know we only walked 20 or so yards and only interacted with two employees, but the worker grapevine was fast because the woman behind the check-in counter was VERY attentive to our needs.  The doorman probably tipped off the receptionist via some secret hand signal as soon as we turned our back on him.  “Hola Senorita, how may I help you this evening?” The receptionist behind the service desk asked with an eager, yet warm smile.

Melody noticed the receptionist’s behavior. {“Okay, change of plans. I don’t think me acting bitchy is going to work here. I have a different idea...”}

I realized that no plan survives contact with the enemy, but it still made me nervous.  However, Melody was the expert on the social engineering front. {“Okay, go for it.”}

“Sorry, I know it is kind of late, but do you have any rooms available? I drove all the way from Salina Cruz. I know I probably should not speak of this to you, but my husband and I had a fight and I just had to get away for a few days to clear my head.” Melody looked down at her hands as if she was ashamed of herself.  She even managed to let a tear out.

The receptionist reached out and patted Melody’s hand. “There, there dear. That is a long drive. Men can be idiots sometimes, but I am sure he will come to his senses soon.”

Melody looked up and wiped a tear from her eyes. *sniff* “You think?”

The woman smiled encouragingly at Melody. “Of course, now. We do have a few rooms available.  Would you like a harbor side room on the sixth floor or a ocean facing room on the ninth?  The harbor side room is a bit more expensive. It is a suite and it has a Jacuzzi tub.”

Melody blotted her eyes and waved aside the price concern. “Oh, that is okay.  He is paying for it, one way or another...”  She growled a little at the end.

Wow, she was good.

The receptionist flashed a conspiratorial grin at Melody. “Excellent, do you have a credit card?”

Melody dug into her purse and handed the lady the card we found in the Don’s house. “Yes, but he may have canceled it on me. He is kind of sneaky that way, but I have cash just in case.”

“Oh, well,” She glanced at the name printed on the front of the card. “Carmelita, don’t worry about that, we will just do a quick check. Sometimes it can take a few days for a card to stop working...”

We both anxiously waited for the outcome because I was pretty sure the real Carmelita was long gone, but Melody played it calm as a cucumber. “Thank you so much, umm...” She made a show of reading the woman’s name tag. “Beila?”

Beila glanced up and her face positively glowed as she handed the card back to us. “It worked!  Sign here please...” She handed Melody the release form and Melody signed Carmelita’s name as if it was her own.

Melody smoothly exchanged a 500 peso note when Beila handed her the room key. “Gracias Senora Rodriguez, enjoy your stay!”

We needed to extract our suitcase without anyone raising an alarm due to all the firepower packed alongside it and it was very hard to not be noticed with the staff practically tripping over themselves and treating us like visiting royalty. {“Uggg, how are we going to get our suitcase out of the car now?”}

Melody giggled. {“Oh, don’t worry. The valet is a guy and I know what I am doing.”}

{“Yeah, that’s what worries me...”} I muttered as she mentally blew raspberries at me.

Melody exited the lobby and approached the valet who parked our car. She smiled at him. “Carlos?”

His name tag was fairly obvious, but his chest visibly expanded with pride as she used his name. “Si, Senora, how may I help you?” He gave Melody a slight bow.

Melody coyly glanced down to the ground, as if surprised by his respectful bow, before gaining the confidence to look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, but I need to get my suitcase out of my car. Would you mind helping me?”

{“No, no, no, we don’t want help. We want him to stay here.”}

{“Shhh...I told ya, I’ve got it covered.”}

I worried even more when Melody lightly leaned on the young man’s left arm, as if he was escorting her to a fancy formal ball.  Her touch made Carlos act even more like a gentleman. During the short walk, Melody engaged him in small talk where she discovered he was married and had a young daughter, of which he was proud to show pictures of.  Poor Carlos was so distracted by Melody that he barely glanced into the Audi’s trunk when he reached for our suitcase. The military green rucksack stuffed full of ammo and equipment did not even register with him as Melody kept him focused on her as she praised both his wife’s and his daughter’s beauty with the exact correct amount of wistful longing for his adorable daughter.  I did not refer to her as ‘adorable’, did I?  I needed to kill someone soon because Melody was a bad influence on me.

{“Do you think the baby girl we delivered is okay?”}  Melody asked, her mental voice full of concern.

Melody was not acting, well, not completely.  She was pretending to be someone she was not, but the connection she made with Carlos was real and that concerned me more.  Was I really that cynical and untrusting of people?  I had a lot to think about as Carlos went out of his way to escort Melody safely to our room as she continued to distract him by asking him questions about his family.  Hell, I was almost surprised the poor man did not ask Melody to visit his house for dinner and I regretted not getting him to carry the rucksack for us too.  He might not have even noticed it with Melody distracting him so much.

With the door closed and locked behind us, Melody let out a huge sigh of relief. “Wow, that was...” She faltered for a second as she searched her feelings. “I’m not sure, but I am not at all nervous or stressed out like I thought I would be. Carlos was so nice, wasn’t he?”

I did not trust myself to reply because I did not really understand what I was feeling either, but it was now 1815 hours and time was wasting. {“Let’s call room service, then shower, now. We need to move it. We are behind schedule and the Don is due to arrive here in 30 minutes.”}

I was nervous about the shower for two reasons. One, the schedule and two, I felt guilty because I knew I would enjoy it when I should not because I was a man and a father. Melody tripped all my protective father instinct buttons, but at the same time being in her body let me feel how I had longed to feel for so many years. I was a girl and I never felt happier about my body, but it was not my body.  I was very confused.

The shower was over quick, almost too fast, but Melody understood the time crunch and only ‘freshened up’ by washing our body and rinsing the full day of wig induced sweat out of our hair.  Our hair was going to be hidden under a wig, so we only needed to blow dry it enough to keep it pinned under the wig.  I simply sat back as she worked her magic with the cosmetics and treated it like a salon trip I could have never enjoyed in my past life.  

Room service delivered our meal shortly after Melody started putting on our makeup. Much to Melody’s chagrin, I made the room service person properly ID themselves before opening the door and even then, I kept the USP 9mm hidden and at the ready. Melody gave the poor woman a 200 peso tip, but I have learned it pays to be careful.  It is not paranoia if they really are out to get you, right?

From start to finish, and with us sneaking bites of food as she worked to get ready, Melody managed to squeak the full transformation in 32 minutes, just two minutes over the 30 minute deadline. With the red hair, pouty expression, expertly applied cosmetics, designer dress, shoes and accessories we looked every inch the young, early 20’ish, sexy spoiled rich woman out to spend her husband’s money or the young, late teens, spoiled daddy’s little princess out to spend more of her daddy’s money.  

Beyond young woman, I found it hard to determine our age and based on Melody’s past performances, I expected she could pull off either role. She seemed to have the knack for it and I was now positive Chalchiuhtlicue was lending Melody a hand with her seduction parts. I hoped it came from the Goddess because if not, I would seriously have to question Melody’s parents about how they were raising their daughter.

I briefly took over long enough for a quick peek out the window to see if the yacht had arrived yet. It had not and I prayed to the Goddess he had not changed his plans about coming to Acapulco. If he was not somewhere in the harbor or docked by the time we finished at the scuba shop, we would have to drive around and check the other marina’s in Acapulco.

I also performed a quick search of the room to insure we did not leave anything important behind. Due to a previous fuckup on my part in a hotel in some country that may not be named, clearing the room was now a habit of mine. It was that fuckup that always made me make sure any room I stayed in was clear of any incriminating evidence before I left it. The only possible evidence I found was the bottle of 100 year old scotch because scotch was not something the average woman would lug around with them.

I used that as my excuse, but I did not want to leave the scotch behind. “Shit, we can’t leave that bottle here, umm; someone might be able to link it back to the Don’s mansion...”

{“We’re not coming back?”}

I looked at the room’s clock and cycled through my framework of a plan.  “I don’t think so. We are going to be pretty busy once the Don’s yacht arrives...”

Melody had the nerve to laugh at me. {“Oh come on sis! Like the suitcase, the clothes or the credit card wouldn’t be the same?  You just want to keep that nasty stuff!”}

{“Why you and no I don’t! We could leave it, but it could come in handy later...it’s very valuable...”} Even to my own ears, my excuses sounded lame.

Melody smirked at me. {“Uh huh, riighht, anyway, lemme call room service again. We will need a box for it.”}

Thanks to Melody’s extra-good tips, we had a selection of liquor bottle boxes directly from the hotel’s bar to choose from in less than five minutes and with my boxed bottle of liquid ambrosia in hand, we strolled into the hotel’s lobby. Not that it would have helped, but I think we should have tried sneaking out of a side door because all eyes were on us. I overheard more than a few whispered comments asking who that woman was, but not a one asked who the teenager thought she was dressing up in her mother’s clothes. A few even asked if they should try getting our autograph, so I am sure they thought we were a star of some sort.

A lot more attention than I felt comfortable with, but at the same time, maybe hiding in plain sight would work out in our favor if any of the Don’s goons tried to find us.  As the doorman held the door open for us, Melody blew him a kiss and thanked him. As we exited the hotel, our car pulled up and Carlos exited the driver’s seat like it had an ejection rocket. Melody gave Carlos a sisterly kiss on his cheek and another 500 peso tip for his exceptionally prompt service.

On our way to the scuba shop, we found and briefly stopped at a good spot that overlooked the harbor.  A large yacht was just now arriving and it did not take much, even with the setting sun, to positively identify it as the Conquistador. I smiled with satisfaction when it slowed to a stop in the middle of the harbor and dropped anchor. {“Good, he’s anchoring in the harbor, which will make things easier for us.”}

{“What? How will that make it easier?”}

{“Simple, because no one expects the Spanish inquisition! Muh ha ha ha!”}

{“Dani...you’re weird...”}

{“Oh, sis! That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me!”} I pretended to go all gushy on her. I am sorry, but I could not help it. It felt like a huge burden had been lifted from my shoulders now that the hard part of waiting for the Don to arrive was over.  The final parts of my mission plan were locking into place and at the risk of quoting another famous TV show, “I loved it when a plan came together.”

Since no one was around, I did what I should have done a long time ago. I re-arranged and covered up our weapons. I was pretty certain we would need to use the space our suitcase was filling for the scuba gear and I did not want anyone spotting them if I could help it.  Once last inspection of the yacht showed me the captain was definitely settling his ship in for the evening.  I had Melody take a few more pictures and since our phone would soon be history, I had her email them directly from the phone to South Com.  These new smart-phones were pretty handy and much easier to carry than the old sat phone backpack things I was forced to lug around in the past.

{“Okay, can I drive now? Please, please, please?”}

{“No, it’s too dangerous...”}  I did not want to risk getting in an accident.  Acapulco city traffic was a little trickier than open highway.

{“Come on, you know I can do it. Pretty please?”}  Melody gave me her best puppy dog eyes treatment.

The puppy dog eyes, those I could easily resist. My daughter had been an expert puppy dog eye pleader, but Melody was right at the same time.  She probably could drive and this might be the last time we had a chance to drive it. Maybe I was being selfish?  “Okay, but if it looks like you’re having trouble, I will take over, understood?”

{“Ma’am, yes ma’am!”} Melody pretended to salute me, the brat.

We made it to the dive shop without incident.  I tried to pretend like I did not enjoy the pleasure she derived from piloting the Audi, but her pleased giggles while accelerating from each stop light and stop sign were too hard to not join in. I almost wished we could take the Audi out of the city and really open her up again. I think I created a monster and I could not find anything wrong with that because Melody was happy.  She was also a pretty good driver and I felt the warm glow of satisfaction since I trained her. Her parents may or may not be pissed at me when it was time for them to train her.

Since the plan was for Melody to do all the talking in the scuba shop, I let her stay in charge. Unfortunately, my plan went all to hell as soon as we entered the shop.  Melody took one look at the older gentleman behind the counter and panicked.

“Hola Senor...ita, how may I help you this evening?”  The man’s rich voice rumbled from deep inside his barrel chest.  

{“It’s not going to work for me, you talk to him!”} Melody pleaded with me.

I did not have time to argue with her or try to talk her out of her panic. “Hola Senor, sorry to bother you at this late  an hour, but I was wondering if perhaps the shop owner would be available?” I asked as I hastily formulated my plan for how to deal with the target.  The man appeared to be in his mid-forties, maybe early fifties with closely cropped graying hair.  His hands were a working man’s hands, calloused with his right hand sporting a nasty scar that looked like a barracuda bite to me.  A well worn, but high-end dive watch on his left wrist told me this man had a lot of dive experience.  Perhaps, Melody was right.  This man appeared to be a grizzled veteran who would not be willing to overlook important safety rules when selling equipment to his customers.

As I threaded my way deeper into the shop and towards the counter, I also inspected the shop’s displays.  The shop was well stocked with tourist gear, flashy wetsuits designed to attract the eye of a tourist and low to mid-range diving gear priced to appeal to a vacationing tourist looking to get into the sport.  I was not impressed. We needed the high-end gear including rebreathers and I was not sure if this shop could provide them.

The man chuckled and stood as he noticed my inspection. “You are in luck, Senora.” Even though we were young, he changed his address of me to the more respectful. “Fernando Vazquez at your service.” He said with a rakish smile and a slight bow.

I had to admire the man’s polite interest in me. I knew what I looked like and how young I appeared.  I also knew how wealthy I appeared since I could see a security monitor that showed our car parked outside his store. I decided to play the part of an executive secretary sent by her boss to purchase equipment on his behalf. “Senor Vazquez, my employer's dive gear has been delayed or the airline lost it. We are not sure which, but he is a very busy man and as his executive assistant, he asked me to purchase a full replacement set.”  I watched as Senor Vazquez’s eyes grew wider and wider as they filled with dollar signs. “Now, I see your shop is well stocked with ‘novice’ level gear, but my employer is looking for expert level equipment. Specifically, a VR Tech Rebreather apparatus or similar.  I need three of them. Do you have any in stock? ”

Senor Vazquez’s brow furrowed as he was forced to re-appraise me.  A rebreather, any rebreather, was not cheap. The standard regulator with air tanks equipped set can retail for as little as $3,000 for a full set of gear, including the wetsuit, fins, mask and buoyancy compensator ( BC ) while rebreather systems start at $7,000 and that is just for the rebreather.  I could go without the rebreather, but only if I had to because a sharp eyed sentry can spot the bubbles from a standard SCUBA system when they rise to the surface.

“Ahh, Senora, what you ask for...is uncommon and does not come cheap...” He licked his lips nervously.

“I am aware of that and my employer is also. Do you have any in stock or not?”

{“Dani, aren’t you being a little, umm, you know, with him?”}

{“Bitchy? No. I just know what I want.”}

{“Oookaaay...”} Melody backed off.

“Si, Senora. I have one of those in stock, but it is equipped with the optional CO2 system. I am sorry, but those systems are not in high demand in this area...” He raised his hands apologetically. “And  pardon me for being so rude, but how does your, umm, boss plan to pay for it?”

I did not like what he was implying and I was starting to get a little irritated with the man.  Perhaps he could help me wipe out my earlier ‘adorable’ thought from looking at Carlos’s family photos.  I tapped my finger on the counter as I contemplated that course of action.

“No, no, no, sorry Senora, I did not mean to accuse your boss of not being able to pay. It is just that my credit card system cannot handle such a large transaction in a single day. I would have to break the transaction up over the course of a few days.”

Hah! Now we were getting somewhere.  Yes, I do love it when a plan comes together. “I see...” I looked through my purse and pulled out a few bundles of 1,000 peso notes and set them on the counter. Each bundle contained 25,000 pesos and I estimated we would need between 200,000 and 300,000 for our gear. A trip to the car for our briefcase would be necessary. “Well then, will cash be an acceptable substitute?”

As it turned out, Senor Vasquez was more than willing to accept cash and while I could tell he was curious about who my fictitious employer might be, he was also smart enough not to ask because someone who pays in cash is someone who values their privacy, for one reason or another. I could tell he was a little skeptical about my cover story, but he was willing to accept my story about my boss’s plans to dive around La Roqueta Island first thing tomorrow morning as the driving reason for my boss’s last minute purchases.

For Melody’s parents, I purchased a full package of standard SCUBA gear for them, but I added an underwater communication system.  Since neither one of Melody’s parents had dive experience, I did not want to be limited to gestures in murky water if it came to extracting them underwater. I also purchased a simple, all black, ladies dive watch to help monitor our time underwater.  After wearing a full function men’s diving watch for so many years, I was amazed how large and bulky the positively slim and compact ladies watch appeared on our wrist.

Conveniently, the dive shop also rented diver friendly boats.  Well, 20 foot speed boats with tank storage and a stern deck extension to make it easier for divers to enter and exit the water. Renting one of those took a rather hefty cash deposit, but I did not want to tempt fate by using the late Mrs. Rodriguez's credit card again.  It may not have been able to process a $10,000 transaction without raising a lot of alarm bells with the card company.   

I was fairly confident Senor Vasquez figured out that La Roqueta Island was not our planned dive destination and things might not be completely legal. That was why he insisted on such a high “damage deposit” for his boat, but I did not care. It was not my money and I did not have to lie to him about it.  Insurance would pay for his boat if it got sunk and in addition to all the equipment we bought, he now had a 10k bonus on top of it.

An hour and a half after entering the shop, Senor Vasquez and one of his employees loaded all our gear into the back of one of their pickup trucks and we followed them to the marina where our boat was docked.  I continued to play the part of a CEO’s executive assistant as I supervised the men while they stowed our gear on the boat for me. Once the gear was loaded, I slipped off my heels and inspected the boat. Engine compartment looked clean and well maintained, the bilge was dry, the fuel tanks were full and the battery looked in good shape.

I think I surprised Senor Vasquez’s younger employee with my competence because I caught Senor Vasquez shake his head no a few times during my inspection. “Okay, everything looks good to me, but I am not a mechanic.  My employer will be most grateful and I am sure he will enjoy his dive at La Roqueta Island in the morning.”

I purposely restated our false plans as I gave them each a 2,000 peso tip for loading our gear into the boat for me. They both protested, but ultimately accepted the tip. I figured it might not hurt to keep them both too dazzled by our cover story to really question things. I waited until after they left before I humped our gear out from the Audi to our boat. Senor Vasquez might be willing to ignore a lot of things, but I did not want him to see our overloaded military style rucksack and ask questions.

I should have swapped everything over to a large duffel bag because it is pretty common for divers to literally, have a ton of personal gear like stainless shark suits and bulky underwater cameras.  However; It was not every  day that a woman wearing designer clothes decides to accessorize with a huge military green rucksack that contained large amounts of ammunition and explosives.

With that in mind, I quickly, as I could, carried the rucksack to our boat. It was not easy. The damn thing was heavier than I remembered, but we got it, plus all our other purchases loaded into our boat.  As a plan C, I decided to leave one million in US dollars plus another two to three hundred thousand in Euros and Pesos in the Audi for just in case we needed it later.  I did not expect to need it, but we could not take it with us and it did not cost us anything to have it there, just in case.  After giving the Audi a final inspection to make sure I was not forgetting anything, I locked it and hid the extra set of keys by duct taping them under the rear wheel well.

It was 2100 hours and the sun had completely set by the time we pulled our boat away from the dock.  That did not mean it was quiet and peaceful.  Oh no, there were tons of parties going on in the larger cabin cruisers and yachts docked in our marina. As a result, our slow and wake free exit into the main harbor attracted little attention other than a few playboys in an expensive and sleek go-fast boat waving and whistling at me on their way into the marina.
 

~o~O~o~

[USS Jimmy Carter ( SSN-23)...Pacific Ocean...2100 hrs]

The SEAL team members sitting in the cramped trunk ready compartment of the Navy’s newest Seawolf class attack submarine appeared as if they did not have a care in the world. The last they had heard, they were on their way to Hawaii to prep for the upcoming RIMPAC exercise, but the sudden course change six hours ago followed four hours later by a boost of acceleration and now a constant, yet slight shimmy told everyone that the Carter was running at flank speed. They were going somewhere and going there fast.

The men all noticed, but did not react as their CO entered the trunk ready compartment. This compartment was SEAL country and the men were not expected to jump to attention here. This compartment was treated as if they were on an active mission where saluting your superior officer was a good way to get the man targeted by the enemy and killed.

Reaching the front of the compartment, Lt. Commander Jenkins nodded to the enlisted man posted near the compartment’s hatch. He dogged the hatch closed and Lt. Commander Jenkins powered up a big high def LCD monitor mounted to the bulkhead. The three men who appeared to be sleeping, simply opened their eyes as if they had only blinked.

“We have a ‘problem’ to fix gentlemen, and I use the term loosely with you GQ...” Jenkins smirked at the single man who had been boasting about his swimsuit model girlfriend.  GQ was not his real name or even the initials of his real name, it was his team name bestowed upon him after a long and careful evaluation of his character culled after hours of time spent together working as a team, but in GQ’s case, his commander made it up right now.

“Fuck dude, burn!” The man next to him elbowed him his ribs.

“Ah, shit...” GQ, formally Paul Rogers muttered under his breath as he considered all the additional crap he could now expect after being awarded his team name.  He had been in the teams for over two years now. So, being awarded a team name should not have come as a surprise to him.  The biggest surprise was more at how apt his new name was for him because when off duty he tended to dress for success and that, coupled with his strong good looks attracted the ladies to him, much to the chagrin of his fellow SEALS.

“Okay, okay, pipe down now...” Lt. Commander Jenkins’ eyes sparkled with amusement as he gestured to the screen behind him.  The small space instantly fell silent as the men studied the plans for a mini-submarine. It only took two seconds before the first surprised whistle softly rang through the room.

“Yes, these are plans for midget submarine based upon the highly successful, and thankfully, too late to do any good, WWII German  Type 127 Seehund midget submarine and according to our intel, now in operation and being used against the U.S.” The picture changed to show a picture of the rear halves of two completed subs resting in their pens.  The picture was somehow taken from high above the subs and appeared to taken without the knowledge of the busy workers below.  The images cycled through a series of five pictures showing the inside of what appeared to be working warehouse with the sub’s pen area cut into the warehouse’s floor with heavy steel reinforced concrete doors currently open to display the subs.  

“This picture here shows what the image analysts believe how the floor would appear with the doors closed.”  The picture of the warehouse’s floor looked normal with the middle seam made to look like and blend into the standard drainage grate that ran down the middle of the warehouse’s floor.  “So, yes, nearly impossible to detect, even if you knew to look for it...”

“The DEA, CIA, FBI, DOD, DHS, ATF and probably a few more capital letter agencies were taken by surprise when this little gem of intel was sent to South Com less than 24 hours ago.  At that time, there was not a lot of concern, since it was believed that the subs were still under construction. However; all that changed...” Jenkins glanced down at his watch. “...three hours ago, when those last pictures surfaced. The existence of the subs answered a lot of questions the DEA and FBI have been worried about over the past few months because the DEA has noticed a huge increase in both the quality and the quantity of Meth coming into California. An increase they found very confusing considering that arrests and seizure at the traditional borders are at an all time high.”

Lt. Commander Jenkins surveyed his men and he was met with calm acceptance. “Now, as you can probably tell by now, our mission is to destroy these subs. Simple, yes?” He smiled as every man in the room struggled to contain their laughter.  He waited for a few seconds before advancing to the next slide.

“Holy shit! I think I found my first wife...” GQ whispered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Jenkins pretended to not hear his remark. “This young lady is Melody Lynch, age 12-”

“No fucking way!” GQ said, shocked at his commander’s announcement along with the rest of the men.

“Yes, but if it makes you feel any better, your future wife will be 13 in one month. Do you think you can wait and remain chaste for another 5 years?”

“What in the hell are her parents feeding that girl?” GQ shook his head with numbed disbelief.

“Where was I? Oh yes, yesterday, at approximately 1300 hours, GQ’s future wife was reported kidnapped by her parents...” The slide changed to show a young couple. “...a Doctor Thomas Lynch, research chemist at UCLA Medical Labs and his wife, Michelle-” He was forced to pause.

“Hey GQ, your mother-in-law is fucking hot too!”

“Fuck you man! There is no fucking way that chick is only 12. It has to be a misprint. She looked 18 in that picture, okay, maybe 16...”

“Ha ha! Jaaailbait...”

“Hmmmphh!” Jenkins cleared his throat to recapture his men’s attention. The interruption was good for morale and he decided not to dress his men down for it. “As I was saying, their daughter was taken in broad daylight, but here is where it gets more interesting.  This morning, at approximately 0700 hours, Doctor Lynch and his wife were reported as being taken aboard Senor Victor ‘The Don’ as he prefers to be called, Rodriquez’s yacht...” The screen changed to show a shot of the ‘El Conquistador’.

“Our ‘friend’ Victor here, is a third generation scumbag and the leader of the largest drug cartel in Mexico. He also owns a large number of legal businesses, of which he uses to hide his profits from his illegal endeavors. Cloaked in an aura of legal respectability, he has evaded being arrested by Mexican authorities via careful bribes of elected officials and where that would not work, elimination of the official causing him trouble.”

Lt. Commander Jenkins paused for a few seconds to let the info soak in. “Now, why would a known scumbag want to ‘entertain’ Doctor Lynch and his family?” The image behind him switched to show a picture of a research paper titled, ‘The Extraction of Amphetamine from Cocoa and Coffee Plants’. Every man nodded their head with understanding. “Yes, it appears that our friend took an interest in Doctor Lynch’s earlier research and wants to compel him to reproduce it.”

“Okay, sir, but when are you going to tell us about the other ‘little problem’?” Chief Petty Officer Rollins asked as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat as if relaxing before the start of a movie.

Jenkins grinned at his senior enlisted man. “Are you sure you don’t want to be a Mustang?”

CPO Rollins yawned and stretched, “Hell no sir, someone has to keep these knuckle heads on their toes.” He gestured back toward the rest of the men. “And everyone knows that being an officer turns your brains to mush, excepting yourself, of course. Sir.”

“Okay then, Brass...” Jenkins used his team name to address him. “Why don’t you enlighten the rest of us as to what that other ‘little problem’ might be?”

“You haven’t mentioned where all this juicy intel came from...how do we know we can trust it?”

“Excellent question Brass and that leads us to our actual mission objectives...” The screen behind him changed to a bullet point list.  “The Primary objective is to locate and destroy those subs while the secondary objective is to rescue Doctor Lynch and his wife...” Lt. Commander Jenkins paused, as if waiting for someone to ask a question. No one said anything until he glanced meaningfully at GQ.

“And GQ’s bride?” The SEAL sitting next to GQ hesitantly asked.

“God damnit man! That shit’s not funny anymore!” GQ growled. “I swear, she looked 18...” He said, muttering under his breath as everyone in the room snickered.

Jenkins grinned at GQ. “Yes, Melody Lynch, aka Jailbait. She is now the center of a little mystery that command is most interested in finding some answers to.” A high resolution satellite image with a mansion with a few miles surrounding it displayed on the screen behind Jenkins. A row of police vehicles could be seen approaching the mansion from the east. “This is a shot taken this morning of ‘The Don’s’ little vacation home near Salina Cruz. It is believed that ‘Jailbait’ was taken and held at this location.”  The image jumped, making it appear as if they were looking down at the mansion from only 1,000 feet, close enough to make out what appeared to be bodies scattered around the area. “These are ‘The Don’s’ men left to guard ‘Jailbait’ and ensure her father’s cooperation.”  Every man there studied the imagery with an eye to the tactical situation each body was displayed.  Jenkins let his men study for a minute or two. “Any questions?”

“Sir, it looks like these men were each taken out separately and without the other group knowing what had happened to the other. Any estimates on the size of the force that did this?”

Jenkins shook his head slowly back and forth. “No force estimate, but it is believed that ‘Jailbait’ was rescued and that is the mystery. Command is not sure, but what we do know that _she_ called South Com and appeared to be properly briefed on procedure, giving the correct code words to elevate her call to the proper authority.  She also indicated that a man told her what to say and send the intel on the subs, along with some intel the State Department has found most interesting.”

Lt. Commander Jenkins paused to let his men absorb the data before he switched to the next slide.  A close-up of the hillside below the mansion’s pool displayed on the screen.

“Holy fucking shit...”

“As you can see from this slide, one of the three scumbags here did not die like the rest.” He pointed to the two with parts of their skulls missing and the third who was on his back, staked out spread eagle.  “These two were taken down at long range and based on the status of their weapons, without either of them realizing they were under fire. This man was disabled first, then staked down and while it may be a little hard to make out his exact cause of death from this picture, the intercepted police reports indicated that his heart had been removed from his chest.”  He pointed to the blood pooled just below his rib cage. “Here.  The police also indicated that they found two additional men inside the mansion,  with one of those men treated in the same fashion. Their hearts have not been found and as you might imagine, that spooked the fuck out of the locals.”

Jenkins switched back to the mansion overhead shot and pointed to the single sentry lying on the east side of the mansion. “This man was taken down with a blunt object, probably a rock, and then his carotid artery was severed.”  He pointed to the man lying in a pool of blood in the pool area. “This man appears to have been shot in the back of the head, execution style, and we are not sure by whom because his cause of death does not fit the MO of the rest of the dead.”  Finally, he pointed to the two dead lying in the front lawn. “These two appear to have been ambushed and shot at close range, probably by a pistol.”

“Any questions?” Jenkins gave his men another minute to study the battlefield, they might spot something the analysts back in South Com missed.  

“Sir, can you zoom in on the pool area?” The man next to GQ asked.

“What do you see?”

“I’m not sure, sir, but...the bottom of the pool is dirty and, there! Is that a rope made out of sheets?”

“Good catch on the rope. The analysts missed that and the sediment in the pool. Theories?”

GQ reluctantly spoke up. “Umm, Jailbait escaped via the rope and the three on the hillside were bringing her back when they were ambushed?”

Jenkins and the rest of the team nodded their approval. “Sounds plausible, beyond having a crappy cleaning service, any thoughts on the pool?”

Jenkins waiting another few seconds without receiving any further ideas. “Okay, more for the mystery...” He advanced the slide to the next picture of a warehouse complex. “The next few pictures were taken today, at 1500 hours, from a fort overlooking the target warehouse.” He brought up a window with a satellite image of the harbor area and pointed to a spot on the image. “From the angle, it is believed the images were taken here.”   

He glanced back to his men to confirm they all saw the image before he removed the window overlay and advanced to the next picture. “This shot was taken from the street directly in front of the warehouse that is believed to be harboring the mini-subs...” He pointed to the obvious guard. “Command as verified that this warehouse is owned by ‘The Don’. Note the fuel truck.”

Once again, Jenkins brought up an overhead picture of the interior of the warehouse. “The next shots were all taken from the roof, probably via a pinhole bored into the skylight, and apparently without the hostiles below noticing.”  He cycled through the shots in the timestamp order they were taken, pausing briefly on the shots that displayed the subs.  

“Sir, it looks like they are setting up a lab in there...”

“Exactly, Command believes ‘The Don’ intends for Doctor Lynch to work out of this location. Those bags over there are most likely coffee beans.” Jenkins pointed out some burlap bags on the far edge of the picture.  “Now for the fun part...”  

A picture taken from the west side of the harbor showed the Don’s yacht anchored in the harbor. “Our mystery intel gathering service snapped this picture at 1900 hours and it looks like The Don is there to stay, after the condition of his mansion, he probably doesn’t feel safe docking his yacht.”

Lt. Commander Jenkins wolfishly grinned as the men all chuckled at that statement. “Now that you all have all the background data. Here are the mission objectives. 1) Destroy the subs. 2) Rescue Doctor Lynch, his wife and if the opportunity presents itself, their daughter. 3) Identify the mystery intel source, if possible...”

He paused to let the simplified objectives sink in. “Now, our ride will be in position to drop us off at 2330 hours. Chief, plan for two, four man teams utilizing the SDV to get us and all our gear to the harbor and back, so no extra long swims tonight.”

“Hoo-ya!” The room chorused.

Jenkins waited for the cry to die down. “The Chief will have the list of all the gear we’ll take, remember nothing personal to identify you or nation of origin. As far as the rules of engagement go, we have a free pass on all the baddies with no holdouts except the family, so any body looks like making noise or alerting friends we discourage that with a permanent fix. Try not to hit the local police if you can help it, but they often are on the payroll of the bad guys so... just try okay?”

He pulled up the deck plans for yacht and split the screen to also display the warehouse intel. “Let’s work through this to eliminate confusion and mistakes, who wants to take the building? And who wants the boat? We need four on each, but I’m going to have the chief take the boat, and I’ll lead the building because I like blowing stuff up. Who wants to join me?”

“Fucking hoo-ya!” A few of the guys sang, indicating their desire to blow shit up with their commander.
 

~o~O~o~

With the blessing and curse of a full moon, I quickly spotted the Don’s ultra-modern, large and well lit yacht in the small harbor.  I made a full circuit of the harbor both to scout for a good hiding spot and to clandestinely inspect the yacht from all sides using the binoculars.  Once again, I regretted not purchasing a real camera with a telephoto lens, but my inspection reminded me that I had forgotten to do something even more important.  I had forgotten to research the Don’s yacht and see if I could find floor plans online.

{“Fu...Crap!”} I gripped the binoculars even harder in frustration as I committed to memory every external detail and used that to extrapolate possible deck plans for the interior of the yacht.  There really were not too many options for the internal spaces and ship design was a fairly standard process these days.  The crew quarters would be on the lower deck, near the rear of the ship and closer to the engines.  The owner’s quarters would probably be in the center for stability, but the rest was pure conjecture based on past experience.

{“What?!? Is something wrong? Did you spot our parents? Are they okay?”}

{“No, I’m just a bleeping idiot!  I forgot to research the yacht online. If they were available, floor plans would be very nice to have right about now...”} I sighed with frustration.

Melody giggled at me. {“Silly, we have the laptop with the wireless card, remember?  Why don’t you look it up right now?”}

I groaned with frustration because I should have remembered that. {“Thanks sis, sorry. I got so wrapped up in the planning that I forgot we had that capability.”} I booted up the laptop and since I was not ready to drop anchor, I simply kept the motor on idle and occasionally adjusted our position to maintain station. It only took a few minutes to find the yacht’s builder online and the common floor plan for the Don’s model.  I was mostly right about the plans, except unlike older yacht designs this one did not have a central corridor that connected the passenger and crew cabins.  The crew area was next to the engine compartment, but it was completely separated from the passenger cabins and had its own access point.  That could come in handy for securing the crew and keeping them from causing mischief.  Killing them would be an easier solution, but I was reluctant to contemplate such a plan with Melody present.

*sigh*

Civilian oversight made things so much harder sometimes, but the newer technology was kind of handy. “What I would have given to have one of these little babies on a few of my missions...” I muttered while Melody smugly grinned in the background.

I studied the plans for a few more minutes, but I was distracted by a go-fast boat heading directly toward the yacht.  It was piloted by a man wearing the standard Don thug suit.  He pulled behind the yacht and a couple of crewmen assisted with securing the boat so its cabin was next to yacht’s rear deck. Nothing happened for a few minutes, but based on the boat’s pilot remaining in the cabin and the yacht’s crew standing by, ready to cast the boat off, it appeared that someone would soon be leaving the yacht.

I spotted the Don escorting Melody’s dad while an unknown Caucasian male escorted Melody’s mom with additional thugs bringing up the rear. I did not like surprises and the addition of that unknown male unsettled me.  He looked out of place and based on his posture, appearance and military styled attire, he radiated danger to me.  He had to be ex-military of some sort and with my luck, he probably had some special ops training.  His nationality was hard to make out from just a visual, but I felt he was most likely from Europe and even worse, maybe a former Soviet bloc country or territory.  Highly trained and experienced Russian soldiers were in high demand by merc units and as private security consultants. It was hard to blame the poor bastards for being forced to choose between living in poverty or taking dangerous, yet high paying jobs using their military skills outside of their home countries.

“Dad! Mom!” Melody surprised me when her excitement at seeing her parents allowed her to take over our body. Fortunately, her initial outburst was more of a gasp than a full yell and I was able to regain control as she began inhaling for a full volume scream.

{“Daannii! Do something!”} Melody wailed as we watched her mom being handed off to the two thugs while the Don, her dad and the unknown male entered the waiting go-fast boat.

{“Melody, we can’t do anything yet. A frontal assault would only get us and maybe your parents killed.”}  It was harder than I expected to divest myself from the emotions of the situation, but simply yelling ‘no’ was not going to reassure Melody.

{“Can’t you just, you know, shoot them with your sniper rifle thing?”}  Melody focused her attention on our rifle.

I pointed out our lightly rocking boat. {“No, we do not have a stable enough shooting platform for that. Plus, we would only take down one or two before our ‘rescue’ turned into a hostage situation and trust me; it sucks to be the hostage.”}

{“What?”}

{“Sorry, but hostage situations suck and unlike on TV, the hostages usually don’t survive the experience.”}

{“Oh, I’m sorry Dani...now what?”} A much more subdued Melody asked.

{“We wait, we watch, we gather more intel and then, when the time is right, we strike.”}

As the Don’s craft pulled away from the yacht and headed north, to the warehouse. They only had about four to five hundred meters to go, but they insisted on ignoring harbor wake rules and speeding. I wanted to watch what they did once they reached the warehouse. So, I set our throttle for a leisurely six to seven knots and aimed our boat to pass about halfway between the yacht and the warehouse.

I did not draw attention to ourselves by going either too fast or too slow. There was a public beach to the west of us with a lively party going on. So, I kept most of my attention in our direction of travel with an eye towards finding a good spot to anchor our boat. While doing that, I would occasionally steal a glance back to keep an eye on the scene unfolding on the warehouse’s dock. I could not spare more than a second or two without worrying that we would be spotted watching, but those glances were enough to witness Melody’s father being manhandled into the warehouse by an additional two thugs and then, followed into the warehouse by the Don and the unknown male.

I anchored us just offshore from a public beach and in about 30 feet of water.  There were a few speed boats, personal water craft anchored closer to shore to take advantage of the party currently happening.  Our anchorage was far enough away from the beach and the other craft to keep anyone from trying to join us, yet close enough to make it look like our boat was part of the beach party. I wanted to be close enough to the beach to blend in with the party, but not close enough to accidently encourage any horny, drunk college guy to swim from the beach and to our boat. Someone on shore might miss them and call the authorities.

Our anchorage was also an easy 200 meters west of the yacht’s port bow while at the same time, three to four hundred meters south west of the target warehouse and where the Don took Melody’s dad.

Fortunately, our boat had a small covered cabin area and we used it to change into our bikini because there is nothing more out of place in a small speed boat than a woman in a designer dress.  Our head was sweltering under the wig, but I decided to leave it on until we took to the water. Even though it was night out and we were hard to see against the dark cabin, I did not want to take the chance one of the Don’s thugs would spot and recognize us.  In our favor, the thugs had plenty of other sights to distract themselves with.  The beach and some of the other boats were very active with half naked and drunk college girls.  I liked that because a distracted sentry is an easier target and thoroughly enjoy it when they made my job easier.

I prepped our dive equipment first, and then, I put together the set for Melody’s parents.  I did not expect to need it for their extraction, but better to have and not need, than to need and not have was my motto.

{“Well, there’s the yacht, when are we going to rescue our parents?”} Melody sounded a little impatient with all the prep work.

{“Soon, but we need more intel. Are you ready for a dive?”} I asked as I pulled on our wetsuit. Not for the thermal protection because the water temp here was a pleasant 70 degrees and we would not be in it long enough to worry about hypothermia. We needed the wetsuit more for the camouflage our suit’s black surface would give us when under the water.

Melody panicked a little. {“No! Wait, we need to clean off our makeup first.”}

That was not what I expected her to be afraid of right now. {“Sure? Besides gasoline, do we have anything that will remove this stuff?”} I glanced around boat, looking for some rags and solvent that might remove mascara without burning our face off in the process.

Melody giggled. {“Silly, we have some wipes in our purse. Do you want me to do it?”}

I answered her by giving her control. She quickly scrubbed our face clean and with our face taken care of, I waited in the cabin area until the current sentry turned away and then, I slipped over the side and into the dark, moonlit water, opposite of the yacht.

It felt good to be back in the salty ocean water. It was almost like coming home after a long vacation and night diving was what I enjoyed the most. The water was dark and silted, just like I wanted it and it made things have that creepy feeling you either loved or hated, I had always loved it, but so many were terrified of that black depth.  Especially in the murky, low visibility conditions common in active harbors where you could not see past your own hand due to all the silt churned up by the ships and tidal action.  Ships, that was another reason other divers feared the dark waters of a murky and busy harbor because you never knew when some big tanker would run over you.

The dark waters of the harbor felt like my own home and just like my home, I somehow knew where everything was and flawlessly navigated to our destination.  400 meters, underwater, at night, in a murky harbor and all without needing to glance at the compass or correct our heading even once. I knew I was good, but I was never that good or lucky. Someone had to be helping me down here.

{“Wow...Is that the tunnel?”} Melody gasped with astonishment.

The tunnel entrance was carved into the reinforced concrete docks, flush with the bottom of the harbor at 40 feet in depth. I actually felt a touch of respect for the Don because constructing a tunnel like this was no easy feat. Especially, in a busy and very public harbor.

{“Yep, and it appears fairly well constructed.”} I said as I inspected the entrance with an underwater flashlight, while cupping my hand over the top of the light to limit the odds of it being spotted from above. I did not spot any trip wires or sensors that might trigger an alarm. Before we headed in, I checked our O2 gauge, expecting to see between 20 and 30 minutes of O2 used for our swim. It was not a long swim or even a hard one. Actually, it was far easier than I expected because the currents inside of harbors can be tricky and Melody was not a trained swimmer.  Our gauge had to be broken.

{“That’s strange...”} I muttered as I read our O2 gauge. We were breathing, I knew we were because I could feel us breathing, but we had not used up any of our tank’s oxygen.  How is that possible?  I glanced at our watch and discovered we also swam the distance in a little less than half the time I expected.

{“What? What’s strange?  Is something wrong!?”} Melody asked, her voice full of concern.

{“No, no, no, nothing is wrong...well, I don’t think so anyway, but for some reason, we are not using any of our O2.”}

{“Is that bad?”}

I frowned as I mulled over my answer. {“Well...hard to say, but I suspect Chalchiuhtlicue is lending us a hand down here.”}

{“Oh, phew! You had me worried there for a second!”}  Melody was surprisingly accepting of my little pronouncement.

I, on the other-hand, was concerned. I had witnessed some pretty incredible shit over the past 24 hours, but I was still not sold on the idea of a divine being who was willing to directly aid a person. I had too many years, no decades, of experience of praying and not getting results that said otherwise.  Oh, I believed in God and now, in Chalchiuhtlicue, but for some reason, I felt reluctant to completely accept the idea that a god, or goddess, would directly aid a person.  On the other hand, I was also a little pissed at myself because, had I been able to accept that idea, we could have skipped the risky hotel and scuba purchases; saving us both time, money and lowering our profile.

Maybe I was reluctant to let go and trust because I still wondered if this was all just a dying man’s final dream.  Fuck it, all this soul searching crap is not getting the job done. {“Well, sis, let’s see if this tunnel takes us where I expect it to...”}

{“Oh my Goddess, this is sooo 007!”} Melody giggled and clapped her hands, giddy with excitement.