Episode 039

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          “I have a question.  Say we get into the cage, and through the security doors there and down the elevator we can’t move, and past the guards with the guns, and into the vault we can’t open…Yeah well, say we do all that…we’re just supposed to walk out of there with a hundred and fifty million dollars in cash on us, without getting stopped?”

                   Saul Bloom, Ocean’s Eleven

 

 

            Sergeant David Hamil is sitting on the edge of the boat, a fishing line in the water.  He’s stretched back on the lawn chair, his hands on the gut that his desk job’s earned him.  He breathes out a heavy sigh and checks his cheap knock-off watch.

            As he does, the light on the boat’s porch flashes on, blinding him.  “Damn it, Steve!” David barks, squinting.  “How many times’ve I got to tell ya, don’t turn on the damn light?”

            “Sorry, Dave,” Steve says apologetically.  The abnormally skinny officer turns off the light and sits down next to David in the spare chair.  They take a moment to check on the boat three spaces down on the same pier.  It’s as motionless as it’s been all day.  “What do you think?”

            “I think this is the best field position I’ve ever had,” David says with a sarcastic smile.

            “No, I mean about me and Leslie,” Steve insists.  “I don’t know what to do.”

            “You’re wife’s sleeping around,” David says, uninterested.  “Divorce her.”

            “But it’s only with other women,” Steve says philosophically.

            “Doesn’t matter,” David says.  “She’s sleeping with someone else.  Divorce her.”  Steve’s quiet.  “You don’t want to?”

            “It’s only happened a few times; maybe she can change,” Steve ponders.  David just rolls his eyes.  He looks towards the moon as he takes out a cigarette.  “You know those things are…”

            “I don’t wanna hear it!” David barks.  “My wife’s yelling at me to quit.  The department’s yelling at me to quit.  My boy’s even started.  I’m not quitting and I don’t wanna hear it.”

            “Sheesh,” Steve grumbles, settling into his chair.

            David lights his cigarette, the flash of his metal lighter reflecting off the ocean water.  But rather than disappear, the reflection gets brighter.  He looks up at the pier to see an SUV come crawling along the wooden path.  “What the hell?” he stares, Steve just as puzzled.

 

            James sits in the passenger seat, his eyes passionately covered by his hands.  “We’re going to die,” he groans.

            “No we’re not,” Stephanie says with a grin, enjoying the drive as she navigates her way along the pier that’s just barely wider than the car.  She tilts her head to check how close she is to the edge.  “This is so much fun,” she says.  James turns and glares at her.  “It is!” she defends.  “We’re getting ready to escape from the country, with all these cops and people trying to get us.  Come on, admit it.  It’s exciting.”

            “You frighten me,” James says, shaking his head.

            Stephanie stops the SUV and grins like a little girl at him, the smile turning into a giggle.  “Come on.  This is our stop.”  James turns and opens the door, freezing when he sees the water just inches from his feet.  He closes his eyes and climbs out, unable to loosen his hand on the car.

 

            David and Steve look at each other, astonished to see the two parking the car on the pier, the wood groaning, threatening to give to any point.  They pop the hatchback and start to unload the contents of the SUV onto the deck of the ship.  “Should we…” Steve starts to ask.

            “Let’s go!” David says, standing up.  They’re halfway onto the pier when they hear another set of footsteps.

            “Excuse me!” yells Michael, dressed in a black t-shirt with yellow letters, spelling out ‘security’.  He shines a flashlight at James and Stephanie.  “What do you two think you’re doing?”

            “Who the hell’s this guy?” David asks as Michael walks past them, towards the others.

            “Harbor security?” Steve asks.

            “Hey!” David yells, coming onto the pier.  Michael turns to him.  “This is a police operation.”

            “No, this is my marina and my jurisdiction,” Michael says as fakely important as he can muster.

            “Get out of the way,” David says, grabbing Michael’s shoulder to shove him away.  As he does, Michael loops his arm around David’s, pulling it behind his back, yanking his hand up to almost the back of his neck and forcing David to his knees, in too much pain to even shout.  As he steps behind David, he chops Steve in the neck and grabs the back of his head.  He yanks him down, slamming the front of his head into the back of David’s.  The two fall to the pier, knocked out.

            On the two piers to either side, two men come out of different boats.  They start to rush towards the connecting walk.  Michael watches them come, unconcerned.  The men to his right get halfway along the pier before Brandon leaps out from another boat.  He lands on them, taking them to the ground.  A wrestling match ensues between the three men, with Brandon coming up the victor.

            To his left, Michael sees two more men approaching.  They don’t notice Lakesha positioned between two boats until she jumps out, kicking one off the pier.  She lands and the other draws his gun.  She grabs the back of his head and yanks it down, kneeing him in the face.  She tosses him off the pier, onto his partner in the water.

            “Keep going!” Michael yells to James and Stephanie.  Brandon and Lakesha rush to join him.  He draws out a pistol, keeping an eye on the perimeter.  There’s no motion under the still ocean sky.  Brandon comes running up first.  “Help them finish and start the engine,” Michael orders.  Brandon doesn’t even break stride.  Lakesha arrives a second later.  She moves to join him, drawing out her own pistol.  The two stand guard at the entrance of the pier.

            “What about the final boat?” Lakesha asks.  Michael glances over his shoulder towards the one boat remaining, the camera still aimed at their vehicle.

            “I don’t know,” he says.  “Maybe we were wrong and they’re not monitoring us; maybe they’re not there; maybe they’re waiting to give chase when we pull out.”

            “Shouldn’t we do something about them then?” Lakesha asks.  Michael checks the boat again, as if trying to decide.

            “We’re good!” Brandon yells, leading Stephanie and James onto the boat.

            “Go!” Michael says, Lakesha sprinting to the boat.  She gets onboard and Michael turns to follow.  He rushes up the gangplank and yells to Brandon, “Let’s go!”

            “We’re on our way,” Brandon says.  The boat’s motor starts up and he begins to pilot it out of the pier.

            “Stephanie, James,” Michael says, watching the fourth boat.  He sees it coming to life, its powerful engine roaring with energy.  “Get under.”  They do as he says.  “Lakesha, get the rifle.”  He runs to the bridge, patting Brandon on the shoulder.  Brandon guides them partially straight and hits the accelerator, then surrenders the steering wheel.

            Down below, as James and Stephanie get out of the way, Lakesha comes to a space on the wall.  She knocks on the paneling, causing a portion to pop out.  She pushes the covering aside, revealing an arsenal of high-end weaponry.  She grabs a black and steel rifle and matching magazine and runs back up to the top.  As she comes up, she sees the fourth boat graining on them as they exit the marina.  She joins Brandon on the edge of the boat and hands him the rifle.  “Thanks,” he says.  Kneeling, he turns towards the pursuing boat.  He flashes them a peace sign and a toothy grin, then fires once.

            The sound of machine grinding on machine overwhelms the boat as the engine begins to stall.  Brandon smiles again, this time giving a thumbs-down.  He hands the rifle to Lakesha.  “Thank you.”

            “What are friends for,” she says, astonished at the marksmanship.

            Out of the marina and into the open water, Michael shuts down the boat.  Standing at the wheel, he turns as Brandon and Lakesha join him on the bridge.  He takes out his cell phone and scrolls down to a number.  “Cover your ears,” he says.

            “The explosives are half a mile away,” Lakesha says.  But she notices Brandon not only covering his ears but ducking.  She swallows fearfully and does the same.  Michael flinches and hits call.

            A pair of explosions that sound like the sun erupting slam into the three of them.  The boat is rocked violently in the water and pushed powerfully against the waves.  Underneath, Stephanie screams as she and James are tossed about.

As the force of the explosion passes and the ringing in their ears begins to subside, Brandon and Lakesha stand.  Lakesha is speechless, but Brandon yells, “Yeah!  Now that’s a firecracker!”

            Michael, ignoring him, looks towards the two Coast Guard ships.  He reaches under the dash of the boat and pulls out the binoculars.  He sets them on the boat to his left.  “I think…” he says pensively.  The boat, massive but agile, begins to redirect itself.  “I think…” he says again.  The boat aims towards the explosion.  He checks the other boat, smiling to see it redirecting as well.  “Alright.”  He sets the engine to life again and aims the boat towards the horizon.  “We’ll be in International Waters by sunrise.”  He turns to Brandon and smiles.  “I hate to be premature about things, but I think we just might have made it.”

 

 
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