Suddenly, Hector slammed a size 10-EEE cowboy boot on Lassiter’s instep. The pain shot through his ankle and radiated up his leg. Before Lassiter could recover, Hector threw a short right back, sinking it deep into his gut. The lawyer doubled over, retched, and an explosion of grilled dolphin, coleslaw, and beer showered the Yuppie lawyers.
Deal got painfully to his feet and hobbled over, but Hector was already halfway to the dock, where a Boston Whaler sat idling, a young man at the wheel. Hector leapt into the boat, which took off, engine roaring in the no-wake zone.
Deal knelt down next to Lassiter, who was on one knee. “You look worse than I do, counselor.”
“On the other hand,” Lassiter said, wheezing, “there is something to be said for the play-action fake.”
The moonlight streaked across the dark water, a highway reaching toward the horizon. A light breeze blew from the southeast, and the dive boat rocked gently at anchor. The twinkling lights of Key Biscayne condos were visible to the west. Jake Lassiter sat in the captain’s chair, his bandaged foot resting inside an open cooler filled with beer and ice. John Deal removed his cervical collar and kneaded the muscles of his aching neck, then popped three Advil. It had been a long day.
“I can’t believe you didn’t even open it,” Lassiter said.
“The old woman told me not to, said I’d be better off just to get rid of it.”
“It could be jewels, drugs.”
“Ebola virus,” Deal added.
Lassiter shook his head. “No. It’s gotta be something valuable. Why else would Hector want it so much?”
Deal shrugged and looked over the rail into the water. Seventy feet below, a Boeing 727 sat on the sandy bottom, an artificial reef for the fishermen and divers. “If the storms last month haven’t stirred up everything, we’ll know soon enough.” In the dark water below, a light was growing brighter. “Can you trust her?” Deal asked.
“I’ve known Fay Leonard since she was a kid catching lobsters bare-handed off Islamorada. She’s a good diver and a good friend.”
“So the two of you aren’t… ”
He let it hang there.
“Ancient history, John. Ancient history.”
There was a splash, and suddenly Fay was behind the boat. She spit out the regulator and slid her face mask on top of her head, and once again Deal had the powerful sense that he knew her from somewhere. It had been itching at him since they’d first met, but… well, it’d come to him. With her free hand, she slung a net onto the dive platform. Inside the net was a round metal canister wrapped in plastic. Lassiter hobbled toward the stern, his foot throbbing, and Deal walked stiffly to meet him. Fay came halfway up the dive ladder. “It was just where you said it would be, John, in three feet of sand just under the cockpit.”
Fay pulled herself onto the dive platform, removed her tank, mask and flippers, then, without a word, peeled off her one-piece suit. She was a lithe, tanned, athletic woman in her early thirties, with sun-bleached hair tied back in a ponytail. “Jake, I’m going to take a swim,” Fay said. “The water’s beautiful.”
“Don’t you want to see what’s—”
“No, you boys play treasure salvors. There’s a big old manatee out there who wants some company. Just yell when you want to head back in.”
She slipped gracefully into the water, the moonlight reflecting off her long limbs as she swam into the darkness. “I must be getting old,” Lassiter said, ” ’cause I’d rather see what’s in that box than go skinny-dipping with Fay Leonard.”
“As I recall, she didn’t exactly invite you.”
“Sure she did, John, in a woman’s roundabout way.”
“The way I heard it, she’d rather swim naked with a manatee.”
Lassiter thought about it a moment and said, “Fay was always partial to linemen.”
“C’mon,” Deal said. “Let’s do it.”
They huddled over their prize,, Deal unwrapping the plastic, Lassiter holding a flashlight. It took less than a minute. Underneath the plastic, a shiny steel canister the size of a hatbox. A wheel lock secured a door built into the top. Deal strained to turn the wheel counterclockwise. “It’s stuck,” he said, his face reddening.