Chapter 1

 

 

     “I’m going to kill you,” I said.  “I don’t know how, I don’t know where, I don’t know when.  But I will kill you!”

     He actually erupted in laughter.  I guess under the circumstances, I couldn’t blame him.  Especially since I was the one all bound up and laying in the bottom of his boat as we headed out to sea off the coast of Fort Pierce, Florida. 

      “Just for that,” Victor said, “I’m going to let you suffer a little longer.”  He turned toward his two muscular friends.  “The little one first.”

      “No!” Dwayne shouted desperately as the men moved toward him.  “No!”

     Dwayne didn’t protest any longer as the gun in Victor’s hand suddenly barked and Dwayne’s head snapped to the side with a bullet hole in it.  Victor’s two friends unceremoniously dumped his body over the side, along with the cement block tied to his ankles. 

     And then it was my turn, except no merciful gunshot to the head.  As they picked me up, I struggled but I made no cry out.  Instead, I worked wildly to free my hands which were bound behind my back.  Through most of the boat ride I had been working to free them, and now they were close, very close.  But were they close enough?  I had also been quietly drawing huge breaths of air into my lungs to build up the oxygen in my system.  With the cement block tied to my ankles, I had a feeling I was going to need it.

     And then my body was flung out into the dark space of the night, suspended there with nothing between me and the watery ocean under me.  The cruel ocean enveloped me all too quickly.  I started struggling immediately to free my hands again, but all of a sudden the huge weight of the cement block pulled my legs straight down – and my body along with it…down, down toward a black depth I had no idea of. 

     My hands came free!  Finally!  I bent quickly in half and started untying my ankles, but the water made the rope harder to deal with.  The weight of the cement block pulling me downward made things twice as hard.  But I couldn’t give up.  Freeing myself was my one and only option.  Well, not my only one.  I could have given up and just died, but that option didn’t exactly seem very appealing. 

     The water pressure on my body was immense and was quickly growing stronger.  My lungs were really burning by the time I got the knots free and untangled the rope from my ankles.  My plunge toward the bottom immediately stopped and the air in my lungs started carrying me upwards.  But not fast enough.  I kicked and swam for the surface as desperately as I could.  It was dark enough that I had no idea how far I was going to have to swim to reach the open air above, so when my head finally did breach the surface, it came as a surprise.  I immediately started breathing in huge gulps of air, and soon started coughing as a wave washed into my mouth and I gulped in too much water.  I calmed myself and coughed…and breathed! 

     The swells in the water weren’t bad at all.  The chop was mild too, which meant I wasn’t that far out.  I looked around me.  Which direction to go?  The sky in one direction looked a bit brighter than everywhere else.  I also noticed the light on the back of a boat receding away from me towards that lighter area of sky.  Victor’s boat no doubt. 

     I kicked off my shoes and started heading toward the lighter piece of sky.  The mid May weather was typically perfect for the time of year so I wasn’t worried about rain storms kicking the surf up and making things more difficult.  I swam slow and steadily.  As I swam, I counted my strokes.  It was an old habit.  I used to swim a lot for exercise.  Used to, but not for a while now. 

     I didn’t even make it to fifteen hundred strokes before I had to stop.  I floated on my back for a long time, grateful for the gentleness of the water that night.  I took a moment to look in the direction I was heading.  I could clearly see a red light on top of a tower in the distance.  I had made good progress.  I would make it!  Hopefully!  There was still a long way to go, but somehow the sight of that light gave me hope.  And I needed hope just then.  I had to make it back so I could kill Victor. 

     I started out once again, slowly and methodically.  My mind played briefly with the worry about sharks, but they weren’t my biggest worry.  Not being able to reach the shore was my biggest worry.  Another thousand strokes and another desperately needed rest period.  My arms felt like lead, but at the same time, I could see more lights in the distance – that was still way too far away.  But they weren’t the lights that interested me the most.  I was more interested in the light on top of a marker buoy.  I had to change my direction slightly, but it was worth it.  If I could make that buoy, I could hold onto it until help arrived.  Or, until I decided I was rested enough to swim again, which at that moment didn’t sound very likely. 

     It’s amazing how far off the light on top of a simple buoy can be seen, even from the surface of the water.  Of course I knew I was tired.  Exhausted to tell the truth.  But the light did steadily grow closer and closer.  Just very slowly.  I started resting more and more often.  I had to.  I was so worn out I could barely keep myself afloat.  But eventually I got close enough to that light that I simply had to push myself to keep going. 

     And then, after what had to be hours, I was there.  Or rather, it was in front of me.  But the sides on the damn thing were so high I couldn’t reach over the top to grab on.  All that swimming, all that trying…for what?  To die just because I couldn’t reach the top of the buoy?  I don’t think so! 

     I was forced to lay on my back and float in the water again, to rest – again – with something to float on so close at hand!  After a few minutes, I tried again to reach over the top of the thing.  And I failed.  I didn’t even come close.  I was still missing it by almost a foot each time.  I tried over and over, and failed over and over.  Okay, I was getting angry now.  More and more exhausted too. 

     I again laid back in the water to float on my back, but this time I kept watching the buoy.  I saw it rocking slightly back and forth with the small swells.  Was it enough to help me?  I kept watching longer.  At times it rocked more than others as the bigger swells hit it.  After a while, I realized there was something of a rhythm to it.  And I started counting, trying to figure it out.  When I was ready, I tried again, but not until I was fairly sure it was going to rock fairly hard.  Gathering my strength, I watch as the light tipped further and further in my direction – and I lunged up out of the water toward the top.  My finger tips just caught the top of the thing…and slipped off again.  I had almost made it.  I would have yelled in frustration, but I was too tired.

     I watched the damn thing, trying to gauge when it was going to rock hard again.  And when I was fairly sure, I made the attempt again, only this time trying to aim more for one of the metal legs supporting the light tower on top.  I kicked and splashed and reached – upward – with everything I had.  The finger tips of my right hand just caught behind the girder of the tower leg.  I held on with my finger tips for dear life – literally!  My body was suddenly pulled up away from the water a little as the thing started rocking away from me, and then it started coming back down at me again, only lower this time as the weight of my body pulled it downward.  I grabbed it with my other hand as the thing began tilting slightly in the other direction.  But it just barely tilted back because my weight was holding it down toward me.

     With both hands now holding it, I was able to get my feet braced against the side of the thing, and one hand at a time, I reach further up the tower leg.  Eventually, I made it far enough that I managed to get a knee over the top.  From there, it was a simple matter to pull my entire body over the low leg brace and squeeze myself inside the tower.  The buoy rocked back to its normal position and I grabbed two of the legs to hold onto.  But my body was now on top of the thing, completely out of the water. 

     I breathed in heavily for a while, trying to recover from my efforts.  My mind played briefly with the thought of continuing my swim, but that thought was quickly discarded.  I would wait until the first boat appeared and try to signal them.  I didn’t think it would be that long since I could already see the first faint signs of the coming dawn in the distance. 

     As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait long at all as I saw the bow light of a boat heading out to sea.  I waved my arms and yelled but they kept going.  It was still too dark for them to see me.  I climbed up on the buoy and started rocking it, then I started shielding the light in the direction of the boat with my hand, hoping that they would see that there was something wrong.  I was just about to give up, when I saw the boat slow.  I started moving my hand over top of the light again, only now I was smart enough to try to signal something of an SOS.  To my huge delight, the boat headed in my direction.

     The dawn light was enough now that I could make out that it was a fishing boat.  A few minutes later, that boat was right alongside and several arms were pulling me to safety.  I collapsed on the deck of that boat, totally exhausted, totally grateful.  I couldn’t stop saying thank you. 

      “What happened?” they kept asking me.

     What could I tell them?  “I fell overboard!” I replied.  “I was trying to check my fishing gear, and all of a sudden the boat rocked and I went with it!  Talk about stupid!”

      “Ya gotta be careful!” one of them told me.  “Especially if you’re out here by yourself…which I’m guessing you were.”

     I just looked up at him sheepishly.  It was all the answer I needed.  “Can you take me in so I can report my missing boat?” I asked.

      “Sure thing,” he replied.  He turned toward the other men.  “Somebody find him a blanket to wrap up in.  He’ll catch his death of cold instead of drowning!”  He turned back to me.  “What’s your name?”

      “Fred Dyson,” I lied.

      “Well, Fred, you’re interrupting our business, but we’ll get you back to land soon enough – where maybe you should think seriously about staying!”

     Compared to the rest of my journey, getting back to the dock was fairly quick.  Unfortunately, there was a very concerned policemen waiting there for me when I got off the boat.  “Mr. Dyson?” he asked as he extended his hand.

      “That’s me,” I replied as I shook his hand.  “Sorry about this.  I’ve never had anything happen like this before.  I feel so stupid.” 

     I could see he pretty much agreed with my remark about being stupid.  “It happens,” he replied.  “Fortunately, not often.  Now, let’s get you back to the station where we can report your boat.  Do you have someone you can call?”

      “Yeah, my wife!” I replied. 

     Once back in his office, I gave him a made-up name for a made-up boat, and he phoned the Coast Guard while I pretended to call my wife.  Actually, I wasn’t married, but the Fred Dyson character I had just invented was – according to me.  Since I had claimed that I lost my wallet and IDs in the water, he never bothered asking more about them.  The blanket the boat crew had given me covered up my back pocket, so he couldn’t notice anything that way.

     I got to spend a wonderful few minutes on the phone with the Coast Guard, at the end of which I promised to come in so I could sign some paperwork – but not until my wife picked me up and I could get some dry clothes.  The guy I was talking to seemed to think that was perfectly agreeable.  Fortunately.

     I checked my watch.  “My wife should be here soon,” I told the policeman.  The air-conditioning in here is cold on my wet clothes.  Mind if I wait for her outside?”

      “He simply waved his hand and said “Good luck.”

      “Thanks,” I replied sincerely.  Then I walked out.  But I didn’t wait outside the police station.  I immediately turned a corner and kept walking in my wet stocking feet, effectively disappearing from the police station.  As far as they would know, my “wife” had picked me up and taken me home – to an address I had made up…like so much else in my life.

     The walk was long, but it was a lot easier than swimming.  I stopped at the first hotel I could find and rented a room – paid for in still wet cash from my still wet wallet out of the back pocket of my still wet pants.  As tired as I was, I not only stripped naked, but I took the time to take a good hot shower to wash the ocean off of me as thoroughly as possible.  Then I hung my clothes up over the shower rod so they could dry while I rested for a few hours…but only a few. 

     From the hotel room, I called a taxi as soon as I woke up.  I dressed in my still damp clothes and had the taxi take me to a more upper class hotel on the other side of the city.  I went into the lobby, but only for a minute.  Once my taxi had departed, I went back outside again to wait – until another taxi arrived.  I’m sure he was there to pick up someone else from inside, but since it obviously looked like I was waiting for him when I hurried to open the back door and got in, I’m sure he didn’t think anything else of it.  “Airport,” I said as soon as I closed the door.  “Delta departures.”

     It was a bit of a ride from where we were to the airport in Vero Beach, but I’m sure it was one he made several times a day.   I almost fell asleep in the back of the cab before we got there.  Once at the airport, I went inside and headed straight for the first place I could get some hot coffee. 

     Once my system was semi-awake from the caffeine, I walked back out to the parking lot where I had parked my rental car two days earlier.  I pulled my “emergency” bag out of the trunk and quickly found a pair of boat shoes in it.  Then I carried the bag back into the airport where I changed into some decent clothes in the men’s room.  Fifteen minutes later, I was back in my rental car and heading across the state to my home – well, to my current abode anyway, a beautiful yacht berthed at Longboat Key in Sarasota.   

     I only made one stop – for more coffee and a decent meal to keep me going until I could get back to my boat. 

     Several hours later I was finally blissfully asleep…or not so blissfully.  Because even though I was completely exhausted, I still had only one thought on my mind.  I was going to kill Victor Borkovich.  I didn’t know how yet.  I didn’t know where yet.  And I didn’t even know when.  I only knew that he was a dead man…or eventually would be.  The details were simply trifles to be worked out.

     There was only one main problem with that.  I had never killed anyone in my life.  I wasn’t a murderer.  I was a thief.