Stuart Woods: Choke

“Well, straight ahead is Cuba; I don’t think she’ll want to go there. My guess is she’ll turn east and go up the Keys or to the Bahamas, maybe even the Turks and Caicos. I don’t know how much fuel she’s carrying.”

“East, huh?”

“That’s my best guess.”

“There she is!” Daryl yelled, pointing west. “I can just barely see her in the distance.”

“So much for my predictions,” Chuck said.

Meg brought up coffee on a tray, and everybody had some. Chuck kept an eye on the speck in the distance that was their prey.

“This bothers me,” Chuck said.

“What bothers you?” Tommy asked.

“That she’s going west. Like I said, it’s nothing but small, uninhabited islands, with no water. They’re not called the Dry Tortugas for nothing. Even if she goes all the way to Fort Jefferson, where boats sometimes tie up and the sightseeing seaplanes land, it’s a dead end. It must be four hundred miles to Cancun, in Mexico, and nearly as much to the Gulf Coast. If she were going up the Keys, she sure wouldn’t go to the Marquesas or the Dry Tortugas first; there’s no reason to.”

“She’s got a reason,” Tommy said. “The lady knows what she’s doing.”

“Do you want me to try and close in on her? She seems to be doing about twenty knots, and Choke can do thirty on a good day.”

“No, just keep her in sight,” Tommy replied.

“Hey,” Daryl said, “I forgot to tell you; she went to the grocery store this morning and loaded up with food. The trunk of her car was empty when I found it.”

“Maybe she is headed for Mexico,” Chuck said. “She’s got the reef to the south, so she can’t turn left.”

“Could a boat that little make it to Mexico?”

“If she’s got enough fuel, and if the weather holds. This time of year, she’d have a good chance.”

“Is she alone, Daryl?”

“I didn’t see anybody else, Tommy.”

“Can you see anybody else now, through the binoculars?”

“Nope, she’s too far away.”

“Are you sure we’re following the right boat?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure? ”

“Pretty sure.”

“Swell. How much fuel we got, Chuck?”

“Nearly full tanks; we could run until midnight, at least.”

Two hours passed, with Choke keeping pace with the little cruiser. Tommy looked at his watch. “I didn’t think we’d be going this far,” he said. “I think we’d better ask the Coast Guard for some surveillance, just in case.”

Chuck pointed to an empty hole in the instrument panel. “Sorry, my VHF radio is in the shop.”

“Swell.”

Daryl produced his portable phone and switched it on. “No signal,” he groaned. “We’re too far from Key West.”

Tommy pulled out his pistol and checked it. “One clip,” he said to Daryl. “How about you?”

“The same.”

“Chuck, you still got that shotgun aboard?”

“Yeah.”

“Meg, would you bring it into the cockpit?”

Meg disappeared below and came back with the weapon.

“How much ammo you got?” Tommy asked.

“Just what’s in the gun-four rounds, and it’s birdshot.”

“Swell,” Tommy said.

“Well, I never wanted to kill anybody, just scare them if I had to. Do you think we’re going to get into a shooting war?”

“She’s going somewhere,” Tommy said, “and if she’s alone, she’s meeting somebody, and you can bet she’s got that nine-millimeter automatic with her, the one she used yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday?” Chuck asked.

Tommy explained it to him. “And she did a real good job, too.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” Chuck said. “Would anybody like to join me in some breakfast?”

“Sold,” Daryl said.

“Meg, may we impose on you?” Chuck asked.

“I’m not scrambling any eggs or frying any bacon while we’re under way,” she replied. “But we’ve got some pastries.”

“Sold,” Chuck replied.

It was nearly mid afternoon now, and they were still keeping pace with the little cruiser. They had slowed down to fifteen knots.

“She’s changing course,” Chuck said. “This doesn’t make any sense at all. On her present heading she’ll fetch up in South America in about a week, if she doesn’t fetch up on the reef any minute.”

“Wait a minute, she’s changing course again,” Tommy said. “Chuck, hold your original course; I think the lady is making a U-turn.”

Daryl laughed. “She’s good at that.”

“She’s making an end run around the reef; it must lie deeper out here.”

They all watched as, slowly, the little boat came around to something like a reciprocal of her original course.

“Now she’ll pass off our left beam at about the distance we’ve been following her,” Chuck said.

“Hold your course,” Tommy said again. “She may be doing this to see if we follow.”

“Whatever you say,” Chuck replied. “Hey, she’s slowing down, too.”

“Hold your speed.” Tommy took the binoculars and focused on the little boat. “Still can’t see anybody, just the boat,” he said.

An hour later, the boat was no more than a speck on their quarter.

“Now,” Tommy said, “come around and run toward her, but keep this distance; let your speed match hers.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Chuck said.

Tommy squinted into the distance. “Chuck, if she keeps her present heading, where would she end up?”

“Daryl, will you take the wheel?” Chuck asked. When the young detective was comfortable, Chuck got out a chart. “Look,” he said to Tommy, pointing, “we’ve been running in a west by southwest direction all day. Now she’s come onto a course that’s east by southeast. On this heading the first land she’d see would be Key West way to her left, but if she kept on heading this way, she’d fetch up in the Turks and Caicos, and that’s not even on the chart.”

“Then what the hell is she doing?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t know, but we’ve got kind of an advantage now. The sun is at our backs, and if she looks aft, it’s unlikely she could pick us out.” He looked at his watch. “It’s going to start to get dark in an hour or so. Wherever we’re going, it looks as though we’re not going to get there in daylight.”

“Reef ahead!” Daryl shouted.

“Daryl,” Chuck yelled back, “slow down to two knots and watch my hand signals!” Chuck ran forward onto the foredeck and looked ahead. The reef wasn’t as far submerged as he thought, and the sun was getting low in the sky, so the visibility from above was not great. The little cruiser, no doubt, drew less water than Choke, too. “Right!” he yelled at Daryl, signaling frantically, and a big coral head nearly scraped the port side. “Come left to here,” he yelled, pointing. “Now this way.” He held his breath; if they ripped the bottom out of the boat way out here, with no radio, they stood little chance of a rescue anytime soon. Then, suddenly, they were through and the water was deepening. Chuck ran back to the cockpit, took the helm from Daryl, and pushed the throttles forward until they were making ten knots. “Good job,” he said to the young detective.

“How’s our fuel?” Tommy asked.

Chuck looked at the gauges. “We’ve still got more than half tanks, and at this speed we’re running very efficiently.” He turned back to the chart, and his eyes widened slightly. “Tommy…”

Tommy turned and looked at him. “What’s the matter, Chuck?”

“I think I know where Clare is going,” he said.

Tommy looked at the chart. “Okay, I give up, where’s she going?”

“The wreck,” Chuck said. “The one where Harry died.” He circled a part of the chart with his finger. “It’s around there somewhere, outside the reef. Clare didn’t want to be seen turning west through the Sand Key cut, so she went way out to the west, then across the reef, and now she’s heading back.”