Bobby Akart - First Strike

Hank hustled to reel in the other trolling lines as a large crested dorsal fin splashed out of the Gulf in the middle of the boat’s frothy wake.

Erin was glad she was all buckled up because the powerful fish would’ve certainly pulled her hundred-thirty-pound body overboard. “Hank! Is it what I think it is?”

“It’s a bluey, baby! Hang on. Keep the rod steady. Make sure the butt of the pole stays firm in the holder. It’s gonna be a helluva fight!”

“Maybe you should—?”

“Nope. You got this!” Hank dashed up to the flybridge to grab his binoculars. He cranked up the Jimmy Buffett song “Fins to the Left” to offer Erin encouragement. The song was ostensibly about shark fins, but the blue marlin’s zigzagged path from one side of the boat’s wake to the other called for some lively music. Erin was in for a real fight.

He arrived by her side and studied the marlin. He dropped the binoculars and then looked again. She noticed his movements.

“Is it big?” she said, readjusting her grip as her hands began to cramp.

“Two hundred. At least,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Let’s give it another hundred yards. Let it swim a little.”

Erin adjusted her grip and let out the line as Hank had taught her. The marlin was now tugging on four hundred feet of line in a primal war of man versus king of the sea. Blue marlin was one of the world’s most sought-after game fish. Hank could take a dozen trips during a season and not even see one. Yet here they were, at the most unlikely of times, with a relatively inexperienced angler in the chair battling a real beauty.

“Hank, my arms are on fire!”

“Okay, let me help while you relax.”

Hank wrapped his arms around Erin and gripped the rod. Frankly, he hadn’t expected to reel in a blue marlin in late October. He was not muscular by any means. Tanned and toned in an island sort of way would’ve better described his physique. Had he known what was on the other end of the line, he might’ve taken the lead on this. Reeling in a blue marlin was no easy task, even for a fit and experienced angler.

Hank began reeling the beast in. He fought the tension, reeling and pulling with everything he had. Erin relieved him with a vigor and sense of purpose that astonished Hank. Maybe it was the effort he made in assisting her? Maybe it was the fact the two worked as a team to bring in the mighty fish? Either way, she put the muscle to the task and set her jaw, with determination in her eyes.

“There is no answer on their cell phones either,” said Sonny as he nervously stood among the three men who’d suddenly appeared on the front porch of the main house. They were all dressed in dark suits, starched shirts, and blue ties. There was little doubt to the streetwise Sonny that they were from the government. Regardless, he insisted upon seeing their identification. They were with the Secret Service.

“The secretary knows better than being out of communication with her staff,” one of the men said. “Where are they?” he asked as he looked out into the Gulf. There wasn’t a boat in sight.

“I don’t know,” replied Sonny. “Hank has a number of spots that he prefers. He may have gone flats fishing up around Duck Key. If he wanted to take a nice ride, they might’ve gone offshore.”

“Good god,” the agent said with a huff. He tapped one of his agents on the arm. “Call the Coast Guard. Deploy a couple of choppers to sweep the inshore areas. The boat is a forty-five-foot Hatteras flybridge. Two passengers. Once identified, have them intercept with one of their Defender-class boats. There’s no time to waste.”

He turned to Sonny, who asked a question. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

The agent sighed and thought for a brief moment. “I guess you’ll see it on the news soon enough. Pakistan and India are at war.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Sonny asked, genuinely confused.

“Nuclear war.”

Sonny stood a little taller, and his eyes got wide. Prior to that statement, he’d been helpful but not the model of cooperativeness.

“Come with me, sir. Let’s take a look at the map. I can narrow down your search area.”

“Prepare to be boarded!”

The voice blared over a loudspeaker that practically muted Kenny Chesney’s singing and Hank’s encouragement of Erin’s efforts.

He spun around to find the source of the demand. Two Coast Guard vessels were easing up to the Hatteras on both sides of his bow. The twenty-five-foot boats abruptly slowed to a stop but brought their wake with them, causing the Hatteras to sway violently from side to side.

Erin turned her head to see what was happening. Her relaxed grip on the rod and loss of concentration ended the fight. The fish sensed a change in dynamic and cut toward the boat. It broke the plane of the water and launched itself into the air. The massive blue fish whipped its head back and forth in a flash, propelling the hook out of its mouth just before it splashed back down in the water.

The line went slack. Erin cursed loudly and then collapsed back into her chair, dejected. This’d better be good , she thought to herself as she immediately cast blame on the intrusion.

Hank helped one of the Coast Guard vessels pull alongside. He worked with the guardsman to place the fenders between the two boats before tying them together. The young man quickly boarded Hank’s boat and immediately approached Erin without so much as a glance in Hank’s direction.

“Ma’am,” he began with a tip of his cap, “we’ve been sent by the Secret Service. You’ve been requested to return to Washington.”

“Wait? Secret Service. Why?”

The young guardsman glanced at Hank. “I can only speculate, ma’am. There have been some developments between India and Pakistan. Um, similar to the Middle East, only worse, ma’am.”

“Shit,” Erin muttered. She closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. She walked past the guardsman and hugged Hank.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered in her ear, not sure what else to say. His mind was also racing, as the information given to him by Peter was deadly accurate.

“Hank, I’m so sorry to leave you. All of this. You’re an incredible man.”

“I feel the same way, Erin. Please keep in touch.”

“I will,” she said as she kissed him on the cheek. Then she leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Be ready. Protect yourself and your family. You never know, okay?”

She pulled away, and Hank saw the tears begin to flow out of her eyes. She tried to wipe them away and shield her emotions from the guardsman who stood dutifully nearby. Without another word, she crossed over into the Coast Guard Defender. As they uncoupled and raced off, she never stopped looking at Hank, nor did he stop looking at her as the boat disappeared from sight.

Tuesday, October 22

Presidential Emergency Operations Center

The White House

For the second time in a week, the president had been ushered through the corridors beneath the East Wing of the White House into the PEOC. Unlike the moments following the Iran-Israel nuclear exchange, during which the attendees were relatively calm, the military and intelligence personnel didn’t bother acknowledging President Helton as he entered. The nuclear war between Pakistan and India was far more serious and was still ongoing.

“Mr. President, thus far, all indications lead us to believe this conflict is regional in nature,” began the president’s chief of staff. “State has spoken with their counterparts in Moscow and Beijing, who both agree all three nuclear powers should remain neutral.”