excerpt from chapter 3
Available from Amazon.com
by Allan Tyson
Kindle Edition
The Captiva's movements did not go un-noticed.
Victor Harrison was now in position with his sea anchorage in place and his wet
suit, gloves and hood on. Victor was ready to enter the water through the open
hatch in the hull of his boat. He also had put on his re-breather, fins and
directional compass. The weight belt had enough weight on it to keep him just
below the surface. His mask would go on just before he entered the water.
Waiting, how many years of my life have I
spent waiting?' Victor thought as his eyes stayed fixed on the small boat moving
slowly through the sea less than 500 yards away.
'Waiting as a kid for my dad to notice me to
say anything about how hard I tried to win at games, build myself into a well
disciplined athlete and maintain good grades in school. For him to come to just
one of my karate class demonstrations or smile at me for winning medals and
trophies. Then as a teenager waiting for him to come home from the local bar
drunk and angry. Waiting for him to stop yelling at Mom then the hitting both
of them now yelling mom screaming every time a blow finds its mark. No more
waiting. I move behind him. He is so busy hitting Mom while she lay curled in a
ball on the sofa that he doesn't hear me. I hit him hard, behind the ear. He
falls forward, stunned but not out. Good, I grab him by his hair and belt and
race him, face down into the front room bay window. Not through the window,
just half way. The falling glass does the rest.'
'Waiting for the hearing to decide that it
was an accident and that a 17 year old would be better off away from his
widowed mother and serve his nation. The judge saying that a 6'3" 17 year
old in excellent shape could put his physical fitness and athletic training to
good use for the country it may even teach him how to control his rage.
Victor checked his equipment for the last
time.
Not much waiting in the Marines or, later the
Navy Seals. Lots of gear checking and waiting in Nam. Lots of dead Viet-Cong
officials. Lots of waiting after that. Then the "Agency" training and
more waiting. Waiting for an assignment, the right moment for the victim to
move into range and the pay off. Then the agency assigns me to this so called,
"Chairman" of some presidential committee. He tells me that his
orders come directly from the President of the United States and that these
government agency directors are controlled by outside, hostile nations. That
they have tried to stop them through normal government means. I am their final
solution. The Agency confirms his relationship with the oval office. They even
show me a memo signed by the President instructing the Director of the Agency
to, "provide the Chairman with anything he needs to accomplish his mission
and that this mission is for the good of the nation and is to be classified as
a top secret operation." That means
that its a covert operation and if I screw up they will terminate my contract
and deny everything.' Victor notices a sudden change in the Captiva's course. She's heading towards shore. He
quickly moves towards the cabin and down the ladder to the small opened hatch
just wide enough for one diver and his gear to pass through and into the sea
below.
Things are not much different now. I still
must wait for the target to be in position but not for the money. It's direct
deposited into my island account. Victor forced a smile as
he placed his mask on and slid into the water.
Victor surfaced a few yards away from his
boat and took a visual and compass fix on the Captiva. He estimated the
distance to be less than 400 yards. As he submerged and began swimming towards
his target, he could swim at least three times as fast as the Captiva's present
speed; he recapped what he understood about himself.
Its never been the money. I am good at what I
do. The pay is just the recognition for a job well done. And, if I am to
believe what the Agency tells me about my mission’s importance to the security
of my country, I am also a patriot.
* * *
Mike leaned over the side of the boat. He was
sailing with the wind and the little boat cut through the water at about 8
Knots. Mike held both the rudder and the sail hard to port. He sat on the
starboard gunwale, his back only inches from the water. Mike looked around and
noticed that the only boat near him had no one on deck.
Maybe they're diving. No dive flag showing
and they have a sea anchor out. Well its not my concern, just to enjoy......
Mike's thought was interrupted. The boat
suddenly shifted over to its starboard side and Mike felt something pull him
under the water. It wasn't a shark it was a hand.
Kate would never know about Mike's decision
to change careers.
*
* *
Available from Amazon.com
by Allan Tyson
Kindle Edition
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