Rising Charity by Wayne Stinnett

Author:Wayne Stinnett [Stinnett, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781732236035
Publisher: Down Island Press
Published: 2019-02-10T22:00:00+00:00

We left the golf cart on the dune, 100 yards from where the beach turned around the northern tip of the island. There wasn’t anyone around as we suited up.

“Poppy’s not your typical animal lover,” I said to Dalton.

He looked over at me in the moonlight, cinching his rebreather in place. “Yeah,” he agreed, shrugging. “She comes by it naturally, I guess. She told me that her dad was a wildlife photographer.”

I wondered if Poppy even knew about her father’s more activist-type role in central Africa. “Yeah,” I said, scoffing a little. “A wildlife photographer.”

Dalton’s puzzled look told me he didn’t know. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We learned he was on the South Sudan border with Congo when he disappeared,” I told him, watching for a reaction. “More as an activist than a photographer.”

Dalton stepped closer, checking my gear as I checked his. “What do you mean, activist?”

“Elephant poaching,” I replied. “Possibly connected to Al-Shabaab.”

Even in the dark, I could see in his eyes that this was something he didn’t know. “How good is your intel?”

“The best,” I replied, grabbing my fins from the back of the cart.

“Same way you found out about Alison and Whit?”

“Yep,” I said, turning to join Deuce and Whit to walk into the water.

Deuce touched the button on his earwig, activating the device. “All comms on,” he said. We each did likewise. “Comm check.”

“Base up,” came Chyrel’s voice over my earwig.

“Jesse,” I said.

The other two men gave their names and then Andrew chimed in. The hotel room he was in was half a mile from the shipyard and a mile from our location. He had north-and west-facing windows in the tenth-floor hotel room. The powerful telescope was on a tripod.

“All comms are good,” Chyrel said. “And Andrew’s telemetry is excellent. Hey, Dalton and Whit.”

“If I’m looking at the right boat,” Andrew said, “it’s a derelict-looking work or research vessel, dark hull, and light-colored topsides, about 80 feet in length, with only a few lights on. But there are people moving around.”

“Two guys,” Dalton said. “We were hoping for that. Listen in and get a little scuttlebutt. Can you see clearly enough to warn us if there’s someone on the aft deck?”

“Yes,” Andrew replied. “I think only one person is awake though. I wouldn’t count on picking up on anything said, unless he talks to himself.”

“You guys cover all the bases,” Whit said.

I shrugged. “We try to leave little to chance.”

“We’ll swim at a depth of ten feet,” Dalton said. “Due north from here for 200 yards. Once clear of land, I’ll surface and get a visual from there and take a bearing.”

“Roger that,” Deuce replied.

We quickly donned our fins and masks, making one last check of our equipment before submerging. I’d never worked with either man before, but knowing they were as well-trained as Deuce gave me comfort. We’d all trained in the same way, using some of the same equipment, and sometimes in the same place for the same op.

I brought my right arm out in front of me, gripping the elbow with my left hand.

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