Wood's Wall Read Free Page B

concentrate on the game, though. Diego and the missing package weighed heavily on his mind. He'd grown up with the man in the Tabasco region of southern Mexico. Always underneath him in the cartel structure, he’d witnessed his violence many times, fortunately never being on the receiving end. The idea that he might be the victim this time terrified him. 
    The chime for a new text message startled him from his thoughts. He looked down at the phone, read the message, and typed OK in response, hoping it would be a big sale. He had some time to kill before the deal. At his computer he went to the NOAA website and found the ocean current screen. He entered the coordinates for the drop from memory. The screen showed an icon 1 mile southwest of Wood’s Wall. If he could calculate the current and wind, he might be able to establish a search area. Cruising aimlessly in the Gulf Stream was not going to do anything but waste gas. He stared at the wavy lines on the screen in vain. 
    The drop was in the Gulf Stream, the huge ocean current running up the North American coast, like a river running North in the middle of the ocean. It didn't take a rocket scientist to calculate the current running at six mph times twenty-four hours. The package could be 200 miles north by now, past Palm Beach. Without the locator, it could ride the swift current of the Gulf Stream for another week, ending up somewhere near Greenland, and they’d have no way of finding it. He sat back and put his head in his hands. The search area was huge.
     
    ***
     
    Pete was entranced with giggles and jiggles on the way back from Key West, as Sue slowed through Big Pine Key, the biggest speed trap in the Keys, and maybe the country. The entire island was a protected area for the Key Deer; the speed limit dropped to 35 MPH at night. It wasn't a question of if there were a state trooper waiting; it was more a question of how many. You could get away with a little swerve here and there as long as the speed stayed down. There were always enough speeders to keep the cops busy and the drunk tank full.
    Once over the bridge, though, the speed limit picked back up to 55. At that rate, Pete figured he only had about fifteen minutes before they reached Marathon. It was pretty much now or never for those freckles. He was hesitant but she made it easy for him as he moved towards her. They kissed the length of the Seven Mile Bridge 
    "Where should we drop you?" The voice snapped him back to reality.
    "He's going with me. Don't y'all worry,” Joanie said.
    The parking lot of the bar was deserted when they pulled in. The couple in the back seat disengaged and exited their separate doors, only to reengage as soon as they were out of the car. Then, just as the car was about to pull away, Pete ran up to the driver’s side window.
    "Let me get your number,” he said to Trufante. “I’ve got something that can maybe help us both out."
    Trufante smiled and recited the digits while Pete punched them in his phone.
     
    ***
     
    It was 79 degrees at five am. Mel looked at the thermometer in disgust as she headed out the door of her Georgetown apartment. Clad only in a sports bra and running shorts, water bottle in hand and cell phone in a band on her arm, she set off at a slow jog. It didn't take long for sweat to start beading on her forehead as her stride loosened in the early morning heat and humidity. Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the boathouse on the Potomac River.
    Outrigger canoeing had quickly become her new passion. Her boyfriend, Mac Travis had introduced her to stand-up paddle boarding in the Keys. Though she liked it, she was more of a team player and had joined the outrigger club on her return. The combination of technique in the stroke, along with the endurance, power, and camaraderie had come together and ignited her. 
    Even at this early hour, the boathouse was busy. The sun had risen half an hour earlier, the water glistening in its rays. Rowers and paddlers