Unlawful Chase, C.J. Schnier [best book clubs TXT] 📗

"What kind of job does your boss want me for? Sending his lackey to pluck me off the docks seems extreme."

"I would prefer to let him answer that question. He told me to come to Marathon and find you. I ask around. You're well known. Someone mentioned you were out spearfishing with friend. You can't spearfish without going a long way by boat. Fuel dock seemed best place to find you," he said.

"That is some impressive deductive logic, Sherlock, but I'm gonna go back home. Thanks for the offer, but this sounds sketchy, and I've had enough shady dealings for one lifetime."

A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped, snapping my head around to see Jeff looking at me. I hadn't noticed him get off the boat. He motioned for me to lean in closer, and when I did, he whispered in my ear.

"It might be worth going with this guy, Chase. I know it's weird and all, but you said it yourself. You need money. It's probably some big delivery job. You know, take this guy's rich Russian boss and his mistress down island or something like that. Go find out, if it's not something you like, you can always walk away."

I couldn't believe my ears. We knew nothing about this guy or his employer, yet he wanted me to get in a helicopter with him. "Are you sure, man?"

"Of course. If you get in trouble, call me," he said with a disarming smile.

"You know I don't have a phone," I reminded him.

"In that case, I recommend staying out of trouble. But go check this out. It can't hurt."

"What about my gear? And how am I supposed to get back to Paramour whenever this dude brings me back here?" I asked my friend.

"I'll bring your equipment over to your boat and leave you a fish on ice. Tomorrow, I'll bring the rest by when you're home. No point in letting it spoil."

"Alright, but will you do me one last favor and drop my dinghy off at the city dock for me? At least then I'll have a way to get back out to Paramour when I get back."

"You got it, Chase. No problem."

A slew of excuses popped in my head, but Jeff was right. I needed the money and if this was a legitimate job, I couldn't afford to turn it down.

"Alright, Lurch, I don't like the secrecy, but I'll go."

"Lurch?" he asked.

"Yeah, you know, the butler from The Addams Family? Dumb. Looks like Frankenstein? Does his master's bidding? Lurch."

The large man scowled at me for a moment, jerked his head towards shore, and said, "Let's go, smartass," before heading off down the docks.

I kept pace a few steps behind him, and heard Jeff call out, "Good luck." The whole situation was bizarre. How had this guy known where to find me? This wasn't the only fuel dock in town. None of it made sense, but I followed anyway.

A few moments later the docks gave way to a crushed shell parking lot where a black SUV sat idling. Lurch opened the rear door and waited for me to get in.

"My chariot awaits," I muttered as I climbed into the vehicle. He shut the door behind me and let himself into the front passenger seat. A silent five-minute drive later, and we were pulling into the Marathon International Airport. It was a prestigious sounding name for such a tiny airport. It was little more than a building with a handful of rental car places on one end, and a tiny customs office on the other. Private planes dotted the sides of the single runway, but no jumbo jets ever landed there.

We headed through the lobby and straight out onto the tarmac, unchallenged by the lone security guard who did little more than look up from the magazine he was reading. Off to the side, there was a single unmarked black helicopter with its rotors already spinning. It didn't look overly expensive, but helicopters weren't my expertise. I preferred more aquatic forms of travel.

Lurch ushered me under the whirring blades and directed me to a seat. Despite the utilitarian looking exterior, the inside was fitted out in tan leather and polished brass. Once seated, the big goon forced himself into an empty seat across from me. The leather squeaked in protest, loud enough to cut through the noise of the rotors. Lurch ignored the sound and slid the door shut with a resounding thud.

The cabin was much more spacious than it looked from the outside. It could seat eight people in relative luxury. Still, Lurch had to fold himself into his seat. His long legs making him appear to be a mythical giant crammed into a seat designed for children. I chuckled at his discomfort until the rotors spooled up and lifted us off the ground. The pilot climbed a few hundred feet straight up and I watched the land shrink away. Off to the south was the mooring field and the hundreds of boats that called Marathon home. Beyond it was Vaca Key and Hawks Channel.

The pilot spun the helicopter and headed in the opposite direction, flying over the shallow waters on the gulf side of the Keys. Mesmerizing hues of blue spread out below us, broken by the vibrant shock of green and white where islands broke the surface. I did my best to keep track of where we were heading, but after several banks over wild expanses of alternating wetlands and urban sprawl, I was truly disoriented. I knew South Florida well and could draw a chart of most of it by memory. But seeing it on paper and seeing it from the sky are two very different ways of looking at the world. Even more confusing, I realized the pilot was altering his course on purpose. He would fly in one direction, then change vectors and fly back the other. My potential employer apparently had trust issues.

"Where are we going?" I