Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Jon Coon
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“What search pattern do you want to use?” Nick asked.
“Jackstay is the most reliable. That’s what we’ve been using. Agreed?”
“Jackstay it is. I’ll start rigging the weights and buoy lines. This time let’s use the inflatable boats as buoys, and we’ll keep extra sets of eyes on our work area.”
“Good. Can we be ready to go by daylight tomorrow?” Gabe asked.
“I’ll get the guys in the shop to start on the computer replacements this afternoon. We should be ready by sunrise. It’s a good plan. I like it,” Nick said.
Gabe smiled, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Gabe stopped at the dive locker and picked up his gear. Jim was there. Gabe briefed him on the plan and cautioned, “We need to keep a tight lid on this, Jim. We’ve got good intel that Bodine’s laptop has everything on it. Enough to nail the coffin on Conners and his goons.”
“Roger that. I’ll keep it quiet. No problem.”
“Okay, see you in the morning.”
It was lonely that night without Alethea, who had gone back to New Orleans, or Carol and Emily, who had retreated to their house. Gabe sat in the RV eating a TV dinner and talking to the dogs who were hoping for snacks as they listened with great interest to his rambling. “Ben Franklin was right, don’t you think. It’s all right there in the lists. According to his process, we’re supposed to be together. Why doesn’t she see that?”
Smith raised her head on a tilt, waiting for his answer . . . or a piece of chicken.
“We saved Emily. Isn’t that enough? It wasn’t my fault Wyatt took her . . . was it?” He paused to reflect. Smith pawed his foot expectantly. Without thinking about it, Gabe cut a piece of chicken and gave it to her. Wilson nosed in for her share and got it.
Then he remembered telling Wyatt about the briefcase. “Dumb. Maybe it was my fault after all.”
He cleared away the aluminum tray and went up the three steps to the bedroom. The closet was empty of the girls’ clothing as was the dresser. He sat on the bed soaking in his sadness and realized he had, for the first time, tasted real love. Tasted and lost.
Night birds called from stately bearded trees. The rising sun had not yet melted the ghostly fog from the water, and deer cautiously drank before dissolving into the protection of the predawn darkness. On the bank state police trucks launched boats and SWAT team members erected deer stands and took up watch. A chopper made a low pass over the McFarland barge and landed on the barricaded road approaching the bridge. Birds exploded from the trees, calling their angry response to the chopper’s intrusion.
On the barge a deeply tanned, tattooed barge hand placed a call. “Something’s up. The cops have a friggin Navy out here. Looks like they’re setting up another dive operation. A big one.”
Released from protective custody on bond, Conners was back in his office. “I’ll find out what’s going on. Just keep your eyes open, and call me if you see anything.”
CHAPTER 46
0800
The River
In their makeshift basecamp at the river’s edge, across the river from the McFarland barge, Gabe examined the weighted plywood computer mock-ups with trackers. “Nice job. Are we ready to test them?”
“Soon as we get the big boat in the water,” Nick said. “They’re launching it now. This is quite a show. Biggest dive operation I’ve seen in a while.”
“That’s the idea. I want anyone who’s interested to know how serious we are.”
“What are you up to, Gabe? We could have done this with half the crew.”
“Right. Let me know as soon as the sonar boat’s ready. And have someone get a reading on the current. We’ll need to factor in the effects of the storm surge after that last storm.”
“So you’re not going to tell me. Okay. I’m on it.”
Gabe took a small pair of binoculars from his pocket and scanned the McFarland barge. Barge hands and welders were cutting away the mangled crane boom and repairing the damage its violent crash had caused.
Hope I won’t be getting a bill for that, Gabe thought as he continued scanning the barge. Standing alone behind the crane Gabe saw a larger pair of binoculars looking back. Realizing he’d been seen, the watcher turned abruptly and disappeared from view.
“Hello,” Gabe smiled. They know we’re here.
Nick returned. “We’re about ready. Let’s get up on the bridge.”
They drove from the launch area on back roads to a smaller highway bridge, crossed over, and got on the interstate. When they came to the barricades at the bridge, a trooper waved them through. They drove out to the river’s edge and parked.
Nick got on his radio, and the sonar boat reported they were ready. Gabe threw the first lap top simulator like skipping a stone. It sailed, landed, drifted briefly, sank, and continued to slowly sink to the bottom. Nick was sitting on the tailgate with his laptop. “Got it. Ready for the number two.” When all six had flown, Nick showed Gabe the landing pattern.
“Now, let’s run simulations on double, triple, and quadruple the current speed.”
“Got it. I had the IT guys set it up for us.” Nick checked his notes, then keyed in the commands. Gabe came to look at the screen.
“Done. There are the target areas. Nearly a quarter-mile beyond where we were looking. Let’s set an inflatable on the first one and get wet.”
On a twin of their smashed Boston Whaler Outrage dive boat, Nick and Gabe dressed with Jim’s help and stepped to the side entry above the dive ladder.
“Good luck,” Jim said. In scuba, with large bail-out
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