Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

bottles, they would be able to work the jackstay search pattern without tangling an umbilical. “Let’s keep it tight,” Gabe said to Nick as they prepared to enter the water. They were using the new wireless com system with a somewhat limited range. They would be able to talk with each other even if Jim couldn’t clearly hear them.

Gabe jumped first and waited for Nick, who was only seconds behind, and they drifted back to the inflatable, caught the anchor line, did a final equipment check, deflated their vests, and dropped fins first to the bottom, sixty feet below.

“Now it gets real,” Gabe said as the chill settled in. He quickly repeated his prayer and was ready to descend.

“Yep, an hour of this is going to be plenty,” Nick answered.

On either side of a bottom line, stretched tight between two buoy lines, completely blind, they crawled forward, one hand on the line and the other sweeping into the bottom muck and silt. They kept low and wide, covering a double arm span swath, on either side of the line as they moved forward. At the end of the hundred-foot line, Nick picked up the mushroom anchor and, keeping tension on the line, walked the anchor six feet to the right. As they worked back down the line they would double cover every inch of bottom as they crawled, groping in the mud, until they finished the grid or found their target.

The first hour passed. They came up on a buoy line, did a safety decompression stop, and waited for the Outrage to pick them up. As the boat approached Gabe saw Jim finishing a phone call.

“How much of a surface interval do we need?” Gabe asked.

Nick got a blue Navy binder from his dry bag and checked the tables. “Looks like two hours and thirty-seven minutes on surface will give us fifty minutes working. Let’s get lunch and check on the troops.”

“Done. Jim you want to come with us or should we bring you something?”

“I’ve got a sandwich; you guys go ahead.”

Two hours and thirty-seven minutes later they were back on deck waiting for Jim to finish the equipment checks. When he gave his two-tap approval they stepped in, did a quick in-water gear check, followed with a final okay, deflated, and dropped. Back on the line they worked the pattern for another forty minutes until Gabe felt the smooth computer buried in the slime. He said loudly into the com, “Found it.”

Gabe sent up a small yellow buoy, opened an evidence bag, and secured the small stainless laptop inside it.

“Okay, let’s go up.”

They ascended up the buoy line beneath the inflatable until they reached fifteen feet for their safety stop. Attached to the line was a black bag, identical to the one Gabe used for the computer. They did five minutes on the safety stop then surfaced beside the Outrage.

Gabe handed the evidence bag up to Jim and said, “Don’t let this out of your sight until we get it to the lab. There’s a lot of jail time waiting on that hard drive.”

Nick and Gabe went into the boat’s small cabin to change and get hot coffee.

When he returned in dry clothes and with two mugs of coffee, Gabe handed one to Jim and said, “That was a good day’s work. With any luck, we’re finally going to end this nightmare.”

“Roger that,” Jim replied.

“Will you take the computer to the lab and get it logged in? Tell the lab guys we need that hard drive working as soon as possible. I want to get back to the RV before the dogs go nuts. They’ve been inside all day.”

“No problem.”

“They didn’t try to stop us,” Nick said as they drove back to the locker.

“They didn’t have to,” Gabe said. “They had a better plan.”

Bob was driving when the call from the CSI lab came in. “I thought you said this had been submerged for nearly two weeks. Can’t be. It’s bone dry.” Bob thanked the technician then turned to Gabe. “We were right. Looks like Jim swapped the computers. The one he gave them was an antique from the evidence locker. It hadn’t been booted up in years. Nothing but games and porn on the hard drive.”

Nick looked up from the computer in his lap and said, “Turn right in two blocks.” They were following a little red dot on Nick’s computer screen as it moved over a map of Tallahassee. The tracker in the computer Gabe gave Jim was working perfectly. It was right on course to McFarland’s office building.

Gabe’s phone rang. He answered and then filled in Bob and Nick. “It’s the FBI lab I gave Bodine’s computer to. Wyatt and Janna were right. It’s all there. Names, ranks, serial numbers, dates, political contribution amounts. We’ve got ’em. Let’s go make some arrests.”

SWAT came through McFarland’s front doors, they rounded up the security guards, and ordered them away from the phones. With the lobby secure, Bob’s team followed to the elevator and used a confiscated guard’s key to access the top floor executive suite.

Gabe followed the SWAT commander through the doors of Conners’s office. Jim was standing beside Conners behind the desk. The computer Gabe had given Jim was on the desk unopened. Jim put up his hands and shook his head in dismay and disgust. “I’m sorry,” Jim said when he was caught in Gabe’s glare. Then he turned his eyes down in a look of shame.

“Why, Jim?” Gabe began, but then he recognized the surviving shooter from Captain Brady’s sitting in a corner chair. The big man had one arm in a sling and bruises on his face. Wyatt had been right. Johnson wouldn’t be in shape for spring training. Big, dumb, and stupid, he went for the gun under his coat and was met with red laser polka dots. He wasn’t that stupid, and he withdrew his empty hand.

“Mr. Johnson, it’s good to see you again,” Gabe said. “Down slow,