A Diving Based Thriller

From Robert - As many of you know Jill is currently at a diving conference in Portugal. Her regular columns will resume in the next newsletter. In the meantime, we thought we might share a preview of something we are working on. In between the dozen other projects we have on the go, Jill and I have been playing around with a fictional novel - a page turning thriller with a cast of technical diving characters. The protagonist is a woman rebreather expert named Danielle Ryder - but her shipmates called her “Boone.” You - our Explorer’s Mindset newsletter subscribers - are the first to see this sample chapter. Please tell us what you think in the comments.

Here’s the “logline:” A disgraced U.S. Navy diver seeks redemption by leading an unconventional team in a race to stop an underwater terrorist attack in Florida.

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The Call

Dani hated that in addition to her smart phone she had to have a landline in her shop. It was the only way she could get decent Internet out on the tiny island. Even though she could easily swim over to the luxury hotels encircling Marsh Harbor, she was well beyond the reach of their Internet routers, and often thought of her shop as at the very end of the information dirt road. When she paid the monthly fee to the phone provider, she swore each time that she would yank it from the wall. Elon’s Starlink was just coming to towns on Grand Bahama but had not made it over to the smaller communities on Abaco.

As she was sitting on her bedroom floor coaxing her pet lizard to come out of hiding, the phone rang. When she saw “U.S. GOV” on the caller ID, she assumed it was the annoying Veteran’s Hospital nurse again, checking on her and trying to set up a PTSD screening in Miami. Dani did not need a V.A. Psychologist to officially bless her diagnosis. She knew from the nightmares, insomnia, and inability to get close to another human being that she had post traumatic manifestations. Besides, she thought, the V.A. Travel reimbursement hardly covers her airfare to Florida. No…let it ring.

“For god’s sake, Dani, answer your phone,” yelled Miguel from the garden.

“No, I’m busy feeding Sheck.”

Under the bed, Dani kept a sealed plastic bowl with fresh cat food and a long plastic spoon, the kind you get with a milkshake or ice cream sundae.

“Well if it rings again I’m answering it and letting your bill collector’s know exactly where to find you,” said Miguel.

She pretended not to hear him, and continued spooning out little lizard food rations. Sheck would come within 2 inches of the spoon, then, in a flash, he’d snatch the food, swallow it quickly, and do his little lizard head bobbing dance until Dani offered the next spoonful.

“There ya go, little buddy,” Dani said.

“That’s enough for today. Save some for tomorrow.”

The nimble reptile scampered away, ran through the unfinished drywall framing and disappeared somewhere under the far side of Dani’s bed. Somehow, every day, Sheck found his way in and out of the room under that bed. After fruitless hours exploring underneath with a cave diving light, trying to find a crack or hole that Sheck could access, Dani just gave up, and decided that little lizard had super powers, and could pass through solid walls. There were times when she swore that Sheck was the only creature on the planet that needed her, and gave her space.

“Later buddy.”

The phone rang again. It rang and rang. Twenty rings.

Miguel could no longer stand it and picked it up.

“Good morning, Rose Island Adventures, this is your dive master Miguel, how may I help you?”

“This is the office of Supervisory Special Agent Johns in Washington, D.C., may he speak with Ms. Ryder, please,” said a curt, but altogether pleasant-sounding woman’s voice.

“What…who’s calling again?” asked Miguel.

“FBI Supervisor Doctor Jerry Johns - for Chief Danielle Ryder, please.”

“Just a minute, she’s in a meeting with her staff, I’ll see if she’s able to come to the phone.”

“Thank you, I’ll wait.”

Miguel stuck his head through the invisible bedroom wall.

“Dani, why would the FBI be looking for you - are you in some kind…?” He was almost stage whispering, with the phone’s handset tight against his chest.

“Who?”

“Somebody named Jerry at the FBI,” Miguel said.

“Jerry?”

“FBI…Jerry...Johns?”

“Si, a Doctor Jerry Johns,” said Miguel.

“Wow…geez…fuck…okay, I guess I’ll talk to him.”

She picked up the wireless handset sitting on the stacked cinder blocks she used for a night stand next to her bed.

“Hello, this is Danielle Ryder,” she said in a very businesslike manner.

“Wait please, Doctor Johns will be right with you.”

“Miguel! Hang up the phone out there,” Dani shouted.

“You’re no fun,” he muttered as he gingerly placed the phone back on its cradle.

Dani called out to him, “this is probably import-…”

A familiar, overly jocular voice interrupted.

“Boone! Hey old shipmate. How’s life in paradise?”

It was Jerry Johns, Dani’s former colleague on the dive teams.

“Hi Jerry. All good here. To what do I owe this honor?”

“Well, I thought I could use a few days off and wanted to come see those amazing caves on Abaco.”

“Really? You had your assistant set up a call with me so you could book a vacation? Not spending the taxpayer’s money wisely, Jer. But, proper protocol never was your thing…you really should book your dives through someone else.”

Dani’s resentment towards Johns was always close to bubbling on the surface. When she was blamed for losing two men on a training dive, Johns could have, but didn’t stand up for her. Instead, Johns, who knew the fatalities were due to an equipment failure, watched passively, as the Navy that Dani loved, callously pencil-whipped her into an early discharge. The two were distantly aware of the other’s whereabouts and career activities, but Dani would never initiate contact.

After taking Dani’s slot as Chief of the team, Johns’ career went interstellar. He was selected to help form a covert Homeland Security dive detachment, was recruited to counterintelligence with the FBI, and after a deployment to the Persian Gulf they sent him to Princeton to complete a Ph.D in Political Science.

With his unique experience and expertise, he occasionally sat in on National Security Council briefings.

“All shitting aside Boone. I am…ah…we are not coming to cave dive,” Johns said.

“No? Too bad…my buddy Sheck would love to meet…”

“Boone! C’mon…Geez, you never…just shut the hell up, get the chip off your shoulder, and listen,” Johns’ voice was rising.

“This call is not on a secure line so I can’t get into details, but I, ah, we need you to come to D.C. as quickly as possible. I can’t really say much more right now.”

“Really Jerry, what could be so pressing that you’d contact me? I’m surely not your first pick. Who else turned you down?”

“Goddamn it Boone! Listen up. Yes, you and I are not exactly on the same wavelength anymore, I get it - and I’m not calling you as a friend, or as a former shipmate from the teams. I’m calling you as an FBI Supervisor with an urgent national security challenge . And, if you play this right, it could be a chance to right some wrongs. If you ever took the time to read your DD-214, you’d know that you’re still good for eight years in the I.R.R. - ever hear of the Individual Ready Reserve? And if I have to go down to the Pentagon and get a set of recall orders personally signed by the Chief of Naval Personnel, I will. He’s a newly-minted Vice Admiral and I was his advanced open water instructor. This isn’t about you and me and our time with the teams Boone. This is serious shit!”

Johns paused. The only sound was both of them breathing.

Miguel slipped in and placed a cold can of Mountain Dew on the counter next to Dani. It was almost the only thing she drank, other than water. Miguel had a concerned look on his face, and his brow was furrowed. He squeezed Dani’s shoulder and let out a deep sigh.

“Okay Jerry. But I’ve got to be back as soon as possible - I have a couple down from Canada for rebreather diving.

“You’ll be back in plenty of time, Boone. There will be a Coast Guard fast boat at your dock at 0630 tomorrow. Be there.”

“Coast Guard?” asked Boone. “I can just fly from Marsh Harbor.”

“No, a Coastie patrol boat, picking you up right at your dive shop dock,” said Johns. “This is a very sensitive situation at the moment, and we don’t exactly want to advertise your trip. No commercial travel, Boone. You’ll be with our people the entire way. Now, I’ve already said too much on an open line. See you tomorrow.”

Beep, beep, beep.

Johns was gone.

A confident woman’s voice came on the line.

“Chief Ryder?”

“Yes Ma’am?”

The woman used Dani’s navy rank. Dani reflexively responded.

“Oh, please Chief don’t call me Ma’am. I’m just a First Class interning with Doctor Johns.” She said. I’m Petty Officer Tara Tharpe.”

“Nice to know you, Petty Officer Tharpe. Hey, no one in the Navy is ‘just’ anything. Are you a Yeoman?”

“I’m an Intelligence Specialist, IS-1. Just made the Chief’s list, too.”

“Well, congratulations, I could tell you were CPO material from the moment you came on the line,” said Boone.

“Thanks Chief.”

Suddenly being called by her military rank felt strange. It had been sixteen months since she was drummed out of the Navy, and she doesn’t remember anyone other than her former team mates calling her “Chief.” It was strange, but somewhat satisfying.

“Chief Ryder, like Doctor Johns said, this may be a round-about way to get here, but it is required for OpSec, so don’t be posting your plans on Facebook. As far as anyone knows, you’re in the water with your Canadian clients.”

“Okay…wait - how did you know I had Canadian clients?” Dani replied.

“And,” Tharpe continued, ignoring the question, “Miguel Hernandez should only know enough to get you to the boat, and take care of your business in your absence.”

“Wow, Jerry’s going all 007 on me now,” she said.

Tharpe also ignored that remark.

“You’ll get on the patrol boat and they’ll bring you out to a frigate with a helo. You’ll fly to an airfield near Green Cove Springs. Then you’ll get on a Gulfstream coming up to Andrews. Oh, and the A/C on the Gulfstream can be chilly.”

“I’m sure it won’t be as chilly as the room when Jerry and I get together,” Dani said.

“Chief, I’ll meet you at Andrews and bring you to your hotel. Do you have a dress jacket or blazer?”

“Um…well I live mostly barefoot, in cut off shorts on a tropical island, so that’s a big negative.”

“Okay, well we’ll see what we can find at the Andrews commissary. See you tomorrow.”

Beep, beep, beep. Click.

“Thanks Tharpe,” Dani replied. The Petty Officer had already hung up.

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Everything is Political

There are several consequential elections approaching. Of course, the big enchilada is the U.S. presidential race. However, along with the top of the ticket choice, there are other local offices, referendums, and ballot initiatives to be decided by you - the voter. So, what does this election have to do with a diving/exploration/cultural newsletter like this one? EVERYTHING! The people advanced in this election will affect many aspects of our lives beyond party politics. Decisions and policies will be made regarding climate, access to dive sites, development of natural spaces, water quality - even rules and regulations about technology that divers and explorers routinely depend upon for safety. And, of course, the economic decisions that affect every aspect of our lives beyond diving.

So, please vote. Vote for people and policies you trust will make your lives and the lives of your children better today and in the future. But - the main thing is no matter which person or party you support - make your voice heard and vote!

Above: Jill and Mabel say “Get out there and vote!”

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Join us on a walk through the woods south of Ottawa where it is rumored we may find an antique auto grave yard. And yes, Robert is directionally-challenged. Lucky that Jill has led expeditions deep into tropical jungles and both polar regions! Just follow Jill, Rob, just follow Jill…

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