Barracuda by Mike Monahan Page B

member of the Renegades Dive Club of Sydney,
Australia.
    The rabble was arguing with the clerk about
their flight to Eneu. From what Micko could overhear, it sounded
like the Renegades had arrived early and wanted to take this
immediate flight. The clerk told them that this flight was already
booked and that they would have to be patient and wait for their
scheduled flight in another three hours. The clerk pointed to Micko
and the Californians, and told the Renegades, “This is their
flight, gentlemen.”
    A Neanderthal-looking fellow approached Eddie
with an evil look in his eye. It was the man’s fearless gait that
concerned Micko, so he stepped in between them.
    “How do you do, big guy? I loved diving on the
Great Barrier Reef and in Sydney Harbor. Damn, you fellas have some
great diving in Australia. Lucky we got here on time. We’ll take
off quick and send the plane right back to get you guys.” Micko
smiled and held the man’s eyes with his as he made an attempt to
distract him.
    “You did some dives in Australia, mate?” the big
man queried with a sense of doubt in his voice.
    “I sure did. Couldn’t see shit in the harbor,
but I dove off the Tusa dive boat at Cod Hole and had a blast. I
also paddled a sea kayak to Fitzroy Island, went skydiving in
Cairns, and went white water rafting down the Tully River. Hell, I
even climbed the Sydney Harbor Bridge,” Micko boasted.
    The man hollered back to his band, “Hey, gang,
this mate’s all right!”
    With the ruffian’s subdued, Micko asked Eddie to
check in his gear while he reminisced about his adventures down
under with the Aussies. He soon found out that these guys looked
much more intimidating than they actually were. They seemed to be a
nice bunch of hooligans who enjoyed the sport of scuba diving,
preferring extreme diving. They told Micko of their wild plans at
the Bikini resort.
    The big fellow’s club name was Rat. He told
Micko that fellow club members Bill and Bob Barrett had been at the
Majestic for a week doing some reconnaissance dives so that when
the rest of the club arrived, they would only dive the best wrecks
and not waste time on the boring shallow dives.
    He pulled Micko aside and said, “Can you keep a
secret, mate?”
    Micko raised his eyebrows. “Of course, I
can.”
    “My mates set up a scavenger hunt inside the USS Saratoga . See our bandanas? The Barrett brothers are going
to hide dozens of them in the wreck.”
    “Whoa! That’s kind of dangerous.”
    “Not for us,” Rat replied with a grin. “We love
extreme diving, and that’s why we’re going to Bikini. We also
intend to rape, pillage, and plunder the wrecks like pirates.”
    “You may get artifacts out of the ships, but
you’ll never get them home. The dive masters will report you and
the customs people will stop you,” Micko warned him.
    “We have our tricks.”
    Micko decided to change the subject. “I’m
staying across the atoll from the Bikini resort at Shark Alley
Island, and I’d love to meet up with you guys at night for a few
drinks.”
    “Sure thing, mate. They must have a ferry or
tender that goes between the islands. I’ll buy the first round for
you and the sissy Californians,” he said with a laugh.
    ***
    The plane flew low over the clean tropical
waters until the island of Eneu came into view. The airport was
very small, and as the plane landed, it taxied past the terminal to
the end of the short runway. Several airport employees were then
dispatched to grab the tail of the plane to help it turn around so
that it could taxi back to the terminal so the passengers could
disembark. This would have been comical if it hadn’t been so
scary.
    Micko had been to several small third world
countries where this practice at modest airports was common. The
runways were very short and were usually cut from dense forests.
The Bikini Atoll was shaped like a horseshoe, with the island of
Eneu located at the lower right corner. Planes approached the
airport from