I had been aware of a low hum since I came onto the island. I assumed it was from the generator that powered the lights, but I wasn't sure.
As I left the building in which I'd found Peggy, I tried to follow the sound. Thinking that any generator facilities would be behind the main house, I headed there. As I rounded the back of the house, the noise became louder. It was still faint, but I could tell the direction from which it came.
I followed the sound, careful not to alert any guards in the vicinity. I saw no one. In about a hundred yards, I came to a concrete-block house. The hum came from inside. Large-gauge wires ran from the small building toward the house and cabins. This had to be the generator shed.
I'd been on the island for more than an hour and didn't want to stretch my luck. I turned and moved toward the trail that led to the beach, stopping every few feet to listen for any movement.
As I approached the beginning of the path, a man with a rifle slung over his shoulder appeared out of the night. He was standing right where I needed to go. My watch told me it was almost two. If I was right about the guard schedule, there would be a new guard shift coming on in a few minutes.
I dropped to the ground and crawled silently along the edge of the jungle-like growth, creeping slowly toward the guard. Hopefully, he would be distracted while the new guard took his place, and I could slip by and be on my way.
I crawled to within ten feet of the guard, controlling my breathing, staying calm; using skills taught me long ago by an Army Special Forces instructor. I waited.
Minutes passed, and I heard a door slam. Voices came from the vicinity of the guardhouse. A man carrying a rifle slung over his shoulder approached and called out, "Al, I've got it."
"I'm on my way," said the guard named Al, and he started walking toward the approaching man. That gave me a split second's opportunity to move quickly onto the path. I took it, crawling on my stomach, propelling myself with my elbows, slithering as fast as I could without making a lot of noise. I made it into the cover alongside the trail, and as soon as I was out of sight of the guards, I began to walk toward the lagoon.
I got back to the beach to find that my equipment had not been disturbed. I quickly put it on and moved into the water, took a compass bearing on the opening to the sea and submerged.
I made it back to my boat without incident. I surfaced behind the boat, intending to put my gear on the small swim platform and climb up the ladder that hung into the water.
I undid the waterproof bag holding the nine millimeter and threw it into the boat. I didn't want to lose it or get it wet. My tanks, fins, and mask were on the platform when I noticed a small craft moving on the surface, just to the right side of my boat. I was still in the water, and my gun was on the floor of the boat.
I reached for the dive knife that was in the scabbard fastened around my ankle. If I could get into the boat, I'd use my pistol. If not, maybe I could take out the occupant of the boat coming at me. The knife wouldn't be a whole lot of protection, unless my assailant was in the water.
The craft materialized out of the darkness, like a ghost. It was a kayak. A black man was paddling toward the stern of my boat, where I hung impotently in the water. I had been discovered. I wondered why they didn't use one of the go-fast boats, but maybe they wanted to do this quietly.
The kayak came abreast of me, inertia pushing it forward. The black man was looking directly at me. His raised hand was holding the twobladed paddle over his head. He was going to bash me with it, and I couldn't possibly get to him with the knife. Crap.