I was shaking with fear; my mind was running through the possibilities and all of them sucked.
I was having a hard time coming up with one that didn't end in my death, the death of my family, even my Pack. The Cartel was known for its brutal methods, they wouldn't stop at just me. They would kill everyone I loved in front of me first. Then there was the CIA, which apparently didn't need my services again, plus the whole US Government which still had shoot on sight orders out for us.
Craig climbed onto the bed with me, pulling me into his arms as I started to cry on his chest. He was fisting his hands and fighting off a shift; his wolf was panicking, which didn't help my cat at all. He buried his nose in my hair, sniffing deeply to calm down. When he had pushed his wolf back, he looked up at Al again. "What can we do?"
He closed his eyes, no one spoke for a couple of minutes. Finally, Al looked up again. "She needs to die, in a very public fashion."
If I wasn't holding him down, there was no doubt Craig would have attacked him. I nuzzled his neck to calm him down, I knew he wouldn't say that and leave it. "What are you thinking," I said.
"If we do nothing, the Cartel eventually finds out about her. They will come here and try to kill her, and it will be a bloodbath. Our entire Pack will die to protect you, Ella, and if we shift to do so it endangers us all. We can't wait for them, we have to give them a chance to kill you themselves, but at a time and place of our choosing." Craig was glaring at him, probably counting the ways he could kill him. "Then we fake your death in a way they can't refute. Once you are dead, then the real fun begins."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you aren't going to like it, but here's my idea."
Three days later, the modifications to my fishing boat were in place and Craig was ready. I was in my bikini with a light cover, driving towards the northeast corner of the island. The coordinates were fed into the navigation system so the autopilot could handle things. It was late afternoon, and this morning a call had been placed by one of our employees to the Cartel hotline. He told them he had seen her, she was fishing in the area and gave them my current location and the name of my fishing boat. We were just waiting for them to arrive.
Michael Campbell and Josh were about thirty miles east of me, keeping an eye to the sky and the waters so I could get some warning. The Cartel didn't mess around; I got a call, there was a helicopter on the way, and there were armed men in it. I pushed the throttles up and got the boat to maximum speed; we had picked my loiter location so I could get to the waypoint in a short time for an aircraft, a longer time for a boat. I went down below, making sure everything was set and I grabbed my M-4 rifle. Unlike the civilian semiautomatic version, down here on the black market we could buy the good stuff.
I moved to the front of the center island as the twenty-four-foot boat crashed through the swell. I could see the white and blue helicopter rapidly approaching, and the two men leaning out the doors. They were attached with harnesses inside the helicopter, while their feet rested on the skids. They were carrying shorter firearms, probably HK sub-machine guns. I rested the stock on the windshield and tried to keep my legs loose as the boat bounced. Once they got to within 200 yards, I opened up.
They did too, a strafing run that sprayed bullets near me but did not hit me. It was just as tough to fire accurately from a helicopter, and as they passed over I had a feeling neither of us did any damage. I ran to the helm to put the center console between us. Sneaking a look at the GPS, I could see we were getting close.
I swapped to a full magazine and slid the bolt home. The helicopter was racing back, and I opened up again, this time aiming a little higher. They two men opened up on me, and as we were trading rounds the boat drove over the waypoint and the charges blew.
Al had warned me this would hurt, and he was right. The low power charge on the plate under my feet went first, launching me up and back just before the main charges blew.
Al had put extra gasoline in containers below, so when the shaped charges went the fireball was impressive. That was my thought as I tumbled backwards through the air. I took a deep breath just before I hit the water, leaving the pyrotechnics behind.
I shook my head as I went underwater, clearing my head. I swam down, needing to get to the bottom which was thirty feet below in this area. I had almost made it down when Craig pulled me to him, placing the scuba breather in my mouth. Together we went down to the bottom, where he helped me put on a mask and fins.
He took the triple air tank from the bottom and helped put it on me, adjusting the straps. Once I was ready, Craig released the short tether that the freshly killed wild boar was attached to, plunging his knife into it a few times. The blood floated up along with it until the tether stopped about ten feet below the water. I could see the blacktip sharks already moving in, and bigger ones were sure to come.
We powered up the diver propulsion vehicle and let it pull us away from the burning and disintegrating boat above us. I could hear the helicopter circling around, but the light was low enough they couldn't see us down here. No one could hold their breath that long, and as I took a last look, I could see the sharks tearing the pig apart. We set a course of 020 and settled in, conserving our air and energy as we crossed the four miles of open water at a comfortable depth.
It took two hours until we reached the reef at Isla Bayoneta, a smaller, uninhabited island across the channel from our home. We shut down the propulsion vehicle and put the tanks and gear with it, Craig would come back later when things calmed down to get it back. We waited until the helicopter was out of sight before we swam to the shore and climbed onto the quiet beach.
"I hate this part of the plan," I said as I sat there. "I don't want to be isolated from you."
He pulled me into his lap and scented my neck before nuzzling at his mating bite. "I don't either, but it's the only way to be safe. No one can see you, ever, and you can't be anywhere near us." He put his hands on my belly, listening to the heartbeat of our child. "Until we know who burned us and we can figure out a way to bring you out safely, you have to remain here. Safe."
"In panther form?"
"Yes... we can't risk building anything here, and no one can ever see you. Fishermen and explorers sometimes come her overnight. We can't have tracks, sightings or communications."