Free Tortugas Rising by Benjamin Wallace

searchlight pierced the dark stretch of beach, and played upon the shoreline. “They’re looking for us on the beaches. I guess they figured we’d take refuge on this overgrown island.”
    “What is this? A rainforest?” Steve stared into the dark mass of vegetation.
    Katherine shrugged, “You rich people do funny things.”
    Steve shook his head. “Turn us around. Head to the next channel. We’ve got to make it back to Master Key.”

 
     
    THIRTEEN
     
    The resort’s premiere restaurant stood in brilliant contrast to its island location. Fine linens covered the tables. The waiters were dressed in tuxedos, and the walls were lined with amber panels gilded with gold leaf. The Amber Room had been meticulously recreated to match the original that once resided in Catherine Palace in St. Petersburg.
    When Baxter had heard that the famous plundered treasure was being recreated in Russia, he contracted the artisans to make two – one for the palace in St. Petersburg and one for the hotel and casino on Master Key.
    It had taken more than a simple request. The Amber Room, the eighth wonder of the world, was to have been a one-of-a-kind. Baxter spent the next few years hiring away the master craftsmen working on the project. One by one he built a team to create his own “one-of-a-kind” wonder.
    Inside the room, tuxedos and black evening gowns filled, drifted, and mingled. The guests in formal attire popped like silhouettes against the luminescent walls. Even those representatives of the absentee investors were in their finest, as they mingled around the room expanding their networks and drinking heavily.
    A string quartet played. Waiters and waitresses made their way among the crowd, holding aloft silver platters filled with the finest foods and gold crested flutes, pausing long enough only to serve, never to eavesdrop or observe.
    Warren Baxter surveyed the room from the corner. Rick Savage stood close by with a radio headset that squelched in his ear.
    Baxter smiled broadly; the power he had gathered in the room was amazing. Before him stood a group that represented an impressive percentage of the world’s wealth and influence. He had done it.
    Captains of industry, masters of finance, entrepreneurs, and visionaries milled about, basking in the glow that was the Amber Room and ImagiNation.
    He studied the crowd.
    A frown grew across his face and he spoke, interrupting Savage’s conversation. “I don’t see Mr. Bennett or his associate.”
    “No. You don’t.”
    “I want them here.” Baxter said.
    “We don’t know where they are.”
    “What do you mean? Everyone was to have a discreet escort.”
    “Everyone had an escort. Bennett was last seen with Ms. Bernelli. Nelson gave his escort the slip.”
    “The slip? Him? They must be somewhere on Master Key.”
    “Bennett left on what appears to be a personal tour. And then Nelson stole a boat,” said Savage.
    “Stole a boat?”
    “Borrowed will most likely be the story.”
    “Find them and get them back here.” He gestured to the gathering. “They simply must see this.”
    Savage glared and turned back to his radio. It squelched again; he listened intently. He turned back to Baxter, “I think we found them.”
    “Get them here.”
    The security chief did not run for the door. He never ran. Running conveyed panic. He nodded at Baxter’s request and started to walk toward the doors.
    “Chief Savage.”
    He stopped.
    “It seems it would be worthwhile to keep a better eye on Mr. Nelson.”
    Savage nodded again, turned, rolled his eyes and left, barking commands into the radio as he made his way toward the docks.
     
    # # #
     
    They drifted away from the searchlight until they felt it was safe to run the engine. It wasn’t until then that any of them felt it was safe to talk.
    “They fell for it. My brilliant plan worked.” Paul peered into the darkness behind the boat.
    “Yeah, who’d of thought hot-wiring a boat would end up being a good thing?