Page 78 of Operation: Silent Angel
“Winston and I will take the queen,” Flores spoke. Bravo Team had long-standing sleeping arrangements.
“Once we start poking around, if we’re concerned that we’ve gotten anyone’s attention, we’ll want two members to be on overnight,” Cooper said. “We’ll decide that if the time comes.”
“Who wants to go on a hike with me to check out the cabins and specifically number seven to see which ones have occupants?” Flores asked.
“I’ll come with you,” Kenny Gallup volunteered.
Getting a sense of his new teammates, Mac had already judged that Gallup was a man of few words but was a team player. Robinson was the comedian or joker in the group; Winston enjoyed the finer things in life; and Flores was the serious team leader, a dedicated professional that he doubted was really within five years of retirement.
“Remember, there are black bears in the area,” Winston said. “I don’t want to have to treat any mauling injuries.”
“Love your compassion, Needles,” Robinson said. “Mac, come down to the lake with me while I get the boat in the water. Figure we should get it in, and maybe a few of us take it out this afternoon for a little reconnaissance.”
“Good idea,” Cooper said. “You two should go ahead and take it out for a spin. Start documenting the area.”
Mac slipped his sunglasses back over his eyes as he stepped back out into the afternoon sunshine. Each cabin had its own boat launch and small wooden dock. Mac slowly backed the trailer and pickup down the steep boat ramp, easing the trailer into the water.
“Hold up!” Robinson yelled when the trailer and boat were deep enough for him to separate the boat from the trailer.
Mac put the truck in park and engaged the parking brake. He met Robinson by the trailer and helped to unhook the boat from the trailer. Robinson climbed in, and Mac gave it a push. It floated free. Robinson engaged the motor and piloted it to the dock. Mac returned to the pickup and parked it near the cabin. Then he jogged back down to the dock and hopped into the boat. Shortly after, Robinson pulled the boat away from the dock and brought it out onto the lake.
They took a wide loop as close to shore as they could be while staying within the channel markers, so they wouldn’t bottom out. The water at depth looked clear, but closer to shore it was murky, though they could still see rocks in the shallow water. Mac documented which cabins looked occupied from their vantage point, mostly by which ones had vehicles parked near them? He also took pictures of the cabins and other boats they passed with his phone.
They got a good look from the water of the bar they’d passed on the drive in that was just up the road from the campground, unaware it sat on the water with a dock and outside seating on a deck, both of which were packed. Mac texted Cooper about it and said that he and Robinson would see about checking it out if a spot opened up at its little dock. Cooper replied that it was a good idea.
At that moment, the boat at the end of the little pier pulled away. Robinson took the spot. After he switched the engine off,he turned to Mac and dropped his voice down low. “Can you do anything about that accent?”
“Y’all don’t be worry-in none about that,” Mac said with a fake southern accent. “I’m fix’in to remedy that there situation.”
Robinson chuckled as he stepped out of the boat.
They took seats at the last outside table.
“There’s no table service,” a man from the table beside them said.
“Thank you kindly. We’d of been sitting here wait’in,” Mac said with that fake accent. He rose from the wooden seat. “I’ll get us a couple of beers,” he told Robinson.
The bar was crowded with a mix of male and female patrons, where the outside deck area had been predominantly men, he assumed from the boats. He listened to many overlapping conversations as he waited between two stools in a gap that gave him access to the bar. The one male forty-something bartender sporting an eighties mullet was working hard, making his way around the oval-shaped bar.
Mac ordered two beers. He left the change as a tip for the bartender, who worked alone. By the time he made it back outside, Robinson was laughing and chatting with the men at the nearby tables.
“This is my buddy I was a tell’in y’all about,” Robinson said. “This crazy mother did that and more.”
Mac could only imagine what story Robinson had spun. He shrugged and smiled. “I can neither confirm nor deny whatever he was tell’in y’all.”
Everyone around laughed, including Robinson. Mac joined the laughter as he handed Robinson his beer. He took his seat and drew in a healthy pull of the amber fluid.
“Bobby here’s been fish’in this lake all his life,” Robinson told Mac. “He says if we veer off from the lake and head down the creek, we’ll find more spotted trout than in the lake.”
“They’re trying to go where it’s warmer, and the temp in the lake’s already dropping,” the man Robinson referred to as Bobby said. “It’s kinda a local secret.”
“If you keep telling everyone, it ain’t gonna be a secret no more,” another man said.
Robinson laughed. “So are we gonna find a bunch of boats up that way tomorrow?”
“Nah, us locals don’t fish tomorrow, and that last group of city boys I told are already gone,” Bobby said. A disturbed expression crossed his face.
“I’m sure they’ve turned up at home by now,” another man said. “You didn’t even really know ‘em, so I’m not understand’in why you be so upset by them miss’in.”
