Weecho: First Shots

Chapter 33 - Wired

The rocking of the boat woke him in a panic. What time had he nodded off? He didn’t wear a watch. Did Shongut? The old guy was still snoring. Weecho crawled over and looked at Shongut’s wrist – his ancient Timex said 4:35. They still had time if they left now. Weecho pushed himself up and looked over the gunwale. The running lights of an outbound trawler glinted off the black water. The skiff was rolling in its wake. 

He leaned back over and shook Shongut. 

“Teddy…” 

“Huh?” 

“We gotta get moving.” 

Shongut grunted, blinked himself awake, sat up and rubbed his eyes. He watched Weecho poke around in the sandwich bag. 

“You find a thermos of coffee,” Shongut said, “this boat is yours.” 

“Sorry.” 

Shongut waved off the sandwich Weecho held out. Struggled to his feet, was probably disoriented from waking up sober. God bless him, recapping that bottle last night. 

Weecho took a bite of the sandwich, took the DVD player over by the anchor light and checked it out again. They’d put it through its paces last night after Shongut had patched Weecho up. The phony harem DVD, with Dara and Jeremy against the green screen, wouldn’t be up for any awards, but if things worked out, Lynch wouldn’t know it was a fake until they were in the clear.

They took their morning pees over the side and Shongut hauled up the anchor, piling the chain in the bow. Squeezed around Weecho and went to the wheel, pressed the starter button and got the outboard going. The sky to the east was turning pale, the start of a day that would be anybody’s guess. Shongut took his bearings and throttled them on their way, scattering a raft of water birds that put up a fuss. Over to their right they could see the city blinking off the last of its lights. 

Shongut steered them toward a moving ribbon of light, the A train making an early run across the marshes and bay. He pointed the bow at the long elevated railway, lined the skiff up between the red and green navigation lights that marked a pass-through under the tracks. 

The rumble of the outboard rebounded around inside the murky pass-through. When they came out the other side, Shongut cranked the wheel to the right and headed for the shadowy outlines of two deserted islands. Pointed his chin at them. 

“He’s gonna know right away it’s me with you. He knows this boat.”  

“I told him I was bringing cover.” 

“Yeah, but not me. Suppose he freaks?” 

“It’s a little late to be bringing that up.” Then Weecho said, “Slow down.” 

Shongut frowned and throttled back. The skiff settled onto its bow wave. 

“Look,” Weecho said, “not to get personal, but it was you yourself said it was Lynch who ruined your little girl.” 

“What about it?” 

 “I’m saying it shouldn’t be any surprise to him you’re out here doing this. Right?” 

Shongut looked at him, this junior boatmate connected some way to Nina. Looked over at the islands they were on their way to. Finally nodded. 

“I suppose.” 

“Good. This is our get-back. I want to even it for her as much as you do.” 

Still hadn’t told him where he was coming from on that, the big guilt for letting her burn.