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Guam
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The tropical heat and humidity soaked Maddock to the bone. He felt like a damp dishrag. Even indoors it was uncomfortable. He nursed his beer, a draft of questionable origin, and watched Bones and Willis patrol the pool tables and slot machines. Rebuffed so far in all their attempts to hire a ship, they were making the rounds of the most unsavory joints they could find, hoping to make a connection with someone who liked money and wasn’t risk-averse.
The sky had clouded up and a warm rain began to fall as they arrived at the Kokonut Klub. Maddock had no idea how Bones had found this place, but it fit the bill. On a small stage near the back, two emaciated young Korean women and an androgynous guitarist struggled through a variety of local hits. He could barely hear them above the shouts and laughter nearby. Someone must have cranked up the slot machine volume, because they rang and flashed like fire alarms on a submarine.
Two men slipped through a curtained doorway on the left. Maddock noticed them immediately. They had the look of sailors—calloused hands, leathery skin, scars. More than that, he was a sailor himself and he knew instinctively these men took to the sea in some fashion. He followed, only to be stopped by a gigantic man.
“Twenty dollars.”
“For what?”
“You want to watch cage fight? Twenty dollars.”
“I’ve got a five.” He held out the bill and it disappeared into the man’s massive palm.
“One fight, then you go.”
Barring a quick finish to the next fight, he ought to have enough time to find the sailors. He squeezed through a mixed crowd amidst a rain of shouts and curses in English, Spanish, and what he presumed was Chamorro, the local tongue. He even noticed a man screaming in Japanese; probably a descendant of a World War II soldier.
At the center of the room stood a rough cage of welded rebar and rusty chain link fencing. Two men were warming up, waiting to be introduced. Maddock noticed immediately that there was a significant disparity in size between the two. Definitely not a sanctioned bout. Not his problem. He had a task to complete.
He looked around for the two men he’d seen entering and spotted them speaking with an attractive woman, tall with brown hair and blue eyes. She wore a snug-fitting blue and white striped shirt that accentuated her curves. Something about her seemed familiar. As he approached the trio, he heard her speak sharply to the men and they walked away, heads low. Strange.
“I know you,” the woman called. “From the plane.”
Now he remembered. Smiling, he approached her.
“Yeah, you got stuck seated next to my friend.”
“He wasn’t so bad. Just likes to show off a little. Drink?” Before he could reply, she waved to a young man in the corner who hurried over carrying two bottles of beer. She paid him and he bowed to them both.
“Thanks. I’m Maddock. Dane Maddock.”
“Lyn Askew.” They shook hands and then she raised her bottle. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” They clinked bottles and drank. It was a golden lager with a hoppy aroma and just the right balance between sweet and bitter. He nodded approvingly.
“Bochkareve Svetloe,” Lyn said, noticing his reaction.
“A Russian beer?”
“It’s popular here for some reason.”
Maddock took another drink.
“So, how does the line go? What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Lyn laughed. “I’m hardly a nice girl. As for what I’m doing here, I love sports. Especially football, but I like all kinds. I did sports photography in high school and thought about doing it professionally, but the sea called to me.”
“What’s your football team?” Maddock asked.
“Carolina Panthers. Yours?”
“Miami Dolphins.”
Lyn gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Sorry to hear that.”
Inside the cage, the two fighters were being introduced. The larger man, called Mako, received the louder cheers by far.
“I hate that guy,” Lyn said. “He’s the house champion. Dirty fighter, and never fights anyone his own size.” She turned and locked eyes with him. “Same question back at you. What’s a clean-cut guy like you doing in a seedy dive like this?”
“Actually, I’m looking to charter a boat for an expedition.”
“Interesting. I’m in the chartering business. Tell me the details.”
“We want to take a dive trip up north. You know, the northern islands, Pagan, Agrihan, Asuncion. Places people don’t often see. We need something seaworthy, comfortable, and dependable. Maybe eighty feet or so.”
Lyn pursed her lips and eyed him before speaking. “You and your friend Bones don’t look like dive tourists. Neither does the guy you two came in with tonight. You look like a pack of mercenaries.”
“We were in the service together. Navy. We still dive.”
Lyn nodded. “Let’s talk about Pagan then. Funny you should mention that island. I’ve got friends there that grow some of the best weed west of Maui. Might that be what you’re after?”
Maddock chuckled. “I won’t say I’ve never availed myself, but you’ll have better luck with Bones and Willis.” He inclined his head toward the outer room.
In the cage, the fight had begun. Mako circled his opponent, hands held low. His opponent flicked a jab that just missed, but Mako didn’t flinch.
“Maybe you’re federal agents?” Lyn asked.
“We’re not feds or MPs. The truth is, we’re treasure hunters. And not to be rude, but can you help us out or not? Because, if you don’t want the job, I need to keep looking.”
Lyn smiled. “I overheard enough of your group’s conversation on the plane to figured that you’re treasure hunters. I just wondered if you’d tell me the truth.” “We’re seldom popular with the locals. People tend to think of us as grave robbers.”
Inside the cage, the smaller fighter, emboldened by Mako’s passive approach, attempted a combination. The first blow caught Mako on the cheek, but Mako’s counterpunch was lightning-fast, and stunned the smaller fighter. Just like that, technique went out the window and the match became a brawl.
“The most important thing about Lark is that she’s the only boat that will take you to the northern islands during typhoon season.”
“How much can you pay?” Lyn asked. They haggled as they watched the fight.
Mako landed a right hook that dropped the man to the floor. Before he could push himself back up, Mako kneed him in the head, knocking him out cold.
“Knee to the head of a grounded opponent!” Maddock shouted, as Mako straddled the fallen fighter and rained down blows to the back of the head.
“I told you,” Lyn said. “Dirty fighter.” She sighed. “Your offer is fair, but I don’t know. It’s a dangerous time of year. I’m only considering it because I need to make a run to Pagan anyway.”
“What if I added twenty percent...” Maddock began.
“It’s not the money.”
“... of any treasure we find.”
That gave her pause. She bit her lip and stared at the cage where Mako was dancing around to a cacophony of cheers and boos. As he dodged beer bottles hurled by a few disgruntled fans, two attendants entered and dragged his unconscious victim away by his heels.
Lyn turned to him. “Tell you what, I’ll...”
Maddock felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the big man who guarded the door. “Remember the deal. One fight. Now you go.”
“Can I give you a few more bucks? I’m having a nice conversation with the lady.”
The man grinned, enjoying the tiny measure of power he held at the moment.
“Too late. Should have given me the twenty.”
“I can give you twenty now.”
The man shook his head. Up in the cage, Mako was circling, shouting challenges to men in the crowd. Maddock gathered that this was the point in the evening where the fighter took on all comers for a cash prize.
“The only way you stay is if you fight Mako.”
“I’m not fighting anyone.”
“You strong guy,” the man insisted. “Ten dollars to enter. You win, you make a hundred. A big Ben Franklin!”
Maddock shook his head and turned to Lyn, who was smiling.
“I’ll make a deal with you. You want to charter my ship, you fight Mako.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I like the fights. Come on, you don’t have to beat him. Just give it the old college try. I’ll even cover your ten dollars. But my cut is twenty five percent.” She locked eyes with Maddock. “You won’t find anyone else to take you north this time of year. I promise you that.”
Maddock stood, sighed, and turned toward the cage.
“I’ll fight,” he called, raising his hand. A man in a cheap suit spotted him and beckoned him into the ring.
Bones and Willis wandered in as Maddock stepped up to the cage door.
“Maddock! What the hell are you doing?” Bones called.
Maddock slipped off his shoes and socks and tossed them to his friend. “Chartering a boat.” With that, he stepped inside.
The crowd jeered as Maddock stepped inside and began to limber up. The volume fell as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the years of scars that marred his back, torso, and arms. They were reassessing him.
Suddenly, it seemed everyone was waving cash about, laying bets. From the corner of his eye, he saw Willis getting in on the action, apparently taking bets from all comers.
Maddock stepped up and eyed Mako. Not quite as tall as Bones, but just as muscular. When his eyes locked with Maddock’s, the man screamed in rage. He turned and pounded the bars. A skinny young man in a striped shirt beckoned him to the center of the cage. He would be no help if things turned dirty.
The referee shouted something to Mako, who nodded, then turned to Maddock.
“Ready?”
Maddock nodded. “Let’s do this.”
The referee forced a sympathetic smile. “Fight!”
This time, Mako did not circle and counter. He charged across the cage, leapt into the air, and threw a Superman punch. Maddock dodged it easily. Mako rolled to his feet and charged in again, throwing a wild haymaker.
Maddock ducked it, drove an uppercut to Mako’s ribs, then shoved him away. He followed with a leg kick that his opponent failed to check. Mako smiled and shook his head.
Grandstand all you want, Maddock thought. I know you felt that.
Mako remained aggressive, headhunting with every strike. But Maddock was too skilled, too quick, and understood how to control distance so that all the punches fell just short of his chin or winged past his head. Again and again Maddock countered with body punches or kept Mako off balance with leg kicks.
That’s how you take down the larger fighter. Chip away at his base.
Mako was growing tired and a glint of desperation flashed in his eyes. He drove forward, faking a takedown attempt, but came back up at the last second and aimed a knee at Maddock’s unprotected groin. Maddock was expecting it, and pivoted so he caught only a glancing blow. Still, it hurt like hell.
Gritting his teeth, he clinched, pressed Mako against the cage, and punished ribs and thighs with powerful punches and knee strikes. The big man felt every one of them, letting out a pained grunt with each blow. He pawed at Maddock’s head and then thrust a thumb into Maddock’s left eye.
Maddock shouted in surprise and pain, and Mako broke loose of the clinch. Maddock circled away, trying to clear his vision, and took left to the jaw for his trouble. But there was little power behind the blow. Mako was wearing down.
Mako charged like a runaway train. The big man smashed his head into Maddock’s chest and slammed him back into the cage. The impact rattled Maddock’s teeth. Shrugging it off, he turned Mako against the cage and replied with more punishment to the body. Steroids and meth likely fueled his opponent. The man would feel little pain, but his breath now came in ragged gasps. As Maddock pressed his weight into Mako’s chest, the bigger fighter spat out his mouthpiece and tried to bite Maddock’s ear. Maddock released his grip and pulled away in time. They didn’t offer me a mouthpiece He looked at the referee, who shrugged and waved him toward Mako.
From the other side of the cage, he heard Bones shout, “Sweep the leg, Johhny!”
Mako seemed to have gained his second wind. He flew at Maddock in a whirlwind of punches. Most missed or were blocked, but a few landed. Maddock’s ears rang and he felt blood trickling down his cheek from a cut near his eye.
The crowd was howling for Maddock’s blood. Mako grinned wildly, raised his arms above his head, and stalked toward Maddock, who held his ground. Mako leaned in, leering, and screamed something incomprehensible. He must have forgotten he had lost his mouthpiece because he seemed genuinely surprised when Maddock knocked his front teeth out. He screamed in rage, but Maddock was already on him. A right to the jaw stunned him; a left elbow strike split his forehead; and a right cross turned his legs to rubber.
Maddock couldn’t help himself. He held out one hand, palm-up, and blew across the top as Mako collapsed in a heap. There were plenty of cheers, but many more boos. Apparently a lot of people had bet on the champ. In the midst of the chaos, he saw Willis collecting his winnings from disappointed gamblers.
The man in the cheap suit slunk into the cage and pressed a crumpled hundred dollar bill into Maddock’s palm.
“You fight again?” The man asked hopefully. “Take on all comers. I give you half.”
“No, thanks,” Maddock said. “I need another beer and some rest.”
“You wait til things calm down.”
For a full ten minutes, the pandemonium made Maddock grateful he was safely locked in a cage. Eventually, as bets were settled, Bones and Willis shouldered their way up to the front.
“I leave you alone just once and look what you’ve gone and done,” Bones said as Maddock sat on the steps outside the cage and tugged on his shirt, socks, and shoes.
“Was that really the smart thing to do?” Willis asked. “Not that I mind. You won me some cash.” He patted his pocket.
“I didn’t have a choice. It was the only way we could hire a boat.”
“Yeah,” Bones said, “what was that about?”
Just then, Lyn arrived.
“Bones, Willis, meet our captain.”