BEST I DON'T KNOW - 2, - THE DAGGER

#131 - Holding on to the deck l stood up head-high at the tie-down cleats, untied the two lines, and pushed the plane from the dock.

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BEST I DON’T KNOW – 2, THE DAGGER

part 1

It only took a few minutes to get ready.

I grabbed my lockpick kit, penlight, and backpack and stepped out the backdoor. Slipping on my knee-high rubber boots I walked low along the rice field’s edge under cover of the canal levee.

I holed up at the water’s edge when I was far enough into Devil’s Elbow Bend to be out of the direct line of sight to Jules’ camp. Probably only a hundred and fifty yards.

I took off the backpack, pulled out my inflatable canoe, and took the few minutes to hand pump it up.

Crossing the waterway, I paddled into the darker shadows along the levee embankment and up toward the camp. The low tide was in my favor; I’d have more cover at the dock.

With luck, the whole thing might take only a couple of hours.

I got to the camp as one of the security guys made his walk-around. I pulled in, hugging the shore. His security checks were about thirty minutes apart from what I’d seen.

His attention was on the front and dock, with a quick look down the far side of the camp.

He didn’t check the darker back side. Maybe he thought nothing would come from that direction, out of the marsh. Maybe he didn’t like the dark.

After he returned to the guest house, I paddled along the dock in deep shade and stopped at the floatplane.

Holding on to the deck l stood up head-high at the tie-down cleats, untied the two lines, and pushed the plane from the dock.

Let the current take it where it will.

I made it back along the canal beyond where I was when I saw the guard and beached the canoe deep in the tules. I rechecked my few pieces of gear and set out.

It was dark. Stars only, no moon.

Slowly stepping through the muddy tidal flats behind the camp, I kept an eye and ear on both the guest house and the cabin. No lights were on in the cabin.

Every sound carried far in the quiet marshland nothingness.

The rear of the cabin lay in shadow cast from the dock lights out front.

In the grass at the foot of the camp’s back porch I stepped out of my boots and socked it up to the back door.

It was only a few minutes before I heard the guard exit the guesthouse for his walk-around.

It was only another minute before I heard a demanding knocking on Jules’ boat hull, wakening him with the news that “the plane is floating away!”

“Go tell the others!”

Everyone awoke in a rush and the lights went on. Putting on whatever clothing they needed, they rushed out of their bedrooms and through the front door.

On the dock, Roberto, looked down at the dock tie-down cleats. “It couldn’t have come loose on its own. I tied it down secure.” He looked out at his plane in mid-canal.

The first thought was to take the airboat and go get it.

Jules said, “It’s late, too much noise, let’s not draw attention.” He suggested they take the yacht’s skiff.

It was lowered from the yacht, and Roberto and the younger guy rowed out to the plane. Roberto got the nose line, and they towed it back to the dock.

As they exited the front door to gather on the dock to see what was going on, I made short work of the door-knob lock and deadbolt with my lock picks. They were easy. I was inside.

So much light. Dropping on all fours I made my way along the walls and sofas to what I knew was Christi’s room and slipped inside.

With my penlight I found her camo bag hanging on the back of a bedside chair. The four books were still inside.

I swung it over my shoulder, crouched low, exited her room and slipped into Roberto’s room. The bedroom light was on.

His briefcase lay under his bunk. It had a combination lock, easy to get into, but it wasn’t locked. - Unless traveling, or stored away, people get tired of the locking and unlocking. If they feel secure, they slack off. Big mistake. -

The pottery shards, wrapped in clear plastic and bubble wrap to protect them and keep them pristine, lay alongside The Dagger.

I gazed at it – a ten-inch blade of silver with jade gemstones inlaid in the hilt.

I closed the case and spun the combo wheels. I knew I could get into it when I needed.

I exited Roberto’s room with my objectives and was crawling along the wall when one of the older fellows came in in a hurry. I froze. If he had turned to go to the bedroom, he would have tripped over me. He continued to the bathroom, not seeing me just feet away to his right.

I rounded the rear hallway, exited the back door, and with my picks, locked the door handle and turned the deadbolt shut.

Stepping into my boots at the porch bottom, I made my way back the way I’d come to my canoe.

The skiff was almost to the plane. The others hung around dockside for the return.

I was back on the dock at my place in forty minutes. The whole thing took an hour and a half.

The plane was back at the dock, and everyone was back inside the cabin. I bet there was much discussion on “How did the plane get loose? And why?”

One by one the lights went out.

All went well. I got a good night’s sleep.

In the morning, I saw Roberto and Jules in a heated discussion on the dock.

They knew of the theft. They looked around in Jules’ boat.

Shortly thereafter, Roberto and Christi boarded the floatplane and took off. By noon, the three who arrived by airboat departed. Jules pulled away from the dock at four, the security guys remaining at the camp.

Party over.

It was a quiet sunset at Calcasieu Point.

I met Christi in New Orleans two weeks later, with the merchandise. On the levee steps, across from Jackson Square. We looked like any other vacationing couple visiting The Big Easy.

She said, “Roberto was furious about his plane. And in the morning, Roberto and I (feigning my part) realized we had been robbed. Again, Roberto flipped out.

“With no sign of an intruder, we suspected each other. An inside job. But searches of everyone's belongings, the guest house, and even Jules’ yacht, turned up nothing.

“We thought about calling the police, but Jules convinced us to keep the heist to ourselves. There were undocumented pieces of art in the house and yacht. - I took note. -

“We were unhappy campers. It was a bitter pill for Roberto.”

Christi looked into the shoulder bag and briefcase, seeing her books and pottery and knife.

“I wasn’t sure where these items would be because of the trading that might happen. Glad you saw what went on. I have the pottery, and my books. And the knife.

“This was a profitable adventure.”

She smiled, noting that they “had lifted The Dagger from Roberto twice, now.”

She looked at me. “In lieu of your cash payment, would you consider taking the knife?”

Smiling, I accepted the blade she wrapped in her scarf.

I asked, “Christi, would whoever owns the camp I’m staying in consider trading it for The Dagger?”

She smiled. “I’ll look into it. I think that could be arranged.”

We spent a pleasant few days together and upon going our separate ways, she said, “I’ll be in touch.”

part 1

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