The Boston Fracture THE BOSTON FRACTURE Hervé Jaubert Hervé Jaubert The Boston Fracture By Hervé Jaubert copyright©2011 Hervé Jaubert All Rights Reserved For inquiries or to order additional copies: www.thebostonfracture.com [email protected] No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Hervé Jaubert. Nothing contained herein constitutes or is intended to be advice. Readers are responsible for their own actions. The author and/or publisher assume no responsibility or liability whatsoever for any direct, indirect or consequential damages arising from the use or publication of this information. ISBN-13:978-1466405615 ISBN-10: 1466405619 The Boston Fracture This book honors the dedication, unselfishness and bravery of the women and men who put their lives on the line everyday to keep our citizens safe and out of harm‘s way. Hervé Jaubert CONTENTS Chapter One: The Discovery Page 1 Chapter Two: The Investigation Page 28 Chapter Three: The Cell Page 54 Chapter Four: Hassan Page 66 Chapter Five: The Caribbean Trip Page 90 Chapter Six: The Plot Page 140 Chapter Seven: Alert Page 149 Chapter Eight: The Submarine Page 153 Chapter Nine: The Hunt Page 184 Chapter Ten: Firestorm Page 222 Chapter Eleven: Alleviation Page 249 Chapter Twelve: The Fracture Page 265 Chapter Thirteen: Payback Page 297 Chapter Fourteen: Epilog Page 326 The Boston Fracture THE DISCOVERY October 20, 2011 The sun is high above the azure surface of the ocean. The water is calm, with a long wave swell. A small yacht is anchored with no one on deck. Fifty feet below the surface, a scuba diver moves in slow motion above a seabed covered with sponges and Elkhorn corals. The water is so clear that the sun‘s rays pierce the surface and undulate with the waves, forming curtains of light that penetrate deep into the blue sea. The sunlight scintillates as a school of fish school swims through and it draws patterns on the scuba diver who floats weightlessly in mid-waters. The diver drifts back and forth, carried by the smooth tidal currents, totally detached from the world. The underwater visibility is fantastic, sixty feet all around. The vivid colors, the abundant reefs and corals reveal an amazingly rich marine life, where barracudas, French Angel fish and schools of Blue Tangs swim around, undisturbed by the diver. Everything seems so peaceful, unearthly, out of time. Even the eight-foot black tip shark passing by doesn‘t seem threatening. Above the scuba diver, at the end of a long trail of bubbles, the boat is rocking gently on its anchor chain, hanging under, going all the way down to the bottom. The diver swims toward the anchor chain and grabs it, then gently pulls himself down. Once he reaches the anchor, he kneels on the seabed and just enjoys the stunning view. Floyd Allister is alone and at peace. His buddies have already emptied their compressed air tanks and returned to the boat. With more than two thousand dives, Floyd does not need a buddy. Every time he scuba dives, he feels he is has to be the 1 Hervé Jaubert buddy for everyone else, the backup diver. At least when he‘s by himself he doesn‘t have to worry and watch the other divers in case something happens or if one gets lost. Although the underwater world is often hostile, it‘s unbelievably beautiful, and Floyd enjoys the serenity. When he first started diving, he never dove alone, but now, thanks to modern technology and his vast experience, Floyd knows he can handle just about anything that comes along. After all, he carries his own buddy: redundant air sources with a small air bottle and a spare regulator just in case the main one fails, and an inflatable jacket to bring him back to the surface and keep him afloat in case of emergency. Floyd is a senior FBI special agent, based in San Juan, Puerto Rico. This diving expedition is his long-deferred vacation. Although he was raised on the water and lives on an island, nothing suits his contemplative nature more than to meditate underwater. For him, the best vacation isn‘t to get away, but to get below the surface. As a kid, Floyd promised himself he‘d never get old without having circled the world on a boat. Now at 43 with his insane hours and a demanding Puerto Rican girlfriend, the mother of his son, Floyd feels lucky to circle the island. To get a week to go diving is totally off the charts. Floyd lured three old friends from his hometown of Boston in Massachusetts to join him on the 48-foot Hatteras he chartered. The boat is moored in Vieques, a mostly undeveloped small island, next to Puerto Rico. With only a couple of docks and one fuel station, it‘s the perfect get away for boaters and fishermen. The yacht is big enough so the four buddies can all sleep onboard. Floyd decided to take his friends to Vieques, only 50 miles away from San Juan, because the small island is located on 2 The Boston Fracture the Caribbean Sea side of Puerto Rico and away from the rough surf of the Atlantic Ocean. It boasts awesome diving locations and the brightest bioluminescent bay in the world. Diving at night among the glowing microscopic algae‘s was a little scary but what a unique and unforgettable experience! They all left their wives and girlfriends in San Juan where they enjoy shopping and the resort lifestyle, while they dive all day and every day. Floyd‘s friends are Bob ―Chubs‖ Winston, a dentist by day and a participant in poetry slams by night; John Colette, an award- winning real estate agent who lost pretty much everything, including his wife and two daughters, as a result of the housing bust; and George Monaco, president of a small bank and bartender extraordinaire, a skill he perfected when they were all working their way through college. ~~~ Floyd swims back to the surface and grabs the boat‘s ladder. He pushes his mask up on his head, tosses his flippers to John, and climbs on the boat. ―Hey!...we thought maybe you drowned,‖ Chubs says. He looks like your typical tourist. In fact all the 3 friends do: flip flops, shorts and dizzying Hawaiian shirts. The spots they missed with the tanning lotion are bright, painful red. ―So…I‘m missing and nobody bothers to look for me?‖ Floyd asks, catching his breath. ―Nothing personal man‖ John says ―YOU are the dive master‖. ―Mind give me a hand with my tank?‖ John helps Floyd unstrap his 40 pounds of scuba equipment. ―And give me my cap.‖ ―Oh, that cap you wear—― ―Yes, my Yankees cap.‖ ―Word gets out I helped a Yankees fan, I‘ll never get 3 Hervé Jaubert another referral.‖ ―We can‘t decide if your wear it to piss us off,‖ Chubs says, ―or if you‘re some kind of genetic mutant.‖ Floyd smiles. He‘ll never tell. George pops open a beer, hands it to Floyd. ―Drink this while you shower. I‘ll have the chips open when you get back.‖ ~~~ Back at the dock, the guys tie off the boat and double check the spring lines. They drop their scuba tanks at the dive shop, walk downtown and follow the music. The evening is a whirl of intoxicating Latin night life: dancing hot salsa with beautiful, dark-haired girls in miniskirts and high-heel sandals, sipping a bit of rum, more rum and a lot of mojitos. As they reminisce, the glory days back at school grow more glorious with every drink. For Bob, John and Georges it is their first vacation on the island, they realize that although Puerto Rico is part of the US, it is definitely not "America," rather a mix of Caribbean atmosphere and Spanish culture, which they want to enjoy to the fullest. Finally, Floyd, always the pain-in-the-butt organizer, says, ―We really need to get back to the boat. I want an early start tomorrow.‖ ―No way.‖ ―Damn!‖ ―Boo. Bad plan.‖ But no matter how loud the Boston boys protest, Floyd herds them along. ―There‘ll be more fish to feed at the reef, caves, and some great photo ops with the overhangs. You‘ll have tons of pictures to impress the women back home.‖ The air tanks are waiting as promised behind the dive shop. A quick stop at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant produces a giant bag filled with chuletas, the local favorite: pork, rice and 4 The Boston Fracture beans. Chubs digs right in. ―You know,‖ John says, ―if any of us knew how to cook we could catch fish, cook our own lunch.‖ There are no volunteers. Floyd sighs, shakes his head. Nothing has changed since the old days. ―Slow down, Chubs,‖ says George as he looks at his friend‘s bulging cheeks. ―Make sure you leave enough for tomorrow.‖ October 23 The next morning Floyd and his friends drag themselves up on deck. No one seems to have much to say. It‘s been a great vacation, but the guys feel that sadness you get when a good thing approaches its end. ―I can‘t believe we‘ve only got two days left,‖ Floyd says. ―We can stay here and get knee-walking drunk—― says Chubs. ―Works for me!‖ George exclaims before finishing off his Bloody Mary.