The Gulf & The Spy

Prologue

Clay and Dylan are back from the summer’s research trip in the Pacific. Almost as soon as they returned, Clay was reminded of why it wasn’t a good idea to spend a lot of time away from the Conservancy.

This is the body of water he was paid to investigate. He reports his findings to Senator Harry McCallister, Clay’s boss, and the man in charge of the Sanibel Island Conservancy that Clay runs.

Clay has his work cut out for him and he doesn’t expect to be allowed to go away on any more research trips. Bill Payne is in charge of the Horizon research ship and he’s about to mount a charge in front of Harry’s environmental committee in DC. Clay will accompany him to testify and present the films both Logan Warren and Dylan Olson-Aleksa are responsible for.

It’s Harry’s show and he isn’t beyond Hollywood theatrics to get his point across. It’s his job to shake things up to force his colleagues to do the right thing.

Ivan remains at the cove to take care of business. He has promised Clay and Dylan he isn’t going anywhere, and that means giving the Cove Campground his full time and attention.

It’s a labor of love. Ivan excites and enchants the visitors to the Cove Campground, but one visitor threatens Ivan’s plan to stay in the cove with Clay and Dylan.

Who saw this turn of events coming?

Chapter 1
Paradise East

The sun shone bright as it peeked over the trees that hid the cove from the full force of its rays until after nine.

Ivan swept the boat ramp and the sidewalk in front of the Cove Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop free of sand.

Locals call it the Dive Shop or the shop. It’s where you can find Ivan Aleksa most of the time. The Cove Campground was his brainstorm. In spite of the doubts about its viability, the Cove Campground was a big success. Business increased each year. Ivan added activities he promised were “Guaranteed to thrill. Yeah!”

Ivan leaned on the broom to glance skyward at twenty squawking gulls flying overhead. They glided out over the cove, then they made a sudden right turn to fly out over the Gulf of Mexico.

It was another nice day in paradise. It was Tuesday and his campers were mostly on their own after a weekend and Monday filled with things to do. On Tuesday the boats received maintenance and a check to be sure they were in good working condition. The campers who were still there after the weekend needed a day off too.

Many visitors left Sunday night but by Thursday night the campground was full again. During the summer months, families stayed for a week or more. By October families made reservations for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

Adults who came alone, or with other adults, might stay a week or a month. These were the footloose and fancy free.

Ivan had ways to entertain them all. Much of his business was repeat campers now. They’d discovered the Cove Campground, enjoyed their stay and couldn’t wait to come back.

Ivan breathed in the cool fresh Gulf air.

“Beautiful,” he said to himself, turning to go back into the shop.

Looking at the sand on the floor, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Maybe he’d shovel some more sand onto the floor and call it ambiance.

He went to sit behind the gigantic mahogany desk. He drank from his coffee mug. The liquid was still warm. He looked at the cove out of the huge shop window.

Tag came in through the front door. He had a bag in his hand.

“Tell me you have at least two of your mama’s egg sandwiches inside that bag,” Ivan said. “My mouth is already watering, Tag.”

“She only had rye bread this morning, Boss. Hope that’s OK,” Tag said, bringing the bag to Ivan’s desk. “Bread man’s late again.”

“Let me look at one of those. Want to refresh my coffee?” Ivan asked, taking two wax paper wrapped items out of Tag’s hand.

“Yes, Sir, master,” Tag said, taking Ivan’s cup to the coffee maker.

“Tell your mama how good I said these are,” Ivan said. “Rye bread is good. I think it’s your mother that makes everything good. I couldn’t make it through the day without at least one of these,” Ivan said wistfully, as he chewed.

“You talked to Captain Popov about the Quik Mart?” Tag asked.

“No, I still need to explain why we took in twice as much this year and I couldn’t pay him any more than I paid him last year.”

“You bought two more boats, a new air compressor, and a better trash buggy and trailer. He’s got to know how much that costs,” Tag said. “It’s an investment to create a better experience for campers.”

“I’m still paying on those boats. A dollar down a dollar a week. People like those tours. It’s the most popular activity that doesn’t involve eating,” Ivan said. “We bought the SCUBA equipment to rent. That went better than I thought. We’re making as much from our tours and boat activities as from the campground fees,” Ivan said.

“We can’t stock enough to furnish what the campers need. We need that Quik Mart. We’re losing money by not having enough supplies the campers need on hand,” Tag said. “If they need to drive to the closest market, it’s an hour out of their vacation time wasted when we could have those items in stock.”

“I know. I know. I just haven’t gotten around to asking Popov for more money. He’s looked at the books. He knows where the money is, but he was expecting a better return by now,” Ivan said.

“If we’re going to make the most of his investment, we need to furnish what the visitors need. That Quik Mart is a smart investment. It will pay for itself in a year and it’s all profit after that, Boss.”

“I know. I know. I’m going to talk to Popov,” Ivan said. “You do know that if we furnish everything the campers want to eat, they’ll do more cooking and less eating at JK’s. Popov owns JK’s.”

“I wouldn’t tell him that,” Tag said.

“No, but I might suggest JK’s stock more of the items people want to cook. He has space on the left side of the restaurant he could turn into a small pantry for bakery items and snacks.”

“We’re here to serve our guests and furnish them with what they need. I doubt JK’s will lose much business because we offer items for campers to cook. Cooking out gets old when you’re on vacation. JK’s is right across the road. As seafood goes, which is JK’s main business, they can’t get a better seafood dinner anywhere.”

“We’re getting a lot of repeat customers,” Ivan said. “Once they’ve spent the money to go to JK’s for dinner, they budget for eating out a few times. His business is twice what it was before we opened. Popov says the Fish Warehouse did a significant better business the last two years than it did before we opened.”

It was never the Cove Campground Popov was investing in. He invested in Ivan Aleksa. Popov regarded Ivan highly. When describing what he planned to do, Popov saw the excitement in the young man’s words. Ivan wasn’t a businessman, but Popov was, and he was in business with a man who won his respect by going after his brother and bringing him home to the cove.

Popov knew Ivan’s grandfather and his father. They’d both fished with his fleet. They were capable men. Popov understood Ivan came from a family he respected. If Ivan had a plan for the cove, Popov realized it would be a fine investment for a young man who gave up everything to go retrieve his brother from Southeast Asia.

Popov watched Ivan cleaning a worthless piece of land used as a dumping ground for derelict boats, pieces of boats, old stoves and refrigerators. After Ivan and Tag did the cleanup, Ivan mowed down the tangle of brush, brambles, and briers thirty feet wide all the way down to the small strip of land that led to the Gulf of Mexico two hundred yards from Ivan’s shop.

Popov was watching and waiting to see something that impressed him. As the fishing fleet came and went from the cove over the two months after the junkyard was dismantled, he waited to see what might appear in its place.

Ivan created an eyesore that was only a little better than the tangle of brush and the junkyard Popov watched disappear. As he took his fleet out for a four-day fishing trip, Popov didn’t see whatever it was Ivan was creating. He’d give him a little longer.

That was the day the truckloads of sand began to come. Ivan began pushing the sand toward the Gulf. It took three days for the last truckload to be dumped next to the boat ramp.

The entire time, from sunrise to sunset, Ivan pushed the sand into place as his beach took shape. By the time the fishing fleet returned to the cove, Ivan sent back the grader he borrowed from one of Harry’s contractor donors.

When Popov’s fleet came back into the cove, he cut his engines, looking around to be sure he was in the right cove, at the sight of the gleaming white sand. After dropping anchor, he took his small launch up next to the boat ramp, letting the bow run ashore. He climbed over the bow and went to stand at the edge of the boat ramp looking toward the Gulf. The beach was level and beautiful.

“I’ll be damned,” Popov said, once Ivan was standing beside him.

Popov turned to hug Ivan. He pushed his launch back into the water and went to tie up at the end of the pier.

It was all the approval Ivan needed. His campground was ready. It was time to advertise. Ivan used a list of publications that was given to him by legislator Lucy Olson. It was the addresses of local newspapers around the state that reached most Floridians.

After three years, Ivan was the most respected businessman right after Popov. He was hands on and with the help of Tag, the Cove Campground operated smoothly, and the cove council approved everything Ivan came up with. You don’t want to stand in the way of success, became their new motto.

Better not stand in the way of Popov’s man was more truthful. Tag could run the entire operation if Ivan needed to be away. Ivan knew Tag could do anything he could do. Tag wasn’t an employee, he was Ivan’s right hand man. He was a vital part of operating the Cove Campground.

Tag could do anything Ivan could do and he did things Ivan couldn’t do and wouldn’t try.

After polishing off the two egg sandwiches, and drinking his third, or was it his fourth cup of coffee, Ivan watched Tag pile shells, colored pencils, SCUBA equipment, and the biggest sheet of crepe paper Ivan had ever seen onto the counter top.

He knew what it meant. He yawned and stretched while considering what he wanted to do next. If there was anything Ivan didn’t do well, it was watching Tag’s creative process in action.

“Well, Tag, time for me to go to work,” Ivan said, standing up behind his desk.

“Going to go hobnob with the proletariat, Boss?” Tag calculated.

“Yeah, someone’s got to do it. Let them know I care,” Ivan said, stepping out onto the boat ramp.

He breathed in fresh air. Looking down the beach, he could see fire pits smoking. That meant he’d be offered coffee and a strip of bacon or two. He might be offered a freshly burnt slice of toast.

He smiled to himself as he thought it.

He needed to walk off Twila’s contribution to his daily caloric intake, but he wasn’t above accepting tokens of gratitude for such a pristine vacation spot while doing it. He liked visiting with campers.

Ivan thought Clay was about due and he’d walk down the beach if Ivan hadn’t returned by then. He couldn’t remember if Clay and Dylan were diving this afternoon or not. He did see the tanks from the Sea Lab in the back of the shop to be filled. If Tag hadn’t done it by the time Ivan got back, he’d do it, just in case his men needed them.

There were no boat trips on Tuesday. Most campers wanted to relax, get a hot meal at JK’s, and sunbathe after what were usually hectic weekends for everyone. Some people went for a dive or a boat ride over the weekend. There were two dive trips and two speedboat tours of the Gulf on Saturday and Sunday.

When Captain Popov’s fishing fleet was in for the weekend, one of his men took a boat out for deep sea fishing on Saturday and again on Sunday. If the fishing fleet was at sea, Tag’s Uncle Amos came to take out the fishermen. He was retired but he enjoyed taking fisherman out onto the Gulf.

Neither Tag nor his Uncle went into the water, but they both loved driving a boat and being on the water. Ivan was born into a family of fishermen and he loved every aspect of being on and around the Gulf.

It seemed no one didn’t like fishing, and if they didn’t care for fishing, some folks went on the fishing boat to be out on the Gulf of Mexico beyond the sight of land. It was a great experience to have.

It wasn’t unusual for the fishermen to take their catch straight to the Fish Warehouse. Their catch was swiftly dressed out and readied for roasting over the fire pit, or kept on ice for them to take home.

Men told Ivan how fantastic an experience it was to go to sea and catch the fish their family ate for dinner. It was the stuff families came together to enjoy. It’s why Ivan built the Cove Campground.

Ivan could hear the laughter and singing from the shop as dark was settling over the cove. He inhaled the smell of freshly roasted fish that would waft up the beach in his direction. These were the things that excited him about what he got to do each day.

It put Ivan in mind of being a boy and fishing with his father. After returning from a fishing trip, Nick would select fish for freezing and fish to be cooked out behind the house for the next few nights.

Going to sea to catch your dinner was as old as mankind.

The weekends were busiest at the cove. There were people who came for the day. Ivan hadn’t envisioned this while planning for the cove. He thought people would come and stay at the campground for a weekend or a week. Day visitors spent a lot of cash. They kept the boats busy and no one left without seafood from the Fish Warehouse.

Word of mouth spread the word about all the things you could do at the cove for a reasonable price families could afford. People came to see for themselves. They went home and told friends about the cove and they brought their friends back with them… and they went home and told their friends. Day visitors saw the cove and came back to camp as soon as possible.

In his wildest dreams, Ivan never saw the Cove Campground being the hit it was with campers. He had an idea and this is what that idea had morphed into.

Ivan had to buy new boats in order to keep up with demand. He’d told Popov and the jovial Russian fisherman hadn’t blinked twice. Popov took what Ivan gave him and didn’t complain.

The brisk business Ivan was doing offered proof of the value in Popov’s investment. It was building on itself and Popov came on Saturday afternoon if the fishing fleet was anchored in the cove. It was Saturday that Ivan used the boat ramp as a place to set up his grill for free hot dogs and hamburgers to anyone who was interested. The price was right and that made it a big hit.

Tuesday had become the day for rest. The boats needed to be maintained, readied for another week of constant motion. Even the campers slept in and lounged around the fire pits. Maybe because there were no activities planned. Maybe because they were worn out and some simple activities were in order. It was then they walked to the Gulf to go swimming or lay on their towels to get some sun.

When Captain Popov’s trawler was at anchor, he allowed Ivan to bring visitors aboard to take a close up look at a fishing trawler. Popov’s was the biggest boat in the fleet. He loved showing it off.

“Morning, Ivan,” the man at the first site said. “Coffee’s ready. Can you sit and talk a spell?”

“Sure, Arch. Don’t mind if I do. I can never get enough coffee,” Ivan said, feeling a bit loaded on the pot he’d drunk already.

While Ivan visited, Tag busied himself with creating his fifth display since last year. If there was one thing Tag wasn’t good at it was standing around. He hadn’t decorated anything but the family Christmas tree. While looking at the empty Cove Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop last year, he thought it needed something and he created his first display.

This was the third one since early spring. Tag hung three sections of cork on the wall to support whatever came to mind. By mounting the crepe paper over the cork, he could draw the scene he was seeing inside his head. Then he could put clamps in place to hold the items he wanted. He hung the face masks first, took them down to put sand inside the glass for effect, and hung them again. He hung flippers, before he hung the air tanks.

He drew a reef with fish swimming all around. He spread the items he hung far enough apart to give him room to draw. Then he added the bigger shells first, before adding sand dollars and pieces of coral to the mosaic.

He drew sharks at the top of the scene and there were fish swimming between the items he’d hung. At the bottom and off to his right, Tag hung the biggest shell, drawing an octopus with eight arms around the shell. He added some sea grass at the bottom.

Standing on the counter to reach the top, he moved back to gain a different perspective before adding a few colorful touches.

Each new display became more elaborate than the last.

This had to be the best creation yet, Tag thought.

That’s when he had a great idea. He drew a wave in mid-curl, adding foam around it. He went to get one of the short surfboards, mounting it as if it was riding the wave.

“There,” he said with pride. “The perfect touch.”

As Tag was finishing up his display, Ivan had reversed course and was working his way back up the beach toward the shop. His beachcombing tour ended after he drank parts of three cups of coffee, and ate two crisp strips of bacon, and one piece of moderately charred toast.

Before he got indigestion, he excused himself from the tenth beachfront site and began his trek back the way he came. He gave some thought to how to approach Popov about building a Quick Mart-type affair next to the shop.

He thought about the empty space on the far side of JK’s. It was enough room for a small pantry. They could sell some of the more popular items to campers. See how it went.

Getting them into JK’s might help them decide to eat while they were there instead of burning their next meal. That would please Popov and JK too.

Ivan stepped onto the boat ramp and tried to get the sand off the bottom of his shoes before he went into the shop.

Clay was overdue if he was coming this morning. Ivan looked out across the cove and then into the crystal clear sky before going inside.

NEXT CHAPTER