Digging for Death

The new moon provided no light. Dark clouds hovered overhead. The total darkness at 2 AM made the small rubber raft on the black waters of Pine Island Sound almost invisible. The only whisper heard by the two men was the soft murmur of the paddles as they passed through the water. No one would hear the sound during the early morning hour. It was off season and there were only a few year-round residents on Joseffa Island.
The paddles dug deeply into the calm water as the raft slid noiselessly toward the shore. The two figures in the small vessel were dressed totally in black from their water shoes to the black ski caps that covered their faces, leaving only their eyes visible. Even the area around their eyes had been darkened.
Both men paddled in rhythm, but were constantly on the outlook for the unexpected. The south end of the island was their destination. Their targeted landing spot was near a large stand of mangroves. The man in the front of the raft was large, his muscular arms straining at the thin material of his wet suit. “Keep it quiet,” he murmured. “We don’t need to be heard by anyone that might be a light sleeper.”
“Who do you think would be at this end of the island and awake at this hour?” the smaller companion asked. “Are you absolutely sure he is on the island?”
The larger man replied, “You know the answer as well as I do. I don’t know more than you know. The boss said the man was here.”
The men continued, each knowing he was skilled in his own right. They had been a team for several years after having been selected and trained for missions such as the one they were now on.
Approaching the shoreline, the smaller man asked, “What does he do here?” “The man says that he’s a groundskeeper and staying in a small apartment near the reception building.”
The men eased from the raft into the shallow water a few feet from shore and lifted their craft to hide it in the midst of the mangroves, covering it with fallen branches. They looked around, listening for any sounds. The silence was deafening. The pitch blackness of the night was total. No light shined anywhere on this deserted end of the island. Then they heard the first rumblings of thunder.
“Looks like we are in for a storm,” one of the men said as the initial flicker of lightning lit the sky.
A soft rain began to fall and the thunder boomed louder.
The men moved northward in the shadows, avoiding the main sandy path until they could see the outline of the main dock and the reception building nearby. Skirting the small buildings that housed a laundry facility and the administration offices, and watching several small cottages for any signs of movement or light, the two moved toward a walkway that loomed above the reception building. As they cautiously and silently climbed a narrow stairway, they listened for any intrusion on the night’s quiet. There was none. They moved along the second level decking that faced the main dock below. Apartment 1, Apartment 2, Apartment 3, they read as they approached Apartment 4. They stopped. The larger of the two, clearly the leader, stopped, signaled again for silence and reached for the door knob. It felt cool in his calloused hand. He turned the knob slightly, testing. It was unlocked.