This is the third excerpt from Flooding Hollywood. It is the second novel from the Mike Scott series.

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Mike reached out and gingerly pulled the detonator out of the plastic explosive bundle. Realizing that the detonator was a small bomb itself, Mike picked up the timer. After a second, he found a switch and turned off the timer as well. It was then that he realized that only a few seconds remained on the countdown. They surely would have been killed when the blast went off underwater. The shock waves and concussion would have knocked them unconscious, even if they weren’t close to the actual blast. And that was assuming that the water wouldn’t have swept them quickly through the gap in the wall and down into the valley below.

After a second, Mike looked up to see Diane beside him. He gave her a big smile behind his regulator. Giving her the OK signal and then the thumbs up signal to ascend, she agreed and responded with an OK back. Mike grabbed his pressure gauge to see how much air he had left. He confirmed that it was time to get on the surface—immediately. They had been underwater for more than twenty minutes and had gone fairly deep; they were more than eighty feet down when they found the bombs. Their air supply was running low.

Carrying the detonator with them, Mike and Diane began swimming for the surface. Looking up as he ascended, Mike saw two divers descending toward them. Guessing they were members of the police dive team, Mike handed the timer and detonator to Diane and signaled to them, using his arm and then his light. The two divers altered their course and headed straight for Mike. As the men got closer, Mike began to have second thoughts about the identity of the other divers. As the gloom parted and the men got close, he realized it was the terrorists coming back. They had been watching the lake and returned to make sure the bomb went off as planned.

The first diver to reach Mike struck him across the face, dislodging his mask. Mike floated backward as he struggled to get his mask back in place and get his breathing under control. Every diver learns to clear water from his mask in case it was accidentally knocked loose, but the swiftness of the attack caught Mike completely off-guard. It took him a moment to get himself stabilized.

The second diver grabbed Diane trying to get the detonator and the timer away from her. She grappled with the man, fighting back. She was strong and wiry, but the diver began to get the better of her. The only thing in Diane’s favor was that the man didn’t have any leverage. The man pulled on Diane, but he turned himself in the process. She was able to twist herself around to keep the man from getting a firm grip. They continued to spin in a circle.

The first terrorist, the one who struck Mike, chose not to help his friend, assuming he could handle a woman, and swam away to check on the bomb.

As soon as Mike got his mask straight, he swam back into the fray.

As he arrived at the scene, Diane turned her body hard, rotating her attacker directly in front of Mike. Mike quickly latched onto the man’s tank with his knees and began turning the knob to close off the terrorist’s air supply. With his free hand, Mike also returned the favor given him by the man’s accomplice by pulling the terrorist’s mask off of his face.

It took a few seconds for the pressurized air in the hose to be completely exhausted, even after Mike shut it off. The terrorist diver was able to take one, then a second breath, before nothing came out on his third attempt. The exertion of the struggle with Diane had caused the man to breathe hard—harder than he had realized. When he inhaled against his regulator and nothing came, he was shocked. That shock quickly turned to panic. He couldn’t inhale at all. There was nothing there. He knew he was sixty feet underwater.

Panic set in. All the diver’s brain could come up with at that moment was that he needed to get to the surface. He knew that was where he needed to be. And he knew he needed to get there quickly. If he didn’t, he was going to die. He bolted for the surface without another thought in his mind.

Diane was close to panic herself from the attack and the fight. Mike reached out and took the detonator and timer away from her. He started guiding her to the surface. There was another terrorist in the water, but Mike wanted to get the timer and detonator as far away from the explosives as possible. Also, Mike knew their air supply would be dangerously low by now.

Mike’s desire to get the detonator out of the water clouded his judgment. He didn’t look around before he left. If he had done so, he would have realized the first terrorist was right behind him.

The terrorist had checked out the explosives and realized they were all there. Just as quickly, he realized Mike had the detonator and he knew he needed to get it back if the plan were to succeed. The old man wouldn’t tolerate a second failure. He had been very clear about that. Seeing Brother Jack lose the fight and bolt toward the surface, the first terrorist—Brother Darryl—swam straight at Mike.

Darryl grabbed Mike’s fin as soon as he got in range and dragged him back down. Mike turned and twisted, trying to face the diver chasing him. He knew he was going to have to deal with this man, too.

Divers carry knives to cut away fishing line, kelp or other entanglements. It was also a bit of a macho exercise for many men to carry the biggest knife they could find. The terrorist was no exception. He drew his dive knife, revealing its nine-inch blade. He lunged at Mike while still holding Mike’s fin.

Holding the timer box in front of him like a shield, Mike parried the knife thrusts. First one, then another. They circled each other, while Mike tried to stay clear. With a particularly vicious jab, the knife hit the timer’s metal box and twisted to one side. The blade struck Mike’s finger and sliced his hand. Reacting to the pain, Mike twisted away and nearly dropped the timer. He was barely able to hold on with his one good hand, but he wouldn’t be able to block another attack.

Seeing Mike in trouble, Diane moved in and tried to latch onto the attacking terrorist’s back. She planned to do to him exactly what Mike had done to the man coming after her. She tried to get her hands on the knob that would shut off his air supply, but the man kept twisting and turning, preventing her from getting a good grip. She wasn’t able to control him.

All three divers were slowly floating upward and had risen to about thirty feet. Holding his hand in pain, Mike floated backward, moving slightly away from Diane and the terrorist. Seeing Mike injured and moving away, the terrorist wheeled on Diane. He started swimming after her, slashing with the knife. Diane swam backward, trying to stay away from the dangerous arcs of the knife, but she couldn’t swim backward as quickly as the man could move forward. One more swipe and he would cut her too.

As the man lunged forward, confident he was going to knock Diane out of the fight, his head suddenly snapped upward. He looked like a dog who reached the end of his rope. Mike was back. He caught the man from behind.

Knowing they had precious little air left, and not willing to continue this fight any longer, Mike jammed the timer and the detonator between the man’s tank and buoyancy jacket. As he did so, he flipped the switch, turning the timer back on.

With his injured hand, Mike grabbed the man’s power inflator on his buoyancy jacket. It took all his concentration to make his injured hand squeeze the button that would fill the compensator with air, making him float toward the surface.

Diane realized what Mike was doing and grabbed the man’s weight belt. She quickly flipped the buckle open and sent the terrorist’s weights dropping 100 feet below.

The additional air and the missing weight belt made the man extremely buoyant. He took off like he was riding an elevator. Unlike his partner, however, he still had air and could breathe. No one had been able to turn off his air supply. As long as he breathed normally and exhaled as he rose, he would probably be fine when he hit the surface. He just wouldn’t be able to rearm the bomb.

He would have been fine, that is, except for the detonator positioned directly against the aluminum scuba cylinder. There had only been a few seconds left on the timer when Mike had turned it off earlier. When he turned it back on, it picked up where it left off and began counting down to zero.

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Flooding Hollywood is available in softcover and on Kindle. It is also part of the Mike Scott Boxed set.

The second excerpt from Flooding Hollywood. This is the second Mike Scott thriller.

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“So, you’re telling me God has made you his servant and his tool to cleanse the earth. I think you’re just another lunatic. Just like all the rest. The voice you hear in your head isn’t God,” Mike said. He didn’t really have a plan at the moment, but he had to try to get out and stop the bomb from destroying the dam. He needed to find a way to get past Runyan and his men outside.

“Oh, the nonbelievers. I told you, you were just as bad as all the vile creatures that cover this earth and make it unclean. You’re just as bad, because you defend them. You could convert to our side, Mike. You could repent and be forgiven of your actions, because you didn’t know the error of your ways. But, no, I don’t believe that will happen. You are with them. You have no love in you for God. You just love the world and the evil that is in it. You love the sodomites. You love the Muslims, the Asians and the Mexicans and all the rest. They are the problem with this world. They are the ones destroying it, with their lies and their money. They take away opportunities from good people like me and my men. They take our jobs and our women. They take our pride and our opportunity,” Runyan fumed, finally beginning to expose the roots of his delusion.

“But I thought the most important commandment, according to Jesus, was to love the Lord your God with all your heart and mind and soul,” Mike said, trying to stall until he found a way out of the house.

“That’s true, Mike. That’s true. You did learn something on your mother’s knee when you were growing up. Maybe there is hope for you yet. Those words of Jesus are the most important things I live by and that is what I teach my men. All of the words of Jesus are sacred to us. That’s what drives us and makes us who we are today,” Runyan readily agreed, suddenly sounding more rational, as if appeased by hearing scripture. He had a flash that Mike might be turning to his side and wanted to make the most of it.

“The next thing Jesus said was that you should love your neighbor as yourself. Isn’t that right? Now, how can you tell me you hate everyone around you and that they are all corrupt and vile, when God, through Jesus, tells you to love everyone else in the world? You might be able to hate what some people do, like killing innocents by blowing up dams and destroying ships in harbors, but you aren’t supposed to hate other people. You are supposed to reach out to them with love. Aren’t you?” Mike asked. “I haven’t heard you say anything about love. I’ve heard you preaching about hate and I’ve heard you preaching your prejudice, but not about love. Where does that come in?”

“You,” Runyan screamed. “You just don’t know what you’re talking about. Even Satan can quote the scripture. In fact, the Bible teaches that he knows it better than most people. He twists the word of God around and can spew it out to justify anything. You must be filled with Satan. Get thee behind me, Satan,” Runyan exploded, his eyes bulging.

Mike was surprised that Runyan’s men didn’t come rushing in to help him at this point. The man was in full meltdown. His eyes and his body language spoke of a complete lack of coherence. He was completely out of control.

“You must be in with the evil gays. They are the ones taking over this country. They are the ones taking over this world. They are the true evil alive today in this…”

Runyan had backed himself up near the open door in his fit. In mid-sentence, he broke off and crumpled to the floor. Mike first suspected he had had an aneurism or a stroke, until Max stepped in through the door over him. Mike was so surprised he laughed.

Max was holding a baseball bat in one hand. He had just used it on Runyan. Standing over the unconscious zealot, Max looked down at him and said, “I thought it was time someone shut him up. Don’t you agree?”

Grinning, Max stepped forward and pulled a knife from his pocket. He began working on Diane’s ropes.

“So, how did you find us? What did you do?” Mike asked, still in shock at the sudden turn of events.

“Diane left a message for me. I tried to call the cops, but they thought I was just calling in a prank. They said they would get someone up here as soon as they could, but because they didn’t think it was an emergency, it wouldn’t be immediately. After the thing yesterday in the harbor, there have been prank calls all over the city. It’s been all over the news,” Max explained.

“But what about Runyan’s other men?” Mike asked, waiting his turn to get free.

“There were only two of them out there. I pretended to be a lost hiker and caught them off guard. I hosted a survival show on cable for a while. I know how to take care of myself,” he said as he finished cutting through Diane’s bonds. She stood up and went over to check on Runyan, who fell away from the door, in the corner.

“Well, I sure appreciate your help on this one,” Mike said.

Suddenly, two more of Runyan’s men burst through the door. They had come back from an errand and found their two friends unconscious on the floor. Mike, Diane and Max all heard the deafening roar of a vintage military issue Colt .45 handgun going off in the small room. The relatively big and slow-moving bullet immediately knocked Max down, delivering its punch and releasing all of its built up energy into his body. Max nearly flipped as he was struck in the leg, the close-range attack knocking his feet out from under him.

Mike’s hands were still tied as Max had just begun to free him. Mike rose up off the floor, preparing to fight off the attack from the zealots come to protect their master. But Diane charged in first. Her hands were free.

Trained to fight on movie sets, her instructors had taught her that she had to know how to throw a real punch before she could ever throw a fake movie punch and make it look real. She would have had a black belt if she trained with a traditional martial arts school and entered competitions.

As she rose up from her crouched position checking on Runyan, she launched herself into the air and kicked the man holding the gun in the upper abdomen, doubling him over. The second zealot appeared to be unarmed, but Diane didn’t take any chances. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she jumped again, this time in a reverse spin kick that landed her foot against the back of his neck, knocking him to the floor as well. She then stepped forward and struck the first man across the back of the neck and shoulders with a forearm blow, driving him to the ground.

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Flooding Hollywood is available in softcover and on Kindle. It is also part of the Mike Scott Boxed set.

The third excerpt from Cayman Cowboys for Excerpt Friday.

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Mike checked the video camera to make sure it was working and was amazed to see the quality of the picture through the LCD port on the back of the video camera housing. Not wanting to waste batteries he didn’t run it for long, but he quickly realized they would easily be able to capture whatever was going on—assuming they were there at the right place at the right time. From there, it was simply a matter of swimming and waiting.

About an hour passed before anything happened. Mike was beginning to have doubts they had guessed correctly. Both divers realized at about the same time that they were hearing the sounds of a small boat, or at least a propeller. Before long they realized there were several propellers churning through the water. Direction is hard to determine underwater, but the relative quiet and the concentration of noise from the multiple propellers gave them a general direction to search.

Kelly took the lead as the two divers slowly and cautiously moved toward the noise. Another 15 minutes of swimming passed before they found what they were looking for. And both of them were amazed. They saw four divers with scooters and what appeared to be a small tourist submarine hovering over a patch of coral. The sub had specially diffused lights that reduced the amount of light that leaked toward the surface.

But what amazed Mike and Kelly more was what the divers were doing. The submarine actually had claws mounted below it and it was ruthlessly tearing through coral. The divers were following along, pointing out things to the sub pilot and picking up items and putting them in baskets on the sub and attached to their scooters.

Mike was so stunned to see the cause of the destruction he had first witnessed with Tanya that he almost forgot to turn on the video camera. The light coming from the sub was almost too much for the video camera since it was prepared for extremely low levels of light. Mike quickly adjusted the settings on the camera and received a clear picture of the destruction.

“Believe?” Kelly scribbled to Mike on the slate.

“No. Amazing.” Mike wrote back as he juggled the video camera.

Mike and Kelly moved as close to the demolition zone as they dared and Mike kept the camera going. Kelly kept a look-out and made sure they weren’t noticed. After approximately a half an hour, and several moves to avoid detection and get better camera angles, the pair moved away from the scene. Mike had all of the evidence he needed to show something was going on.

Unfortunately, the masks the divers wore blocked out their faces so no one could be identified, but the submarine would be traceable. Regardless, they would be able to force the authorities to investigate and admit something was happening.

Underwater for about two hours, Mike and Kelly realized it was much too early for the yacht to return so they headed toward the shore. The swim to the beach took more than half an hour, but it still made more sense than waiting for two more hours, especially when there was something going on. They both wanted to get in and contact the authorities immediately. About 50 yards from shore, Kelly surfaced to find a good exit point. He saw what appeared to be a small beach area about 100 yards away to the right, took a compass heading and descended back to join Mike. The divers then changed course and headed for the beach. In full scuba gear, it is much easier to swim underwater than on the surface, so they swam on the bottom almost until their heads were sticking out of the water.

As they climbed up the rest of the beach through the light surf and out of the water, tired and a little cool, they were able to talk to each other for the first time. And while they kept their voices down, they could barely contain their excitement.

“Do you believe what we just saw?” Kelly asked.

“Not at all. What do you think they were doing?” Mike replied.

“I have no idea. But they were sure tearing up the reef. That sure helps to explain a lot of what’s been going on around here lately,” Kelly said.

As they moved up the beach, Kelly spotted a log for them both to sit down on. They both began to strip out of their dive gear.

“So how do we signal Tanya?” Mike asked. He hadn’t thought about it earlier.

“I have my ways,” Kelly said, playing with Mike.

“Care to share them with me?” Mike asked in response, with more than a little irritation in his voice. He really wasn’t in the mood to play.

“I have a converted emergency signaling device. We use it from time to time around the shop on special dives. The moment we broke the surface, it began sending out a signal. This one, though, operates on a non-emergency frequency. Tanya will be able to track it using a direction finder. Considering how early we are, she’ll have no doubt we are on the shore and come looking for us.”

“Now I’m impressed. How’d you come up with that?” Mike asked.

“What? You think you have all the fancy toys?” he said as he gestured to the video camera Mike had sat on the sand beside the log. “Actually, I hate to admit it, but it was Tanya’s idea. She had seen the personal EPIRBs that send out an emergency signal for lost divers, and the ones on the boats that send out a signal when a boat sinks so rescuers can find them. She got the idea to adjust one to a different frequency to use it in situations sort of like this.”

“Are you in situations like this a lot?” Mike asked, somewhat surprised. “If so, I think there’s a lot you aren’t telling me about your life here on the island since I left,” he said with mock seriousness.

“Well, not like this, but there are times when we need to find each other and can’t just pick up the cell phone,” Kelly said.

Before Mike or Kelly could react, two men jumped out of the shadows behind them. Both divers were knocked unconscious and bound tightly before they could struggle.

“So now what do we do with them?” one of the men asked.

“The boss said to bring them to him,” the other responded.

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Get your copy of Cayman Cowboys today, in softcover or Kindle. It is also part of the Mike Scott Boxed Set that includes the first five novels and two short stories.

The following is the second excerpt from the Mike Scott thriller novel, Cayman Cowboys. See the first excerpt here.

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Mike plunged into the warm, clear water and could instantly see why Tanya was so excited about this dive site and why she had wanted him along. It instantly reminded him of the way the island looked below the water line 10 years before. Maybe it was his “you should have been here when…” mentality kicking in. He had always hated the fact people didn’t realize that their memories were better than reality ever had been. But this place is certainly amazing, he thought.

Whatever his reason for thinking so, it was beautiful. And the sea life was everywhere. Fish of every description and color. The shallow nature of the dive prevented the water from leaching out the reds and oranges from the penetrating sunlight, which reflected off the vivid soft and hard corals, sponges, fish and other marine animals. It was a virtual fishbowl, and Mike slipped effortlessly into photographer mode. He quickly began choosing his shots and framing up his images in his mind long before he ever moved in with his camera.

It is often said that photographers are the worst dive buddies. They get so involved with the images they are making that they forget about everything else going on around them—including their buddy.

In the case of this dive Tanya was the perfect buddy for Mike. She wanted to show Mike her private reef, so she pointed out everything and helped him set shots up, and then stayed out of the way, hanging back and waiting—unless he wanted an underwater model. In those situations, her grace, natural beauty and comfort underwater allowed her to gracefully swim into frame with just a few simple hand signals from Mike and add just the right element to the image.

Mike had shot a lot on the dive, but still had room on his digital camera card as he and Tanya rounded the final bend underwater. What he saw made him glad he did. Incredibly, the coral reef appeared to have been scoured clean of all life. They were stunned by what they saw.

It looked as though someone had run a bulldozer underwater and leveled everything. There was absolutely nothing. No Elkhorn coral, no brain coral, nothing. No shape, texture or color, except for the pile of once-vibrant color mixed into a jumbled mess, like the colors of a bowl of kid’s cereal floating in milk. Parrotfish were everywhere eating the broken coral. Mike photographed the scene to record the devastation.

When they finally surfaced after the long dive, Mike and Tanya discovered they were the last two up. The rest of the teams of researchers and volunteers had finished their dives, and most were already out of the water. From the sounds of their voices, they couldn’t believe what they had seen any more than Tanya and Mike could.

“What in the world happened down there?” Tanya asked at the top of her lungs to no one in particular. She and Mike were floating on the surface of the water.

“You mean you haven’t seen this before?” Mike responded. “When was the last time you made this dive?”

“It’s been about a week since the team made this dive. We try to hit it regularly, but not so much as to attract attention. We don’t want a lot of people coming down here messing up our research,” Tanya explained. “I just can’t believe it. That’s a mess. Someone is going to pay for this.”

“So you’re saying that a week ago, this section of the reef looked exactly like the rest of it? Not this parking lot?” Mike said. “That’s amazing. Have you heard of any groundings or anything that could explain it?”

As they talked Mike and Tanya swam toward the exit point.

They climbed up the rope ladder and on reaching the ledge, Tanya headed for the nearest rock that offered comfort to her outrage and grief and slumped onto it. She was sickened by what she saw, and as the reality of the destruction and its effect on her work penetrated more deeply, she became completely withdrawn, like someone who had just lost a loved one. “I just feel numb,” she muttered as she finally stood up and stumbled across the rocks and back to her truck.

Tanya’s staff of researchers went wild all around. Mike didn’t know exactly how to handle things, so he quietly packed away his gear and disassembled Tanya’s as well. Upon reaching the truck, she cast him a glance that showed that the fire had returned to her eyes. Her pain had turned to anger. There was going to be trouble. “I’m going down to Government House to find out what is going on here,” she bellowed.

“You all go back to the lab and download everything. Log every single detail and record all your findings in the computer archives. Take extra time if you need. Don’t leave out a single detail of what you saw. I want everything in the computer tonight.”

Tanya looked at Mike who had remained silent, allowing her to formulate her thoughts without interruption.

“Someone did this on purpose, Mike. This is not like the damage caused by some cruise ship anchor or some other grounding. Sure damage occurs from time to time, but this is unbelievable. Usually it’s only localized and relatively minor. Something that will recover over time. But this is extermination. It’s scarred forever or at least for longer than I’m going to be around. This was deliberate, calculated, and systematic—almost neat. Besides, cruise ships don’t come up here and there is nothing else I can think of that would have caused it.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Mike asked.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean to take this out on you. I know this isn’t exactly the dive I planned to show you, but I’ve got to find out what is going on. Do you mind if I drop you off at Sunset House?” Tanya asked.

“Not to worry, Tanya. I have some things to catch up on anyway,” he lied. He had no plans for the afternoon, but it would serve no purpose adding guilt to her woes.

On the way back to the hotel, Tanya was quiet, but Mike could tell she was thinking—she was somewhere between finding a cause for the damage and planning a response.

“Sorry I haven’t been good company, Mike,” she said as they pulled up out front of the hotel. “Kelly and I will be by about 7:30 p.m. to pick you up for dinner. By that time I’ll have cooled off some and will hopefully have some answers.”

“See you guys tonight,” he answered, intentionally keeping it short to give her an escape. Anyway, he thought, she probably didn’t hear a word I said.

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Get your copy of Cayman Cowboys today, in softcover or Kindle. It is also part of the Mike Scott Boxed Set that includes the first five novels and two short stories.