by C J Schnier
Instead of men wearing cadet hats, they wore the thick helmets of modern warriors. And, instead of green fatigues, each of the four wore the bright safety-orange of a life vest that stood out in stark contrast against their dark navy blue uniforms. The biggest difference was that the flags on their shoulders were the Stars and Stripes of the United States, and we were now several miles outside of Cuban waters.
The response vessel came alongside us expertly, matching our speed and countering the waves with ease.
I raised my arm in a friendly wave and shouted over to them, "Morning, fellas." And then, after scanning their faces, added "And lady."
"Do you have some lines? We're coming aboard," the coxswain behind the wheel said.
"Uh, sure. No problem," I replied, gathering up a line and tying it to the stern cleat. "Jaye, do you mind tossing them a bow line?"
"Of course," she said in a polite, but nervous voice.
Good, keep that up, I thought to myself. Nobody enjoys dealing with law enforcement, but being polite was always good in these situations, and being nervous was to be expected.
We passed the lines to the men on the other boat and within a few seconds they were alongside. Two of them, a man and the woman, stepped across the gap between the two vessels onto Paramour.
"Is there anyone else aboard?" The man asked, fondling his weapon and looking about the boat.
"No sir, it's just us. Uh..." I trailed off, looking at his name tag and the rank insignia. "Petty Officer Adams."
"Good," he said, making no acknowledgment of me calling him by his name and rank. "Can I see your passports, please?"
"Yes, of course." I answered, pulling them from my back pocket. "I have them right here."
Adams took the passports from me, and after a quick check, wrote some notes in a small yellow-covered notebook. He wandered off towards the bow, talking into the radio mounted in his helmet and reading the names and numbers from the passports. The woman who had boarded with him, petty officer Jenkins according to her name tag, stepped into the cockpit to take his place. She watched us warily, keeping her weapon, an M4 carbine by the looks of it, up and ready. Her finger rested alongside the trigger guard, ready for use at a moment's notice.
Several moments passed before Adams returned, handing me the two passports and my license. "You look a little beat up," he said, breaking the silence.
"A little?" I scoffed, "I bet we look like hammered dog shit. That storm last night caught us completely off guard and whooped the hell out of us."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he continued. "What brings you two out here?"
"Just sailing. We wanted to circumnavigate Cuba, maybe hit up the Bahamas before we headed back home."
"And have you gone ashore?" He asked.
"No sir, I've kept offshore at least twenty miles just to be safe."
"To be safe of what?"
"Pirates, of course!" I said, dialing up some fake paranoia.
Adams nodded and then pointed to the stern of the boat. "Is that why you're not flying a flag?" He asked.
"No point in advertising that we're American. Sailboats are easy targets and nothing draws a bullseye like Old Glory."
Adams looked over at his partner Jenkins and nodded his head a fraction of an inch. Instantly their demeanor changed and their body language relaxed.
"Look, Captain," he glanced down at his notebook, "Hawkins. Since we're here, we're going to do a quick safety check, make sure you have everything you need, and then we'll leave you to continue your journey. Now, can you please show me your flares and life preservers?"
◆◆◆
I stared down at the piece of paper in my hand as the Coast Guard response boat faded rapidly into the distance, planing over the small seas.
"Can you believe they wrote me a citation?" I asked in disbelief.
Jaye laughed and patted me on the shoulder reassuringly. "It's just a warning, Chase. And that Adams guy was right, you need to get to your flares easier in case of an emergency."
I cut my eyes in her direction. "I keep my flares in the cockpit lazarette. Right there!" I said, pointing to the locker on the starboard side of the boat. "But no. Carlos just had to throw them in the v-berth when he ransacked the boat."
"At least you found them," she said reassuringly.
"True, for a second I thought he might arrest me. That would have ruined my entire day, might even have ruined the night too."
"Speaking of getting arrested. You know that woman that boarded? Jenkins? She asked me if you had hit me and if I was safe. She probably thought you were some sort of human trafficker."
"Me?" I spat, aghast. "If anything, you're the one beating me up. I mean, look at me!"
Jaye smiled and tenderly touched a bruise on my cheek. "You look pretty good to me," she said, her voice dropping to a husky purr. "And the way you handled Bardales and those Coasties. That was sexy."
"Yeah? I'd say you dealt with the general better, and that acting you did with the Coast Guard, using just the right amount of nervousness to appear believable, but not enough to be suspicious. That was amazing. Lying under pressure like that is an art, and you, Jaye Mercury, are a master."
"Maybe I'll make you my student," she said, drawing in closer.
"Maybe I'll make you mine," I retorted, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her to me. She gasped excitedly and smiled. Her hand snaking its way through my hair, holding my head, pulling my face close to hers.
"We make an excellent team, Chase Hawkins," she mewled, breathing each word into my ear with her warm sensuous breath, causing my desire to rise. With her last syllable, she took my earlobe between her teeth and bit down gently, playfully.
I turned my head, saw the wicked and lustful smile on her lips, and covered them with my own. We kissed hard and passionately. Our breaths coming in ragged gasps. My hand moved down to her round, firm ass as she started fumbling at the waist of my pants. She ripped them down when the button wouldn't come free, and I helped her by forcefully kicking them off.
Our desire was primal and raw, almost brutal in its desire to dominate one another. This was a different lust than I was used to. It wasn't a simple biological urge, or the gentleness of love born from a relationship. This was a need. It was a release.
I grabbed the hem of Jaye's tank top and ripped it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. I did not stop to admire them, instead I moved my head down, taking first one and then the other in my mouth before she forced me backwards into a sitting position on the cockpit bench.
For half a heartbeat, I feared she had rebuffed me. But the pure look of desire in her eyes silenced those fears. She fell on top of me, pushing me onto my back as she kissed me viciously. Then, breaking the kiss, she moved her head to my neck and bit hard.
I let out a growl of unexpected pain mixed with pleasure and then went on the offensive. Our lust was a battle, and I had no intention of losing. I grabbed her and rolled her over onto her own back as I moved on top of her. She struggled to get up, but I pinned her shoulders down to the deck. She struggled against me again, trying to regain the upper hand, but I wouldn't allow it.
The faintest hint of submission ran through her body, covering her like a shadow, and I let go of her shoulders. When she didn't move to resist, I smiled and snatched off my shirt before moving down her body to remove her pants. They were too big for her and once her belt was loose, I pulled them from her in one swift motion of sexual passion.
Her stomach quivered with anticipation as I ran my tongue back up her body, stopping to give her nipple a playful bite. She moaned loudly, and then grabbed my head, dragging me up to meet her lips with my own again.
Our tongues battled one another, exploring the other greedily. Our hands roaming freely and ceaselessly over our naked bodies. The air practically crackled with the electricity of our moans and wants. I aligned myself between her legs, ready to thrust into her, but she surprised me again.
Jaye grabbed me, rolled m
e over and straddled me, a triumphant twinkle in her eye. She savored the moment, teasing me with her body, knowing what I wanted and denying it from me. She wanted it too, however, and quickly tired of her game. Jaye leaned down again, forced my lips open with her tongue and let me slide into her. My last act of defiance before losing myself to the moment was to reach back and pull her hair as I forced myself deeper. The battle had just begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Adrian Pruitt's colossal house was as alien to me as another planet. In many ways it was indicative of another world. His was a world of wealth, power, and excess. All things that I detested. So far, Pruitt had kept me waiting. I tapped my foot on the smooth tile floor, trying to make my impatience obvious to anyone who cared to look, while simultaneously pretending to study one of his many artifacts. I was alone except for Mr. Liezer, Pruitt's Frankenstein-looking goon who watched over me. I did my best to avoid his gaze. It was cold and emotionless, and it made me shiver every time I caught him looking at me.
I wasn't sure why he was there. I didn't need a babysitter. Pruitt's private compound was a fortress, albeit a very well decorated one. I wasn't sure exactly where it was, and I certainly wasn't going to steal anything or leave until I had my money. Yet, wherever I moved, Liezer's eyes followed. They bore into me. Searching. Accusing. It was a huge relief when Pruitt came prancing into the room.
"Captain Hawkins, how good to see you!" he exclaimed, his neon-white teeth showing behind his plastic smile.
"Pruitt," I responded coolly.
"Tell me, how was your trip?"
"I've had better," I answered.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Nature of the work, I suppose. But, do you have my idol?" His smile fading into the worried expression of a junkie looking to score.
I nodded and picked up the green duffel bag at my feet, "Got it right here."
Pruitt's worried look vanished, replaced by a nervous giddiness. "May I see it?" he asked, vibrating with excitement.
"Have at it," I said, tossing him the hefty canvas bag containing the stone idol. Pruitt's eyes went wide when he realized that I wasn't handing him the bag. He scrambled to catch it, nearly tripping over the red silk robe wrapped around him. Awkwardly, he grabbed the bag out of the air, fumbling with it, but finally securing it. He pulled the bag close to his chest and held it there like a mother protecting her child.
He glared at me as he put the bag down on a table and unzipped it, taking his eyes off me only to extract the idol out of the bag. He held the figure up, studying it, and turning it over in his hands.
"Yes," he whispered, "This will do nicely."
"You know, you could have told me that you had hired a second treasure hunter to find that hunk of rock. She and I nearly killed each other trying to get it from one another," I said.
"Oh yes, I heard that you had a run-in with Ms. Mercury. But it looks like you came out on top, you're here with the idol, and she's not. That makes you the one I'll go to when I need something of value found," he said, putting the idol down. "Well, hopefully something more valuable than this, anyway."
"What do you mean? I thought that was some sort of priceless artifact?"
"That?" he scoffed. "Don't be silly. It's little more than a crudely carved piece of stone. I have dozens just like it."
My mind reeled at what he had said. It didn't make any sense. Unless I got played.
"Why did you go through all the trouble of hiring not one, but two treasure hunters to retrieve it? Even for someone like you that seems a bit theatrical for a job interview."
"Oh my dear boy, you have no idea how theatrical I can be," he said. "It is true. This idol is valuable, and it does hold a certain cultural significance, but the only reason it is worth anything is because I made it so."
"That doesn't make any sense. How could you make it valuable?" I asked.
"It's simple economics, Chase. Supply and demand. You provided the supply," he said, patting the head of the idol, "And I created the demand."
"Ok. But how? You said people had been looking for this for years, wouldn't that create its own demand?"
Pruitt laughed, a sharp shrill chuckle. "The only person that had been looking for this was Dr. Blatt. He says hello by the way. I took the liberty of giving him your contact information. You can keep that sat phone I gave you too, it's paid up for a year."
"If Miles was the only one looking for it why would he tell you?"
"Funding, of course. Do you think the kind of rogue archeology he does comes cheap? Blatt is little more than a treasure hunter himself. Only he has a PhD. That tends to open up a few more doors for him. He stumbled across the probable location of the Treasure of the Taino and sold that information to me to fund whatever it is that he is really after in Cuba," Pruitt stated.
"And with that information, you created the story behind the piece to drive up its value with collectors. And to keep costs down, you hired two amateurs to find it. But what about Bardales? He was hell-bent on retrieving that idol."
"Oh that the was the genius part of my plan, if I do say so myself. I needed legitimacy, collectors had to know that this was a rare and important item, and more importantly, illegal. The sort of collectors that I deal with do not want average antiquities. They want what they cannot have. That is what I am providing," Pruitt said.
"So, you had Blatt leak the info to Bardales, knowing he would do his job as Minister of Antiquities and try to stop us," I said, putting the last pieces of the puzzle together.
"Bardales was nothing if not predictable. Sadly, I hear he and his troops ran off the side of a cliff in the dark. Now I will have to learn the quirks of whoever Castro chooses to replace him with. But, that is the cost of doing business."
I nodded, processing everything I had heard. It had all been a huge scam. The idol was technically worthless. Pruitt was merely a con artist playing power games. I could understand that. Hell, part of me respected that. It took both balls and brains to pull off something with as many moving parts as this heist.
"Well Pruitt, I have to give it to you, that is a hell of a con that you've pulled. But you and I have unfinished business," I said.
"Oh yes, your money," he said.
And the recording you have of me?" I asked. The money was all nice and good, but I wasn't about to let him hold anything over my head.
Pruitt reached into the pocket of his robe and withdrew a small electronic device and flipped it through the air towards me. I snatched it out of the air. On the side of it was a small, green arrow shaped button. I pressed it and heard my voice come out of the speaker.
"I stole that boat to get enough money to pay off the cartel," and then a moment later, "If there is one thing I regret about Raul Acosta's death, it's that I couldn't think of a way to kill him myself. I had to get someone else to do it."
"Is that the only copy?" I asked, pocketing the device.
"That is the only one," Adrian confirmed.
"And why should I believe you?" I asked.
"You can choose to believe me or not, but I assure you that is the only copy. I may be a lot of things Captain Hawkins, but I always keep to my deals. And besides, we both know you did this for the adventure just as much as the money."
There was no way for me to know if he was lying or not, and in his place I would have certainly made another copy. I simply had to trust that he wouldn't use the recording. Either way, I would have to treat Adrian Pruitt with caution in the future. I would also have to thank him.
He had been right about doing this job for the adventure. It had been dangerous and reckless, but it snapped me out of my depression and that had been worth the risks.
"And now your money," he said, snapping his fingers. "Liezer!"
The gigantic man produced a plain black sports bag and handed it to Pruitt, who handed it to me. The weight of it surprised me. Paper money was deceptively heavy. I placed it in a chair and unzipped the bag. Satisfied, I zipped the bag shut again and threw it over my shoulder.
"Are you happy?," Pruitt asked.
"You blackmailed me to enter Cuba illegally, steal a cultural artifact for you that you falsely inflated the value of, inadvertently killed a top government official that tried to stop you, and it only cost you three-hundred thousand dollars?"
"Money well spent," he replied. "Now if we're done, Mr. Liezer will have the helicopter pilot take you back to Marathon."
"Yeah, we're done, but are you sure I couldn't just call a cab?"
"You don't trust me?" Pruitt asked, feigning offense.
"Would you?" I retorted.
"Probably not, Captain Hawkins. Probably not. It's just not my style," he replied, sashaying back into the interior of the house, leaving me with his brute, Liezer.
"Don't worry," the goon said, ushering me out towards the waiting helicopter. "We won't kill you. Mr. Pruitt is already working on another job for you."
"Great," I muttered sarcastically. "I can't wait."
EPILOGUE
A shock of curly black hair framing olive skin and a gorgeous body caught my attention. She sat at the bar, alone, facing the wide canal that ran alongside the restaurant. Droplets of perspiration covered the glass of her empty drink. Beads of sweat formed and ran down the side of the glass as she drummed her fingernails against it.
I saddled up next to her, pushing a barstool out of the way. "Excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?"
She turned and looked me over from head to toe. A coy smile crept across her lips and she nodded her head once.
"Sure, why not?" she said and then motioned to the empty stool, "Why don't you join me?"
I waved at the bartender, catching his attention. "Another one for the lady, and a rum and coke for me," I said, sliding into the stool.
"Well, it looks like Pruitt didn't kill you," Jaye said.
"No, but I was waiting for it the entire helicopter ride back here. I kept thinking about that scene in Scarface where they hang the guy from the helicopter."
"You're such a dork," she said, shaking her head.