Rising Force

by Wayne Stinnett

  “And you think that was them on the cat? Like, they switched boats or something? And they have Mark and Cindy Mathis as hostages?”

  “These aren’t the kind of people who kidnap.”

  Kat stopped at the foot of the pier and grabbed my arm, turning me to face her. “What do you mean, Jesse?”

  “All three are wanted for about a dozen robberies and at least one murder, a friend of mine.”

  Kat’s hands went involuntarily to her mouth and she gasped. “Mark and Cindy are dead?”

  “We don’t know that,” I said, putting a hand on her shoulder, and turning her toward the boat. “We don’t even know if those women are who I think they might be. Think positive.”

  Stepping over to Salty Dog’s cockpit, I unlocked the companionway hatch and we went down to the pilothouse.

  “I think I want to get a shower,” Kat said, disappearing below.

  I went to the coffeemaker and set it up for another run.

  “What’s with the AstroTurf in the shower?” I heard her call out a couple of minutes later.

  Crap! I hurried down the steps to the lower salon. Kat stepped out of the head, wearing only panties. I stopped and spun around.

  “Sorry,” I said, heading back up. “I meant to tell you. That shower is Finn’s bathroom.”

  “Yu-uck,” Kat said. “Um, Jesse, you’ve seen my boobs before.”

  I continued up to the pilothouse. “You can use my shower,” I said over my shoulder, as I continued up the companionway to the cockpit. “It’s in the aft cabin.”

  Finn came trotting down the pier toward me. I sat down on the end of the finger dock with my feet dangling inches above the water. The sun was heading toward its resting place on the horizon. It really was quiet and peaceful here.

  Finn sat next to me and looked out toward the mouth of the small harbor, as if waiting for me to tell him what time meant or something equally profound.

  “What the hell are we doing with a girl on the boat?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer but did seem genuinely concerned that I’d changed the subject. So I reached over and scratched his neck. “Where’s your buddy?”

  He looked back toward shore, then stretched out to lay on the dock, with his head resting on his paws. I guess all the running and playing of dog games was catching up to him. Together, we looked out over the water, watching a line of pelicans flying low over the glassy surface, just off the beach.

  The sun was still an hour from setting, there wasn’t a cloud anywhere, and the wind had died to a light breeze. After ten minutes, Kat emerged from the cabin, her hair wet. She was wearing shorts and a faded Soggy Dollar tee-shirt. I knew of the little beachside bar, down in the British Virgin Islands. Many a young woman just like Kat had danced topless on the tables for a free tee-shirt. It was a different me who had urged them on. A much younger me.

  “You’re kind of a prude, you know that?” Kat said, walking toward us. “I’m done if you want to shower. The water’s still warm.”

  Rising, I turned to face her, looking down into the swirling depths of twin mahogany orbs set in a naturally pretty face. Whoever that Benny character was, he was a full-bore dumbass. It was getting increasingly difficult to see Kat as a kid.

  “Being prudish sometimes keeps me out of trouble,” I said. “I’ll run the genset for a while in the morning. The water heater doesn’t work off battery power.”

  Ten minutes later, I was showered and changed. Kat was waiting in the pilothouse. I carried the guitar again, as she and I walked silently along the beach to the fire pit. Finn trotted ahead of us.

  Before we got there, Kat stopped me. “Look, I’m sorry. We see a few things differently, I get that. I really do live in the moment and you’re looking for a woman to settle down with forever.”

  I started to say something, but she stopped me, placing the tip of her finger to my lips. “Sex is fun. It’s energetic and therapeutic regardless of age; ask any doctor. Cory will tell you. You’re close to fifty; that’s far from dead. You’re tall, tan, and muscled. In that picture you showed me, you were shaved, a real babe magnet. But right now, I’m worried about what you’re planning to do.”

  She turned and trudged off toward the firepit, leaving me thoroughly scolded and bewildered. How could a girl half my age make me feel like an errant schoolboy?

  The grill was closed, and the fire was already lit. In the fire was a big, cast iron pot filled with water. It looked like the water was just starting to come to a low, rolling boil, moving dozens of crab claws around in a frothy cream of spices, bubbling on the surface.

  “It’ll be ready in about ten minutes,” Cory said. “Brayden thought it’d be a good idea to eat a little early. My guess is you and he already have something planned for later.”

  Besides Cory, only Carmen was there. “Let’s wait till everyone’s here,” I said. “Then we’ll talk about what we’re going to do or not do.”

  One by one, the others arrived. Macie and Brayden took their usual log, and David joined Carmen on another. Lea had a large covered bowl, which she placed next to the fire to warm.

  “Where’s the Bourgeau brothers?” Cory asked, looking off toward the anchorage.

  “Their dinghy’s still not back,” Lea replied. “They’re leaving in the morning.”

  With everyone seated, I laid out the plan Brayden and I had discussed. Macie asked a few questions, but I assured her that we weren’t going to get close enough to get into any trouble.

  We ate mostly in silence and Kat never opened the guitar case. While there was no danger in what Brayden and I were going to do, I had to keep in mind that my idea of danger was likely a bit different than that of the people I was with. I had no intention of going unprepared for danger.

  “I moved my boat over beside yours,” Brayden said when we had finished the crab claws and Lea’s butter beans. “I guess we ought to get a little sleep?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt,” I said. “We may be out for a few hours.”

  The others stayed at the fire, while Brayden and I went to our respective boats to rest up. Before going to bed, I set up the coffeemaker and set the alarm function on my phone for twenty-three hundred. Three hours of sleep and a little coffee would allow me to be fully alert until morning, if necessary. But I fully intended to be back and have time for a few more hours of sleep before the night was over. I spent ten minutes getting a few things together that we might need, then turned in.

  I’m usually a light sleeper, so when my stateroom hatch clicked and slowly began to open, I was instantly awake, coming up from my bunk, Sig in hand and moving to find my target.

  The scream was unmistakably feminine. It was Kat.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I said, decocking the pistol, and returning it to the top drawer next to my bunk. My old dog tags, hanging on the knob, fell to the deck. “I could have shot you.”

  “Why do you even have a gun?” she said, her voice breaking.

  Kat was standing just inside my cabin door, wearing the thin tee-shirt I’d given her to sleep in. The soft, silvery moonlight, spilling into the pilothouse behind her, silhouetted her body beneath it.

  Finn stood off to the side, the hair on his neck standing on end. He recognized the tension, but with his acute sense of smell and hearing, he probably knew who she was before she opened the door.

  I went to her, wearing only my skivvies, and put an arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay,” I said. “Nothing happened.”

  “I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before,” she muttered as I steered her toward the side bench. Her hands were trembling.

  “Did something wake you?” I asked, turning toward the hatch.

  “No,” she said, grabbing my arm. “I—just wanted to be with you.”

  “Kat,” I said, looking into her soft doe-like eyes. “I
thought we agreed on this. I’m way too old. It’s weird.”

  “You agreed,” she said, looking up at me, her lips trembling. “Age never mattered to me. I like you. You’re a nice person.”

  I took her shoulders in my hands. “No, Kat. I’m not. I’m not a nice person at all. I am loyal, though. Even if it’s only to an idea. I’m moved, I really am. And if I was twenty years younger—okay, ten years younger—I’d lift you right up onto that bunk.”

  Her eyes darted to the dresser drawer. “Why do you have a gun? You’re not supposed to bring guns into the Bahamas. Is it true then? What you mumbled in your sleep?”

  Kat was a relative stranger to violence. I could tell. Her handling of Benny notwithstanding. With her carefree lifestyle, it was a wonder she’d not been seriously hurt before. My guess was that she’d only seen the good side of the world. A loving home and mother, a hard-working dad, beautiful islands, and peaceful people. I had no way of knowing these things, but I could somehow sense it.

  Sitting next to her, I let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s true. Kinda true, anyway. Even what Mick said on the mailboat. I sometimes worked with an elite team of government operatives; our mission was to hunt down terrorist threats in the Caribbean and dispose of them.”

  “So you can kill people with no remorse,” she said, standing and looking down at me. “But your high moral character won’t allow you to have sex with a grown woman, just because she happens to be a little younger than you?”

  I could see the fire in her dark brown eyes, but they were also welling up with tears. She spun on her heel and stormed out of my stateroom, slamming the hatch hard enough to make the hinges rattle. I could hear the main hatch in the companionway slam open and the little double doors rattle as they bounced against the bulkheads.

  Mission accomplished, McDermitt. She doesn’t want anything to do with your old ass.

  And I’d thought Benny was the idiot. How could I not see that rebuffing her advance would be a blow to her ego? Any other straight male would be bouncing around in the sack with her.

  Good ole stick in the mud McDermitt.

  A shaft of moonlight was beaming through the hatch above my head, coming to rest on my feet. The angle told me it was late and I’d slept for a few hours. I picked up my sat-phone and checked the time: an hour until midnight. The alarm went off in my hand, so I rose from the bench and dressed quickly in the darkness

  I assumed Kat had stormed off to Macie’s and Brayden’s boat, or perhaps to the marina and her loft; it was livable now. Why hadn’t she gone there after dinner?

  “That’s pretty obvious, dipshit,” I mumbled.

  Finn cocked his head quizzically.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, scratching his neck. “But I do need to apologize.”

  I heard footsteps approaching outside on the dock. “Jesse!” a voice hissed quietly. It was Brayden.

  Going up to the pilothouse, I switched on a light and started the coffeemaker.

  “Come aboard, Brayden,” I called up through the open hatch.

  The boat rocked slightly, but he didn’t come down right away. After a moment, his feet appeared in front of the hatch.

  “Come on down,” I said to his feet.

  “You remember what I said about if you hurt Kat? If I come down there, it’s to kick your ass.”

  “We both know that’s not gonna happen,” I said, stepping back. “Come on down and hear me out.”

  He took a tentative step down, hesitated, then swung all the way to the deck, holding onto the hatch cover. When he landed, he was in a fighting stance.

  I had to hand it to him, he had strong convictions. Even if he didn’t know my background, just bowing up to a man who’s a head taller and a good seventy-five pounds heavier was gutsy.

  “Back off, Brayden,” I warned. “There’s nothing in this but pain for you. I hurt her feelings, and for that I’m sorry. But I’m not going to fight you about it.”

  His overhand right was telegraphed well in advance of his move. I stepped into it and caught his fist in mid-swing, throwing him off balance. I shoved his arm up and back, then forced him downward in an awkward stumble. He landed on his butt next to the galley stove.

  “Don’t trifle with me,” I said in as even a tone as I could muster. “I’m definitely not a pacifist. What the hell did she tell you I did?”

  “Brayden!” Macie said from outside.

  “Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” I muttered, stepping past Brayden. “Come on in, Macie. Join the party.”

  Unlike her boyfriend, Macie didn’t hesitate. Nor did she come to take a poke at me. She came swiftly down the steps and looked from me to Brayden sitting on the deck.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You stormed off without even waiting for Kat to stop crying. Jesse didn’t do anything to hurt her.”

  “Look, both of you,” I said firmly. “Call me old-fashioned, or a prude, or whatever. I don’t give a shit. A fifty-year-old man doesn’t sleep with a twenty-five-year-old girl.”

  Macie turned toward me, fists on her hips, her blue eyes sparkling as if building to a sudden discharge of lightning bolts. “Is that so? Well, what about a seventy-year-old man and a forty-five-year-old woman? That doesn’t sound so tawdry, does it?”

  “If I’m still around in twenty years, I’ll let you know.”

  Her features softened. “You hurt her feelings, Jesse. Made her feel ugly and unwanted.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, slumping into the lower helm seat. “But I didn’t do anything to prompt her.”

  “You were nice,” Macie said firmly. “There’re way too damned few of you guys left.”

  “How can a girl who looks like her even think she’s not pretty?” I said, knowing my defense was weak. I don’t deal well with emotions, either.

  Brayden got to his feet. “Sorry for taking that swing at ya, mate.”

  It was almost comical. I couldn’t help but grin. “And I’m sorry for knocking you on your ass.”

  Turning to Macie, I said, “Look, would you tell her I’m sorry? I can’t change who I am. But let her know that it was damned near impossible to say no.”

  “You need to be the one who tells her that.”

  “I will,” I said. “In the morning. Right now, Brayden and I have work to do. Will you just tell her I’ll see her in the morning?”

  “Okay,” Macie conceded. “But don’t you do anything to get Brayden hurt, or Kat’s not going to be the only woman after you.”

  Neither Brayden nor I said anything until we heard Macie’s footsteps leave the dock.

  “You really are a muppet, you know that?” Brayden said, sniffing the air, then walking toward the coffeemaker. “Before she took off with that bogan, Benny, Kat was the hottest chick anywhere around.”

  He lifted one of the two mugs I’d left out, raising an eyebrow in question.

  “Pour me one, too,” I said.

  He filled both mugs and extended one to me. “When you brought her back, she looked like warmed-over dung, mate. I don’t know what he did to her, but if he ever comes around here again, I fully intend to make the bloke cry.”

  Brayden sipped the coffee. “Mmm, good java. I can tell ya one thing, mate. In the last coupla days, I’ve noticed more color to her face and a spring in her step when you’re around. I told you she was shook on you.”

  I took a sip. “Is it really that simple, man? Has society changed so much that an old man can take advantage of a young girl?”

  Brayden chuckled. “Kat’s a long way from being some innocent schoolgirl, mate. And you’re hardly a withered oldie.”

  “I’m not comfortable talking about this with you,” I said. “Why don’t we just get on with what we planned to do?”

  “Okay by me,” he said. “But just what is it you plan to do? I know what you said we were gonna
do. But I’m guessing there’s more that you’re not letting on.”

  “We are going to get close enough to see the boat,” I said. “I’m going to get close enough to hear them snore.”

  With a nearly full moon overhead, Brayden piloted his little boat out of the marina and turned northeast into the cut between Chub and Crab Cay. Once clear of the shallows, he brought the little boat up on the step, just above planing speed, and we headed in the general direction of the cat barge.

  I took a handheld GPS out of my bag and powered it on. I’d already put the coordinates in; estimating where the boat was from the waypoint I’d dropped on the GPS in the chopper.

  “Make your heading zero-four-zero,” I said. Checking the distance, I did the math in my head. New Zealanders are more familiar with kilometers than miles. “The boat’s thirteen clicks out.”

  Making a slight course adjustment, Brayden continued at the slower speed. “What else you got in that bag, mate? And what’s with the fly rod?”

  Taking out a pair of night vision goggles, I switched them on and handed them to him. “Put these on.”

  “What is it?” he asked, dropping the boat back down to idle speed. He fitted the straps over his head and slid the device into place over his nose. “Grouse, mate! It’s like bloody daytime.”

  “They gather available light, from the moon and stars, and magnify it. A little grainy and two-dimensional, but you can see more detail than moonlight alone.”

  “I’ll say. I just saw a flying fish jump about thirty meters ahead. Take that rod and reel out, and there’s likely to be shark steaks this weekend.”

  “I think we both know that’s not a fishing rod.”

  He looked right at me through the optical tubes mounted in front of his eyes. I pulled the fly rod case over and opened it.

  He followed my movements with the goggles. “I’ll be stuffed.”