by Scott Cook
Meraux leaned out into the corridor and shouted several names. After a moment, two of his men came running down the companion, down the corridor and crowded into the room.
“Take Gaspard here back to our ship,” Meraux ordered. “Secure him in the foc’sle until I am ready to deal with him!”
His words were snapped out with anger and impatience, but Kate suspected it was all a show for her benefit.
“Lock him up? Lock him up!?” Kate asked indignantly. “By God, sir! I want him flogged instanta! On this vessel, in front of everyone! Your men must know the price for disobedience and for molesting the innocent! I won’t stand for this!”
“I’ll deal with him,” Meraux said, his own anger rising. “You do not dictate—“
“Meraux,” Kate said in a low and steady tone that clearly conveyed danger. “You either punish this bastard or I will.”
Meraux laughed, “When will you ever learn, mademoiselle? You’re not in charge here.”
She met his eyes and her sea blue ones blazed with fury, “Indeed. What do you plan to do with him, then?”
“I have yet to decide,” Meraux said haughtily, almost imperiously.
“I see,” Kate said calmly and took a long breath. “Then I’m afraid that I must withdraw my acceptance of your invitation to supper. I will not dine with a man who allows a rapist to go unpunished. Goddamn you to hell.”
With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out, shouldering past the two French sailors so hard that they nearly lost their footing. Neither man presumed to resist or object.
“Magnifique!” he breathed, looking after her with a mixture of awe and unbridled lust.
8
“I need to slip out of here for a few minutes,” I said to Lisa. “I’m going to try and get past Nikki. If she sees you, though, keep her occupied as long as you can.”
“Where are you going?” Lisa asked quietly.
“Ray says he has a weapon in his stateroom. I’m going to get it.”
“Why?”
“Call it a hunch,” I said.
I gave Lisa a quick kiss and slipped away and forward on the far starboard side of the room.
I don’t know if Nikki saw me or not, but I didn’t get the impression she had. Something told me, though, that she already knew I was involved. If not, then she would soon.
I entered the dining saloon and then strode up the narrow corridor past the galley. I wondered if I should contact Warner Grayson. Technically, I did work with him now, and this situation could certainly qualify as something that International Counter-criminal Enforcement would be interested in. Although everyone from the Drug Enforcement Agency to the Department of Homeland Security and obviously the FBI all the way down to local law enforcement had a stake in drug interdiction… something international like this might require special attention. With the appearance of an FBI agent I knew to be with the organized crime division, I was beginning to suspect more might be involved here than simple trafficking.
On the other hand, although I’d received an appointment to Colonel Grayson’s operation and was even officially an O4 in the United States Navy… I didn’t like the idea of calling on help so soon. Ramon Tavares had hired me to uncover who in his organization was smuggling drugs, if they were… which seemed a certainty now… and I felt that was my responsibility.
I entered the plush and surprisingly large owner’s suite. The room was walled on three sides by tinted glass, stretching nearly the total beam of the vessel. There was only a narrow walkway to port and starboard where other guests could go outside and forward to the foredeck. The suite featured a large head with shower and garden tub and two spacious walk-in closets.
“It’s good to beeda king…” I muttered the famous line from Mel Brooks’ History of the World Part one. And yes, I did laugh at my own wit. Why not, nobody was around to notice… who’d ever know?
Nobody, that’s who… I mean unless someone were foolish enough to write all the silly things I did down and then distribute them to the world at large…
Psssh! What’re the odds of that?
I went to the nightstand and found the Glock. A basic 9mm model with a full magazine. I cleared the weapon and slipped it into the back of my waistband.
Something was up, I could feel it in my bones. There was no way that an FBI agent just happens to be aboard a private yacht that’s being followed by a mysterious boat and owned by a man who’s business may be used to smuggle drugs. Something was going to happen and it was going to happen tonight.
Maybe Lisa was right about the fire that afternoon, too. Could it be that somebody was targeting Tavares? Trying to hurt his business or even hurt him? He’d mentioned that the captain and first mate of the Rebecca D. shrimp trawler had quit and done so angrily…
As I stood there in the center of the oversized bedroom letting the hamster trot along on his wheel, a very soft noise filtered into my thoughts. At first I didn’t think anything of it, yet something about the sound set off an alert in my mind. It had been a subtle rustling and there was a distinct slyness in it.
The door to the head was open, but the doors to the two closets weren’t. I stepped softly and carefully across the plush carpeting and looked into the head. The shower was enclosed by a clear door and the only other hiding spot was a small linen closet that couldn’t’ possibly hold a person. Nowhere to hide in there.
I listened. I listened for nearly a minute and still heard nothing. I moved over to the door that led out of the suite and opened and closed it, making no attempt to hide the sound. Then I stood and tried to listen with all of my mind focusing on the remarkably silent compartment. Pretty good sound proofing I had to admit.
Thirty seconds passed… then a minute… then two minutes…
Nothing.
There was someone in this suite with me, though. I knew it all the way down to my amigdola; that ancient lizard brain that still knows when it’s being hunted even if the cerebrum doesn’t have a friggin’ clue.
Oh well, nothing for it then…
I opened the door to the first closet, crouching low and pointing my weapon into the darkness beyond. I saw only two long rows of women’s clothing and a dizzying array of shoes but no intruder.
Unless I was paranoid, the intruder was hiding in the remaining closet. I decided on a different tactic this time. I simply walked over, stood to one side and banged on the door.
“Okay, I know you’re in there, come out now!” I ordered harshly. “I’m armed and will come in after you.”
I was shocked not to get a response. I drew in a breath, reached out and turned the knob. I flung the door open wide and… nothing!
I ducked low and peeked into the closet. A similar setup to Theresa’s. Men’s clothes in two rows on hangers hung from rods beneath the shelves. No intruder anywhere inside, though.
I frowned and stood there, gazing stupidly into the walk in closet. I know I heard something…
I don’t know if it was pure mammalian survival instinct or a more refined sense that comes from training and experience, yet some set of neurons or other fired in my mind. I hurled myself sideways, diving to the carpeted floor just as a shadowy form lunged for my back. The son of a bitch must have been hiding under the bed!
Whoever he was, he had good reflexes. Although my quick move avoided his first lunge, the man was able to recover and redirect his attack. He spun and dove on top of me, something glinting in the low light.
As I rolled onto my back, I reached out and grabbed his right wrist in both of my hands. I put a foot into his gut and pushed him up and over me, all the while twisting his forearm until he let out a surprised cry of pain and the knife fell to the carpet near my head.
The man, about medium height and stocky, sailed over my head and sprawled on the deck. I rolled to my knees and scooped up the knife. It was a steak knife, probably pilfered from the galley. I took a second to evaluate the man while he was still trying to recover.
He was dressed
in black and had a dark swarthy complexion. He might be a light skinned black man or of Latin origin, the single small light, that was the only illumination in the spacious cabin at the time, cast only pale illumination on his face. The face snarled and he came for me again.
I lunged forward as he did and we met on our knees. Not taking any chances, I thrust the knife into his left leg. This elicited a howl of pain and I was about to toss the knife aside when a mule kicked me in the jaw.
Stars exploded behind my eyes and I threw myself to the right, barely avoiding another hard hit from the barrel of his gun. I rolled behind the bed as a silenced shot puffed out, going wide and sinking into the bulkhead behind me.
I grabbed for Ray’s gun and rolled to my knees, pointing it at the man. He was already on his feet and headed for the door. He moved quickly in spite of an obvious limp.
I jumped to my feet and bolted after him. The intruder was running down the short corridor past the gym, the galley and into the large dining compartment. At least eight guests were milling about there and several of the women screeched in fright as the man ran into the room, upset a table and grabbed for the railing of the elegant spiral staircase that led to the sky lounge above.
“What the hell!” someone called out.
“Scott!” A woman’s voice shouted as I leapt up and onto the stairs in hot pursuit of my foe. The voice was Nikki Sloane’s.
“Little busy!” I shouted.
I expected an attack when I reached the level of the next deck and my opponent didn’t disappoint. A foot shot out toward my head but I managed to grab it and twist, knocking the man off his feet and onto his wounded leg, which action forced a pain filled gasp out of him.
I also heard the sound of something metal sliding along marble. I had to let go of his foot to climb the rest of the way up and he took that moment to roll sideways and land a solid punch into my midsection.
I bent over, wheezing and trying to regain my breath. That gave him enough time to get to his feet and stumble aft and toward the open deck beyond. I gritted my teeth and pushed through the pain and ran after him. I was catching up, but even with his injured leg, the attacker had enough of a lead on me to reach the railing first.
I wasn’t even surprised when he leapt up onto the taffrail and performed an elegant swan dive into the churning wake of the yacht. Without hesitation, I followed him, pulling in one ragged gasp of air before hurling myself over the rail and into the Atlantic.
It wasn’t until I plunged into the water, still fairly warm in early November, that I thought about what I was doing. I had just jumped from a perfectly good boat moving at ten knots and into dark water at night while following a violent intruder… and intruder who was bleeding from a knife wound in the leg.
I began to think that this hadn’t been my most well-conceived plan.
He was obviously making for the small boat. Why else had it been there but to offer him a means of escape after he did whatever it was he was aboard the yacht to do?
As I arced upward toward the surface, I caught sight of something dark in the water ahead of me. Something splashing on the surface. I smiled inwardly as I altered my trajectory and swam toward the thrashing man from beneath.
Dun-dun… dun-dun… dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun…
I heard his terrified shriek as I grabbed onto his left ankle and yanked downward. For a brief second, he probably thought it was a shark who had him rather than the Evil Doctor Jarvis. I almost laughed.
I didn’t though… because I was under water and everything…
At that point, of course, the panic was full on him and his thrashing increased from frantic to outright madman quality. We were a tangle of legs and arms and moving water. Both our heads broke the surface and I managed to get behind him and yanked his arms behind his back.
“Who are you?” I shouted into his ear, even as I heard the outboard of the unknown boat approaching.
“Fuck you, meng!” The man spat in a Cuban accent.
‘I’ll drown your sorry ass you don’t talk right fuckin’ now!” I threatened.
The man tried to break my hold. I rewarded him by pushing his head under water. It was no good though. A man was shouting from the center console in Spanish and I heard the sounds of several pistol shots being fired. I don’t know where they went, but I knew I was in a bad spot.
I took a deep breath and surface dived. From six or eight feet down, I could see the blurry silhouette of the small boat slowing down where my recent dance partner was still flailing. I swam hard in a perpendicular direction, trying to distance myself from the boat. I preferred not to be hit with a stray bullet or churning prop after all.
When my lungs seemed on the verge of exploding, I came silently to the surface and caught my breath. I was maybe thirty or forty yards from the small boat. I could also see that the yacht had turned around and was headed back for us. A few shouted words in Spanish and the fishing boat’s motor roared and the small vessel banked away to the west, coming up on plane and vacating the area rather quickly.
A spotlight snapped on aboard the yacht and I heard Lisa’s and Ray’s voices shouting for me.
“Hello the yacht! Over here!” I shouted, wondering how the hell I was going to get aboard. The boat had no after deck or ladder or even a dive platform.
As the big Abeking and Rasmussen super yacht came to a stop ten yards away, the entire after section of the transom from the waterline to the base of the main deck folded down until it touched the water. I swam over and easily came aboard on the built-in steps and saw a large open space with two jet skis and several lockers for other equipment. Ray, Theresa and Lisa stood in the six hundred square foot swimming staging area looking at me. Behind them stood Nikki and her boyfriend.
“If you wanted to go swimming,” Ray said as I got to my feet, “you could’ve just said something.”
“Giving up your business concerns to take up standup comedy?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Ray said, shaking my hand and laughing.
“Good thing.”
“Scott… what the hell happened?” Lisa asked with concern. I saw Aleja and George appear in the doorway to the interior of the yacht as well.
“I was getting bored,” I said and shrugged.
“You know… you’re not as cute as you think you are,” Lisa said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Yes he is,” Aleja said, coming forward. “Are you all right?”
“Quite a stunt,” George added with a wry grin.
I sighed, “It’s a story. I don’t know how it starts or ends… but I do know that there are more players in it than I thought.”
At this, I leveled my gaze at Nikki. Ray saw me staring and turned around.
“Cooper?” Ray asked, mistaking my gaze as being meant for the blonde man rather than for the blonde woman.
“Ask the girl,” I said, stepping forward, “I think we need to have a private conference, Ray. You, me, the blonde here and whoever else is interested.”
“Is everything okay?” Aleja asked, looking from me to Lisa and back to me.
“I don’t know yet, Aleja,” I said. “Just part of the case. Why don’t you and George go back with the rest of the guests and have dinner. We’ll be with you shortly.”
George nodded and guided his wife back into the interior of the ship. Theresa looked at Ray and he nodded. She turned to me, “A real action hero, aren’t you?”
“Ours is not to question why… ours is but to do or die… Cliff Clavin,” I replied.
“Cliff Clavin said that?” Theresa asked with a chuckle.
“Probably.”
“Not originally though,” She said.
“Nah… it was some navy guy er somethin’.”
“Jesus…” Lisa shook her head and grinned.
Everyone filed back through the door into the corridor leaving Ray, Lisa, Nikki, her boyfriend or whoever he was and myself.
“Well,” I began. “Isn’t this a heartwarming reuni
on? Can I take it…? Cooper? Cooper, that you know the young lady’s true identity and occupation?”
“Of course,” Cooper said, seeming a little piqued. “We’ve been dating for nearly a year now. I know all about Nikki being in the FBI… how do you know?”
I grinned at him, “We’ve met before. Scott Jarvis. Your humble servant, sir.”
His eyes went wide and he looked to his girlfriend, “This is the guy from the books?”
Nikki smirked, “In the flesh. How are you, Scott?”
“Oh, the usual,” I said, squishing in my loafers. “Punched, kicked, pistol whipped and soaking wet.”
“Typical Tuesday night,” Lisa added with a wink.
“You two know each other… FBI… what the hell is going on here?” Ray asked in confusion.
“I’d be happy to explain it over a delicious grown up sippy,” I said wearily. “No chance I can get some dry clothes, is there?”
Lisa and I were shown to a guest cabin on the lower deck. Theresa followed us with a bundle of clothing.
“Scott and Ray are the same height,” she said, “but I’m afraid Scott is a size larger for shirts. I’ve got a pair of jeans and skivvies here that should fit you, and one of our crew has donated another Guayabera for you. Just leave your wet stuff in the corridor and it’ll be washed for you. Shoes too.”
“Thank you, Theresa,” Lisa said. “I really ought to know to pack a bag for him when we go out.”
“Kids can be such a challenge, can’t they?” Theresa commiserated and the two women giggled.
“Ha, ha, ha,” I grumped, peeling my wet shirt off. “Theresa… that man was in your private suite. I’d check everything out carefully.”
She nodded, “Ray is doing that now. Give us fifteen minutes and he said he’ll meet you on the flying bridge. Enough time for you to grab a quick shower. There’s stuff in there already.”
After she’d gone, I stripped out of my clothing and Lisa put it out in the hall. She turned and grabbed my butt in both of her hands, “My hero.”
“Don’t start,” I warned. “We’ve only got fifteen minutes.”