by Rich Johnson
“Touchy,” Josh said.
“Mister,” the computer operator answered, “consider yourself lucky. The old man doesn’t like new dogs trying to mark his territory. Meaning no disrespect, sir.”
“None taken.”
Josh closed the door behind him and returned to his seat by the window across from Pfister. For the next hour, neither man spoke. Josh sat looking out the window, trying to imagine what he was going to find when he got on the ground at San Luis Miguel. Pfister seemed to have lost himself in paperwork as he sat making notes on a clipboard and occasionally going forward to relay messages to the pilot that he apparently didn’t want Josh to hear. It was the longest hour Josh could remember, but finally the landing gear touched down and the plane taxied to the terminal.
“The chopper is waiting,” Pfister finally spoke, but his words were cold. “You’ll have two stops on the way out, the first for refueling and the second will be the Victory. They’ll still be many hours from the island, when you arrive.” Then, without offering a handshake, the captain turned on his heels and walked away.
Josh grabbed his flight bag and was met by a crewman from the chopper who led him aboard. At 2330 hours, Josh stepped out of the chopper onto the landing pad of the 270-foot WMEC Victory.
“We’re three and a half hours out, sir,” the crewman said. “Do you want to get some shuteye before we make landfall?”
No matter how much adrenaline was coursing through his veins, Josh had to admit that he was tired. “Sure. Lead the way.” He followed into the sleeping quarters and was shown a narrow steel bunk.
“Sorry, sir, this is all we have,” the crewman said.
“It’ll do just fine. I’ve slept in a lot worse places, believe me.” He tossed his flight bag onto the foot of the mattress, removed shoes and socks, stripped off his shirt and pants and crawled into the bottom bunk. It was too hot for covers, so he just turned his face to the wall to hide from the red night vision light and closed his eyes.
A puff of warm breath raised the hair on the back of his neck, but before he had a chance to turn, he felt soft arms wrap around him and then Susan whispered, “Josh, be careful. I love you.”
The next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. “It’s time, sir.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
A thunderous pain pulsed in Dan Plover’s head, as consciousness started to return. At first, everything was a blur that faded in and out of double vision, then finally began to clear, but his brain shut down again and he closed his eyes. His world rolled over in a dizzy spin and he couldn’t quite remember what happened. In the darkness and the whirl, he forced the thoughts to come. I was talking with Nicole, and … Then it slowly flooded back. The man with the thick black beard, the one who asked for gasoline … Yeah, it was coming to him. His eyes opened again and this time, as his vision cleared, he saw the bearded man, and he was holding a dagger to Nicole’s throat.
“You will do exactly as I say, or I will slit her throat.” There was no emotion in the man’s voice. For all appearances, he was not the least bit excited or worried. It was all just a matter of simple fact: if Dan did anything wrong, Nicole would die, and there was no question about it.
“What is it you want?” Dan asked from his position on the floor, afraid to move enough even to sit up.
“You will take me where I want to go.” He pulled Nicole’s head back and pressed the blade deeply against her neck.
“Whoa,” Dan yelled, “hold on there, mister. No need to get excited. I’ll take you where you want to go. Just back off with that knife a little. There’s no reason to hurt anybody here.”
Husam al Din eased the blade from Nicole’s throat, but held her head back tightly into his chest and the dagger was still only a breath away. “You will take me to Miami.”
“Okay,” Dan said, “I can do that. But it’s several days away from here at the speed we are able to travel. If you want to get there, we can’t sit here like this the whole trip.” He glanced around the main salon, but from where he lay on the floor of the starboard hull, he couldn’t see if Jacob and Cadee were there.
“You have children on this boat.”
It was a statement, not a question, and Dan wondered how the man knew about the kids if they weren’t in the main salon. “I can smell them,” he answered the unasked question. “I want them out here, right now, in front of me so they can see the danger their mother is in. Then they will know that if they don’t do exactly as they are told, their mother will die.”
“Jacob … Cadee,” Dan called, not wanting to display any hesitation before this madman. “Come here, please. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
From the port aft cabin Jacob emerged, and the sound made Husam al Din whirl around, the blade still at Nicole’s throat.
Cadee came down from the forward stateroom and saw her dad lying on the floor. “Dad,” she cried out, “are you okay?”
“I’m okay, sweetie. This man has taken us hostage and is demanding that we take him to Miami. We are going to do exactly as he tells us, or he says he’ll kill mom.”
“It is not just that I say I will kill her,” Husam al Din snarled, “I will kill her. And after that, I will kill you,” – he pointed the dagger at Jacob – “and then I will kill you,” – he aimed the blade at Cadee. “You,” – he looked at Dan – “I will keep alive, because I need you to sail me to Miami. You will do it. How many members of your family die along the way is up to you.”
Dan held up one hand. “Well, just relax. I’ll take you to Miami, but …” he lowered his eyelids half way and stared at the man, “… I’ll tell you something. If you kill any one of us, this voyage is over. You’ll have to kill me, because I’ll be on you like ants on a picnic and I won’t stop until either you or I are dead.” He looked at Cadee and then at Jacob, “Kids, if that happens, you go overboard. Your mom and I will see you beyond the veil. We’re a forever family and we’ll be there waiting for you. I promise you that.”
Cadee broke into tears and fell to her father’s side, hugging his neck. “I don’t want anything bad to happen,” she wailed.
“None of us do,” Dan consoled her. “But if this man kills your mom, for any reason,” – he turned to face Husam al Din – “I will no longer cooperate, and he’s going to have to kill me next because I won’t let him come after you unless he kills me first.” He pointed a finger at the bearded man, “I hope you understand that, mister.”
Without any change in his expression, Husam al Din slipped his forearm around Nicole’s neck, laid the blade against her cheek and pulled her backward out through the door to the cockpit. “You and you,” – he nodded toward the children – “sit there.” He pointed to the dinette. Then he looked at Dan, “You get up and come out here.”
Jacob and Cadee looked at their dad, and he nodded. “Everything will be all right.” He rose to his feet, climbed the steps into the main salon and then ducked out through the companionway door.
“Sit there,” Husam al Din commanded, and Dan slipped into the captain’s chair. “Now, we will go to Miami.”
“What about your boat?”
“That is not my boat. I do not care about it.”
Dan looked up at the sails, then at the apparent wind gauge and turned the wheel to adjust coarse. “Why don’t you just take our boat and leave us in that one? Eventually, someone will come along and find us. Just give us some food and water, and take our boat.”
“I know a lot of things, but I do not know how to sail. I will keep you alive only for that.”
Dan nodded. “I see. Are you going to hold a knife to her throat all the way to Miami?”
“If I must, I will.”
Dan turned to face the man. “Look, I already told you that I will take you to Miami, and my word is good. I have no interest in interfering in your business, if you’re running drugs or whatever it is. My only interest is in keeping my family safe. So you can put your knife away. We aren’t going to fight you. But I ca
n’t sail this boat by myself. Everybody has a job to do to make the boat operate, and if you want us to take you to Miami then you’re going to have to let us do our jobs.”
Husam al Din held his arm around Nicole’s neck, the blade to her face, but Dan saw his eyes start to shift and knew the man was thinking. After a moment, he relaxed his arm just a bit. “You are a man of the book?”
“A man of the book?” Dan asked.
“You believe in the Bible?”
“Yes,”
“You believe in eternity?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And you believe that your family will be together in eternity?”
“That is one of our beliefs, yes.” Dan responded, setting Buzz to steer, then turning to face the bearded man. “And do you believe, as well?”
“There is no God but Allah. That I believe.”
“I don’t care what name you use for God. Allah is fine with me,” Dan said.
“Most of your people do not believe.” Husam al Din looked at Dan.
“That’s their loss,” Dan said.
“And you are not afraid to die, or to have your family die?”
“Death is part of life. Without it, we cannot return to God. No, I’m not afraid to die. But I don’t want to die tonight.”
“That is what separates us.” Husam al Din stared at Dan with black eyes. “I am ready to die right now.”
“I want to live as long as God will allow,” Dan said, “but when He wants me to come home, I will go.”
“If you are a believer, then you should be a man of your word,” Husam al Din said, with no change of expression.
“I am.”
“Will your family follow your commands?”
“I don’t command. That is not the way of a good husband or a good father. But when I make a decision for the family, they all support me.”
Husam al Din relaxed his arm from Nicole’s neck and removed the blade from beside her cheek. “Then make a decision for your family and make sure they understand it well, and you all may live.”
Nicole rushed to Dan’s side and he swallowed her in his arms, leaving Husam al Din standing at the far side of the cockpit. “We have been through enough, already,” Dan said to their captor. “We do not want any more trouble. I have made a decision for the family. We’ll take you to Miami, and my wife and children will support me in this decision.”
“Very well.” Husam al Din sat on the far cockpit bench, facing Dan. “Then go about your business of sailing to Miami. How long will it take?”
“I’ll do some calculations. We weren’t intending to go there, so I don’t know the numbers without checking the charts.”
“Then check your charts and make your calculations. I will wait.”
****
Through the night, they sailed north toward the Yucatan Channel, strong current boosting them along and adding miles to their progress. Nicole and the children occupied the bed in the forward stateroom, but none of them slept. With the cabin light off, they lay on their backs and watched the stars through the deck hatches, and Nicole whispered a bedtime story to calm their nerves – her own as much as the kids’.
“With a sailboat,” Dan explained, “it is impossible to say exactly how fast we will be able to travel. We still have more than 700 nautical miles to Miami. Right now we are making almost eight knots, but the wind can change.”
“You have an engine.”
“We do,” Dan admitted, “and about forty-five gallons of fuel, between what is in the tanks and in the jerry cans. On flat water and not fighting a current, at the most efficient cruising speed, that will take us about 350 miles at seven knots.”
Husam al Din did the math in his head. “So, if you can sail at least half the time, and you have to use the motor the other half of the time, we can still make it all the way to Miami without refueling.”
“Under perfect conditions, we can make the trip in roughly a hundred hours – a little over four days. But there are no guarantees. We may end up facing contrary currents, or another storm could catch us. We may lose the wind altogether and not have enough fuel for the whole trip.”
“You speak too much of problems.” Husam al Din frowned. “You must learn to be more positive.”
“I’m just telling it like it is.” Dan shrugged. “I don’t want you to be disappointed in our progress and thinking that I’m doing something to intentionally hold us back.”
Husam al Din rose from his seat and stretched. “You are an honest man?”
“My father taught me to be,” Dan answered.
“I must sleep. I want your word as an honest man that you will not do anything to slow our progress toward Miami. On the life of your children.”
“My honor is good enough,” Dan bristled. “You have my word. I am not interested in any harm coming to my family.”
“I will sleep there,” Husam al Din pointed to the dinette seat. “I want to be close.”
“The table can be lowered to make a bed,” Dan offered.
“Not necessary. My comfort is not a concern.”
Dan noticed that the man with the beard never let the duffel bag get very far from his grasp. Everywhere he went, even to use the bathroom, the duffel bag went with him. Now, he took it into the cabin and placed it on the floor beneath the dinette table as he stretched out on the bench seat to sleep. A curious question kept nibbling at Dan: I wonder what is so important in that bag?
****
Just before dawn, Dan heard the bearded man snoring deeply. With Buzz tending the steering, Dan quietly removed his sandals and stepped through the companionway door. He saw the duffel bag under the table, not more than six feet away from where he stood watching the man sleep and listening to his heavy, slow breathing. Without a sound, Dan slowly knelt to the floor. Beneath the dinette table, he had a clear view of the sleeping man’s face, and now the bag was less than four feet away. With a little shift in his position, he could almost reach it.
The boat rolled gently on long, low swells, and Buzz hummed as it turned the wheel to keep the boat angled properly to the wind. Dan leaned toward the table, ducked under and reached. Buzz hummed, and the sails slatted in a wind shift, then tightened again and were quiet. Only a foot to go. Then suddenly, his hand tightened around the handle loops and he lifted the bag just high enough to clear the floor.
Quietly, an inch at a time, Dan pulled the bag to him. Like a shadow, he moved back into the cockpit and placed the duffel on the captain’s chair. Over his shoulder, he glanced again at the man sleeping on the dinette seat, then turned his attention to the bag. He wrapped one hand across the zipper to muffle the sound of its opening and with the other he pulled the tab slowly.
Without turning on the cockpit light, for fear it would awaken his captor, Dan reached into the bag to feel what was there. Soft cloth met his touch. Clothing. He dug down through the gauzy material and his fingers touched something hard. With fingers trained to Braille, he felt the length of the hard, metal tube. Most of it was textured in a crosshatch pattern. Near one end, he felt a groove that ran all the way around the tube, as if it were a place of joining two pieces together. In his mind he was drawing a picture of what his hands felt. Beyond the groove, the tube was closed off. An end cap.
His fingers explored the surface of the cap and he detected a tiny circle, then another. He felt around the end cap and found seven identical circles that felt like small holes. Satisfied with his examination of that end of the tube, he moved his hand along its length to the other end, where he discovered a flared bell-shape. Across the face of the bell, the surface was smooth as glass, and the picture was clear in his mind. A flashlight.
His fingers moved back down the barrel and found a soft rubber button. The switch. He paused at the switch and ran his fingers across it, pressing lightly.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Josh Adams rolled out of the bunk and pulled his clothes on, then followed the crewman topside. When Josh came through the
door to the bridge, the coxswain was scanning the island through a binocular. In the light of the moon, the silhouette of the island stood off the port bow, perhaps a half mile away and downwind. Without revealing details of his mission, Josh had advised an upwind position, but was careful not to say that it was to avoid the chance of contamination from a wind-borne toxin. To Josh, the container bearing the serial number BA11M was a toxic zone and was to be treated with the same respect that a nuclear site would receive. But he was not to make any of this known to the men on the ship. Until he determined otherwise, the container was one of the most dangerous places on earth. But it was also one of the most important secrets, from a national security standpoint.
“What do you see?” Josh asked the coxswain.
“See for yourself, sir.” The coxswain handed him the binocular and he pressed it to his eyes.
“There’s the river,” Josh said. “Leads back into the overgrowth like a dark tunnel. No lights anywhere, and nobody moving around.”
“No, sir.” The coxswain took the binocular back and continued his watch.
“I must go ashore alone,” Josh said. “I’ll need night vision, one of your hazmat suits and a Zodiac.”
“Carter,” the coxswain said, and a young crewman stepped forward.
“Aye, sir.”
“Take Mr Adams down to the small boat launch platform.”
“Aye, sir,”
Without looking away from the binocular, the coxswain said, “Everything is ready for you. Captain Pfister gave us our orders.”
Seven minutes later, Josh stepped aboard the waiting Zodiac, adjusted the headband for the night vision scope, pulled the hood down and sealed his hazmat suit, and cracked the throttle only slightly so he could pass quietly into the night toward the mouth of the river. Several minutes later, with a hundred yards to go, he cut off the ignition and the Honda outboard fell silent.