When I Wake

by Rachel Lee

  He was telling her it was going to be all right, she was sure of that, but she didn’t believe him. She couldn’t believe him. How could she believe him when she knew her hearing would never come back. She was always going to have a gaping hole in her abilities, a huge stumbling block between her and other people that would prevent her from doing things that others took for granted.

  No, it was never going to be all right again.

  She didn’t know when the tears started leaking from her eyes but her face grew wet. The tears, though, far from worsening her mood, seemed to snap her out of it. This was no way to behave when she was facing a crisis, hearing or not.

  She pulled her head back and looked into Dugan’s eyes. “Nobody’s going over there for dinner.”

  He lifted his brows questioningly.

  “We can’t meet them on their turf. They have to come to us.” She hoped she was being clear, because her own voice sounded like a distant trumpet to her, so far away that it might be coming from the other end of a large building.

  But he nodded, and held up his hand, making the okay sign. He understood her, and he agreed with her, and what’s more, he was talking to her without demanding she put in her hearing aids.

  Something in her melted, and the tears began to flow again. He drew her head onto his shoulder and let them wet his shirt. They healed nothing, but their flow and his embrace brought her a vast sense of relief.

  Somebody, at least, wasn’t overwhelmed or offended by her deafness. Somebody, at least, still cared enough to comfort her.

  Somebody cared enough to reach across the yawning chasm that silence had put between her and the rest of the world. The realization gave her a sense of safety. And even though it was illusory, she clung to it.

  These might be her last minutes of safety ever.

  Chapter 17

  The witching hour had passed. The sun was getting low in the sky, and the westerlies had kicked up, blowing a steady fifteen to twenty knots. Waves were rocking the Mandolin and had swung her around so that the Conchita was at ten o’clock. Dugan didn’t want to tear his gaze from the other boat, but Veronica kept shifting around so much that finally he did.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “The wind’s whistling in my hearing aids. I’m trying to find a position to stop it.”

  He was touched that she had shared that. She’d rarely confided the difficulties she faced. Then he decided that he didn’t want to feel touched. Things were in danger of getting out of hand again. He returned his gaze to the yacht.

  “What do you think they’re going to do?” she asked.

  “I haven’t a foggy.”

  “What?”

  He turned so he faced her and repeated himself. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, the wind’s drowning you out.”

  “Be right back.” Rising from the bench, he went below and got out his diver’s slate and marker. Sitting beside her again, he wrote it down for her.

  “Foggy,” she said, reading it. “I thought it was, ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea.’ ”

  He wiped out the words on the slate and wrote new ones. Just an abbreviated version.

  She nodded. At least she wasn’t going to lecture him on the proper use of the language or something. But the fact was, after this afternoon, he was braced for trouble from her. He’d reminded her she was deaf, making her cry, and then he’d had the awful temerity to hold her. Yup, he was in for trouble.

  But he was more concerned about the yacht, and whether the owner was going to make even bigger trouble. Veronica he could handle. A bunch of goons he wasn’t so sure about.

  Sure enough, about a half hour after they were due across the water for dinner, the launch set out again from the yacht.

  “Here they come,” he said needlessly. “Tam?”

  Tam was at the bow again, trailing a line in the water and keeping to himself.

  “We’re about to get company. Whose side are you on?”

  “Yours, of course. Hey, these guys threatened me. I don’t feel very safe with them.”

  “You better not double-cross me.”

  “I won’t. I swear.”

  Dugan wished he felt more confident of that.

  The launch drew steadily closer. He felt the tension growing in Veronica, and he had to resist an urge to take her hand. This wasn’t the time. Hell, this lifetime wasn’t the time. Instead he reached out and felt the Glock beside him.

  The sun was beginning to paint the thin clouds vermillion. There was nothing quite like a tropical sunset.

  He reached for the slate again and scribbled across it, Sit so you can see my face.

  “Why?”

  If trouble, you can see it in my face. You can read me too.

  She nodded and moved from the bench to the director’s chair, which had slid forward a few feet from the rocking of the boat in the increasingly choppy water.

  The launch was closer now, and Dugan didn’t need binoculars to see that there was more than one person aboard it. There were, in fact, three. Not exactly a threatening group, he thought, and relaxed a little. Then he had another thought, and picked up the binoculars.

  No guns. At least none he could see. So unless they were carrying pistols under their shirts or behind their backs, this encounter shouldn’t be too difficult. Unless, of course, they had Uzis or something in the locker under the stern seat. Shit. The possibilities just didn’t get any better.

  When the launch pulled alongside, he saw there were two sailor types and a small man in a riotous tropical print shirt. He had gray hair and a round, friendly face, and Dugan found himself thinking he might have been wrong about all this.

  The small man looked up at him. “¿Con su permiso?”

  Dugan hesitated, not sure he wanted to let anyone board his boat. On the other hand, the guy had asked nicely, and trying to conduct a conversation over four feet of water in two boats that were starting to rock like a roller-coaster ride could get a little ridiculous.

  “Just you?” he asked. “¿Solamente usted?”

  “Just me,” the man agreed in accented English.

  Well, Dugan thought, if the little guy was up here, the big guys down in the boat were less likely to start shooting this way. Under the circumstances, his paranoia seemed extreme, but he wasn’t prepared to let go of it yet. Whatever made him feel safer was good.

  He noted Tam was standing in the bow, watching events closely. Presumably he had both a flare gun and a speargun at hand.

  “Okay,” Dugan told the little man. He got the ladder and hung it over the side. The man made the crossing with athletic ease, as if he did it often. Then he was standing on the deck of the Mandolin, adjusting his clothing and smiling on the world in general.

  “I,” he said in accented English, “am Emilio Zaragosa.”

  Dugan nodded. “Dugan Gallagher. My friends Tam Anson and Veronica Coleridge.”

  “My pleasure,” Emilio said, making a courtly little bow in the direction of the others. “I was concerned when you did not accept my dinner invitation.”

  “We were feeling a little seasick.”

  “Really? You don’t look at all . . . green.”

  “We’re starting to get over it. Look, we really appreciate the offer of hospitality, but we came out here to get away from it all.”

  “So?” Emilio sat, putting himself between Dugan and the launch. Dugan took that as a good sign. Apparently they weren’t getting ready to break out weapons. He sat facing Emilio. Veronica remained seated in the director’s chair, her gaze flying between the two men.

  “Look,” said Dugan, “Why don’t you cut to the chase? Inviting us to dinner was hospitable. Tracking us down when we don’t show is something else.”

  Emilio waved a hand. “I’m sorry. I was concerned.”

  “Really.” Dugan’s voice dripped disbelief.

  Emilio sighed. “Are you going to be difficult, Mr. Gallagher, or can we handle these matters like civilized men?”

&nbs
p; “What matters?”

  “The matter of La Nuestra Señora de Alcantara.”

  Veronica had evidently understood that much of what the man said, because Dugan heard her gasp softly. He didn’t think Emilio heard it, though. Between the wind and the waves, hearing was getting difficult even for him.

  “What’s that?” he asked blandly, pretending he didn’t know.

  “Why dance around?” Emilio asked. “We both know what you’re doing out here. We both know about the ship.”

  “We do?”

  Emilio shook his head. “Games, Mr. Gallagher. Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

  “Fair enough,” Dugan agreed. “So what is it you want from us?”

  “To participate in the salvage.”

  “Really. To what extent? And what are your qualifications?”

  “I’ve brought divers with me. I’ll pay them.”

  “And what do you hope to get out of this?”

  “The joy of discovery.”

  Yeah, right, Dugan thought. “Very magnanimous.”

  Emilio looked embarrassed. “No, no, this is something I have always dreamed of doing.”

  “Well, I think you’ll discover that Ms. Coleridge wants only trained personnel working on this problem right now. It would be too easy for treasure hunters to mess up the recovery and ruin the archaeological value. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Emilio placed his hands on his thighs and looked up at the sky, as if seeking patience. “Perhaps I have not made myself clear. I am going to help you.”

  “Really.”

  “Really. It will be to the advantage of both of us.”

  “How so?”

  “I will bear the expense of the additional divers. Work will proceed more quickly.”

  “I’m not sure that speed is of the essence.”

  Emilio frowned at him, and Dugan began to get a measure of the man. He didn’t like what he saw. There was a coldness to Emilio’s dark eyes, belied by the joviality of his face. He was a man who did not like to be crossed. What now?

  “All right,” Emilio said. “Let me tell you what is going to happen. You are going to sail this boat out of here. I am going to conduct the salvage. And if you do not do this first thing in the morning, I am going to ram your boat, and all that will be found of you is little pieces of flotsam. Is that clear enough?”

  “Very clear. I’ll need to discuss it with Ms. Coleridge.”

  “What is there to discuss?”

  “Whether we’re going to run or be rammed.”

  Emilio’s eyebrows lifted, as if he could scarcely believe his ears. “I am not joking.”

  “Neither am I. Now will you kindly remove yourself from my boat?”

  “Wait.” Veronica spoke, surprising them both. They immediately looked at her. Dugan tried to signal her to be quiet, but she wasn’t paying attention.

  “You want the gold, right?” she asked Emilio.

  He didn’t answer her.

  “You can have the gold. You can have all the gold. I only want one thing from this wreck. If you give me what I want, you can have all the rest.”

  “How are you going to stop me from taking whatever I want?”

  She looked at Dugan, and he realized she didn’t understand Emilio clearly, but had apparently picked up the substance of their conversation from what he had said to Emilio. So he told her what Emilio had said.

  Emilio interrupted. “Why are you repeating me?”

  “Ms. Coleridge is deaf.”

  “Ahh.” Emilio looked at her and gave her a charming smile. “How sad.”

  “It’s not sad.” she said sharply. “It’s irritating. So you want to know how I’m going to stop you?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “It’s really very simple. These are U.S. coastal waters. They’re patrolled regularly. I have a permit to excavate this site. You don’t. So if you don’t keep me around, the next time the Coast Guard passes through here, they’re going to take action against you. You need me. You need us if you hope to salvage much at all.”

  “I don’t care about your Coast Guard.”

  Dugan translated again.

  Veronica looked at Emilio. “You will when you find yourself staring down the barrels of their guns. And what’s more, if I disappear, everyone’s going to have a pretty good idea of what happened to me. So you don’t want to kill us. You don’t want to hurt us at all.”

  Emilio nodded slowly. “Perhaps you have a point.”

  Dugan couldn’t tell if Veronica had understood him, but she didn’t look at Dugan for a translation.

  “All I want is one piece,” Veronica said again. “You can have whatever else you want.”

  Emilio nodded. “I will think about it. We will talk again in the morning.”

  Then he stood up, gave Dugan a mocking salute, and climbed back into his launch. Moments later, he was on his way back to his own boat.

  Dugan looked at Veronica, and saw that she was pale and shaking. Whatever had impelled her to stand up to Emilio that way had deserted her. He was tempted to reach out for her, but first he had another more important task.

  “Tam, you son of a bitch!” he shouted toward the bow.

  Tam faced him and held up both hands, as if to say, What could he do?

  Then Dugan knelt before Veronica, taking her icy hands in his. “Are you okay?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead she tugged her hands from his and reached up, pulling her hearing aids out. “God, the wind is shrieking in my ears. I can’t stand it anymore. I could only hear a few words of what you said, it’s so loud.”

  “Well, you did pretty damn good for someone who couldn’t hear a thing.”

  Her blue eyes, as bright as sapphires, met his. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you. If you want to talk, we’ll have to go below.”

  He wanted to talk about all of this, but first he wanted to do something else. Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her, feeling her fragility, feeling the tremors that shook her. And it felt so damn good when, after a few seconds, she hugged him back.

  He was glad Tam had the sense not to come aft then, because he was feeling an urge to strangle him. If Tam had just told them what was going on from the outset, they could have done something to prevent this. Now they were miles out at sea with no help in sight. Not a great position to be in.

  Veronica was still shivering, so he decided to take her below. Once there, he started brewing a pot of coffee. No one was going to sleep that night anyway, so the caffeine didn’t matter.

  When he joined her at the table, she obliged by putting in her hearing aids again.

  “How much of that did you follow?” he asked her.

  “Not a lot. I got the sense that he was threatening us. Something about ramming, right?”

  “Yeah, he said that. Basically he wants to take over the salvage.”

  “That would follow from what he said about ramming.”

  “I guess so.” They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping coffee, listening to the creaks of the boat as she rocked on the waves.

  “What now?” Veronica asked.

  “I’d suggest hoisting anchor and getting the fuck out of here, but I suspect he’s going to be watching for that.”

  “Could he catch us?”

  “Probably. My engine isn’t likely to be as powerful as his, and if I sail, while I might go faster, I’ll have to tack while he can go straight. Yeah, he could probably ram us. On the other hand, I can maneuver faster. Hmm.” He started thinking about the possibilities of escape.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Veronica said. “I’m not going to abandon the site.”

  He looked at her. “Are you crazy?”

  “Maybe. I don’t care. I’m not going to let him take this away from me.”

  “Woman, you’re out of your mind! There is nothing down there worth our lives.”

  “Maybe not to you.”

  He decided that he was the crazy one. Given his philosophy of life,
that he was here to have fun, why had he gotten tangled up in this mess in the first place? He should have flat-out said no instead of rushing to the aid of a perceived damsel in distress. A damsel who, by the way, was in distress of her own making, and rapidly digging the hole deeper.

  He was sure she must have a few ounces of common sense left in her brain. The problem was how to reach it. “Look, Veronica, maybe you’re willing to risk your neck for that mask, but I’m not. And neither is Tam.”

  Her mouth tightened, drawing into a thin, harsh line. But her eyes held something else, a haunted look that made him squirm where he sat.

  “Okay,” she said. “Take me over to the guy’s boat. I’ll work with him, and you both go home.”

  Yup, she was crazier than a loon. “Don’t be ridiculous. The guy has no intention of letting any of us live to tell the tale of this. How could he? I’m surprised he hasn’t already blown us out of the water.”

  “He’s probably not a murderer. Just a thief.”

  “I should be so lucky. If he’s not a murderer, then how come he was threatening to ram us? No, he’s probably figured out that keeping us alive will prevent the hue and cry being raised. I mean, if we don’t go back to port on a regular basis, sooner or later someone is going to come looking for us. And that might get in the way of his salvage job.”

  “Exactly.” Her eyes were alight again. “That’s exactly why I tried to make the deal with him. He needs us, at least for the time being. He’ll keep us alive as long as we cooperate.”

  “To what end?”

  “Maybe I can get the mask.”

  “Fuck the fucking mask!”

  She blinked and drew back a little. “Will you let me finish? Maybe I can get the mask. But at the very least, we’ll have more time to find a way out of this mess. We have to cooperate.”

  He sat there drumming his fingers, turning the conundrum around in his mind. Discussing things with Veronica wasn’t wise, he decided, because she had a very narrow perspective on events: getting the mask. He, however, had a much broader perspective: saving his neck, and, whether she liked it or not, saving her neck. He didn’t give a flip about Tam’s neck.

  Looking for hints, answers, ideas, or even a grain of hope, he replayed his conversation with Emilio in his mind. “You know,” he said suddenly, engaging Veronica’s attention, “Emilio started off by saying he wanted to help us with the salvage.”