China Jewel

by Thomas Hollyday

  “It had cleared slightly and we could see the rock of Cape Horn to our starboard. Then fog closed in and the visibility lessened to one hundred feet. We had men out on the bow watching the sea ahead.

  “Suddenly the prow of the America came at us from our port. It had been impossible to stay ahead of her. She was on a starboard tack directly in our way. We had no room and her captain needed to avoid us by letting out sail.

  “In spite of our shouts and waving of arms and flags he refused to give way. He bore at us. His crew stared at us as if they were readying themselves for the impact. Then it came, her bow scraping into our side and her spars grazing our rigging. He was essentially pushing us into the shoreline where we would be wrecked.

  “At that moment his topsail brace let go and the large square sail sprung back from the wind. The America gave a lurch and slipped back to port. The space between our boats increased.

  “We had enough room to bring our ship more to port and adjust sail. We were dangerously close to the shoreline. The other ship drifted away as her crew rushed to get control of her loose topsail. As the sail was repaired, the America moved on to a port tack and sailed off out of sight in the fog. Meanwhile we fought to gain momentum and pulled in our sails to get forward motion again. Just barely did we clear the rocks.

  “Off our port bow the Chilean frigate Minstero Zwentavo is standing by. She has sent up her red helicopter which has been buzzing us and taking pictures. I am sure a full photographic record of the damage to our port side will be in their report.

  “The pictures will show that we received no structural damage or broken planks in the side of the hull but some paint is scraped down to board. I expect that we will have much data and proof for a challenge to the America. You had warned us of the aggressiveness of the competitors. The America kept boring down on us as if she meant to sink us.”

  “Bastards,” shouted Cutter.

  Doc Jerry said, “Strand and Slidell tried to do a job on us.”

  Cutter asked the captain who was still on the sat phone, “Anyone hurt?”

  “No crewmembers were hurt.”

  "This time," said Cutter. He muttered, “Strand can’t get away with this.” He stood and headed for the door heading outside the operations center.

  “Where are you going?” asked Doc Jerry but he knew the answer.

  “Call the airport. These killers can’t hide in their offices in New York.”

  Chapter 13

  July 27, 12 Noon

  New York City

  It was an old seven-story building, brick, in poor repair. A small sign indicated that the office of Strand International was inside. Inside, there was a tiny lobby, with a stairway and an elevator. He could see that the stair treads were well worn as if the regular employees had already made the same decision to forego the elevator. He pressed the elevator button and the old door slid back, barely staggering as it opened. The inside box was worn and he could almost see the ghosts of the last century or more of riders. He quickly chose the stairs.

  At the top of the first landing was a frosted glass door. He entered. He was looking at threadbare offices with busy employees who paid no attention to him. So much for one the Fortune 500’s biggest corporations. It was popular knowledge in the business community that Strand took the least expensive quarters he could get and had his employees work in dimly lit offices. Bill had remarked the Strand gang was trying to beat the Internal Revenue Service on property asset taxes.

  He moved quickly to a doorway with Slidell’s name.

  “Hold it, mister,” said a beefy voice. The security officer was suddenly beside him. He was in a blue suit, looked tough, and Cutter knew he was armed. The man kept his right hand under his jacket and reached for Cutter with his left. He said, “What you think you’re doing?”

  “I came to see Slidell.”

  The guard jerked forward as he drew a large revolver. Cutter saw this coming and struck hard with his right into the man’s throat. The man coughed and reached for his throat. His gun hand fell. Cutter faked a kick toward his crotch. As the guard moved to guard himself, Jim hit his jaw with a fast uppercut, knocking the man’s head backward into the sharp metal edge of a file cabinet. Blood spurted from the guard’s face as he came to rest, unconscious, with cardboard files falling gently across his chest.

  “Just take it easy, mister.” Another guard was behind him with a drawn revolver.

  Slidell’s door opened. “Bring Mister Cutter in here.” Slidell said. “I thought he’d show up today.”

  Slidell returned to his desk, two other security men standing nearby. Slidell said, “Jim,” and raised his hand to ease back his men.

  “Let’s talk,” said Slidell, smiling, from behind several computer monitors. Jim only glared at him.

  Unlike the rest of the quarters, Slidell’s office was modern with glass desks and shiny metal chairs and tables. High glass windows looked over New York harbor toward Long Island. The sun was to the other side of the building and through the windows Cutter could see the shadow shape of Strand International stretching over lower buildings.

  On one wall a large blowup diagram and photograph of the Chinese Clipper car hung prominently, its construction details displayed and the side view photograph in full color. Black arrows had been laid across the drawing to indicate manufacturing questions.

  “I’ll make sure you’ll never see that car,” said Cutter

  Slidell pushed back from the closest and largest of his computers; turned back to Cutter.

  “I’d like to see how you plan to do that. Sit down, old friend,” he said with his crooked grin.

  “We’re never been old friends, Angel,” Cutter replied.

  He went on, staring at the man’s oversize black sunglasses, trying to penetrate into Slidell’s eyes.

  Slidell broke from the stare and looked down, his left hand trying to smooth his wisps of hair on his white head. He said, “Oh, I thought this was a friendly visit.” He stacked his correspondence, making Cutter wait.

  Cutter tossed on Slidell’s desk the photographs sent in by the Peregrine from Cape Horn. Slidell looked at them, sifting them.

  “Sit down, old friend,” said Slidell again, his voice less friendly this time. Some pink appeared in his pale white face.

  Cutter sat as he said, “You tried to murder my crew.”

  “My captain is ready to complain about your dangerous ship handling,” said Slidell. “Your boat got in his right of way. Your captain made a mistake.”

  “Not what the photos show.”

  “We’ll see. Our captain is also suggesting Strand International sue the boat builders who gave us faulty halyard controls. The lines broke when we were at risk near your boat. Our crew could have been killed if they had not been such good seamen.” He stopped, thoughtful. Then he said, “If you would prefer, you can join us on the lawsuit.” Lines appeared on his forehead above the sunglasses. This was the look Cutter remembered from Africa, the way this man appeared before he ordered a murder. He said, “You can inform me of something else while you are here. Is it true this brig Peregrine is sailing under a suspicious history? According to the Chinese race rules, something unsavory in the boat’s story may disqualify it. We are certainly interested in this. We don’t want to race felons,” he added, placing the photographs neatly to the side of the desk.

  Cutter responded quickly. “You people planning some lie for the media?”

  Slidell smiled and said, “One of your people likes to talk.”

  Cutter continued to stare at Slidell, not moving his eyes to indicate any surprise. He knew the architect had been the one to talk to Slidell, trying to cover his ass, the coward.

  “So what, Cutter?” asked Slidell. He tossed the pictures back to Cutter. “Besides, I am sure, pictures can be easily faked. Your own specialty, I remember, a few times in the past.”

  Cutter said, “You don’t change much, Slidell.”

  “Yes, maybe so, but you sure as hell do, Jim
my.”

  He paused. “You know, Jimmy, you guys are like a ball team which has lost its star batter.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Hear me out. In the old days, if you’d been on that boat of yours, I’m damn sure you would have run across the water and smacked that captain of mine right hard. I mean, nobody used to push around Jimmy Cutter. Now it’s like your captain has been ordered to turn the other cheek. My boat people told me the Peregrine just dropped back and licked her wounds. You didn’t tell him to go after us. Not like the old Jimmy. Nossir, that’s not the way it used to be. Of course, don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. None of us Strand people are sorry about you turning out this way.”

  Cutter saw Slidell’s mouth try to grin. It came out a toothy fiasco as usual.

  Slidell continued, “Face it, neither one of our employers is a good guy. They wouldn’t be where they are if they were pussies about breaking the rules.”

  “Speak for yourself. You like hurting people, Angel. Back in Africa, you had your men attack my family on purpose and kill women, children, and refugees who were taking safety in the village. You did it, Slidell. Someday I’ll make you admit it.”

  “You and who else? The law agreed with me I did nothing wrong. Anyway, you were never concerned about such things before. You did your share. The only reason you are still angry is your family got in the way this time and you had to have someone to blame. Defending a village from a legitimate government strike force is not the way to take care of your people, Cutter. You were just caught on the wrong side and you won’t admit it. About your family, blame yourself. I didn’t bring them into the country and put them at risk. You should get over it anyway. Everyone else has written all those days off.”

  Cutter said, his fists tight, “It’s hard to describe a village full of old people and families as revolutionaries. Maybe we ought to say the government was against people who owned the leases your company wanted.”

  “The government owned those leases. Your company tried to steal them. They were helping us to protect our property.”

  “The government officers you bought, you mean.”

  Slidell sighed and said, “You mean we paid more than you. You’ve used a few bribes in your time, Cutter. As I remember bribes were your specialty, old friend.”

  “I never killed people on purpose. You went after my wife with your thugs. No surprise what they would do.”

  That day, he had been at the wells, working on the disposal fields for the drilling water waste, the pollution overflowing on the villagers’ farmland and infuriating the locals. He had his guards on the perimeter, expecting the usual snipers.

  Back in the village where his family lived, Rosa had been preparing dinner and Jamie was just coming home. His son had been on the river sailing with the local chief who had befriended Jamie. Suddenly mortar rounds smashed into the muddy street and set the huts on fire. Flames lifted skyward and the porch of Cutter’s house began to burn. Jamie ran into Rosa’s arms as the chief was struck down halfway across the street.

  Rosa hid with the boy in the dirt under the house floor, flames roaring above them. Uniformed government troops ran by, shooting everyone they saw. Some of them called Cutter’s name. Bursts of machine gun fire kept up for more than an hour.

  A jeep roared through the village carrying several white men. Rosa was not able to see their faces but told Cutter she heard them order their soldiers to kill everyone, to leave no one alive.

  The memory made Cutter tighten his fists again. He said, “I’ll hurt you if you go after my boat again.”

  “Starboard tack had the right of way, friend.”

  “Remember what I said.”

  “Seems like I’ve heard that one before.”

  Slidell was quiet for a long moment, then pointed to the car picture. “Not to say you aren’t a smart guy, Jimmy. Not as smart as me but smart enough. I wouldn’t mind being your boss. If we win, your company will take a great loss. Johnson will let you go and you’ll need a job. You’ll like working for us instead of Bill Johnson.”

  At that moment, Strand burst into the office, his small body almost off balance as he did so. The door slapped the wall. He said, “You got something to say to my employee you talk to me first.”

  Cutter said, “Your boy Angel and I are finished talking.”

  Behind Strand came a middle-aged woman waving her arms. Cutter noted the large rings on her fingers. Must be his lawyer, he thought.

  Strand tried to look tough, something Cutter knew he relied on his employees to do for him. He said in his weak voice, “Don’t bring your dirty lies in here. Your boat has enough bad history. That clipper will probably be disqualified long before arriving in China.”

  Cutter showed his anger as he practically shouted, “Then tell your people to follow the rules.”

  “We do,” said Strand.

  “Yeah, like accidents at our shipyard, a sabotaged mast, and crowding the Peregrine into the rocky Cape Horn shoreline.”

  “You’re a damn liar.”

  Strand moved his head in the direction of Slidell for a long moment. “Tell him your people had nothing to do with his problems.”

  “Sure, boss,” said Slidell with his crooked smile.

  Cutter interrupted, “The media is going to know you hire killers, Strand.”

  “Get out.”

  Cutter shouted, “You don’t belong in a race with decent people.”

  Strand said to his security, “Throw this bum out of here.” Strand’s soft voice did not give the command much power. However, the security men moved forward and the lawyer curled her mouth with hatred, lifting her fists as if she were going to strike Cutter too.

  Cutter bent toward Slidell and said, “You push me again and I’m coming for you.”

  Slidell sat back with his grin, “I don’t think you got that kind of guts any more. Maybe you never did. Some of the folks back in Africa said you left your family alone on purpose. Some thought you were a coward, afraid of getting hurt and stayed out there at the oil fields where you had your guards. Maybe that is why the people used to call you ‘flower’.”

  “You lying bastard.” The guards restrained him.

  Slidell smiled. “A little bit of truth hurts, doesn’t it? I don’t mind. I’ll be here anyway for that job you might want.”

  Outside on the street, he called Bill. His boss answered right away.

  Bill said, “No surprise to me how you feel. Jim, this is not the way. I got a threat of a very public lawsuit about you roughing up a security guy. You broke his jaw, man. They will use that news in the papers.”

  Cutter replied, “I think Strand and Slidell are behind all the trouble we’ve been having. I think they hired a professional to tear up the mast and kill my carpenter. I think they have sabotaged our instruments and I think they tried to sink us there at the Cape.”

  Bill said, “They found something on that mast wood.”

  “The FBI lab?”

  “Turns out the mast was soaked with stump remover.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s a potassium nitrate compound used to rot out tree stumps. The search is on to find the purchase but it could have been bought anywhere in the US. The police think the bearded stranger climbed up that mast when no one was looking, maybe at night. Then he drilled some fine holes around the masthead where the mainmast and topmast are connected. The holes were drilled diagonal so the compound would infiltrate downward. The killer poured in this mixture and covered up the holes with putty. The current thought is that the carpenter somehow discovered the intruder and was murdered before he could report the sabotage. Afterwards the ship sailed and the chemical went to work. It would have weakened the mast enough to eventually break down the rigging at seas.”

  “It’s Strand trying to sink the Peregrine.”

  “Well, if it is Strand’s team, the motive is pretty obvious. He planned to have us lose the race. If it’s someone else, no one knows why the boat
was sabotaged. Likely though it was to stop the Peregrine for some reason.”

  Cutter said, “I bet they’d find gallons of the stuff at one of Strand’s warehouses.”

  “Maybe so. Hard to get a search warrant. That’s all I can tell you, so get back to winning a race.”

  Cutter said, “Angel took time to remind me we did our own underhanded work back in the old days.”

  Bill answered, “Going into their offices and starting a fight is not helping our public image. We’ll do something but a little more carefully.”

  “Remember, we planned this race to be clean, to be consumer perfect. We’re in the big leagues now, Bill. Dirty tricks are not for us. Let Strand get out on a limb and caught with his pants down.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do it to them before they do it to us, you’re thinking. Remember, my boy’s out there.”

  “You never had trouble with the dirty work before.”

  “I’ve done a lot of it, that’s for sure. Seeing my son again reminded me just how much I have done for you. Besides, you never wanted me to hurt people. I carried out the payoffs in bribes.”

  “Well, you think about it. I’m open. Let me know if you come up with something to get back at them but make sure it doesn’t lead back to us. The stakes are the highest they have ever been for Johnson Company.”

  “You want me to order Captain Hall to ram their boat when he gets a chance?” He said this, knowing he could not give such an order.

  Bill thought quietly then said, “Maybe not that obvious. We have to get rough though.”

  “I’ll fill in the staff about the stump chemical.”

  “You advise Katy she might want to watch her back while she’s helping us. Someone might not want us to know the truth about the Peregrine past.”

  Cutter agreed. He was worried about her and thought that he might ask her to stop the investigating. He could get someone else.

  Bill rang off and the phone immediately lit up with a new text.