RED SUN ROGUE
Page 35
“I’d never imagined I could be so lucky,” she said, looking around. “We’re in the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, surrounded by people I—” her voice broke “—people who have risked their lives for each other without hesitation.” She stole a glance at Jonah and blurted out the next words, her voice running away from her. “And . . . I know we talked about this, but I’m still not taking your name and thanks for not taking it personally or whatever.”
Hassan ran his hands up her arms, resting finally on her bare shoulders, steadying her. “So long as you take my hand, I am the happiest man on the earth.”
“So I, Alexis Andrews, take you Hassan Nassiri, from this day forward—and forever—and ever—and ever—” She stopped speaking, suddenly too overcome to continue.
“Why are you crying?” whispered Hassan as he ducked his head to her height, brushed the tears from her eyes with a single soft thumb.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, shaking her head vigorously. “Everything. All the reasons. I wish we had rings.”
“I am not wholly useless,” said Hassan. He reached into his pants pocket and retrieved two bands, one a delicate, ornate woven design of white gold, the other a thick yellow loop for himself. He slipped the smaller of the two over her finger. “This was my mother’s. She would have wanted you to have it.”
Alexis took the larger band, turning it over in her hands. “Where—? How—?”
“I forged its mate from fragments of our home, from the Scorpion,” he said. “There was a great deal of debris from which to choose.”
Alexis held Hassan’s hand and placed the ring on his finger as everyone watched in silence.
“Be good to each other,” Jonah said as he placed his open palms on their shoulders. “Also, I think you two were supposed to say ‘I do’ at some point, but we may have glossed over that bit. And wasn’t somebody supposed to bring a couple of pieces of rope to tie together? We went over this in the meeting—”
Hassan and Alexis didn’t even hear him as they held each other, staring into each other’s eyes, seemingly deaf to Jonah’s voice.
“Are they kissing yet?” Marissa shouted over the satellite telephone. Hassan swept Alexis off her feet, cradling her in his arms as his mouth met hers, kissing her as her bare feet dangled in the air, the crown of tropical flowers nearly falling from her long, blond hair. Vitaly, Dalmar, and Sun-Hi, tears on her cheeks, cheered and hugged the kissing couple, whooping and hollering as their voices echoed through the valley below.
“I don’t know what tomorrow brings, but today brings great joy.” Jonah’s voice was barely audible over Vitaly and Dalmar. “We’re going to eat. We’re going to drink. And we’re going to be merry. Dalmar’s spent two days hunting in the jungle, and the rest of us have done our best to scrounge together a fantastic feast.”
“I also picked the most beautiful bridal bouquet,” announced Dalmar, handing the bouquet back to Alexis.
“And I’ve never been to a wedding where the groom is also the chef, but Hassan has outdone himself once again,” Jonah added. “Oh, and I almost forgot—Vitaly’s been brewing up some coconut rotgut in the engine room. Try it at your own risk. You’ll either get drunk or go blind.”
“Both always possibility,” Vitaly said with utmost seriousness.
“Sun-Hi’s set up a hi-fi system on the beach,” Jonah continued, “and we’re going to light the biggest bonfire this island’s ever seen.”
“I have Michael Bublé, very forbidden!” Sun-Hi declared. “Also Billie Holiday, Norah Jones, John Coltrane!”
The crew began to file down the steep jungle trail, but Jonah hung back, watching them go. He wanted to linger on the rocky bluff for one more moment, alone in his thoughts. Alexis spotted him, patting Hassan on the shoulder as she turned, stepping back up the trail with the hem of her dress and her bouquet clutched up in one hand. She stood beside Jonah as the last of the sun slipped silently beneath the waves with a faint green flash almost lost to the distance.
I knew your father, Himura had said. Jonah hated himself for his fixation on those final words. It was plausible enough; his father spent the years leading up to his disappearance deeply involved in the American intelligence community. Or maybe it was just a maddening thrust from the grave, Himura wouldn’t have needed the power of Meisekimu to unearth ugly secrets from Jonah’s family history.
Alexis placed a hand on her captain’s back, gently pulling him back into the moment. “What’s next for us?”
“A celebration,” Jonah said, still facing the fading sunset. “And one that traditionally requires your attendance.”
She shook her head. “Beyond tonight. I need to know that this wedding wasn’t for nothing—that Hassan and I actually have a chance at a future that isn’t . . . this.”
Jonah turned to consider her for a few moments before answering. “I haven’t told anyone else yet, but we’re going back to the Mediterranean Sea.”
“The Mediterranean? Why?” “I’ll tell you more when the whole crew is together again, but the short version is this—I’m the only man alive who knows the exact location of a vast sunken treasure in Moroccan waters. My last attempt to recover it cost the lives of some good people and landed me a long stretch in prison. I spent every waking moment in that cage thinking about the day I’d go back.”
“And now you’re not alone—now that you have us— you want to try again?”
“We’re ready,” he said. “If we can take down Bettencourt and Himura, we can do anything. And if we’re successful, we can buy whatever future we want. What do you say; want to go on a treasure hunt?”
Alexis smiled. “Yeah,” she said, looping her arm in his. “I think I just might.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A funny thing happened not long after I began working on this novel. My son Samuel Oliver Zajonc, our first, was born January 21, 2016. Those first few incredible months were spent in a blurry, sleepless, love-filled daze of feedings, diapers, and other trappings of new parenthood. Amidst this beautiful chaos I somehow found myself with a finished novel in hand, but only vague and fleeting memories of actually writing it.
What I do clearly remember is the amazing people who helped me every step of the way. Great thanks go to literary agent Carrie Pestritto, editor Kristina Makansi and the rest of the team at Blank Slate Press. My eternal appreciation is once again owed to Jonathan Wu and the writers of The People’s Ink of Portland, Oregon for their wisdom and insight on this project. Most of all, thank you to Andrea, my wife, for all that you do.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a maritime historian and shipwreck expert, Taylor’s real-life adventures parallel those of his fictional counterparts. His fascination with exploration began when he joined a Russian expedition to the deepest archaeological site on the planet, descending nearly three miles into the abyss of the Bermuda Triangle aboard a Soviet-era submersible. Now a recognized expert in his field, his research has contributed to some of the most incredible shipwreck finds in history, including a 110-ton trove of sunken World War II silver.
Taylor lives in rainy Portland, Oregon with his wife, son and their twelve-year-old collie mix, Potter.