CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Mademoiselle, please be seated.” Vincent adjusted a red napkin on his arm and led Amelia to the candle-lit table inside the boat’s cabin.
Across the lagoon, the sun dropped into the darkening water; the trades ended their restless day. The sailboat buoyed contented in the almost-still cove.
Admiring her in the muted light, Vincent opened a bottle of wine and half-filled their fruit jar glasses.
Amelia fingered her jar and smiled. “Never had wine in a jar before. You and AE ever do anything like this?”
“No, it was strictly business... but, I would have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“She was married.”
“ I thought she led her own life.”
“I only know what she and I did.” He saw the annoyed look on Amelia’s face and offered her a bread stick.
She shrugged, took it. Someday he’d tell her. There was more than one way... She nibbled on the bread stick, dabbed a fork into a fruit bowl. Spearing a slice of mango, she massaged it with her tongue and lips. She saw how Vincent watched her and wondered if he’d looked at AE the same way?
Clinking his glass to hers, Vincent took a long gulp of the deep, red wine. His gaze froze on her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
Amelia leaned across the table and squeezed his hand, then sipped her wine. “I think dinner may have to wait.”
The candle flickered low, wax building around its wick. Subtle shadows danced across the cabin. Light reflected in Amelia’s dark eyes. Vincent moved closer and touched the moistness of her lips. She opened her mouth, moved his hand to her breasts. Eyes closed, they pressed their lips together harder.
Her softness molded against him. She opened her eyes, saw the urgency in his. Stretched on her tiptoes, she returned his kisses faster and hotter. His tongue made her squirm; she tore at his shirt. “I can’t breathe.” She eased back.
Vincent clung to her, felt the wet warmth of her body on his bare chest. “How could I ever be apart from you?”
“You shouldn’t.” She snuggled closer.
The candlelight enhanced her eyes and face, gave her a more exotic look.
Vincent touched her cheeks, traced his fingertips around her open mouth. She closed her wet lips around his fingers and drew them in and out.
“I love this.” He slipped off her shift.
Her body glowed in a shaft of moonlight. Small rippling patterns radiated across her small breasts. “Love me.” She skimmed her hands over his chest.
Her hair brushed against his skin, made him tremble. “How could I not?” He pulled her mouth to his, touched her breasts, and felt the pleasure pulsate through her. Her nipples stiffened when he encircled them.
Amelia gripped his shoulders, dug her nails into his skin, and rotated her hips until her legs nestled in his groin.
They stood frozen a few moments, then he carried her to the bunk. After he eased her down, he backed away, stared, mesmerized by the splendor of her beauty. “I’ve never known anyone like you.” He took off his shorts and faced her naked.
Anticipating what she saw before her, she caressed her hands down her breasts and stomach to her soft mound. He eased beside her, kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks. Her mouth opened with an eagerness she had never experienced.
Vincent fought the roaring fires inside, not wanting what he felt to end. He sealed his mouth to hers, caressed her body from shoulders to hips slow as he could manage. He quivered like it was his first attempt at lovemaking.
Amelia slowly opened her legs when he stroked her inner thighs with feather-like touches. She moaned, raised her hips to him. He pulled back from her lips, kissed his way down her body until his mouth covered her moistness and his tongue tortured her to orgasm.
“Oh, Vincent, nothing could feel better.” She twisted her knees back and forth, parted her legs again. “I need you inside me.” She massaged him, felt his hardness quicken, and guided him into her wetness.
“Like colliding lightning bolts,” he said.
“I know.” She moved her hips against him with a pounding rhythm.
Vincent wanted to go slow but the blending of their bodies was too much for him. He matched her stroke for stroke until he exploded to exhaustion. “Wow!” He fixed on her eyes. “Wow!”
“Double wow!” She slumped in his arms.
“Wow, wow!”
She petted his head. “Nice doggie . . .”
Their laughter shattered the tropical silence and almost toppled them off the berth.
“I must be dreaming,” he said.
“Nice dream.”
Late into the night, they touched and talked lover’s talk that set off more earthquakes. Then they fell asleep, interwoven like a magical quilt.
Before first light, they stirred again, connected with each other in renewed vigor. And then, more sleep....
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Amelia awoke, still in Vincent’s arms, and slipped out of the bunk. For a moment, she looked at him sleeping, then walked up the companionway.
On deck, she felt the warmth of the morning sun on her nakedness. Not much dinner last night. She grinned. She was hungry. Fresh fruit—sounded good for breakfast. She dove into the water and swam to shore.
After shaking her head, she pushed her long hair from her face and ran up the shack’s steps, shoved open the screen.
Amelia’s yell tore through Vincent’s dream, freed him from the cockpit of an old plane on a short stretch of sand. He reached for Amelia, felt only empty sheets. He sat up, opened his eyelids. Sunlight shot through the portholes making him blink. She was gone. He ran on deck, pulling on his shorts.
“Vincent! Vincent!”
He saw her waving from the beach and jumped into the dinghy. “Stay where you are.” He paddled to shore.
She pulled Vincent’s boat onto the sand, motioned toward the hut. “Someone’s been here.”
He jumped out of the dinghy. “Stay here, I’ll check it out and get you some clothes.” He darted for cover under the shack. After a few minutes, he motioned for Amelia to drop down in the dinghy, then crept up the steps, and pushed open the door. Vincent scanned the disheveled room, saw it was empty, and peered into the bedroom. Empty too. He grabbed one of his shirts from the back of the door and waved for Amelia to come up from the beach.
As she approached, he threw her the shirt. “Stay behind me.”
Amelia slipped on the shirt and followed him inside.
“Scope’s gone... maps, too. Radio’s smashed,” he said.
Amelia stooped down, searched through the scattered books and papers. “The island photocopies are gone.”
“Island?”
“Where we spotted the downed plane amongst the gulls.”
Vincent righted the chart table. “You sure?” He dug into the clutter, tossed papers in every direction.
“Slow down.” She gathered the papers in a pile. “You’re making a worse mess. I don’t see them.”
“Those guys in Brisbane knew we had photos.”
“You said they were Viet Cong, but that’s now. They’re not fighting World War II.”
“They’re fighting the U.S. It’s who’s tying it all together, I want. The one who commands your friend Harry.”
Amelia looked up. “I told you, he’s not—”
“Okay, so he’s not your friend, now. Once, he was more.”
“And what does that mean?” Her cheeks flushed.
“Nothing. Better put on the rest of your clothes. Their boat must be anchored close by.”
She stood, snapped her heels together. “Aye, aye, Captain.” Amelia backed away, her hand still placed on her forehead, and turned into the bedroom.
Sometimes, she just couldn’t figure him out. Such a considerate lover, then such a tyrant. She stopped when she saw a large knife stuck into the bed’s headboard. “Vinc—” No, she’d not give him the satisfaction. She scrutinized the blade. Looked like Marine standard-issu
e. Like her dad had kept all those years. Well, Harry’s men were military.
Vincent walked into the room. “I see they left a calling card.”
A quiver shot down Amelia’s back. “Oh, Vincent... guess I’m a little spooked. You know about this?”
“I know the Kempei Tai. Long time ago the Japanese Secret Service targeted their victims by leaving a knife stuck in the headboard of their beds, right above the pillows. But it was always a ceremonial knife.”
“This is military. Dad had one, carried it with him all the time. Taught me how to protect myself. We even played games, knife throwing, night-search combat. I got pretty good.”
Vincent stared at the knife. “Are you saying this is Stan’s Ka-Bar?”
“Can’t be. Mother has his at home. This one’s all beat up. Look at all the nicks in the blade. Cowhide’s scratched up, too.” She pointed at the handle. “Dad kept his sharp and clean, like brand new.”
Vincent pulled out the knife, shifted it from hand to hand, checked the balance and feel.
“You know how to use it, too.”
He gripped the leather tighter. “Been a while, but I’ve used a Ka-Bar a few times.”
“So, what do we do now?” Amelia took a deep breath, stared at the big blade. Moisture formed in her eyes. She turned away.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She pointed. “Just below the handle. Looks like a small ‘s’ etched in the blade.”
He ran his fingers over the ‘s’. “That settles it. I’m gonna disable their boat, then we’re going to Saipan.”
“Thank you, Vincent.”
He embraced her, drew her head to his shoulder. “Stan meant a lot to me, too.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vincent, wide-eyed, scrutinized the ransacked hut. “I knew they’d follow us. The Kempei Tai never gives up.”
Amelia looked up. “I thought they were VC.”
“They are—recruited by Kempei Tai.”
“Think they killed Marvin?”
“Odds weren’t in his favor. Should have stayed with him.”
Amelia knew what he thought. If it hadn’t been for her... She put her hands on her hips. “You left him because of me.”
“Not really. Marvin knew what he was doing.”
“You mean, getting himself killed?”
“Part of the job.”
“Why do you take it so calmly?”
Vincent did not answer. He picked up a book on the Japanese Secret Service. “If they’re still organized, what do they want with us? The Kempei Tai was terror during the war.”
Amelia’s face twisted. “But Marvin, doesn’t he mean anything to you? Can you just forget him?”
“Look.” He shook the book in front of her. “If this is who we’re dealing with, they don’t mess around. They want something and will kill us to get it.”
Amelia backed up. “All right, all right—it’s just that Marvin rescued me.”
“He’s my best friend’s son, I won’t forget him.”
She relaxed. “You think the Kempei Tai’s on Saipan?”
“Don’t know, but it looks like someone resurrected them.”
“Mother might know what’s going on.”
“We could sure use her help.”
Amelia turned toward the bedroom. “I’ll start packing.”
“Got to hurry. I’ll ready the boat.”
“How about supplies?”
“We’ll stow what we have, pick up whatever else we need at New Britain on the way.”
“We can’t leave all your research.”
“I’ll hide it in the lava tubes.” Vincent gathered up the scattered papers, stuffed them in boxes, and stacked the cartons on the floor.
Amelia stood watching in the doorway.
“You okay?” He saw the worry on her face.
“They’re still close. They’ll follow us—think we know what happened to AE. I’m frightened.”
He put his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe I can slow them down.”
“How? You’re just one person.” She buried her face in his neck. “Why do they still want AE?”
“Because it was big cover-up. The Japanese had her, lost her and the war. Losing face isn’t allowed in their culture.”
“Were you in on all the intrigue?”
“Some. G-2 sent me to Luke Field after AE crashed. She didn’t know. The Electra was fine when I checked it in Oakland before the first flight started.”
“So, did you find out if it was sabotage?”
“No, three months later she was off again. Flew from Oakland to Miami, then took off for good.”
“Where were you?”
Vincent looked out the window. “I’d been ordered to South America.”
All day, Vincent and Amelia packed supplies on board and outfitted the boat. Near sundown they had secured the cabin and tied down the last sail.
“She’s ship-shape—we’ll weigh anchor in about an hour.” He stepped into the dinghy. “I’ll take one more load to the lava tubes.” He scanned the lagoon. “Keep alert.”
Amelia waved from the cockpit when he pushed off. “I will.”
Vincent grabbed a shovel behind the shack and walked into the jungle.
Underneath some thicket, he dug into the soft earth, uncovered a cache of explosives wrapped in tarpaulin.
The wind picked up as Vincent made his way across the island. He spied the large sailboat anchored off shore. The sun sank below the horizon when he waded into the choppy water. Only one chance at it. Set the charge and get the hell out.
Vincent swam underwater most of the way, checked the deck for lookouts each time he surfaced. Near the bow, he heard loud arguing on deck and saw two guards. One looked his way. He took extra deep breaths and dove deeper. At the hull, he slapped on the C-4 plastique, taped it down, and set the fuse for one hour. Darkness had closed in when he surfaced again. He scanned the boat. A guard pointed toward him. He dove and swam to shore.
Amelia stood on deck when Vincent returned. “Everything go all right?” She helped him tie down the dinghy on board the Courage.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” He hauled in the anchor, motored from the lagoon until they caught the wind.
Amelia gazed off the bow. “Going to be a moonlit night.”
“Looks like it.” He set the course north. “Pass right by New Guinea.”
“I’d like to see Lae. AE seems still out there.”
After Amelia went below, Vincent relaxed at the wheel, stared at the wake off the port side. Lae—thirty years ago. His gaze bridged the vastness between water and moon... .
AE had met Vincent that sunny morning at Santa Monica airfield. She’d test the new Electra solo. That was it—no one but her. If it didn’t prove out—tough—only she would be responsible. She flashed her anticipating smile and taxied down the short runway.
Vincent waved, wished he were in the cockpit with her.
An hour later, she set the big ship down, a perfect landing. He ran to the cabin door.
She hopped out. “It flew like a dream.”
“A good dream, I trust.”
“Yes, I can’t wait to get going. I feel there’s just about one more good flight in my system.”
“I knew the plane was ready, but I wanted you to feel it, taste it.”
“Thank you, Vincent. Thanks for all the hard work, the confidence you had in me. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“You don’t have to repay me, or thank me, for that matter,” he said. “But, you could come to the beach with me tonight. I think we’ve earned a night off.”
“That would be nice. I’ll call G.P. You can pick me up here.”
“It’s a date.”
The deserted beach stretched far down the coast past a protruding pier. Vincent parked the car, opened AE’s door.
“Even in winter,” she said, “it’s beautiful. Someday I’d like a place like this.”
“I know. This is my thinki
ng spot, my lair.”
Small waves wove transitory patterns on shore. A slight breeze whisked across the sand caught the quiet of the clear evening.
“Thanks for dinner,” AE said. “I was hungrier than I thought.”
“Flying has a tendency to do that.”
“Except long distance, I get by on soup and tomato juice. Guess the adrenaline takes over.”
“You’ll soon get another taste of that.”
“Right, next month—Oakland to Honolulu, then the hard part, to Howland.”
“I should be going with you.” Vincent’s face pleaded.
She shook her head.
“I understand.” His eyes gave in. “Look, this same water, so peaceful here—so deep surrounding that tiny island.”
She gazed out to sea, took in the flickering lights onboard boats anchored off shore.
Vincent watched her silhouette in the fading light. He pulled back when she turned. “Sorry for staring. It’s just you’re so lovely standing there.”
Amelia put a hand on his arm, gave it a little squeeze. “Vincent, I think the world of you.” She found his eyes again. “G.P. and I never question each other, but—”
“I can’t hide my admiration all the time. Believe me, I try.”
“Don’t, please.” She touched a finger to his lips. “Let’s leave it there. We’ll always be close.”
He felt pressure on his arm again and brushed his other hand across hers. “Just come back, just be safe.” He kissed her cheek but had wanted to hold her close forever.
She had turned her mouth to his and for a brief moment, caressed his lips with hers... .
“Vincent! They’re after us!” Amelia tugged at his shirt.
The glaze left his eyes. He whirled around to the stern. “How’d they catch us?”
Closing on them was a faster, bigger sailboat, deck lights swaying, sails full wind.
Vincent checked his watch. Something’s nuts—that boat should’ve blown by now. He’d taped enough explosives to destroy a mountain. Damn stuff must’ve been too old. So much for CIA quality.
“What’ll we do?” Amelia grabbed the binoculars. “Can’t see much in the dark.”
Amelia Page 12