by Jade Alters
With the clock running down, we needed to take bolder action. I sent Pete and Darkhorse up in the chopper, instructing them to stay within U.S. airspace. “But keep your eyes peeled,” I warned Darkhorse, shaking his oversized binoculars. “As long as the traders remain on that boat, they are on American territory.” That was my way of telling him if he saw the boat in Canadian waters, boundaries be damned—we were going after it.
Natalia stood beside me on the helicopter pad, watching the chopper clear the deck then swoop over the tangled tree line, following the Tongass. I liked the way she had done her hair—all loose, with only a part of it pulled back and curly tendrils framing her face. The ocean breeze rippled it so that strands tickled her lips. There was a dark, troubled look in her eyes. Amy had haunted her. Amy was the victim she could have been. I wrapped my arm around her waist, inhaling her milk-and-honey fragrance. “We’ll find the girls,” I promised. “We won’t abandon them.”
“And Denisovich?”
“I’ll get the son-of-a-bitch!”
“Hmm, keep your hair down.” She leaned against me, gazing at the thunderous old-growth trees crowding up to the shores of the island. The rain was lightly pelting. These drizzling showers were just a normal part of an islander’s day and didn’t bother them in any way, shape, or form. “Tell me what it’s like to be a shapeshifter,” she asked dreamily.
I was still distracted by her fragrance and had to return to earth to consider her question. “It hurts a bit, but in a way it feels good. It’s like we are naturally huge inside and when we get excited, we just start exploding outward. Sort of like an orgasm.”
She bumped against me with a laugh. “That’s why you are all such teases! You like the exploding action!”
I grabbed a handful of sweet, perfect ass and nuzzled her neck at the same time. “You’re a good mama bear. You can take it.”
“Mama bear.” She moved my hand back to her waist. Glued to her like that, when she started walking, so did I. “I didn’t mean about the change so much. Of course, it would hurt. Obviously, it would hurt, your bones are doing all kinds of weird things. But what’s it like to be both bear and human? Are there other types of shapeshifters?”
“To be a bear…” I chuckled. “We all have a spirit animal, Natalia. It’s just that not everyone can transfer into it. Which answers the next question. There are a lot of different animal shapeshifters. They are who they are. The caribou are shy. The wolves are family-oriented. The beavers are contractors. And us bears… we know a good mama bear.”
“You think my spirit animal is a bear?”
We had reached the ready room. Lee and Roy were still poring over the maps, trying to guess Denisovich’s next move. “Nah,” I said, sitting down with them at the table. “Maybe a wolverine or a porcupine.”
She slapped my head, which felt as glorious as a kiss.
“What did you do to deserve that?” asked Lee.
It probably wasn’t a good idea to provoke another attack with serious business at hand. “Never mind. Any thoughts?”
“Yeah,” he said. “How would they hold a slave auction? They couldn’t just port in Vancouver and start the bidding.”
“It would be exclusive,” agreed Roy. “We’re talking big money. I think they would stay off-shore.”
“They have a yacht,” said Natalia suddenly. “Big money. Exclusive entertainment. They’re holding the auction on a yacht.”
I hit the com button. “Second Lieutenant, tell my team to keep their eyes peeled for a yacht.”
“Yes, sir,” the answer automatically snapped back.
I gave Natalia a perturbed look. She was right. Every instinct I had told me she was right.
Darkhorse
Captain Josh was a shit. I saw the way he held on to Natalia as the chopper rose into the air and the two of them shrank smaller and smaller. That was okay, though. I knew enough about that apple-pie darling by now to know that her heart was big enough for all four of us. That was important to a clan. You didn’t break up a clan; you joined it.
Pete didn’t understand. For a while, he’d thought she was our pass-around girl and that when we became bored with her, we’d pass her on to someone else. Maybe that worked in his circles, but not in ours. We were hers for the duration. We played by Alaskan rules.
Pete was a good guy, but he had a bit of Seattle influence. Despite being on the sea for fifteen years, there was something urban about his thinking. He hated my method of scanning from the open chopper door, a single carbineer securing me by a nylon rope to the welded frame, stretching out as far as my arm would allow me without falling out. One foot on the struts, my binoculars in one hand, I had a clear, sweeping, unobstructed view. Pete mumbled about safety regulations, but he knew Captain Josh wouldn’t give a damn.
Even when you’re one-hundred-eighty human pounds of brawn, you can’t hold that position long. I started to go back inside when I saw something flash in one corner of the binoculars. “Commander, swing her around about twenty degrees and follow the southwest spur. I saw something.”
He turned the chopper as I instructed. The rain turned sideways, splattering against my binoculars and dribbling down the lenses. I gave them a quick wipe on my jeans. I was right! The tiny speck began to glimmer and grow larger. “Keep your bearings, Commander!”
I pulled myself back in and flopped excitedly in the passenger’s seat of the cockpit. I grabbed the standard field glasses and looked through the window like a regular person. “There it is. You’re coming up on it, sir. The Christina.”
It caused a lump in our throats to see her abandoned like that, huddled into a small, hidden cove, the reluctant conveyor of dishonor and treachery. A terrible splotch on the record of a vessel that had given fine and noble service. Pete switched on his mic to call it in, but he had barely more than identified himself before Josh broke through. “You found it? Pete, stay in pursuit. I want you to look for a yacht.”
“Roger that.” Pete gave me a sour look. “More acrobatics?”
“We’re losing daylight. We need to get a sighting before we go back, or we’ve lost them. Acrobatics are required.”
Now that we knew where they had left the boat and their new destination, it was easier to plot a course. I listened to the purposeful chop of the blades as the helicopter made a wide swing into the main channel, disturbing the whitecaps that scuttled back in confusion. I held the high-powered glasses steady in a super-human attempt to discern the difference between the bright clusters of frothing waves and white, solid matter. Pete shouted above the wind, the rain, and the clattering blades, “Darkhorse, we’re at half-tank. We need to turn back.”
I focused on a spot that somehow looked suspicious, that didn’t belong, like a tiny white fleck on an unblemished photograph. “Five more minutes. The Ursa is following behind us. Just give me five more minutes.”
My gut feelings were trying to claw their way outside. “Forty degrees west, he’s making a wide turn. He’s headed toward international waters. Foot to the pedal. I need a few more hundred feet.” I scrambled inside. “Stay on your mark. I’ve got an idea.” I pawed around inside my kit and pulled out a cannon-sized camera. I grabbed a bungee cord, wrapped it around my ankles, and clipped it to the bottom of the pilot’s seat.
Pete looked down at the homemade tether, an expression between alarm and annoyance working at his jaws. “What are you doing?”
“Just make sure the fucker doesn’t slip. I’ve got an idea.” I grabbed the camera and wriggled toward the door on my stomach. Sliding halfway out, I looked through the lens, searching for that tiny white spot in the distance.
Pete bellowed toward the door. “Lieutenant! I’m flying blind. I don’t see anything but the ocean.”
Fixing my view determinedly, I answered back, “I do. I just need you to get a little closer. Keep your bearings. We’ve almost got it. Drop her down about fifty feet.”
I was playing the odds. From the distance, it was impossible to tell
what type of boat was floating on the water. I attached the telescoping zoom lens and zeroed in. It wasn’t a fishing vessel. The tiny sliver slowly began acquiring dimensions. No high, deck-top cabin, no nets. Pete’s voice had acquired a whine. “Darkhorse, we’re in Canadian airspace.”
“Close in just a little more, Pete. Can’t you see it yet?”
He paused. “Yeah, there’s something out there. I’ll close the gap a little more, then we get out of here. There’s nothing we can do from up here.”
He had to push it to close enough distance to take the shot. We were now juggling with three balls. We were in Canadian airspace, running low on fuel, and it was turning dark. I snapped the photos, elbowed my way back in, and sprawled on the floor of the helicopter, breathing hard. “Well, that was fun,” I said finally.
Pete shook his head dolefully. “You’re crazy.”
“At least we weren’t close enough to get shot at.”
It was fully dark by the time we returned to the ship and had to use our high beams to locate each other. The helicopter was coughing and gasping for its final bits of nourishment as it settled on the landing pad. The team poured out on deck, crowding around for the news. They had caught up with the deserted Christina and were chomping at the bit for revenge. I held up my camera, basking in my moment of glory. “Hey! Everyone should congratulate Pete. He found his balls today. He carried me seven miles into Canadian airspace.”
“Give me five, dude.” Lee, the impudent little shit, got Pete to slap palms with him. “Way to go, Commander. You’ll be hanging with the cool crowd in no time.”
In traditional state trooper style, Natalia had found some more bubbly. She sprayed it so directly into our faces, we had no choice but to choke down at least some of it. Not that I cared. I stretched out my tongue for more. After some hesitation, so did Pete.
“How does it feel to be a rule breaker?” asked Josh, slapping Pete on the back. “Was it fun?”
“Oh, his panties were all in a twist, but he got over it,” I answered before Pete could say a word. Not that he intended to. He was a little overwhelmed by the attention of the gang and was clearly relieved when we hustled the camera into the ready room and slipped the memory card into the computer. The computer had a sixty-inch flat screen monitor that mounted against the wall, lighting up photographs in magnificent detail. We watched as the crucial shots spread across the screen. At first it was just water, a few scattered islands, and a small, white, rectangle in one corner.
Roy tapped at the keys, cutting away the excess ocean and landscape, bringing the rectangle up close. It was a yacht. Captain Josh scratched at his head and held back a murmur of excitement. “See if you can cut in close enough to find its name and number.”
“It might be fuzzy.”
It was, at first, but Roy was pretty good at film editing. He cleaned it up enough that we could see the legend painted at the bow. “The Sea Kitten; DL 385”. I saw the wheels grinding in the captain’s head. He was sure he had his culprit, but he wanted proof.
“Ensign, research the registry of the yacht. I want to know when and where it was purchased, who purchased it, and a list of all the ports it harbored in at. Everything you can find.”
“Yes, sir,” said Roy.
While Roy was checking the registry, Natalia brought me a plate of food and sat next to me. “You missed dinner.”
“Yeah,” I said, wolfing down the fat, juicy steak the cook had prepared with very little ceremony. “He likes to do that to me. He’s a prick.”
“You were the best man for the job.”
“That, too.” I took another huge bite. Flapping around like a kite off the side of a helicopter gave me an enormous appetite. “Usually, he’s the pilot on these scouting missions. He likes to fly. He leaves Pete to navigate the ship. He wanted you to himself.”
“He didn’t have me to himself. Lee and Roy were right there.”
“You didn’t start something without me?”
“Of course not. Are you jealous?”
“Grumpy. There’s a difference.”
“You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”
To make me feel better, she reached across my shoulders and played with the hair at the back of my neck. “I like that you keep your hair a little long. It suits you.”
“I don’t like haircuts,” I growled, but my grumpy mood was going away.
It had left completely by the time Roy was ready with his report. My stomach was full, and Natalia’s hand was still at the back of my neck, stroking my hair. Roy set a print-out on the table. “The yacht is registered to Siberian Hands Inc., an import/export company. It took a little digging, but it’s an umbrella company for a group of realtors called B&D—Baranov and Denisovich. It was purchased two years ago from a Chinese multi-millionaire, Lu Chang, according to documents. It has docked into only one American port, San Francisco. Its navigational charts are not available.”
“That’s our man,” said Josh positively. He began strolling energetically up and down the room. “We’ve got him. We’re going to nail him.”
“Permission to speak freely,” interjected Pete.
Josh stopped in mid-stroll. “Speak.”
“Shouldn’t we call the Canadian guard? Let them make the arrest? They aren’t going to ignore the evidence.”
Josh crossed his arms over his chest and glowered, his day-old beard growing thicker. He thundered at the commander beneath fearsome brows. “Do you know what will happen if Denisovich is jailed by Canadian authorities? It will get tied up in courts for five years, and Denisovich will never be handed over to the U.S. Our women will never receive the justice they deserve.”
“His men will be turned over for the murders.”
“Which we can’t tie to Denisovich’s hands. Neither Amy nor Natalia were touched by Denisovich. They never even talked to Denisovich. They can’t swear they saw him do anything.”
“We’ll find fingerprints.”
Josh resumed pacing. “What if he wore gloves? Did you notice how many footprints were in the hangar? It was like trying to sort out prints in a market stall. The boat will be the same. Too many people coming and going. It will take forever to sort them all out. In the meantime, Denisovich’s slippery lawyers will be finding ways to get him extradited to Russia. And they will succeed!”
Pete wrung his hands together. He knew what Josh was proposing and as second officer, he felt it was his duty to persuade the captain into using every legal avenue available. “We can’t forcibly bring that yacht back into U.S. territory. Canada will never allow it.”
Josh wasn’t paying much attention to the commander’s protests. He looked out at the black night that even rubbed away the moon’s existence under the misting sky. “Canada can have the co-conspirators involved in the buying and selling of slaves. Let those filthy rich degenerates squabble it out with their lawyers and try to keep their names out of the papers. I don’t care about them. I want Denisovich and the men who kidnapped our girls and murdered Coast Guard personnel, and I will have them. I will have them, Pete. Do you have a problem with this?”
“No, sir,” he answered, standing stiffly.
“Relax,” said Lee, who never thought much about rank and who now gave Pete a familiar hug around the neck. “He’s a member of the gang. He had his christening tonight.”
“In subservience,” I growled at Lee, even as Roy was crushing the commander into a bear hug. I nodded at Pete, though. “You put your big-boy pants on tonight. Leave them on. They look good on you.”
Josh brought out the good stuff—a bottle of Jameson—and poured us each a good, stiff drink. “I want all of you to go to bed and get some rest. The ship will set course with the first daylight. We’ll be sailing into Canadian waters, using stealth mode. If we encounter the Canadian guard, we will tell them we are on a secret mission to Seattle. The admiralty will verify it. Pete, you are an honorable commander. If you wish to leave the mission, you can return to Ketchikan by helicop
ter in the morning. I won’t request that you come with us.”
“With all due respect, sir,” said Pete, appearing far more gregarious than usual, “I’m a member of the gang now.”
We all saluted. “Then we are all agreed,” continued Josh. “What we don’t want is for the yacht to learn we are giving chase, which is why we wait for daylight. They are not in a hurry. They will appear to be just one more luxury craft taking a sight-seeing tour. If they don’t see us, we can close in.”
We prepared to retire for the night, each person taking care of the tools that fit his skill sets. Pete went back to the pilot’s cabin and checked the controls for the evening, lingering over the sensitive instruments long minutes before turning them over to the second lieutenant’s safekeeping. Josh gathered his maps and rolled them together, stashing them with a bundle in one corner of the ready room. Roy put the computer to sleep, Lee carried our mugs to the galley, and I picked up the camera and binoculars, wrapping them tenderly before sliding them into their cases. They were my special babies, the best high-powered, high-resolution hand-held instruments on the market. I’m not a standard guy. I don’t like standard equipment. These babies had just paid back in gold.
Josh approached me on one side and Natalia on the other. Natalia snuggled up under my arm. “I told the captain we should all share this night together. I think we need it.”
“Do you agree, Captain?” I asked, examining his face to see if any extra hairs were popping out. He looked relaxed, almost happy. He had his target. It would take more than the Canadians and the Russian Embassy to keep him away from it.
“I agree.” Waving to our other two shapeshifting buddies, we entered the captain’s suite together.
Lee