The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1)

by Pendelton Wallace

  “What language are they speaking?” Meagan whispered.

  “Hell if I know,” Ted replied. “It’s not Spanish and I’d know Italian, Portuguese or French.”

  “It’s not German,” Chris added. “It sounds more Middle Eastern to me. Maybe Farsi or Arabic.”

  The boat slid past the anchored Defiant and continued up to the head of the bay. Ted heard the heavy anchor splash as the boat shut off its main engine.

  “What do you think they’re doing?” Meagan whispered.

  Ted felt her presence; the faint hint of perfume stirred a tingle in his loins as she crowded next to him at the cabin’s side window to watch the movement a quarter mile up the bay.

  “I think they’re doin’ a drop.”

  The sound of a small engine broke the stillness of the night. Two men from the fishing boat climbed down into a big skiff and motored ashore. In a few minutes a barge-like contraption pulled away from the beach and slid through the darkness out to the boat.

  More voices in that strange language carried across the water as the men on the barge tossed a line to the deck crew of the fishing boat. The grumble of an auxiliary engine added to the quiet confusion. The cargo boom on the boat moved and lifted crates from out of the depths of the fish hold. The boom swung out over the barge and lowered the crates onto the deck.

  “That ain’t no drug drop,” Ted said. “Those boxes are too big. No one carries that much drugs at one time.”

  “What do you think it could be?” Chris asked.

  “I don’t have any idea. But it ain’t legal, I know that much.”

  The barge-like boat made the short run to shore. It ran up on the beach and lowered a ramp. What’re they up to? Ted watched the men unload the crates with a block and tackle hanging from a make-shift tripod and the barge return to the fishing boat.

  This can’t be good, Ted thought as the landing craft made several trips back and forth until a stack of the wooden crates stood on the beach.

  After the barge’s last run to the beach, Ted heard the rumble of the boat’s anchor chain being hauled in by a large windlass. The heavy anchor broke free and the boat started back up the bay.

  “Stay down,” Ted whispered. “Keep below the water line.”

  “Why, what’s wrong?” Meagan asked.

  “They might not want to leave any witnesses. If they start shootin’, we want to be down low.”

  “If they want to get rid of us, won’t they come aboard?” Chris asked as he pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt.

  “You never know. Shit! We don’t have any weapons. We’re sittin’ ducks.” Ted crouched down close to the deck.

  “We’ve got our rigging knives and the kitchen knives.”

  “Well, keep ‘em handy.”

  Chris crawled to the forepeak to grab the Myerchin rigging knife that his father had given him.

  The big green boat slowly moved down the bay. Still not showing lights, it picked its way over the dark water.

  “C’mon man, do something.” Ted whispered under his breath.

  Chuga-cha-chuga-cha-chuga. The fishing boat crept closer and closer.

  Meagan popped her head up to the cabin windows to see what was going on.

  “Get down!”

  “They’re almost up to us,” she whispered.

  The whine of propellers in the water grew louder.

  “Any time now,” Ted said. He held his breath, waiting for the burst of automatic weapon fire.

  Chapter 36

  On board the Star of the Northwest

  Candace, in her black cocktail dress and pearls, kicked off her heels and walked over to the balcony. The night air felt cool against her skin, champagne and dancing had raised her body temperature. Stepping outside, she breathed in the night.

  The black water swooshed by, leaving a rushing sound in its wake. Somewhere off to the right she saw a few scattered lights from some tiny village on an island.

  The isolation out here wouldn’t be so different from living in Idaho, she thought. How far this luxurious cabin was from Mom and Dad’s little farm house though.

  “What a night. I’m bushed.” Harry pulled his tie loose and dropped his jacket on the overstuffed chair. He really did remind her of Harrison Ford.

  Was she doing the right thing?

  He’s a little long in the tooth, honey. Her father’s words hung in her mind.

  Was twenty-two years too much of a difference? He seems so young and vital now, but what about twenty years from now. I’ll be fifty-three, about his age, and he’ll be seventy-five. Seventy-five is old. Will Dad be right? Will I spent my middle years taking care of an old man, then, be alone in my golden years?

  Then there’s the question of children. Harry had his kids. He wasn’t interested in starting a new family. She never particularly wanted to have kids either, but to have that possibility cut off?

  She thought about her sisters. Both of them were so tied-down, so restrained by their children. Their entire lives were devoted to their kids; they had nothing of their own. She saw them aging rapidly, but was it the kids or the hard life they led?

  Whenever she went home, her nieces and nephews piled on her like she was Santa Claus. She had to admit that she loved it. They were so pure, so innocent.

  Get a hold of yourself, girl. Don’t even go there. You know it’s not going to happen.

  “You going to stay out there all night?” Harry leaned against the door frame.

  Candace pulled herself back to the present. She smiled, pulled back her hair and gulped in a breath of the clean night air. Tomorrow is the big day!

  She stepped back into the cabin and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She knew she looked good in her black silk bra and panties.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Harry unbuttoned his shirt.

  “A penny won’t do it anymore, mister. Haven’t you ever heard of inflation?” Candace put her hands on Harry’s chest. “I was just thinking that I couldn’t be happier. Nothing can ruin this moment for us. . . “

  ****

  Prince William Bay, Canada

  The growl of the engine and the whine of the propellers slowly receded. The gunfire never came. Ted realized he had been holding his breath.

  “He’s passing us by.” Chris’ voice came from far way.

  “Oh. . . My. . . God,” Meagan whispered. “I thought they were going to machine gun us.”

  “Well it’s over.” Chris stripped off his jeans. “Let’s go back to bed.”

  “Back to bed?” Meagan voice rose. “How can you think of sleeping?” Now that the crisis was over, she became more animated.

  “Jesus, Meagan.” Chris stifled a yawn. “It’s after four in the morning.”

  “I’m too wired to sleep.” Meagan sounded frantic. “I’m just saying that we should do something.”

  “Why are we whispering?” Ted sat on the edge of his bunk holding his head in his hands. “Besides, what’s there to do?”

  “I don’t know.” Meagan paced the cabin floor. “Maybe call the police or something.”

  “Hey, chica, where I grew up, you don’t call the cops about nothin’.”

  “What would we tell them?” Chris’ eyes drooped and his words came out slurred. “Some boat came steaming in here and unloaded? We don’t know that anything illegal happened.”

  “You know it’s not legit.” Meagan stomped to the ice chest for a bottle of water. “Why else would they be unloading in the middle of the night?” She took a long sip. “If they weren’t worried about anybody seeing them, they’d unload in daylight.”

  The conversation went on for the better part of an hour before Chris abruptly got up and climbed into bed.

  Thank God, the man has some sense. Maybe now we can get a little sleep.

  ****

  Ted was so wired from the night’s activities that he couldn’t sleep. Uncharacteristically, he was the first one up the next morning.

  “Good mornin,’ Sunshine,” T
ed said as Meagan came out of the head, dressed only in Chris’ T-shirt and panties. Her small, perky breasts bobbled when she walked. Damn, Ted thought, feeling himself start to stiffen, why can’t she wear more clothes around me?

  “Morning, Ted. Is the coffee ready?”

  Ted grabbed a mug from the teak rack and poured it three-quarters full. He lifted the heavy cover to the ice chest and pulled up a carton of half and half. Half a packet of Splenda and it was ready for Her Majesty. Oscar rubbed back and forth against Ted as he tried to work, constantly getting in his way. Ted gently sat him on the deck. Oscar jumped right back up to the counter. Ted sighed.

  Meagan sat on the port settee, the over-sized T-shirt pulled up around her knees, as she cradled the hot cup. “What do you think they were up to?”

  “It looked like a drug buy. It smelled like a drug buy.”

  “Let’s go ashore. I want to see what they were doing.”

  “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Ted rummaged around in the locker for a sauce pan. “I think we should get out of here as fast as we can.” He pulled a cardboard cylinder of oatmeal from the locker behind the stove.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, bro.” Chris entered the main saloon, buckling his belt. “They’re long gone. They weren’t up to any good, so they’re not going to stick around. Especially when they know that we’re here in the bay.”

  ****

  Chris was pussy-whipped. That’s all that there was to it. Against Ted’s better advice, Chris agreed to go ashore.

  “What could it hurt to have a quick look around?” Chris asked as Ted prepared the oatmeal.

  After breakfast they dressed and descended the swim steps to the rubber dinghy. Chris took his position as captain and manned the small outboard motor. Ted sat in the bow, handling the painter.

  Ted loved riding in the dinghy because with its hard, fiberglass bottom it easily planed over the water at full throttle. At twenty knots, they flew across the water. In a few minutes they covered the same distance that had taken the fishing boat an eternity.

  Chris ran the rubber boat up onto the sandy beach and Ted jumped out, bow line in hand and pulled the dinghy further out of the water.

  “Thank you,” Meagan took Ted’s proffered hand.

  Ted’s heart beat increased as she gave his hand a squeeze and held on a little longer than necessary.

  “Let’s see if we can find where they went.” Chris was eager to go charging off into the island on this insane mission.

  “I dunno, man,” Ted replied. “You don’t want to mess with those hombres.”

  “Like I said, they’re long gone.”

  “Look over here,” Meagan shouted. “There’s tire tracks on the beach.”

  “What are you, Nancy Drew?” Ted asked.

  Ted knelt on one knee to examine the tracks. They ended under a makeshift tripod with a block and tackle. “That wasn’t drugs, dude,” he said. “Drugs don’t weigh that much. Those were heavy boxes.”

  “What could they have been smuggling in the middle of the night that was so heavy?” Chris rubbed the back of his head.

  “In the old days, it might have been liquor,” Meagan offered. “My grandfather used to tell us stories about rum running in these islands. But that was a long time ago.”

  “If they were smuggling computer technology,” Chris said, “I’d expect them to go the other way. It’s against the law to sell certain kinds of computers to China, but they’d be loading them on the boat, not unloading them.”

  “Maybe it was a drop off point.” Ted pawed at the track marks with his foot. “Maybe they just unloaded here, then loaded them unto a smaller boat and took them to the city.”

  “Yeah, well, Mr. Smarty.” Meagan shoved Ted’s shoulder. “We didn’t hear any other boats last night.”

  “They could’ve trucked them over to the other side of the island to haul them off.”

  “There’s no other landing place on the island.” Chris’ eyes rolled up and to the right, a sure sign that he was accessing his photographic memory. “Unless they’re flying them out of here, they have to use this beach.”

  The tracks in the sand led to an old logging road that ran from the beach into the interior of the island.

  “Well, we’ll probably never know what it was all about,” Meagan said. “Let’s explore the island as long as we’re here.”

  Chris strapped on his backpack and followed Meagan. Ted sighed and trailed behind.

  In moments the forest surrounded them. A layer of pine needles on the road absorbed their footsteps. Ted breathed in the sweet aroma of cedar mixed with salal berries. This wilderness stuff was a whole new experience for him. An early morning chill hung in the air. As they ascended the road, they entered a layer of fog. The world disappeared in the mist.

  “Let’s go back to the boat, dude.” Ted’s spider sense was going wild. “Ted doesn’t like this fog.”

  “No.” Meagan continued on in front. “It’s really cool. Let’s climb to the top of the island. I’ll bet we get above it, then we’ll have a great view.”

  “You heard the lady, bro.” Chris took a gulp of breath. “This road probably leads to the top of the hill.”

  He just doesn’t want to look wimpy in front of his novia.

  Walking in the fog disoriented Ted. He lost all sense of direction as he put one foot in front of the other on the old logging road. The further they went, the more the road fell into a state of disrepair. Ted’s breath came harder as he went up the hill.

  “Look out!” Meagan gasped, ducking.

  “What was it?” Chris ran up to her.

  “I thought I heard something.” She swept her golden hair back from her eyes.

  “It was just a bird; Miss ‘I’m braver than the boys.’” Ted mimicked a chicken flapping its wings.

  “You’re just trying to cover up your own jittery nerves.” Meagan resumed the lead up the hill.

  William and Mary Island was roughly conical in shape with a peak six-hundred and fifty feet above sea level. As they approached the top of the island, the fog melted away.

  “Wow! Look at that view,” Meagan said.

  Below them lay a sea of fog. Ted thought it looked like whipped cream, dotted here and there with the top of a neighboring island. “It looks like you could walk across it,” he said.

  “Get down,” Chris whispered. “There’s a truck.”

  They dropped to their knees behind a fallen log. In a clearing at the top of the hill sat an old battered Ford F-350 four by four. Near the truck an abandoned-looking shack and some run-down buildings looked like they might collapse at any minute. Several tents pitched nearby showed that somebody was using the camp. There wasn’t a sound to be heard.

  “Let’s get outta here, man,” Ted whispered.

  Chapter 37

  William and Mary Island

  A seagull made his early morning call. A smaller bird, probably a robin, twittered in response. The air smelled sweet but the fog hung heavy as Ahmad and his friends gathered around a wooden crate in the clearing. Tall evergreen trees ringed Ahmad’s world.

  Ahmad watched the blade of the curved dagger. It’s like the fangs of a cobra. With a quick movement, Yasim slipped the blade under the lid of the box and pried it off.

  “This, my brothers, is new best friend.” Yasim tossed a rifle to Ahmad. “Get to know. Learn to love. Take care of rifle and it take care of you.”

  In the Taliban training camp, Ahmad remembered, Jamal, their instructor, told Ahmad that he got more pleasure from his AK-47 than he did from his wife.

  “The Kalashnikov AK-47,” Yasim continued, “has been used by more revolutionaries around world than any other weapon.”

  This rifle felt different to Ahmad. Unlike the weapon with which he trained in Afghanistan, this one had a wooden stock and a pistol grip. He ran his hands over the smooth wood. It had a sensuous feel to it.

  “In butt stock of rifle, you find cleaning kit. Clean weapons and
let us get firing.”

  Ahmad ejected the magazine and pulled back the bolt to verify that there was no shell in the chamber. His fingers remembered the drill, even if his mind didn’t. He removed the rear cover and withdrew the bolt carrier. It took only moments to field strip the piece. He scrubbed the heavy grease coating from the shiny metal parts, lightly oiled them, then reassembled the weapon.

  Loading the banana clips took more time than stripping and cleaning the rifle. When his spare clips were loaded, he thought back to Jamal’s training.

  Insert magazine.

  Move selector level to bottom position.

  Pull back and release the charging handle.

  Aim low.

  Squeeze the trigger.

  The rifle barked. Chips flew from the tree across the clearing.

  Ahmad smiled and flipped the selector lever to the middle position, then pulled back the charging handle again. He took careful aim and held down the trigger. The rifle bellowed a burst of fire. The tree blew to pieces. Spent shell casings arched through the air. The kick almost knocked him off balance.

  The other men cheered.

  “You are fast at cleaning gun.” Yasim patted his back. “Congratulations.”

  ***

  These were clearly bad guys, smuggling something ashore in the middle of the night. Ted had seen too much of this sort of thing in the barrio. They might be dangerous. On the other hand, the camp was deserted. Were they far off?

  “I want to see what they’re up to,” Meagan whispered. She grabbed Ted’s arm as he turned back toward the logging road.

  “Hey, chica, if the truck’s still here, that means those hombres are still around.” Ted’s kept his voice down too.

  “What’re we going to tell the authorities?” Meagan’s head bobbed from side to side like a chicken as she talked. “That a bunch of foreign sounding guys unloaded some stuff in the middle of the night? We should at least see what they were unloading.”