The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1)

by Pendelton Wallace

  Ted responded instantly. Within minutes the Defiant raced along on a new course that took her a quarter of the way up Malcolm Island, rather than around the southern point.

  “We’re going for speed. We need to stay ahead of ‘em.”

  “Oh God, Chris, they’ve spotted us!” Meagan’s voice cracked as she spoke.

  She pointed towards the distant boat. “Look, they’re changing course right towards us.”

  Even from this distance, Ted could see the green boat push aside an enormous white bow wave as she sped towards them.

  “C’mon baby, if you ever went fast, now’s the time to do it,” Chris coaxed his boat.

  As though responding to his plea, the Defiant put her lee rail down and sped along her course. The knot meter pegged at seven knots, occasionally inching upwards towards eight.

  “The GPS says we’re doing almost nine knots over the bottom,” Chris said.

  “Yeah, well they’re starting to catch up.” Ted looked over Chris’ shoulder with the binoculars.

  The Defiant started the race with more than a five mile lead, but the fishing boat steadily closed on them. Ted glanced up at the gray sky. The sun’s weak rays turned more yellow and the horizon began to take on a shade of pink.

  Meagan followed his glance to the sky. “Maybe we can lose them after dark”

  “Not a chance. We can’t stay ahead of them that long.” Ted looked back at their pursuers.

  “What are we going to do, Chris?” Meagan grabbed Chris’ wrist with both hands.

  “I don’t know.” Chris had a terse look on his face. “I’ve got to think.” He put his arm around Meagan’s waist and pulled her close.

  There was a long silence in the cockpit.

  “You better think fast, dude.” Ted put down the binoculars and turned towards Chris. “They’re gettin’ closer.”

  Ted scanned the vast track of empty water. There was no place to hide. They had to make the safety of Port McNeil.

  “There, along the coast of Malcolm Island.” Chris pointed. “That’s our best chance.” Small patches of fog materialized along the island’s shore. “Guys.” Chris pointed towards the shore. “There’s a fog bank forming along the island. If we can make it to the fog, maybe we can lose ‘em.”

  “Shit man, they’re thinking the same thing.” Ted aimed the binoculars at the fishing boat again. “They’re bringing out one of the SAMs.”

  “Why would they shoot a missile at us?” Meagan danced from foot to foot.

  “We’re still out of rifle range,” Chris replied. “Maybe they’re afraid we’ll escape into the fog.”

  “Whatever they think, these guys are serious, dude. They’re setting up the missile.”

  Ted focused the binoculars on the distant boat. In the lenses, he saw a smallish man struggling with the bazooka-like weapon on the foredeck of the fishing boat. Another man took up position at the first man’s shoulder and slammed a rocket into the tube.

  “Oh my God, Chris, they’re gonna shoot at us!” Meagan grabbed Chris around the waist and tried to hide behind him.

  ****

  On Board the Star of the Northwest

  “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” Candace’s mom handed her a pair of topaz earrings and matching necklace. “These were my mother’s. She would be so proud to see you now.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Candace caught her breath in her throat. Damn, I’m not going to cry. I’ll ruin my makeup.

  She could hear the wedding singer through the thin door. The murmur of a crowd filled her head.

  “Stand back, let’s take a look at you.” Mom held her by her shoulders at arm’s length.

  Candace turned to the full-length mirror with a satisfied smile. When she was younger, she had used her looks to her advantage. As she entered the world of business, she tried hard to be recognized for her mind and work ethic, not her face and boobs. But wow! The woman staring back at her from the mirror took her breath away.

  Long black hair draped around her face in ringlets. The hairdresser had woven strands of baby’s breath into her curls. Her green eyes gleamed from a smiling face. She looked herself up and down.

  The low-cut gown showed off just enough cleavage. It clung to her slim waist and flowed over her hips. Getting rid of those last five pounds had been hell, but worth it! The hours of Pilates paid off.

  In her heels, she towered over her mother. She would stand eye-to-eye with Harry at the altar.

  You’ve really made it. It had never been her plan to marry a rich man and settle back into a life of leisure. When she was little she had been Dad’s only son, quite the tom boy. While Jenn and Trish played with dolls and fussed over clothes, she was hunting or fishing with Dad, working with the dogs, riding horses.

  By the time she was in high-school, she was so obsessed with Susan Dey in LA Law that she didn’t have time to mess with boys. Education was everything for her. It was her ticket out. She would move to LA or New York, become a partner is a prestigious law firm and make a name for herself. She envisioned herself sitting on the Supreme Court.

  There was a soft knock at the door. Dad slipped into the room.

  “You ready, honey?”

  Dressed in a tuxedo, her father was gorgeous. Mom always said I got my looks from Dad. She respected her father’s values. With his looks, he could have had any woman in town. Instead he chose mom. She wasn’t bad, but she was a mousy little brunette with buck teeth and a slightly crooked nose.

  Dad wasn’t impressed with his own or anyone else’s looks. It was what was inside that counted. The heart, the mind, the values.

  “They’re just about to start.” Dad’s voice sounded so calm and together. “Let’s get in place.” From somewhere far away, Candace heard the strains of Wagner’s “The Wedding March.”

  Chapter 43

  The Queen Charlotte Strait

  A trail of white smoke rose from the foredeck of the fishing boat and a rocket sped towards the Defiant. Time froze.

  Ted watched in slow-motion as the missile flew towards them. It seemed like an hour, but in the space of a second, it was upon them, then over them, then over the island, where it exploded in the air. “Holy shit!”

  “What happened?” Chris’ voice was barely a whisper. “I thought those were guided missiles.”

  Ted realized he hadn’t been breathing. “They are dude.” A big smile broke across his face. “They’re heat-seeking missiles. We’re under sail. We don’t even have the heat from our engine. The only heat sources on board are us. The missile can’t see us.”

  Chris and Meagan let out a collective sigh.

  “He’s loading up again.” Ted held his breath as the second missile launched and again flew harmlessly overhead, to explode out over Malcolm Island.

  “They’ve given up that shit.” Ted felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. “But they ain’t done yet.”

  He saw the men on the bow of the fishing boat put down the rocket launcher and take up assault rifles.

  “I don’t think we’re in range.” Ted held the binoculars to his eyes. The fishing boat closed to within a half mile of them. “But we will be soon.”

  He glanced back at Meagan. She crouched in the corner of the cockpit against the cabin, her hands over her head, sobbing.

  The Defiant sailed on. Chris pushed her for all she was worth, desperately heading for the building fog bank.

  “Heads down.” Ted almost shoved Meagan to the cockpit sole, then turned to see the muzzle flash from the automatic weapons.

  “Fuck!” Chris screamed. “How close did they come?”

  “Short of us.” Ted’s breathing eased. He felt a sense of calmness, acceptance coming over him. “Can’t you make this thing go any faster?”

  “I think we can get a little more out of her if I fall off the wind.”

  “Can’t you guys do something?” Meagan screamed, still sitting on the cockpit sole. “Call the Coast Guard.”

&nb
sp; “Ted?” Chris’ voice cracked.

  “Gotcha.” Ted dropped down the companionway stairs in a single bound and flipped on the VHF radio. Before he had a chance to say a word, an emergency broadcast came over the air.

  “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the BC Ferry, Prince Rupert. We’ve just gone on the rocks north of Malcom Island.”

  “Hello,” Ted shouted into the microphone. “This is the Defiant. We’re being shot at by terrorists.”

  “All vessels on this frequency stand down,” came a harsh female voice over the radio. “This is Coast Guard station Port McNeil, standing by to answer the Prince Rupert’s mayday.”

  “No wait, you don’t understand,” Ted shouted into the microphone. “There’s Arab terrorists shooting at us!”

  “The boat on this frequency: CLEAR THE AIR. Coast Guard Station Port McNeil standing by to answer the Prince Rupert’s mayday.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Ted shouted up the hatch, “They have some sort of emergency going on. They won’t talk to me.”

  “THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!” Chris yelled. “TRY THEM AGAIN!”

  Once again, Ted was chased off of the airways.

  “There’s a ferry that’s gone aground. They made me get off of the radio.”

  “Shit. Let out the main and jib sheets.”

  Ted sprang up the stairs to the jib sheet. Meagan followed orders like never before. Chris eased the boat unto a more southerly course, losing a little speed but making a more direct run for the perceived safety of the fog.

  Ted heard another burst of automatic weapon fire from astern. “Mother fuckers!”

  The fishing boat altered course to intercept the Defiant. No more than a couple of football fields of tossing water separated the two boats. The men on the bow emptied their clips at them. A series of white plumes filled the water around the Defiant.

  Ted watched the first wisps of fog reach for the Defiant’s rigging. Tendrils like ghostly hands beckoned them to safety.

  “Oh God.” Meagan put her hand to her head. “Did you feel that?” She slumped down onto the cockpit seat, hands on her head. “A bullet went right by my head.” Tears streaked down her cheeks.

  “STAY DOWN. GO BELOW . . . both of you. I don’t need you on deck now.”

  Meagan darted into the cabin like a scalded cat. Ted started to say something, then thought better of it. At the companionway hatch he turned to Chris.

  “Keep your head down, dude. We may need it before this thing’s over.” Then he dropped down the companionway ladder.

  “GET OFF OF ME YOU BIG OAF!” Meagan shouted as Ted sprawled on top of her on the cabin sole.

  “Shut up and enjoy it. I should stop any bullets that get through the hull.”

  Meagan started to say something, then ate her words.

  ****

  Fog enshrouded the Defiant. They raced hell-bent for the shore. Somewhere ahead of them, the rocky coast line hid in the fog.

  “Which way do we turn?” Chris said as Ted emerged from the cabin. “East or West?”

  “What difference does it make, dude?”

  “The West is the long way around the island. Lizard Point is between us and clear water.” Chris paused. “The East is the shortest way. The terrorists probably expect us to go that way. What if they’re waiting for us around Donegal Head?”

  The shore line, the pursuing fishing boat, the sea itself disappeared. Even the rigging faded into the mist. The heavy moisture absorbed sound. The world shrank around them in the fog. All they could see was the Defiant’s deck.

  “Do you think we’ve lost them?” Meagan poked her head out the companionway hatch.

  “I don’t know.” Chris sounded exhausted. “They can’t see us, that’s for sure.”

  Then the stillness of the evening was shattered by the sound of gun fire.

  “They’re still shooting at us!” Chris stared into the fog, seeing nothing.

  “They probably have radar on that old tub.” Ted pulled his oil skin tighter around his neck. “They’ll be able to track us in the fog.”

  “Yeah, but if they can’t see us they can’t hit us. Take down the radar reflector.”

  “Huh?”

  “That aluminum thingy hanging from the signal halyard.” Chris pointed to what looked like a giant Christmas tree ornament in the rigging. “Fiberglass boats don’t reflect radar waves. Most boats have a radar reflector so other ships can see them in the dark.”

  Ted understood and dashed to the halyard and lowered the reflector.

  “The terrorists probably think we’ll take the shortest way to Port McNeil.” Chris’ voice took on normal tones. “They’ll be waiting for us at Donegal Head. We’re going to go the other way.”

  Ted was amazed that using charts, the GPS and the depth sounder, Chris could navigate in zero visibility. Chris worked his way towards Lizard Point, then headed for the western end of the island. Once there, he would round the island and come down the other side.

  “Shit, dude, I thought I was going to crap my pants.” Ted began to realize that the emergency was over. They had survived.

  “Chris?” Megan sat hunched in the cockpit. “I was really scared.” Her voice was small and far away.

  Chris patted the helmsman’s seat next to him.

  She raised her head, then moved next to him. “I’ve never had anyone shoot at me before.” She cuddled close to Chris.

  “Me neither.” He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “Jesus, we were lucky. Maybe we need to think this through again. I never thought that we could get hurt.”

  Splat. Splat. Splat. Moisture dripped from the rigging. Ted wiped the drops from his brow.

  “What’s to think through?” Ted whispered. “They have a missile. They’re going to blow up your Dad’s boat. We gotta do something.”

  “We don’t know that they’re going to blow up his ship.” Suddenly, Chris was denying the obvious.

  “Use your brain, Chris,” Meagan slapped Chris’ forehead lightly with the palm of her hand.

  Ted saw that her strength was spent.

  “It’s sick.” Anger rose in her voice as she spoke. “They have an anti-ship missile that would sink an aircraft carrier. What other target do they have way out here? We’re in the middle of God-forsaken nowhere. You could go for days without seeing another boat or a settlement.”

  “I guess our first plan’s our best bet.” Chris’ voice a whisper, he kept his eyes on the compass and the GPS. “We’ve got to alert the authorities. Let them take care of it.”

  “Can you get us out of this fog?” Ted asked.

  “Not just no, but hell no. The fog’s our friend. It saved our butts. With the GPS we can make our way back around the island through the fog.”

  Chapter 44

  Malcolm Island, Canada

  “Keep a sharp look out,” Chris whispered up to Ted on the bow. It had been an hour since the terrorists last shot at them, but they were still careful to keep their voices down. “The chart shows some rocks to port.”

  Moisture hung in the air and clung to Ted like a cloak. He stood on the bow and hugged the forestay, trying to see into the fog. Rivulets ran down his face from his soaked hair. “I hear breaking water off to the left somewhere.” The sound was faint through the fog, water gently lapping on the shore.

  “There.” Ted wiped the water from his eyes. “White water off to our left. About a hundred feet.”

  “Good, that’s right where it should be.”

  The Defiant ghosted along at two knots under sail in the light wind. They didn’t dare fire up the engine in case the terrorists were still shadowing them. They didn’t want to make noise or leave a heat signature for another one of the SAMs.

  “Listen, did you hear that?” Chris cupped a hand to his ear.

  “What is it, dude?”

  A faint rumble crept towards them through the fog.

  “It sounds like an engine. A big diesel.”

  “Where’s it comin’ from?” />
  “I can’t tell. The fog distorts the sound.”

  Did Chris guess wrong? Was that the fishing boat? Were they still hunting them?

  “The bottom’s coming up fast,” Chris said.

  The depth sounder reported shallower water. From one hundred thirty feet, it went to one twenty, then one hundred. Ninety, seventy, sixty.

  “What if we hit something?” Meagan stood in the companionway hatch with a thermo-mug of coffee in each hand.

  “We’re not going fast enough to do any real damage,” Chris answered. “But we want to keep a sharp watch. No sense in making more trouble for ourselves.”

  The depth finder read forty feet, then twenty feet.

  The rumble of the diesel engine rapidly grew louder. Ted felt his pulse quicken. Could they somehow see the Defiant through the fog?

  Meagan handed Chris a mug, then moved forward to Ted.

  “Here you go, big guy.” There was a little life back in her voice. “I hope you have your super powers working now.”

  “No problem, chica.” Ted thought that a little light-heartedness would help. “Spidey’s always on duty.”

  A white shape materialized from the fog.

  “There’s something in front of us.” The light-hearted moment was over. “I think it’s another boat.”

  “Could that be the engine we’re hearing?” Megan asked.

  “No. They’re just lying there, still.”

  “Maybe they’ve anchored to wait out the fog.” Chris’ croaked in a stage whisper.

  “Shouldn’t we sound a fog horn or something?” Meagan turned back to the cockpit.

  “I don’t want to give the terrorists any idea where we are. If they’re close enough that we can hear them, they’d hear us.”

  “You better come right a little, ‘mano. I can make out a boat now. It’s a little cruiser.”

  Chris eased the Defiant to starboard, letting the sheets out slightly. The new course took them farther out into the Queen Charlotte Strait and towards open water.

  “The fog’s lifting,” Meagan said.

  “We’re getting too far away from the island. We need to head back into the fog.”