The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1)

by Pendelton Wallace

  “Wait a minute.” One of the fishermen stepped forward. “You can’t do that. That’s my boat.” He struggled free from Mohammed’s grip and rushed towards Yasim.

  With a quick burst of speed, Kalil intercepted him and struck him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. The intruder staggered, folded over, looked at Kalil with fear in his eyes. Kalil smashed the rifle into the back of his head.

  My God! Ahmad thought. This is getting out of hand.

  The second intruder, stunned for an instant, kneeled down besides his friend “Josh?”

  “Drag your friend in there.” Kalil pointed with his rifle. “Dogs,” he spat.

  The second fisherman looked at the shed, then at Kalil. Ahmad saw the fear in his eyes. Ahmad had never expected to come into close contact with the enemy.

  Without a word, the younger man put his hands under his friend’s arms and dragged him towards the shed.

  “Tie them up. That will take care for now,” Yasim said. “It time to make our videos. Let us prepare.”

  ****

  Port McNeil, Canada

  A slight breeze rippled his shaggy hair as Ted and his friends made their way down towards the marina. The morning sun danced on the water. How could anything be wrong on a day like this?

  “We could call the cruise line,” Meagan said as they walked down the dock. “Let them know about the threat. I’ll bet they’d turn their ship around. If it doesn’t come up the Straits, the terrorists can’t blow it up.”

  “Sweet,” Chris agreed. “They have a vested interest in listening to us. They don’t want to lose a ship or all of its passengers.”

  They climbed aboard the Defiant and descended into her cabin. Chris put his Blackberry on speaker phone and dialed 4-1-1. Ted and Meagan sat on either side of him on the settee. Directory assistance put him in touch with the cruise line.

  “You have reached the offices of Scandinavian Cruise lines. Your call is important to us. For schedule information press one . . .”

  “God,” Chris said. “I hate these automated phone systems. There isn’t an option for security.”

  “Press zero for an operator.” Ted reached into the little hammock above his head and grabbed an apple.

  “They don’t give you that option.”

  “Try it anyway,” Ted mumbled around a mouthful of apple.

  “I’m sorry. You have pressed a number that is not in the system. For schedule information press one . . .”

  “Damn. That didn’t work.”

  “Choose the number for buying tickets.” Meagan picked Oscar up and rolled him onto his back. “There’s bound to be a human being there.”

  “You have selected purchase tickets. Please wait while I transfer your call . . .”

  “C’mon. This is taking forever.”

  “Scandinavian Cruise Lines ticket line.” A perky young voice came on the line. “Let me tell you about our Summer Fun promotion . . .”

  “No. Wait. Listen. We need to get a hold of your security department. There’s a group of terrorists that are planning on blowing up one of your ships. Can you give us a number or transfer us?”

  “I see sir.” There was a slight pause, then Ted heard the rustling of papers. “May I get your name and location?”

  “Chris Hardwick. I’m calling from Port McNeil, B.C. We need to talk to someone in security.”

  “What kind of bomb are you planning on using, sir?”

  It was obvious that he was reading off of some sort of script. They must have a procedure for handling bomb threats.

  “No, you don’t understand. This isn’t a bomb threat. There’s this group of Arab terrorists. They have a missile. Give me the number for your security department.”

  “I’m sorry sir. I don’t have that information. This is the ticket purchase line.”

  “Do you have a phone number for your main office?”

  After several minutes of sparring with the ticket agent, Chris finally scored a phone number.

  “You have reached the offices of Scandinavian Cruise Lines. If you are receiving this message our offices are closed. Our regular office hours are . . . “

  “Shit. They’re closed.”

  “Can’t you leave a message?” Meagan rubbed Oscar’s tummy.

  “Wait, listen to the options.”

  “If you know the extension of your party, you may enter it at any time. To look up your party in our company directory, please press one. . . “

  “God, this is painful.”

  “. . . or just remain on the line to leave a message.”

  “I’m gonna leave a message.”

  Chris left an explicit, urgent message. “God damn it. You know they’re never gonna call back. They’re going to think that this is just another bomb threat.”

  “They have to do something, dude.” Ted rubbed his forehead. “Even if they think it’s a bomb-threat they can’t ignore it. The liability is too great. If they were warned and didn’t do anything, then a bomb really exploded, the passengers would sue them ‘til their balls turned blue.”

  “Jesus, Ted. We can’t just sit around here and wait for them to come back into their office on Monday. We need to do something now.”

  “Chris, I think we better head up to that bay Jack told us about.” Meagan set Oscar down on the settee. “It sounded like he had some sort of plan. Let’s go up there and wait for him to call us.”

  “If we’re gonna head out, we need to pick up a few supplies.” Ted tossed his apple core in the trash. “We’re almost out of coffee and we need more ice.”

  They left the boat and headed up the dock towards town.

  “Look.” Chris pointed at a huge white yacht tied to the last float.

  Chapter 48

  Port McNeil, Canada

  Ted didn’t remember noticing the Pegasus when they arrived.

  “He must have come in last night,” Chris said

  “I’m gonna kill the bastard.” Ted took a step toward the mega-yacht.

  “No. We should just ignore him.” Meagan grabbed Ted’s arm. “Remember what Jack said. We need to get out of Port McNeil. It’s too easy to hurt us here.”

  Reluctantly, Ted turned away. They climbed the steep ramp from the float to shore, then trudged up the hill through the gravel parking lot, past the dockside cafes and machine shops to the local supermarket.

  ****

  The harbor spread below them in a stunning vista as they came down the hill. Boats of all sizes and colors clung to the floats, with yachts to the north and workboats to the south. Beyond the rock break water, a dozen or so yachts rode at anchor in the mile-wide sound between Port McNeil and Malcolm Island. A small ferry boat nudged against the landing on the island across the water.

  Gulls wheeled and spun in the pale blue sky. Sunlight danced on the water. A slight breeze out of the northwest sent wavelets dashing across the sound. How could anybody be planning a terror attack on such a perfect day?

  Ted looked up the float and was stunned.

  “Ah, my friends. We meet again.” Yves stood on the dock, dressed in white slacks and a blue blazer.

  “You bastard. . .” Ted dropped his canvas shopping bag on the float and shoved Yves in the chest.

  “What is this? What did I do?” Yves staggered back a couple of steps.

  “You tried to kill us, you son of a bitch.” Ted shoved Yves again.

  Yves staggered back, narrowly avoiding falling into the water.

  “Your God damned big boat pushed us into the whirlpool.”

  “When? Where?” Yves opened his hands in a gesture of inquiry. “I have not seen you since the last time I was in Port McNeil.”

  “Up by Nelson Inlet.” Chris grabbed Ted’s elbows to restrain him. “You saw us. You blew your horn at us.”

  “My friends, you have my apologies.” Yves spread his hands wide. “I was not on the boat. I have been in Vancouver attending to a little business. My captain, he must not have seen you.”

  “
He saw us all right.” Ted pulled against Chris’ iron grip. “He blew his damn horn at us, then pushed us into a whirlpool.”

  “Once again, you have my apologies.” Yves slowly nodded his head. “I will speak to the man, discipline him. Let me make it up to you. Please. I was coming to invite you to be my guests for dinner tonight. Will you come? Say eight o’clock?”

  “I’m not eatin’ with you.” Ted yanked away from Chris’ grip.

  “No, I think it would be fun.” Meagan stepped forward. “Eight o’clock.”

  Ted stared at her in disbelief.

  “Eight o’clock.” Meagan repeated.

  Chris reluctantly nodded his head.

  “Eight o’clock then.” Yves smiled and walked back up the float.

  ****

  “What in the Hell are you doin’?” Ted couldn’t believe what Meagan had just done.

  “Use your head.” Meagan tapped her forehead with a finger. “He knew exactly what his ship did, whether he was there or not. Nothing happens in his world that he doesn’t know about. He’s up to something. Maybe we can find out what.”

  “And just how do you plan to find out, Nancy Drew?” Ted’s face felt like it was on fire.

  “By using my feminine wiles, stupid.” Meagan stepped nonchalantly aboard the Defiant.

  “Do you really think he’s involved with the terrorists?” Chris put down his canvas bag and spun the combination lock on the companionway hatch.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Meagan replied as Chris slid the hatch open. “I saw him sitting with two Arab men in the McCarthy’s Tavern the day we met him.”

  “What was he doing with a couple of A-rabs?” Ted still frozen on the dock, watched the Frenchman walk away.

  “I don’t know, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right.”

  “What was he doing in Nelson Inlet anyway?” Chris asked. “After he tried to talk us out of going up there? Was he protecting them?”

  Ted couldn’t believe that Meagan and Chris were discussing it so calmly. “I just wanna bust his head.” He stooped to pick up his canvas bags and turned back to his friends.

  “I don’t think you’ll have much chance to do that.” Chris descended the companionway ladder. “He’s gonna to have a professional crew on a yacht that size.”

  “You boys better let little Meaggie handle this one. Brute strength isn’t going to get you anywhere.”

  Chapter 49

  Port McNeil, Canada

  “Good evening, welcome aboard.”

  Ted bristled as the uniformed man held Meagan’s hand a bit too long as she stepped from the dock across the stainless steel threshold on the Pegasus’ swim step. Why’s she wearing those stupid heels on a boat anyway? “I’m Captain Evans. Mr. Bouhier will be with you in a minute. Please follow me.”

  He looks more like Delta Force than the captain of the Love Boat, Ted thought. Evans led the trio across the afterdeck past a large rigid inflatable boat with a huge outboard and two jet skis on chocks and into the cabin.

  Ted stood openmouthed as he looked at the high-gloss burled walnut paneling. “They don’t have anything like this in East LA.” He walked over and ran his hands across the paneling. “It’s so smooth. It almost feels like plastic.”

  “Do you think this is real?” Meagan asked as she tapped what looked like granite columns on each side of the portal between the main saloon and an elegant dining room.

  “Of course it is, my friends.” Yves came down the spiral staircase, perfect for a grand entry. “My taste runs towards the classic. Those are Doric Columns with a small capital to top them off.”

  “What do you mean dork columns?” Ted was rather pleased with his witticism. No one else seemed to be.

  “Doric, dufus. Not dork.” Meagan slapped Ted’s shoulder, then ran her fingers sensuously up the smooth grooves on the columns. “What makes them Doric?”

  “Their shafts are fluted with twenty parallel grooves and they’re topped by a smooth capital. I know it’s silly, but I like harmony in my life.”

  “Everything looks so perfect.” Meagan smiled at Yves. “How did they put it together?”

  Ted’s feathers ruffled at her unabashed flirting with the creep. All she needs to do now is flutter her eye lashes and bump her hip at him.

  “The craftsmen at the shipyard in the Netherlands used lasers to cut the marble. It’s really hollow, with a balsa core, to save weight. On a ship designed to go this fast, weight is a major concern.” Yves waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “The paneling is veneer as well. Really not very thick.”

  Turning his attention to the main saloon, Ted noticed the plush, plum colored furniture. It looked more like a mansion on TV than a yacht. Persian carpets covered the marble tiled deck. A fine wooden credenza opened to reveal a widescreen plasma TV. Beyond the credenza a large oval table filled the dining room.

  Above the table sunlight poured in through what appeared to be a skylight. On closer observation, it wasn’t a skylight at all. It was a light fixture built into the ceiling that just looked like a skylight. Beyond the table the spiral staircase led up another deck and down into the bowels of the ship.

  “My suite is on this deck,” Yves followed Ted’s eyes. “We have four guest cabins on the lower deck. The sky lounge is on the deck above us. That’s where the pilot house is as well.”

  “I’d love to see your suite.” Meagan cooed.

  Ted bit his lip.

  Yves walked towards the spiral staircase. “Perhaps later we can do a tour.” Laying one hand on the polished walnut banister and waving up the stairs with the other Yves said, “For now, let us go up to the sky lounge. Drinks await us before dinner.”

  “Uh, you got a head on this barge?” Ted asked.

  “But, of course. Use the head in my private suite, just forward of the dining room.”

  Chris and Ted exchanged glances. Distract him. Chris got the message. He followed Yves and Meagan up the stairs.

  “You guys go ahead.” Ted moved forward towards the bathroom. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

  ****

  Ted walked casually past the dining room to the massive bath room. With marble sinks and counter tops, a raised soaking-tub, and gold plated fixtures, it looked like something out of a sultan’s harem. He waited for a few minutes, then silently opened the door and peeked out.

  No one was on the main deck. Stepping softly on the tile floor, he made his way back to the main saloon and to the desk below the credenza. He had spotted Yves’ laptop earlier as they walked through.

  Ted flipped open the lid on the computer.

  “Shit.” It had a fingerprint scanner built in. He really doesn’t want anybody getting to his data.

  Ted tried the desk drawers. They were all locked. Nothing else was on the desk top. Now why would he have to lock his desk when he’s at home?

  “Are you finding what you are looking for?” a small dark-haired woman in uniform asked.

  Ted jumped, startled at the interruption. “Oh, ah . . . I was just checking out Mr. Bouhier’s laptop. I’m a bit of a geek myself. I wanted to see what he was using.”

  “It is zee very latest technology. ’e ‘as a satellite ‘ook up to zee Internet. ‘e can conduct business from any place in zee world.”

  “Ah. . . Yeah, I can see it’s mucho high tech. You don’t, ah . . . see many laptops protected with biometrics.”

  “I believe Monsieur Bouhier is serving drinks in zee sky lounge.” With that the woman herded Ted towards the spiral staircase.

  “Ah, Teddy,” Yves pronounced it Ted-eee. “You have rejoined us. I see that you have met my steward, Madame Trufaunt?”

  “Yeah. We met down stairs.” Ted looked at his sneakers.

  “What would you like to drink? Madame is quite the bartender.”

  The quiet woman slipped behind the glass-topped bar.

  “I’ll have a margarita. On the rocks.”

  “Meagan? Chris?”

&
nbsp; Ted hated the way Yves said “Meagan,” like it was going to take him five minutes to get her whole name out.

  “White wine’s good for me.” Meagan replied.

  “Do you have Guinness?” Chris asked.

  “We have everything.” Yves waved his hand in an expressive gesture.

  Smug bastard, Ted thought.

  “What kind of tequila would you like in your Margarita, Mr. Higuera?” Madame Trufaunt’s hands were a blur of action, but her eyes locked firmly on Ted.

  How did she know my name? “What do you have?”

  “Mr. Bouhier is very particular. ‘e insists I stock ‘is bar with only zee best.”

  We’ll see about that. Ted smiled.

  “Do you have Herradura?” That should show him.

  “Blanco or añejo?”

  Shit. “Ah. . . Añejo, please.” The smile left Ted’s face.

  While Yves took Meagan to the windows to look out at Malcolm Island, Ted pulled Chris aside.

  “I don’t like the way that creep looks at her.” Chris glared at Meagan and Yves.

  “Me neither, but she said she had a plan, dude.”

  “I don’t care. She doesn’t have to dress that way. She’s practically seducing him.”

  Chris usually didn’t complain about what Meagan wore. Ted liked the skin-tight jeans and scoop neck T-shirt. The ‘come-fuck-me’ heels were a little ridiculous on a boat though.

  “Chris, focus.” Ted tried to get Chris’ attention back. “He’s got everything locked up tighter than a drum,” Ted whispered. “He has a biometric scanner on his laptop.”

  “Bio-what?” Chris, still staring at Meagan and Yves, kept his voice low too.

  “Biometrics. It’s a fingerprint scanner. No one can use the lap top without scanning in their fingerprints. It’s the ultimate security.”

  “What if someone just cut off his fingers?” Chris smiled.

  “That wouldn’t work.” Ted liked the image. “It tests for body temperature too. It’s as good as it gets these days. His desk is all locked up. I wonder what he’s hiding.”