Storm Rising

by Steven Becker

  Regretting that he had not bought any beer on the island, he opened a bottle of water, ignored the messages on the screen, and pressed the contact button for Alicia. She answered right away, and after subjecting him to a brief scolding, she calmed down enough to talk.

  “Virgin Gorda. There’s a yacht club at the entrance to Biras Creek.” She paused. “Do you think you can find it?”

  Though the barb hit home, he ignored it. “Right on. I’ll be there tonight. Check in with you then.”

  “I emailed a packet that you might want to have a look at. Mei Li is on the yacht.”

  He had first heard the name and the legendary stories at the academy. He disconnected, promising her he would read the dossier after he moored—and had a beer. After releasing the line from the mooring ball, he climbed back to the cockpit, where he pushed the throttle forward and reversed course out of the harbor. Under motor, he followed the GPS plotter, staying clear of the Dog Islands, and then turned north in the direction of Virgin Sound. Further out to sea, he saw the sails of a handful of boats tacking back and forth toward the same destination, but fortunately there were a half dozen other motor sailors plowing directly to the inlet, and he fell in line, content to let them do the navigation for him.

  The convoy entered the bay around two, and he checked the chart plotter, finding Biras Creek dead ahead. He cruised past several smaller bays and saw the long, pristine dock of the YCCS, bigger and more brash than Alicia had described it. Several large yachts were tied to her black pilings. There were more slips empty than full, and he wondered if he would be in a better position if he docked there rather than tying up to a mooring buoy in the narrow inlet beyond the yacht club. Shore power decided it for him, and he set the throttle to neutral and went for the VHF. The dockmaster gave him the exorbitant rate, which he flinched at but agreed to, hoping Alicia was not mad enough to cut off his credit card.

  Several uniformed men waited for him at the assigned slip, which he couldn’t help but notice was well away from the larger yachts. He waved off their help. Pulling bow first into the slip, he crashed into a piling before one of the men jumped aboard and took control of the boat. The other men quickly tied off the lines and hooked up the fresh water and shore power. Mako thanked them, shut off the engine and went below, where he showered and changed. With his phone in hand, he texted Alicia that he had arrived, neglecting to tell her that he had changed the plan or mention the cost of the slip.

  He strode casually up the dock to the paved walkway that led up a slight incline to a large building. A large Rolex clock hung over the entrance, making him feel slightly self-conscious that his shirt was not tucked in. But he knew the Vineyard Vines attire he sported would be welcomed here. He reached for the large glass door, pulled it open, and entered the luxurious lobby. With a nod, he passed the woman at the check-in counter and walked into the bar. Several groups were scattered around the room overlooking the North Sound. Not one head turned when he entered and sat at the bar. A uniformed bartender with a permanent smile came toward him, giving him a look like he didn’t belong.

  “Are you staying with us, sir?” he asked.

  “I am,” Mako responded and pointed vaguely to his rented boat.

  “All right, then. What can I get for you?”

  “Pusser’s and soda with a lime,” Mako ordered.

  His look still unsure, the bartender nodded and made the drink. Mako thanked him, took a sip and hit the email button on his phone. He glanced down at the message from Alicia and took a deep drink while the attachment loaded. The Wi-Fi was surprisingly slow for such a resort, but the file finally loaded. He finished the drink, signaled the bartender and waited for a refill before looking at it.

  CHAPTER 10

  The bartender moved down the bar. “Get you another?”

  Mako shook his head. “Not my kinda place, if you know what I mean. Anywhere else around that gets a little more action?”

  “There’s the Bitter End.” He pointed across the water. “Or Leverick’s. I’m thinking that’d be more to your liking. Lots of young ladies there off the boats.”

  Mako did a double take when the bill was placed in front of him. He did his best to disguise his shock and removed his credit card, wondering how he was going to justify this to Alicia. He looked through the open doors at Virgin Sound. From his vantage point, he could see the pyramid roofs of the Bitter End to his right and Saba Rock, a small island with a marina, restaurant, and bar, across the way. Leverick’s was around several points and not visible from here.

  “Can I take the dinghy over?”

  The bartender looked at the water. “Not too choppy, probably be alright tonight. Just take a light with you.”

  Mako thanked him and left the bar. He passed back through the lobby, catching a few looks, and walked to the sailboat. Once aboard, he thought about moving the boat to the moorings or docks at Leverick’s, but decided against doing in the fading light what he could barely do during the day.

  He climbed into the dinghy and started the engine. After releasing the painter, he pulled the lever to forward, turned the throttle on the steering arm and sped away from the dock. The water was calm, making for an easy run across the bay. It took only a few minutes to cover the mile between resorts, and he smiled as he turned past Clark Rock and saw the lights of the marina and hotel in front of him. Reggae music came from the bar, and even from here he could see the crowd of suntanned tourists. This was more his kind of place, he thought. The dinghy dock was crowded. Another sign the bartender had steered him right. He copied the other boaters, dropping the small anchor off the stern after pushing two of the small grey inflatables aside to make enough room for him to tie up.

  Graceful was not how you would describe his transition from the dinghy to the dock. Forced to take a knee in order to gain his footing, he rose, brushed off his crawfish-patterned shorts, and headed past the pool to the bar. White smiles contrasted with the tanned faces lining the busy bar. The high-top tables were full, and several couples were dancing barefoot in the sand. He found a gap at the bar, turned and slid sideways into the space, where he watched the crowd while waiting for one of the bartenders to see him. An older lady slid over a seat, giving him his own space and a wink that offered more, but thankfully the bartender interrupted.

  After ordering a Pusser’s and soda, he pulled out his phone to check Alicia’s email. After all, if she was paying for his drinks, he was still working.

  He glanced down at the file and scrolled through several pages of text before he came to the first picture, but before he could look back, a woman entered the bar who drew the attention of everyone sitting there. It took all his willpower not to stare at the stunning Eurasian woman casually walking past him. She glanced in his direction, but he averted his eyes and looked at the picture on his phone.

  The bartender was already there when the woman pulled out a chair three places down from him and sat. “Can I get you one of our famous Painkillers, miss?” he asked, emphasizing his island accent.

  “No, thank you,” she said. “A double shot of your best tequila with a lime.”

  He turned away and perused the bottles on the top shelf. Mako looked up from his phone and glanced at her, then looked back down and did a double take. It was the same woman as in the picture—just thirty years younger.

  With one eye on the woman and another on the phone, he scanned the biography of the elder agent, Mei Li. It was a thorough background, but there were chunks of time missing—mostly her childbearing years. He read further, but there was no mention of children. Another glance at the woman and he knew, whether she was in the file or not, this was her daughter. Now, the question was what to do with the information. He drank and watched her down the tequila and place the glass down on the bar. A moment of panic overtook him, not knowing what to do if she left. Did he follow her or let her go? Was it worth the risk to be seen?

  The questions answered themselves when she got up and moved to the dance floor. Ste
pping down to the sandy surface, she kicked off her flip-flops and started dancing barefoot in the sand. This was his style of surveillance, and he decided to chance an encounter. He set his drink down and walked over to the sandy area. Kicking off his boat shoes, he moved next to her and started to sway with the music. Not copying her, but letting her know he was there. She smiled and turned her body toward him, a signal he read to move closer. Together they synced their bodies, moving to the mellow music of Harry Belafonte singing “Jamaica Farewell.”

  The song ended, and they stood looking at each other. “Buy you a drink?” Mako said, reverting to the time-honored line.

  “That’d be nice,” she said. “A double tequila, and bring it back here. I want to dance.”

  He backed away from her, watching her move. Her arms swung over her head, accentuating her hips as they moved back and forth. So entranced was he that he crashed into the older woman who had offered her seat. Returning to the sand, he handed her the drink. She wrapped her arms around him, and he turned to face her.

  ***

  Storm walked into the bar and stared in shock. It was louder and more crowded than his liking, but he saw a woman dancing by herself and instantly recognized her from the yacht. Reversing course, he walked to the crowded bar, watching the woman, when a man walked up to her and handed her a drink. A frown crossed his face.

  He watched as they touched glasses and brushed their faces together, stopping just short of a kiss. Laughing, they sipped their drinks and started dancing. He frowned, wondering what to do about this development. Play it out and use Mako to see what the woman and the Iranian were up to, or warn him of the danger he was in. He knew Mako’s modus operandi, but also knew of his naivety—especially around beautiful women. He couldn’t help but notice the couple had that magical look about them, and he decided he needed to break this up before it went too far. He sat and drank, waiting for the right time, but the longer he sat, the more frustrated he became watching Mako operate. If he was only as dedicated to his profession as he was to womanizing, he could be a top-notch agent. As it was, he somehow fumbled through enough successes to get by, but Storm knew he had the best backup in the world. Alicia Phon had been known in the intelligence community as the go-to analyst. But he knew all too well what budget cuts and appeasing politicians had done to the Agency. Like himself and so many others, she was “self-employed” now. Word was that since she had left the Agency, she was shacked up with some dive guy in Key Largo and did contract work as it suited her.

  From the way their bodies were intertwined, Mako and the woman looked like they would soon need some privacy. He needed to do something now. Storm finished his drink, paid and left a generous tip. Generous enough to beg forgiveness for what he was about to do. He left the bar, moved into the shadows of the walkway near the pool and waited. It was not long before he saw them coming towards him. Mako was on the pool side, making his plan easier to execute.

  ***

  The woman had sucked his attention, focusing it like a straw as she drank his soul. Forgetting why he was here, or rather rationalizing that this was intelligence gathering, he went willingly. Never asking the question that should have been crossing his mind: Should I be getting involved with the daughter of Mei Li? He’d felt chemistry before, but this was like a nuclear reaction, and he found himself totally under her spell.

  The song ended and she tugged his hand, leading him off the sand, and after quickly finding their shoes, she whispered in his ear a promise of something he couldn’t refuse. They left the bar hand in hand and were about to pass the pool when a figure shot out of the shadows. For a brief second, the light caught his face and Mako froze.

  Before he could react, he lost his balance and felt the woman’s hand slip from his grip. A split second later, he was in the pool, clawing to the surface. He spat the water from his mouth and stared at the gathering crowd. A bouncer pushed the onlookers aside and helped him out of the water. He shook himself off and scanned the faces watching him, but the woman was gone. The bouncer was encouraging the crowd to break up, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw John Storm moving up the stairs to the hotel.

  His night over, he slunk toward the dinghy dock, where he untied the dock line and started the engine. Seconds before the stern anchor line got sucked into the propeller, he retrieved it before embarrassing himself again. Just as he turned into the main bay, the dinghy was assaulted by the wake of a water taxi speeding by, and he remembered the bartender’s advice to use a light. He was close enough to see the woman in the light of the cockpit looking ahead, oblivious to the dinghy riding the wake in the dark. It was too late to avoid the waves, and he eased off the throttle and coasted, watching the taxi move away.

  While he rode out the swells from the water taxi, he remembered the woman with the wonderful accent who had done the boat orientation in Tortola mentioning something about a plastic case. Moving to the bow, he opened the small storage compartment, which yielded a watertight container. He emptied the contents onto the deck and found a small LED light. The wake was past now, and with the light held high in one hand, he opened the throttle and sped across the flat water to the sailboat. Back in the cabin, he changed clothes, realizing when he pulled his phone from the pocket of the wet shorts that it was ruined. The only means of communication available was the VHF radio, which might be great for a weather check or in an emergency, but to contact Alicia, he needed something more secure.

  He went on deck and studied the surrounding area. The lights of Bitter End twinkled just across the water, and he remembered reading something in the cruising guide about them having amenities for cruisers. He hopped into the dinghy, hoping that a private payphone would be one of them.

  ***

  John sat on the bed in his room, staring down at his phone and wondering whether to make the call. He was pretty sure that Mako had not seen him, but although the younger agent’s tradecraft left a lot to be desired, he couldn’t be sure. He would move forward under the assumption that he had been seen by both Mako and the woman. Chance was not something that he wanted to rely on.

  Deciding that action was the best recourse, he put the phone aside. If his cover was blown, he needed to know. Being identified by Mako would inconvenience the operation. He changed his clothes, grabbed the field glasses and left the room, walking toward the hotel exit higher up the road. Across the street was a small store, where he grabbed a few energy bars, a bottle of water and mosquito repellent.

  Deciding that a water taxi was too conspicuous, he opted to liberate a dinghy. Staying in the shadows, he crossed to the pier and made his way to the dock. There were at least a dozen identical craft tied up, distinguished only by their numbers. He knew it was commonplace for people to take the wrong dinghy, and the rental companies would provide a ready replacement knowing the missing boat would be found sooner or later.

  He stepped down into the last craft in the line and went to the small outboard. Engines this size did not have keys. All that was needed was a spacer to deactivate the dead-man switch. Digging in his pocket, he took a bill and folded it into a horseshoe shape, using it to open the gap required for the engine to start. In case of a real man overboard, the driver would, in theory, have a lanyard looped around his or her wrist which would pull the spacer, cutting the engine if they went overboard.

  The engine started, and he released the line, glancing back at the pier to see if the theft had been noticed. No one was looking his way, so he pushed the lever back to reverse and eased the dinghy back. Once he cleared the other boats, he clicked the lever to forward, accelerated and headed toward the mooring field. He navigated a circuitous route through the moored boats to confuse any onlooker before turning into the sound and speeding towards the yacht club.

  CHAPTER 11

  “What do you mean, he pushed you into the pool and now your phone’s wrecked?”

  Mako held the receiver away from his ear while Alicia’s rant continued.

  “And calling collec
t? Nobody calls collect anymore. I didn’t even know they still offered it. And you found a pay phone. Nice, like this call is not going to be on the NSA hot sheet.”

  He knew she was almost out of steam and bit his tongue. “What about the woman?” Imagining her fingernails tapping on a keyboard, he waited, watching the cruisers come and go from the shower stalls next to the phone.

  “Doesn’t exist. There’s a gap in Mei Li’s history that would account for a child. But no details,” Alicia said.

  “I’m telling you, she’s a cross between that Cyrus dude and the picture you sent me. A dead match.”

  “And how close did you get to determine that?” she asked.

  Mako paused again, wondering if she had cameras on him or if it was another educated guess. “Funny. Wouldn’t mind getting to know her, though.”

  The line was silent for a moment. “You know, of all your half-baked ideas, that’s not a bad one. Stay away from the yacht, though. Cyrus would recognize you after London.”

  “You might want to send that memo to John Storm. He’s here,” Mako said.

  “How does he do it?” Alicia asked.

  “Hell if I know, but he’s the one that pushed me into the pool.”

  “Like that’s the whole story.” She paused. “Let me get to work on this.”

  “What about a phone?”

  The line went dead, and he replaced the receiver. He didn’t need to ask permission. The water might have ruined the phone, but it hadn’t bothered his credit card. Tomorrow he’d head over to Spanish Town and get a replacement. Tonight, however, he needed to do some work.

  He left the dock area and went back to the dinghy. Across the water, he could see the yacht, its lights casting a reflection on the water, and decided to take a run over for a closer look. The inflatable skimmed across the flat water, and he extinguished the light just before reaching the yacht club. He coasted up to an empty section of the marina and dropped into neutral while he evaluated the dock area. The yacht glowed in the darkness, and he could hear people talking, but he was too low in the water to see anything. He reversed course, trying to back up enough to get a better view, when he saw what looked like a garage door open at the boat’s stern and a speedboat slide backwards into the water. The yacht’s dinghy might have been the dream boat for many, but looking at it with the backdrop of the yacht, the twin-engine twenty-plus-foot boat seemed so small.