"Yeah. No kidding. That's what I'm calling about."
"Oh? There's news?"
"Yes. First off, Kirsten was found dead in her cell this morning. She had a syringe hanging out of her arm."
"That's horrible. I ..."
"I know you had sort of mixed feelings about her. Anyway, they're writing it off as an accidental overdose. Her record makes that sort of credible."
"Sort of? I hear some question there," Phillip said.
"Yeah. Jails are full of drugs, but her gear was first-class stuff. The syringe and the needle were brand new, and the coke was the purest stuff the coroner's ever seen -- he didn't think it had been cut."
"So what do you think, then?" Connie asked.
"Well, when I put that together with what they got back on Jimmy when they ran his prints, I think somebody didn't want her cutting any deals that might involve her talking about who Jimmy knew."
"What about him?"
"James Henry Dorlan was an alias, like we thought. His real name was John Henry -- no middle initial. He's got a record as long as my arm, for nearly everything you can think of. The Maryland State Police were closing in on him when he and Kirsten took off. He was a second-tier distributor of all sorts of illegal drugs; he was selling through some kids at the school where Kirsten got in trouble, but he was also dealing around the Patuxent River Naval Air Station. They were pretty sure he was getting his stuff from a guy up in Baltimore, but they didn't manage to pin down who it was before he took off."
Connie related the story that Kirsten had told her about Jimmy trying to hook her up with a friend of his who was a pimp to work off her drug debts. "I don't know any more than that, but ..."
"I'll pass it along to the people in Maryland. It might make some kind of connection for them."
"So what's going to happen with Kirsten's death?"
"I don't know. Carteret County would be happy just to let it be an accidental overdose and hush it up, but the Feds are in the driver's seat. It's hard to say; it'll probably get political before it's over. The coroner didn't sound like he bought accidental death, but there's local politics to consider there, too."
"It's just so sad. Sometimes she seemed like a nice kid who was in over her head."
"Yeah. She probably was, at some point, but don't forget, you thought she set Jimmy up and killed him in cold blood."
"I know, but ..."
"Try to let it go, Connie. You're out of it, now. You're having a great sail with two of the best crew you could ask for, and the fish are biting. Focus on how good things are; I can hardly wait to join you. It's not long, now."
"You're right. Thanks, Paul. You're the best friend a girl could want, and I wish you were with us to enjoy all this."
"Thanks. I'm looking forward to seeing you all soon. I need to get back to my meeting; I just slipped out to call you."
* * *
Chapter 19
Eight days later...
The alarm on Connie's wristwatch beeped, reminding her that it was time to scan the horizon for other vessels. They were only a couple of hundred miles north of the Virgin Islands, and the shipping traffic had been increasing over the last few days. Right after they had turned to the south when they passed Bermuda, they had gone for three days without seeing another sign of human life, except for the odd plastic grocery bag or soft-drink bottle that drifted past. This morning, she'd already crossed paths with two cruise ships and a freighter, although not closely enough to be of concern. Still, she knew she had become a little too casual about looking for other traffic, so she'd set a recurring 15-minute alarm to remind her.
Given that most ships covered a mile in two or three minutes and that the distance to the visual horizon was about twelve miles, a 360-degree sweep every 15 minutes was a good way to avoid surprises. She picked up the binoculars and stood, bracing herself against the steering pedestal as she scanned the sea. There was no sign of another vessel, so she set the glasses down and settled back into her seat.
As she and the others had gotten more accustomed to the rhythms of life at sea on a small, shorthanded boat, the amount of time spent in idle conversation had decreased. They were all a bit weary, and they shared the same immediate experiences. After a while, there wasn't a lot to talk about. That was all right with Connie; it gave her time to sort through her feelings about Paul.
Her earlier conversations about married life with Phillip and Sharktooth provided grist for the mill of her thoughts. As she picked through their passing comments about their wives, she realized that they were the first people she had gotten to know who had normal marriages. Her one serious, long-term relationship had been with a married man, but that didn't give her any useful reference points. She'd never had the luxury of forming close relationships with other women until she spent a couple of months aboard Vengeance with Dani and Liz, but they were both young and single. Besides, they were committed to making their charter business successful, and neither had much time for romance.
Connie understood that; she had been driven to succeed when she was their age, too. It was only over the last couple of years, when she had some leisure time, that she felt a yearning for someone with whom to share life. She knew she was ill-equipped to evaluate the attraction that she felt for Paul, since her best friend, the one person with whom she might otherwise feel comfortable talking over her feelings, was the object of her affection.
She had picked up some insights from listening to Sharktooth and Phillip that were new to her. She'd often wondered over the years how a person could commit to spend a lifetime in the company of one other person. It hadn't occurred to her that it might be easy to do if the person happened to be your best friend. That came across clearly from both of the men, although neither was particularly articulate on the subject.
She wasn't normally given to such introspection; she'd achieved what she had by virtue of being decisive and trusting her intuition. She wanted to open up to Paul, but she was reluctant because of the discussions they'd had about moving slowly. They'd been physically attracted to each other from first sight, and the attraction had grown as they spent more time together.
Connie thought something might have happened early in their relationship, but they'd been aboard Vengeance, in close company with Dani and Liz, as well as Phillip and Sandrine for much of the time. There hadn't been enough privacy for them to act on their feelings then, and they had since agreed to keep their relationship platonic. Except, she reminded herself, for the night in Beaufort, when they had passed the night, innocently enough, in each other's arms. She felt a tingle at the memory, but she suppressed it.
While they were on Vengeance, she had shared her plans to start her own charter business with Paul, and based on his reaction, she'd asked if he might be interested in helping her. Having recently retired, he had the time, and he was an avid sailor as well as a good cook. He had found the prospect appealing.
After their time on Vengeance ended, they had begun an almost daily series of telephone calls as they discussed her plans and progress. Paul had confessed to her then that he was a bit worried about his decision. Connie vividly remembered the conversation they'd had after she had bought Diamantista.
The boat had been in Charleston, South Carolina, and Connie had made arrangements with a boat yard in Annapolis to do a refit. The boat was ten years old and well cared-for, but Connie wanted to start her business with everything in like-new condition.
She had asked Paul to help her get the boat to Annapolis, and he had agreed. Given that it was an unfamiliar vessel to them both and that the rigging needed to be replaced, they had decided to take it up the Intracoastal Waterway rather than making the coastal passage in the ocean. The trip had taken several days, traveling during the day and stopping in the evenings at transient marinas.
"Connie," Paul had said that night on the telephone, "there's just one thing ..."
"Okay? What's that?"
"Um, you know I find you awfully attractive."
> "Well, I ..."
"No. Please, I'm having a tough enough time. I just need to say this, straight out. It's the only way I'll feel like I'm being fair to you. Let me get it done, then we can talk it over, okay?"
"Okay."
"Thanks. You're beautiful, and you're still young. I'm not ancient, but I've got some hard miles behind me, and I don't want to rush into a relationship that's going to hurt either of us. I know we touched on this before, but I just need it out in the open. I like being in your company, and I'm excited about the notion of sailing with you, but I'm not ready for a romantic relationship. I've still got too much unresolved guilt from my divorce."
"I'm sorry, Paul; I've been so wrapped up in buying the boat that I put all that out of my mind, I guess. I hadn't thought about how it would be for us to be living together on the boat."
"Well, yeah. And Connie?"
"Yes?"
"I mean, if that other, um, well if it ... damn."
"I think I know what you want to say, Paul. I'm not in such great shape myself when it comes to romance. I like your company, but I agree that we should stick to being friends for a while and just see where it ends up, if that's what you're thinking."
"Whew. Thanks. You can't imagine how much better you just made me feel about this. When should I come to Charleston?"
****
It had become the ship's custom for the three of them to have a midday meal together, and today it marked the end of Connie's watch. She had been more tired than usual, and had gone below and gone to sleep, leaving Phillip and Sharktooth to pick over the remains of their lunch.
"Connie, she good people," Sharktooth volunteered after she was out of earshot.
"She's good company at sea," Phillip agreed.
"You t'ink Paul know how lucky he be?"
"You think they're ..."
"Well, I doan know 'bout Paul. You know he better. But I t'ink she see him be part of her crew for the long time."
"I don't know. I hadn't thought too much about it. What makes you think that?"
"Jus' the way she ask 'bout Maureen, mos'ly."
"I don't get it, Sharktooth. What did she ask you that made you think she's after Paul that way?"
Sharktooth shook his head. "More jus' the way she listen, an' the t'ings she pay mos' attention to when I talk about Maureen. I see it when she hear you talk about Sandrine, too.
"Really? Sometimes you amaze me."
"Come from bein' one wit' everyt'ing, I t'ink."
"You sound like a Buddhist."
"Mebbe so. Might not be Paul at all, but I t'ink she studyin' 'bout marry up to some fella."
"Well, that wouldn't be a big surprise. She'd make somebody a good wife, if that's what she wants. She's a nice lady."
"Mm-hmm. Pretty, too. I doan mean jus' to look at."
"No. I know what you mean."
"You ask Sandrine when you get a chance. See what she t'ink."
"What about Maureen? You ask her?"
"No, Phillip. Maureen never meet Connie yet. Or Paul. She could tell right quick, though, if she spend a few minutes wit' them. She tell me 'bout you an' Sandrine long time befo' it happen."
"You two are hopeless romantics, aren't you?"
"Love make the worl' go 'roun', they say."
Phillip nodded. "Well, if you're right, it couldn't happen to two nicer people. You okay for a while?"
Sharktooth nodded.
"Good. I'm going to try to nap for a bit."
****
About an hour after Phillip went below, Sharktooth noticed the smudge on the horizon out to the west. It vanished from sight as he watched it, and he decided his eyes were deceiving him. A few minutes later he saw it again. He picked up the binoculars and got to his feet, bending so that he could rest his elbows on the stern rail to steady the glasses. He decided it might be another vessel, but it was too far away to be sure.
He went below to the chart table and turned on the radar, mostly to amuse himself. He had just managed to pick up an echo in the direction of the suspected boat when Phillip, who had been asleep on one of the settees, woke up. He rolled to his feet and joined Sharktooth.
"What do you have?" he whispered, not wanting to disturb Connie, who was in the aft stateroom a few feet from them.
Sharktooth touched the screen with a banana-sized finger. Phillip nodded, and they stood there watching the display for a couple of minutes.
"Moving fast, and coming straight this way," Phillip murmured.
Sharktooth punched a couple of buttons, and an information box popped up on the screen next to the target. Phillip whistled softly. "Forty-five knots, and headed this way."
"Not a ship," Sharktooth said. "Echo too small."
"He's going to be on top of us in a couple of minutes. I don't like this. Probably some jerk in a big sport fishing boat with his autopilot on, oblivious to everything out here."
"I doan t'ink so." Sharktooth traced the other vessel's track, displayed as history on the screen from the time he'd first designated it as a radar target. "He makin' a curve, keep he bow aim right at us. He comin' to see us."
"That can't be good," Phillip said.
"T'ink mebbe he see us eyeball now. He speed up some."
"Over there, I'd guess he came from Puerto Rico or the D.R.," Phillip said.
"Or Turks and Caicos, mebbe,"
"What's going on?" Connie asked, emerging from the aft cabin.
"Company's coming, it looks like," Phillip said.
"Comin' fas', too. He speed up. Sixty knots, now."
"You don't have any weapons aboard, do you?" Phillip asked.
"No." There was tension in Connie's voice. "Why? Do you ..."
"There aren't a lot of things that move that fast on the water. Unless it's military, it's probably a go-fast boat, and this far offshore in this part of the world, that most likely means drugs,"
"But why would they be coming at us?"
"They think we're somebody else, maybe. They could be picking up something, or delivering it, expecting a ship out this way."
"No ships,” Sharktooth said. "Nobody even close. He 'bout two, mebbe t'ree minutes out. Still come straight at us."
"What can we do?" Connie squeaked. "You're scaring me."
"Scared is good; that'll keep you alive. I'm scared too."
Sharktooth cackled, a demented sound. "Me, too. But doan' worry. Every little t'ing goan be all right, jus' like the song."
"You got something in mind?" Phillip asked.
"Mm-hmm. Like they say, been there, done that."
"What? Done what?" Connie asked
"Been in a boat like that, try to stop some big boat like this. We do the ambush. Jus' do what we doin', fo' right now. You see what happen in a minute. Stay hidden below deck."
"But what if they sink us."
"They want somethin'. They doan come way out here to sink us. Besides we be sunk by now, if tha's what they want."
The roar of powerful engines filled the cabin as the boat made a close pass, and the ripping chatter of an AK-47 was barely audible above the engine noise. Connie and the two men watched through a porthole as the oversized, brightly painted speedboat veered at the last minute, throwing a wall of spray against Diamantista's side.
"He's leaving," Connie said.
"He be back. He jus' checkin' us out up close that time."
"Be cool. We got the mojo on, but he doan know."
* * *
Chapter 20
The speedboat pulled alongside Diamantista, its engines rumbling as the man at the helm held a position a few feet from their port side. Besides the helmsman, there were two armed men in the cockpit, one clutching a pistol, and the other pointing an AK-47 in their general direction.
"Doan let 'em see us lookin' out," Sharktooth said, his gentle hand on Connie's shoulder moving her out of sight. "Connie, go back in yo' cabin. I take the port side; Phillip, you take the starboard. We let 'em come down the companionway an' then take 'em."
<
br /> As they got into position, Phillip was able to see the boat edging closer. He caught Sharktooth's eye and indicated the distance away by holding his hands apart, gradually bringing them together. When they were about three feet apart, they heard a thud, followed by a soft curse and a second impact as the two men jumped aboard. Phillip and Sharktooth both backed against the bulkhead, one on each side of the companionway ladder. Sharktooth raised a single finger and pointed to his chest. Phillip nodded. As he registered from the corner of his eye that the boat had moved farther away, the man with the pistol jumped like a cat, landing at the foot of the ladder and sweeping the cabin with his pistol, first to the right, then to the left.
"Amateur," Phillip thought. As the man began to turn to his left, Sharktooth grabbed him by the back of his shirt with his right hand, jerking him backwards as he reached around with his left and grasped his forearm, twisting it until a bone snapped and the pistol dropped from his hand. At that point, Sharktooth put his left hand over the man's face and stepped from behind him, turning as he extended his left arm and smashed the man's head into the ladder, knocking him senseless.
The other man crouched in the companionway, his rifle pointed at Sharktooth. "Freeze or you're dead," he barked.
Sharktooth grinned and nodded. "Okay, mon. You win." He raised his big hands in surrender as the man extended his right leg, placing his foot on the top rung of the ladder. As he shifted his weight to the foot, Phillip swept his ankle from beneath him and he tumbled down the ladder, firing an uncontrolled burst into the cabin overhead as he fell. Before he could recover, Phillip was on him, deflecting the muzzle of the weapon as he drove his fist into the man's solar plexus. As he doubled over, gasping and retching, Phillip tore the AK-47 from his grasp and Sharktooth smashed him in the face with the heel of his hand, knocking him over backward and chuckling. "Now we sink the boat," he said grinning at Phillip and reaching for the weapon.
There was a popping sound from behind him, and a pained look spread across Sharktooth's face as he and Phillip turned to see the first man getting to his feet, a tiny pistol in his left hand. Blood began to blossom from Sharktooth's shoulder.
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