North by Northeast

by Cherime MacFarlane

  "Lori, would you care for a cup of coffee?" Day waved a hand toward the small galley.

  "No. Coffee makes me sick. Have you finally decided to tell me exactly why you kidnapped me and caused me so much discomfort?" She folded her hands together.

  "Direct, are you? Fine, we’ll do it your way." He waved a hand toward the starboard side of the schooner. There, several elongated windows replaced the old-fashioned portholes. Lori would have a good view of the mooring they were in if she glanced that way.

  "Go ahead, take a look. You're in the middle of nowhere. The only way in or out is this schooner."

  Lori had a hard time keeping her eyes away from the beckoning view. But she had decided to be as uncooperative as possible. She glanced toward the windows, then away again. "I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you have made a grave mistake by kidnapping me. At this point, it can be rectified. I would suggest you release me."

  With a slight shake of his head, Day refused. "I’ve waited four years to acquire something from you. My patience is wearing thin after all this time."

  Four years. Ah, the barbarian, caveman dreams show in Marina Del Rey, Lori thought to herself. Now she was going to toss a monkey wrench in his works. It might hurt her. Then again, he intended to hurt her sooner or later.

  "Marina Del Rey. You saw my show there." Lori put her hands behind her and rocked back on her heels.

  "Yes. I want you to create one of your masterpieces for me. I want my personal dream, my soul on canvas."

  It required a lot of effort, but she managed a light laugh. "Mr. Day, you kidnapped the wrong MacGrough."

  As she watched, he pushed the cup to one side sharply. The liquid spilled out onto the tabletop. He glared at her. A bright red flush of anger stained his cheeks. "And exactly what do you mean by that nonsense?"

  Lori met Day's gaze with a smile. "It’s my husband's work you're interested in... not mine."

  The drops of coffee slowly dripped off the table down onto the carpeted floor. Day glared at her, oblivious to the mess he made. "Your name was on the canvases. Further, it was your name in the catalog. What the hell are you talking about?"

  Lori decided it might not be smart to anger him, but it was enjoyable to shake him up after all he’d put her through.

  "Hamish created those dreams. Do you honestly believe the canvases came from me? Those things came out of a warrior's soul.” She shrugged. “He wanted no one else to see the paintings. So I put them out to show him how wonderful they were. But Hamish decided since music was his first love, he would stick with it."

  One of Day's hands formed a fist where he leaned against the table top. "He did those? Your husband?"

  Lori nodded. "Yep, you've got it. And he has no plans to produce further canvasses. They were a one-off."

  Her heart pounded in her chest so fiercely, Lori feared she might faint. Day seethed. With barely a glance at the cup, he slammed his hand against it. The cup went flying across the table to land on the carpet.

  His eyes stayed riveted on her. "You... are... lying."

  Lori shook her head. "You’ve obviously been following my work. Have you seen any other works from me in that vein?"

  She twisted her hands together behind her back. In her studio at home, an entirely new series waited. For some reason, she put them away, planning on doing something with them at a later date. Instead, she’d put all her effort into her faces of love paintings.

  "Juan!" Day screamed. As soon as Juan appeared, Day rose from the table.

  "Get her back to the stateroom. Be sure the door is locked. Then get this mess cleaned up. I am going on deck."

  Juan took Lori by the arm. Once he returned her to the stateroom, the man stood in the doorway. "Senora, you are a brave woman. I am not sure if you have done yourself any good or not. You poked the beast, and he is not happy." Juan shut the door, leaving her alone in the stateroom.

  Later, Juan brought her lunch. If anything, he appeared more morose than usual. He gave her no clue to what Day planned. She’d rolled the dice. Now it was a waiting game. It might be Day still did not believe her. If she were Day, she would wait to see if it was possible to break her down. Lori steeled herself against caving in.

  In the battle of wills, she meant to come out on top. Lori wasn’t a weak woman and had survived being put through an emotional wringer before. Once again, she would survive emotionally. But to keep from being swallowed by fear, there were two things she must not dwell on, Hamish and the baby she carried. In this battle of wills between herself and Day, they would, unfortunately, be collateral damage.

  ***

  Jerry was furious with the woman. If she told him the truth, four years’ worth of plotting and planning went down the drain. If Lori lied to him... How could he determine if she lied?

  Nothing further from her along those lines had surfaced in the last four years. That was the truth. Could she have perpetuated a fraud of that magnitude on the art world? Of course. There was no doubt in his mind. People committed far greater crimes in the name of love.

  As to the nature of the work he’d experienced in the Marina Del Rey gallery, that a woman was the creator amazed him. In fact, it blew him away in the beginning. He found himself checking the catalog listing and the signature several times that night.

  A wildness in the paintings, an indefinable something he wasn’t able to put a finger on, drew him in. After soaking them in for an hour, he’d succumbed to the siren call of battle that reached out to his soul.

  How he managed to stand there and not scream out the things he was feeling, Jerry never understood. Bloodlust, a weapon in hand and a need for the freedom to release it roared through his body. Later, he found himself outside, striding along the street with no idea where he was or where he was going. Her work, if it indeed came from her hand, affected him as no other art ever had.

  He sat on the port side of the Sunny Day. Jerry didn’t want any company and turned away from the shore. Even the barely civilized town of Hyder was too much for him at the moment.

  His quiet contemplation of the problem she threw in his face was disrupted by the sound of raucous noise on the Canadian side of the bay. Day hadn’t noticed the big jet boat anchored near Stewart earlier. It flew a Canadian ensign. Dumb Canucks. They were playing at fishing to escape the wife and kiddies for a few days. The useless trash had to invade this calm little backwater at just this time.

  He tried to ignore them, but the noise was almost unbearable. The men fooled around on the deck. Music blared from the ship. One of them waved in his direction. With a sound of disgust, Day turned his back on them.

  Lori MacGrough might be lying to him. He saw a bit of fear in her, but there was resolve in that small frame. A determination to not be beaten down blazed in those eyes. The Amazons fought as ferociously as any warriors. Celt women stood beside their men. The heart of a warrior could as easily beat in her chest as not.

  Then again, he recalled the pictures of her husband. A dark Celt, a black Scot, the man was built to carry a claymore. Hamish MacGrough could have created those canvases. He couldn’t decide; the odds stood at 50/50.

  Without a glance to the Canucks on the party boat, Jerry left his perch to go back inside. There was no hurry. Anything worth having was worth fighting for. The battle between them could go on for a while.

  In the meantime, he needed to consider Elden Daniels’ fate. He would send Juan over to the bar to see if any messages had arrived from Sims. He had a book to read; it would keep him occupied while Lori stewed. Good enough for now.

  "Come along, boyo." Thud grabbed him by the arm. "Let's get inside. I ha some work tae do, an ye’re goin tae feed me while I do it."

  Hamish did not want to let the Sunny Day out of his sight. But Thud wouldn’t let go of him. The Irishman practically dragged him back inside the boat as he pulled at his arm.

  Hamish stumbled down the stairs and leaned on the table with both hands spread on the top. There was a roaring in hi
s ears. All he wanted to do was to throw himself into the water, swim over to the boat and board it.

  Lori was just a short distance across the water. "God help me! Thud, how can I just sit here?"

  Thud placed a hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Hamish. Hold on, man, it won't be too much longer. There are things needin doing before ye can storm tha bleeding ship. Do somethin useful an feed me while I put together tha presents for tha cute hoor."

  He pulled in a deep breath and stepped back from the brink. "What do ye want?"

  "Whatever ye have in tha fridge that's food. Nay beer yet; this takes all me concentration. Keep tha others from botherin me for ah bit. 'Tis been ah while since I made bombs. Run interference for me, boyo, an keep tha tea comin."

  Thud took out his supplies, then laid out the tools. He carefully placed things down in what appeared to be the order in which they would be used. As Hamish watched, the Irishman pulled a hard shell case out of his inside jacket pocket. Thud removed his glasses from the case and put them on.

  Hamish turned toward the galley. The makings for sandwiches sat in the small fridge. It would be roast beef with cheese for breakfast.

  After putting on the kettle, Hamish got out the bread, mayo, beef and mustard. He forced himself to focus. With something to occupy his hands, Hamish could calm down. He made enough sandwiches for them all to have several apiece. When the water was hot, Hamish made tea.

  After assembling a cup for Thud as requested, he put the tea on the table where his friend was not likely to knock it over. Hamish doubted liquid would be good for Thud's work. A few of the sandwiches went on a paper towel, which he put in the same area as the mug.

  With a cup for himself, Hamish carefully slid into the bench seat across from where Thud was working. Thud was stuffing something into a small plastic box. The something had wires attached to it. Once the box was filled, Thud placed it to one side.

  Thud looked over the top of his glasses at Hamish. "Thank ye, Hamish." After devouring one of the sandwiches and taking a gulp of tea, Thud went back to work.

  Silently, he constructed two small bombs. He filled the boxes with whatever the explosive material was. Very carefully, he taped the cheap watches he had purchased on top of each box.

  With a sigh, the drummer leaned back against the back of the settee, picked up the mug and took another sip of his tea. "I'm nae going tae attach tha detonators now. Later for that. They're safer this way. Once I finish this tea, I will make three more, mind? The two I am assemblin next are for tha engine room and crew. The last is tae put the whole thing inta orbit if necessary. I'm gontae show ye how tae attach tha detonators. That way, there are two of us knowin tha straight of it."

  Thud drained his cup. With a grin, he looked up at Hamish. "Fecking shite! I never thought I'd be giving tha Head Master lessons in explosives."

  With a shake of his sandy head, Thud went back to work. A few minutes later Lurch came out of the bunk area. He looked over at the settee table where Thud was working. Lurch tapped Hamish on the shoulder. The big man pointed to the sandwiches. Hamish nodded agreement. Lurch took one from the pile then glanced out the porthole.

  With a start, he looked out again. "Sonofabitch! Well, well."

  Hamish got up from the bench and walked over to stand next to Lurch, cup in hand. He spoke quietly. "Aye. Early this morning afore sunup. Thud an I watched her come in. There's a blacked-out porthole, starboard side, fourth one down from tha bow. That's where he has her."

  Lurch glanced over at Thud. "We are supposed to be quiet as our resident explosive expert does his job?"

  "Aye. Our expert says it's been ah long time since he made bombs. He needs tae concentrate so he doesnae blow us all up. He is savin tha biggest for last. Says it will put tha Sunny Day in orbit."

  Lurch lifted an eyebrow with a smile. He grabbed the sandwiches before leaning toward Hamish. "Let's take these back into the bunk room and let him do his thing."

  Lurch sat on the bunk he had been using. The one above was folded up out of the way. Glen was stretching in the bottom bunk on the other side, beneath the one Thud had used. The younger man pushed his blond hair out of his eyes and sat up. Lurch silently handed Glen a sandwich.

  Hamish drained the cup, bent down and put it on the floor next to him. "The bloody ship is tied up at tha Hyder dock. We know where Lori is. There's ah blacked-out porthole, fourth one from tha bow, starboard side."

  Glen took a bite of his breakfast sandwich. He flipped a part of the blanket which was dangling down from the upper bunk back up out of his way. "Where's Thud?"

  Lurch jerked a thumb toward the galley. "Cooking up toys."

  Glen nodded. Hamish took one sandwich. "He doesnae want company until he's finished. So we came in here tae join ye."

  H.M. didn't really want the sandwich but thought he'd better eat something. As he was taking the last bite, Thud called out from the galley. "All right, lads. Get on in here. Ye need ah wee bit o’ education."

  Thud had his little boxes lined up on the table. With the folded-up reading glasses in one hand, Thud gestured with them toward the smaller boxes. "Now these wee beauties will blow out ah door, do damage tae ah car an undoubtedly waste ah man."

  He moved the two smaller ones to one side, where he grouped them together. "Tha larger ones, these, will blow tha engine tae tha bottom of tha Bay an tha crew down tae tha hot place."

  Thud moved the middle size boxes into their own small group. "Here we have tha star of tha show. Splinters are all that will be left if we light her up, an that means havin ah safe place tae put yer own hide. Shrapnel kills as well as she does. There will be plenty o that from tha Sunny Day, should we choose tae eliminate it."

  Once Thud showed Hamish how to wire everything up, including how to set the detonators, he put his glasses back in their case. Thud pulled open the left side of his jacket and tucked the case into the inside pocket.

  He laid both hands on the table. "Now then, lads. I suggest we have ah party."

  "Why and how?" Lurch asked.

  "I ha seen ah bit of this mind? We need tae put on ah good show for yon cute hoor. He needs tae think we’re just ah bunch of fun-loving lads out tae have ah good time after escaping from tha pressures of work. We would no want him tae become curious about us."

  Hamish understood immediately. "We need tae allay any fears he might have about having company out here. Well, lads, save ah few of tha beer bottles. We're gonntae refill tha things with soda. We need tae make ah trip tae town. A case of beer an one of soda will take care of us. Time tae put on ah good act."

  "Got it!” Glen nodded. "Let's pick up a few tapes and crank up the tunes."

  "No Bushmaster. I dinnae want tae cause Lori any worry. I've no idea of her mental state, an I dinnae want tae chance it," Hamish cautioned Glen.

  Glen and Lurch elected to go into Stewart to see what could be found for music. A case of beer and assorted sodas would come back with them.

  They returned at about 1:00 p.m., and the party got into full swing. The four men put all their considerable acting skills to use. It was a good imitation of four guys out to get completely wasted. They were using a fishing trip to excuse a rip-roaring bash.

  Hamish was the one who noticed the man on the deck of the schooner. As he was not in the uniform the other men wore, white pants and shirts, Hamish knew who he must be. Just as he took a step forward, toward the edge of the deck, Lurch grabbed his ankle.

  "No you don't, man! Just raise one hand and wave real friendly like to the S.O.B. It's not time for you to clean his clock just yet."

  "Ye miserable slime ball, bawbag, bastard I'm gonna hurt ye somehow," Hamish muttered as he raised his hand to wave at Day.

  By late afternoon they wound their little party down. It appeared the party slacked off due to the level of alcohol consumed. In reality, the four of them went inside to check the tide chart. The tide would go out close to 1:30 a.m. They intended to use the ebb to their advantage.

  If the plan
worked and Hamish could get Lori out of the stateroom, he would put her in the skiff with oars. The tide would help her get away.

  While waiting, Hamish got his kit assembled. Thud’s little packages were double-bagged in the plastic freezer bags and put in his diver's bag. The other packages Thud was to hold on to, in case Plan B was necessary.

  Glen, Lurch and Thud would wait on Lori to row the skiff over to shore just past the point. They would have the big life raft. Lurch had removed the outboard from the skiff as it was to be used on the life raft.

  Hamish would take the dinghy over to the Sunny Day while towing the smaller life raft. When finished, he would have to row over to the point. Glen had been monitoring the Coast Guard. He estimated Hamish would have forty-five minutes at best, thirty at worst, to get the job done. No one mentioned Plan B; everyone already knew what it entailed. No one wanted to discuss it.

  The suggestion was made by Glen that they all take a nap. Lurch looked pointedly at Hamish. "You, MacGrough, have to swear you will not leave this boat until we all go over to the point. Otherwise, someone will need to stay awake to babysit your ass."

  Glen nodded. "Yeah, no bullshitting us, H.M."

  Hamish sat on the bunk beside Lurch. "Ye lads are nae very trusting."

  Thud snorted. "Righto, laddie. We have yer number. An ye’re nae gettin out of givin yur word."

  "Shite!" Hamish bolted from the bunk. He jerked open the door of the stateroom. Just before slamming the door shut, the three men heard him agree to stay on the jet boat.

  On the bunk, in the dim light in the stateroom, lying on his back, Hamish let his mind drift. He wouldn’t sleep, not with Lori so close. With one hand over his eyes, Hamish pictured Lori in his mind. He went back to the time they had spent camping in Scotland before they got married.