by Jac Eddins
Her questions concerning costs and tariffs got answers of 'I'll have to look that up'. At length she asked if he was indeed the office manager.
"Well, yes. But I'm new at it. I helped out Mr. Ito before his accident."
"Oh." Mr. Ito was the man she had been instructed to contact. "Was it serious? Perhaps I should wait and speak to him."
"You'd wait a long time," the man snickered. "He's dead. But there's no reason we can't work together. I think we could do well."
Gina backed away when Owens moved closer. "I'll be back in touch with you. By mail. I really don't think this island will work out for us. In case we have further interest here, we'll be in touch.
"Maybe we could talk more about it over a drink?"
"Some other time. I have to go–other appointments," she lied.
Once back out in the fresh air Gina shuddered. She needed a shower. From the darkening sky she also feared she was about to get one. If she went back inside she could try to reach the one local taxi service, but she preferred walking on live coals, rather than face Mr. Owens' unwelcome attention.
It hit her all at once. Her contact, Mr. Ito, was dead. She doubted it was a coincidence. What was she to do now?
CHAPTER 5
Overhead, heavy bands of grey replaced the blue sky of a half hour earlier. The road was clear of vehicles and pedestrians. The rumbling in the heavens grew louder and brilliant flashes of lightning lit the gloom in an awesome display. Gina hurried her steps and felt a fat raindrop splash on her arm. Its kin spattered the thirsty roadway around her with an ever increasing tempo. The cool water on her skin after the sweltering heat would have been pleasurable if she hadn’t feared arriving at the hotel looking liked a drowned rat. One more bar stood off to her right, but it looked like the worst of a dirty, grimy lot. Heaven only knew what she'd find in there.
She heard a vehicle behind her and stepped further to the side of the narrow, unpaved road. A canvas topped jeep pulled up beside her.
"Get in. I'm going your way."
Gina recognized the man who offered to buy her drink the night before.
"Come on, there's no need for you to get soaked. I don't bite."
A vivid streal of lightning lit the sky. That clinched it. Gina climbed into the car to avoid the increasing downpour.
"The weather here sure changes in a hurry," she said with a shudder.
"That's how it is with squalls," the man said with a laugh. This one will be with us a while, though. We won't see sun again until morning."
"You're used to this weather, I take it."
"You have to know weather if you sail the seas," he grinned. "I'm Dan. Dan Phelps, but everyone calls me Dano."
Gina introduced herself in turn and continued with small talk during the ride to the hotel. The drive took considerably longer than the few minutes it would normally have taken. At times they could scarcely see the road in the torrents of rain on the windshield.
Dano pulled the jeep up to the front door. "Before you go, how about having dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"I'd like that, except I'm flying out of here tomorrow."
"Already?" He frowned. "I have business to attend tonight and I won't get back to the hotel until late." He sighed. "Just my luck. Well, let's see what happens. If I don't see you again, have a nice trip."
Gina ducked under the roof of the entry way and watched him drive off. Maybe it was best she didn't see him. Those dark eyes of his gave her chills which could spell danger. They haunted her throughout the afternoon while she tried to read and, later, get her things packed.
The trip had been a failure. She'd let down the man who entrusted her with her mission, but what more could she do? If it was that crucial it could be worse if she gave the notebook into the wrong hands. Instinct told her Jeremy Owens was decidedly the wrong hands.
Rain continued to fall throughout the remainder of the day. At times it tapered to a fine mist, only to teem again a few minutes later along with a barrage of lightning and thunder. Gina retreated to her room, a cozy haven from the storm. Mrs. B. had decorated it in cool shades of blue and turquoise. The colors blended well with the white wicker chairs, the bed's headboard and one peacock chair by a white painted desk. Gina stood before a pair of French doors looked out on the ocean view watching the heavy rain bounce on the smooth stone path leading to the dining terrace.
Television reception was impossible. Gina made a half-hearted effort to write her report, but the thunder distracted her. She leafed through some of the old magazines left on the desk.
With the outdoor dining area unusable in the heavy rain, all the predominantly male guests of the hotel had gathered in the lounge. Gina heard the rowdy group down the hallway. At dinner time she called room service and ordered a tuna salad and a carafe of white wine. The wine might help dispell some of her mounting anxiety. With her mission finished, she couldn't leave this island soon enough.
Nothing suggested she'd been followed and she had no reason for the tension within her. It had to be the storm. She sipped a second glass of wine, hoping it would relax her. By the time she climbed into bed, the wine had done its work and she dozed off at once in spite of the frequent rumblings.
An exceptionally loud clap of thunder brought her up to a sitting position. Another flash of lighting came close after and lit the room as if ten thousand flashbulbs had gone off at once. Against that brilliant light she saw a figure outside at her walkway door. The second loud crash of thunder immediately on the lightning's heels drowned out her scream. Gina came to her feet, grabbed her robe and ran from her room shouting.
The men at the bar ran toward the scream. Dano was the first to reach her.
Shaking, she told him of the man outside her room. Several men went to look around. They returned to report that no one was there.
Mrs. B. arrived in gown and chenille wrapper. The news disturbed her. "We've never had trouble here," she told Gina. "Are you certain it wasn't a shadow of a shrub or palm tree?"
One of the men asked her what the man looked like.
"I couldn't tell. It was a silhouette against the flash. He wasn't big, but he looked wide."
"That could have been a rain slicker," one man spoke out in a slur that announced too many drinks.
Dano nodded to Mrs. B. then turned his attention back to Gina. "I doubt you'd sleep alone in that room any more tonight," he said, then realized that Gina feared he meant to stay with her. "Mrs. B. has a room where you'll feel safer."
Mrs. B. smiled in agreement. "Follow me, dear," she said much as a mother soothing a frightened child. She led Gina along the hall then turned to another corridor. "Don't worry. The boys will bring your things for you." They reached the very end of the hall and the older woman unlocked the door. "The room is right up against the mountainside so it has no real windows, just those high narrow ones to let in a bit of light. We use it for storage for the most part." She glanced at the shelves along one overflowing with towels, sheets and boxes of small individual hotel toiletries. On the far side of the room stood a double bed, dresser, desk and chair. "On rare occasions when a larger ship docks and the hotel is full, the room is called into service."
When everything had been taken care of, her baggage brought and a key provided by Mrs. B., Gina locked herself in. She felt a greater sense of security, but it didn't completely ease her fears. Maybe the strain had gotten to her and she imagined the intruder. If she could just get through the day tomorrow she'd leave the island behind and get back to the semblance of a normal life. She'd had enough adventure to last a good while.
Gina slept fitfully the remainder of the night. In the morning when she woke the early sun filtered through the high windows. She resolved to take a little time for herself. She hadn’t had a chance for a swim and she could use the exercise. Gina decided to try the clear water of the beach near the hotel before breakfast, and before the later day tropical sun could wreak havoc on her fair skin.
Gina wasn’t one of those bea
ch bunnies who came to the seaside to show off her trim figure, evaluate the men, but never get her suit wet. Her parents met twenty-four years earlier at the Olympic swimming trials and she had learned to swim before she was out of diapers. Back home in the States, she had always done her swimming in pools or lakes and she underestimated the force of ocean tides. Gina realized she was in big trouble when the riptide prevented her from returning to land. She remembered the advice about swimming at an angle to the current, but she wasn’t making much headway.
She wasn’t going to make it back to shore.
Bolts of agony shot through the muscles of her arms and legs. She wanted to give in to the overwhelming desire to stop, curl into a ball and ease the pain. She was going to die, and it was her own fault, swimming alone on the nearly deserted early morning beach. The only other people she’d seen were a pair of men at a distance, near the wharf, watching the longboats ferry cargo out to the sailing ship riding at deep harbor. They were too far away to hear her cries and, if by some miracle they did, they would never reach her in time.
She considered trying to rest, float for a bit to regain strength, but that would allow the current to carry her farther out to sea. That had risks of its own; how would she ever be able to make it back at an even greater distance? She could miss the buoys marking the safe channel through the ring of coral surrounding most of the island. If she touched the jagged coral it could draw blood, and that would be a dinner bell for every shark within miles. The natives told her the big sharks rarely entered the harbor, but 'seldom' wasn’t never.
Something bumped against her leg. Gina had heard the stories of how sharks often nudged their victims before an attack and her mind filled with visions of slashing jaws and red water. She screamed.
Moments passed and nothing happened. Was that a blessing? She’d die faster that way. In seconds it would all be over and she could quit fighting, but she didn’t want to die. Dying was for older people who had lived out their lives, not for a young woman approaching her twenty third birthday! She had so much to live for; a dream job, traveling in the best places and getting paid generously for doing so. Her writing was doing well, too. She had just sold her third article to a popular scientific magazine. Gina combined her two loves there: science and writing. One day she planned to try a novel. One day–
Gina glanced toward the beach where the men had been standing. Just one stood there now, looking out toward her. Had they heard her scream over the noise of the surf? It wouldn’t make much difference; they were too far away. By the time anyone made it halfway to her, the leaden weight of her limbs would draw her under and she'd sink beneath the waves. There was just too much water to hope they’d ever find her once she went down.
One more gulp of precious air and the ocean water closed over her. She fought her way back to the surface, still desperate to live.
And then she saw him. His image wasn't clear, but he approached her, swimming with incredible speed. Could she believe her eyes, or was it some last hallucination? She went under again then felt someone grab hold of her from behind, the bend of his arm under her chin. She was again on the surface, on her back.
"Don’t fight," a deep man’s voice said. "I’ll get you to shore."
It was the first time she’d ever heard the voice of an angel. Gina did something she’d never done before. She fainted.
CHAPTER 6
Gina awakened on the beach, coughing and sputtering, then tried to get up. The man supporting her in a sitting position restrained her. "Take it easy. You had a close call."
Gina coughed again, then looked up at the man who had spoken. "Dano! Are you making a career of saving me?"
"It appears that would be a full time job. But I have to give credit where it's due. My friend here was the one who pulled you out."
The second man, once again in his hooded jacket, squatted a few feet from her. His wet trousers and labored breathing verified he was the one who rescued her. "Thank you," she managed.
The man nodded.
"Are you all right?" Dano asked.
"I think so."
His smile faded. "That was a foolish risk you took!"
"I know that now!" She coughed again. The salt water she swallowed made her stomach queasy and she fought the nausea. She faced her rescuer. "I’m lucky you saw me. What a swimmer! I’ve never seen anyone as fast or as powerful. Have you ever thought of competing?"
The man gave a low laugh. His hood shadowed his face and she couldn't see him clearly, but it sounded as if he were amused.
Once again Gina attempted to get up. Dano rose with her, giving her some support. Her legs ached and she realized she was far weaker than expected.
"You’d better let me take you back to the hotel," he said, looking down at her with a gentle smile.
"That’s very kind of you, but I’ve already taken enough of your time."
"It would be my pleasure." He extended his right hand for hers.
How could she refuse? The other man also stood and she reached out to him. "Thank you, again."
The man hesitated before extending his own hand to give hers a solid squeeze.
"Oh," Gina exclaimed, "I never thought – are you all right?" The man’s hand had a bluish tint.
"I’m fine," he answered.
His firm voice should have assured her, but the blue tinge meant a lack of oxygen. "You really should get checked out. The cold water–"
Dano interrupted. "It’s not that cold. This is my friend, Alaro. He’s not ill. It’s – an hereditary condition." He smiled at her look of disbelief. "Seriously."
Still concerned, she asked her rescuer, "Doesn’t that cause you any problems?"
"People tend to stare," Alaro answered.
"I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve never heard of such a thing and I’ve written a number of articles on rare genetic conditions. I’ll have to look it up."
Alaro said nothing and Dano frowned. "You’re a writer? I thought you said you represented a travel agency."
"I do. I also write. It pays to keep a day job until you get well established as an author."
"I see," Dano replied in a low tone, very different from that before. Was it her imagination, or did he look worried? She caught his questioning look to Alaro.
Alaro didn’t appear to notice, but gestured toward the harbor. "What do you think of the ship out there?"
"I noticed you earlier," Gina said. "You were watching the men load her. She’s a beautiful sight." Ships were always ‘she’. Gina gazed out at the vessel with open admiration. "I saw her arrive two days ago." She pointed back toward the island, to the mountain overlooking the harbor. "I went up the mountain trail on horseback to check out the riding areas. While I was up there, I saw the ship coming in. It looked like something from an old painting. I wish I could see her under sail again."
Alaro’s deep laughter held a note of satisfaction. "Yes, the Seabird is a beauty," he said. "She sails tomorrow morning with the tide."
"The Seabird?" Wasn’t that the ship Dano mentioned? He had told her he was first mate of a ship, but she never connected him with the sailing vessel.
Dano grinned. "Would you like to have dinner aboard and a tour of her?"
"Would I? Would it be all right?" She didn’t bother to hide her delight with the idea.
"Well, we could ask the Captain," Dano laughed. He turned to Alaro. "What say you, Captain?"
"It would be our pleasure," Alaro replied.
"Oh, but I’m leaving the island tonight," Gina said with a frown.
"How about a lunch then? Say, around one o’clock? That will give you time to tour the whole ship."
Gina quickly brightened. "My flight out isn’t until eight o’clock. I think that would work." The mail flight left the island each night about sunset. That connected to the airport on a larger island two hours eastward where Gina could catch her commercial flight the following morning. She had everything packed and ready to go. If she left the ship by six she c
ould pick up her luggage and still make the plane easily.
"That’s settled, then," Alaro declared. "Dano will take you to the hotel now. When you’re ready to come aboard you’ll find a longboat waiting for you. About one?"
Dano took her arm and answered for her. "She’ll be there."
* * * *
Gina unpacked the few garments she needed, navy slacks and an overblouse printed with a shell design in shades of blue, green and turquoise on white. She chose white socks and deck shoes; looking nice was one thing, but she wanted to enjoy climbing around the ship, too.
She surveyed herself in the mirror and gave a final brush to the halo of soft chestnut waves. The colors in the blouse accentuated her bright blue eyes. She wore no make-up except for a pat of ivory powder to hide the freckles the sun brought out across her nose. She could blame her Celtic heritage for those!
Alaro sent a jeep to pick her up and take her directly to the pier. The longboat waited for her, as he had promised. She noted, with some relief, the oarsmen were native islanders and not the disreputable type of seamen she’d seen at the local nightspot. Many of those sailors looked like modern versions of Blackbeard. Perhaps she judged the scruffy lot too harshly. None had bothered her in any way, but she preferred the natives.
The islanders plied the oars and the trip out to the ship went quickly. Dano stood at the rail waiting to greet her. "How will you come aboard, m’lady?" he laughed. "We can lower a bo’sun’s chair, bring you up in a cargo net, or will you climb the ship’s ladder."
I’ll try the ladder," she called up.
"Good choice," he grinned.
She climbed the swaying rope ladder without a problem, but she didn’t look down. She’d certainly been right in the clothes she chose! Dano helped her over the rail and onto the deck.