by Buzz Harcus
Hurriedly he moved below. Osa’s cabin was his first stop. Nothing. Her room had been stripped bare. Moving quickly down the corridor, he reached his room. Hitting an emergency light switch, the room was suddenly flooded with light from recessed lighting. Harry stood still holding onto the door frame sick at heart. Everything gone! Nothing but a barren room. He swore at the loss of all that money. But swearing did him no good. There was still his seabag containing at least three hundred thousand bucks hidden behind that air vent— if somebody hadn’t got that too!
Nurad gave a sudden lurch. He was running out of time. Dropping to his knees, facing the air vent cover, Harry tried to get a hold on it in order to pry it loose. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the cover loose; it wouldn’t budge. And he had no tools! He sat on the deck in silence, perspiration running down his face. One thing he felt certain about, if the cover hadn’t budged, then no one had looked inside to see his old seabag.
Nurad lurched again, loosing a long screeching groan.
Setting himself, Harry gave the faceplate several swift karate kicks buckling it. Yanking and jerking, he finally managed to bend, then pull the faceplate away.
A louder, more terrifying groan rent the air, the ship was moving.
Lying on his stomach, Harry reached inside the air vent feverishly feeling about. His fingers touched rough material: the seabag! Grasping the bag, yanking it out, he quickly opened it, and broke into a sweaty grin. The last of the money was intact! At least whoever it was that stripped the place, he hadn’t found his hidden stash.
As he started to get up, his eyes caught sight of what looked like a white rag in the corner of the room. He picked up the material. Osa’s white panties. They brought a smile to his face as he recalled the way she had looked at him that night, how she had taken Sandy’s panties from where he had kept them under his pillow and deliberately dropped them in the wastebasket. Then, to his surprise, she had whipped off her sexy white panties, planted a huge red lip print on them and stuffed them under his pillow. Now he would have pleasant thoughts thinking of her when he went to bed. And then they had made love. He wadded up the panties and stuffed them in his shirt pocket.
Nurad gave a sudden ominous lurch. The ship was moving! Grabbing up his seabag, Harry fled from the room and on up to the main deck. The storm was upon them. Wind-driven, white capped waves slammed hard against the vessel. In a pelting rain he ran down the gangway and plunged into the surf fighting his way through waves that pulled and tugged at his legs almost knocking him off balance as he moved unsteadily toward shore.
On reaching the beach he ran back to his car. Shielding his eyes from the driving rain, he looked back at the stricken vessel. It lay over at a 30 degree angle now. The skies suddenly opened and rain came down in wind-driven torrents. Several huge waves slammed hard against the vessel, and then like a mother’s firm hand guiding it, Nurad gently slid off the reef, metal groaning against the reef as it slipped backwards. The huge bow rose sharply into the sky before it’s final plunge. A long moaning sigh seemed to escape her at the very moment she disappeared from view. Harry cried.
CHAPTER 40
Nothing Like a Bar Room Brawl
Back in his hotel room, having changed into dry clothing, Harry dumped the contents of his seabag on his bed. Three hundred thousand dollars lay before him; the last of his costly venture to China.
Using a cardboard box he’d picked up at a local grocery store, he carefully packed the bills into the newspaper lined box. On top of the bills he placed a note to his son, Jeff, telling him how he wanted the money invested, and then another layer of newspaper. Next, he stuffed several small baby toys he had bought at the store for the new baby on top of the newspaper. Lastly, he taped the box shut, bound it tightly with hemp twine, labeled it to his son, Jeff Martin, in Saginaw, and carried it down to the Post Office to mail before the Post Office closed for the day.
A present for his kids back home, he told the postal clerk as he set the box on the counter. Straight-faced, the clerk gingerly weighed it, stamped it, insured it for $100, charged Harry a fee, and then the box was on it’s way to Saginaw, Michigan, U.S.A.
Having returned the rental car, Harry dashed from the Post Office through the remnants of the passing storm to the Yellow Bar. It was just past 4 P.M. and Karl wasn’t in sight. He found an empty table just inside the door, settled back, and ordered a beer from the bar girl, the same one from the other day. She had a quick smile for him.
When she brought the beer he paid her, but she stood there seeming to study him. “You look lonesome, Yankee,” she said after a moment, “are you lonely?”
Harry looked up at her. She gave a hesitant smile.
“Buy me a drink and I’ll keep you company,” she said, the smile brightening.
Bar girls never change, Harry thought. His eyes deliberately looked from her young smiling face wreathed in thick, radiant black hair, to her mouth circled in bright red lipstick and showing beautiful white teeth, and traversed slowly downwards taking in an open blouse that barely covered the swell of young breasts, small waist, very abbreviated skirt, a nice pair of legs, and feet incased in gaily decorated high heels. His gaze slowly traversed back to her face, which now radiated with excitement. “You like?” she asked beaming.
“I like. Get yourself a drink.”
He knew bar girls drank only colored water at a very costly price, but what the hell, a little conversation never killed anyone. He gazed around the bar room. The place was noisy with customers. Several unsavory looking guys with backs to him were huddled around a guy at the bar. One tried to grab a bar girl’s buttocks with no success, as she slapped his hand and scurried away.
Harry’s gaze shifted to a dozen young Marines who were seated back in one corner with bar girls on their laps, laughing, teasing, cobbing feels of the merchandise, and drinking. Nothing had changed in thirty years. A couple of Marines and their girls disappeared up a stairway. Yep, nothing had changed.
The girl took a seat next to him. “My name is Sanya. What is your name?”
“Harry,” he replied.
“Harry is a nice name,” she said with a ready smile. He chuckled. He knew the old routine, the same as in China. She took his hand and held it. “Your hand is rough. You are a hard worker, not soft like office worker.”
“I was one of them,” he nodded toward the back of the room at the Marines, “but that was a long time ago.”
“Ohhh . . . you are tough like them.” She gave a very appreciative smile. “Hey, Marine,” she said. “I bet you one tough sombitch!”
Captain Andress came barreling through the door just then, spotted Harry and headed his way. His face was somber, no wave of his hand. Harry told Sanya to bring two beers.
“Harry,” spoke Captain Andress in a gruff voice as he settled down in a chair across from him. “I got to talk to you.” His eyes shifted about several times. He seemed somewhat awkward as though he had to weigh each word. “Really important!”
Sanya appeared with two beers. “Would you like company, too,” she asked Captain Andress. He waved her away. He knew the ways of these damned bar whores.
“So talk,” Harry said. He hoisted a beer to his captain, but Andress shook his head. “Someting has happened—”
“Yeah. I think I know what you’re gonna say. The Nurad sank.”
Captain Andress face blanched as though he’d just been slapped. “Sank! Gone?”
“Gone,” said Harry. He took a swallow of beer. “I drove back out there to take one last look at her. The storm hit right then, waves rocked her back and forth and she just slid off the reef and disappeared. I cried.”
Captain Andress blinked several times at suddenly misty eyes. He sat silently for a couple of minutes slowly shaking his head. “Gone,” he said with a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I thought you knew.”
Wiping at his eyes, Captain Andress said, “Harry. I’m sad about dat old girl, but dat’s not vat I va
nted to tell you. I got someting to tell you dat you don’t vant to hear.”
His eyes shifted away from Harry momentarily and, suddenly, he vaulted off his chair and charged the bar yelling, “Din javla skitstovel! Damn you Doyle Masters!”
At the bar Doyle Masters, surrounded by his cohorts, turned to see who was swearing at him. Instantly he recognized Captain Andress! Doyle’s face went white, and a moment before Karl’s beefy fist landed solidly on his chin, he caught a glimpse of Harry Martin, and then he was falling backwards off the stool from a very solid punch.
“Doyle Masters!” exclaimed Harry rushing for the bar, but a huge brute of a black man threw a shoulder block into him knocking him to one side, and just as quickly, the black brought his fist down solidly on Karl’s neck knocking him to his knees.
“Fight!” yelled Sanya rushing in and jumping on the black’s back wrapping her legs around his waist, arms around his neck and biting at his ear.
Doyle lay on the floor stunned by the blow. Karl landed besides him. Before he could get his hands on Doyle, another guy tried to kick Karl in the head, but he ducked, twisted away and scrambled after Doyle who was trying vainly to crawl away.
Harry had re-gained his footing and angrily turned ready to fight the black, but a small, stocky Filipino charged into him with a head butt that sent him sailing backwards over a table and crashing to the floor. Harry bounded to his feet, shook it off, and faced off with the Filipino. The guy grinned. “C’mon gringo,” the guy teased. “Gringo!”
Harry circled about, his eyes focused on the grinning face. He feinted a right cross that the guy blocked, but in the same motion Harry twisted and threw a powerful snapping leg kick at the guy’s gut sending him crashing backwards into the bar. His head smacked solidly against the bar rail and he dropped in a heap.
Harry spun around to fight the black guy, but managed to catch a screaming Sanya just as the man threw her bodily over his shoulder. She landed in Harry’s arms knocking them both to the floor. “Hey Marine!” she cried. “Good fight!” And just as quickly she was on her feet back into the melee.
Knowing they were outnumbered, Harry yelled out, “Semper Fi Marines!”
“OOOHHHH-RAAHHH!!!” came from the back of the bar room and suddenly a dozen Marines joined the fracas, fists flying, elbows smacking, and the fight quickly turned into a real donnybrook.
Harry tackled Doyle as he tried to escape from Karl. “You’re not getting away, you bastard,” Harry yelled. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you!”
Doyle struggled to pull a gun from his belt. “We shoulda’ killed you two before we threw you overboard,” he rasped swinging his gun around toward Harry.
A spit polished shoe kicked the gun out of his hand sending it flying. A tall, brawny Marine reached down and jerked Doyle to his feet. “Try me, asshole,” he taunted.
”Go Bobby!” yelled several Marines, who had already sent Doyles’ gang running. “Clean the bastard’s clock!”
Bobby was sure of himself as he circled around Doyle slapping at him, pissing him off. “You dumb jarhead,“ Doyle sneered. What the kid didn’t know was the reputation Doyle had for fighting dirty. This kid would be mincemeat in a couple of minutes. In a wrestler’s stance, Doyle watched the kid, then made a sudden dive for the kid’s legs, but he was a split second too slow as the Marine deftly back-peddled away.
“Bobby’s a street fighter,” a Marine yelled at Harry. “He’ll clean his clock!”
Harry looked at the kid; and suddenly the scene was so reminiscent of when he was in boot camp at Parris Island. A Drill Instructor had been giving one of the boots a rough time, constantly taunting him saying he’d heard the boot was tough. Hah, he’d said, he’d take the boot on in the ring and see just how tough he was.
Word spread around the base about the big fight. A lot of officers and non-coms were seated around the ring waiting for the big fight. The two fighters were called to the center of the ring. The DI was introduced to the hurrahs of the assembled troops. The skin-headed boot was introduced with no fanfare, save a murmur from his platoon. The two touched gloves, the bell sounded, and thirty seconds later the match was over. The skin-headed boot was a street fighter. The D.I. was knocked cold in two punches.
One, two, and Doyle lay flat on his back out cold. Bobby grinned.
The sound of sirens rent the air, and just as quickly, a dozen Marines disappeared. “Semper Fi.“ yelled one as they split. Moments later two car loads of police stormed through the door of the Yellow Bar but they found nothing: no fight, just bar girls sitting primly at the back of the room watching the bartender straightening up the place. The police did find one unconscious white guy and one unconscious Filipino next to the bar.
Pointing at Doyle, Captain Andress quickly informed the police that the man was a pirate, part of a gang of pirates responsible for stealing his ship. Quickly, Karl and Harry recited the events of the last few weeks to a Police Sergeant who seemed to be in charge. The Sergeant listened, but he kept glancing over at Doyle, who had been hauled to his feet and now stood unsteadily between two police officers.
“I know this man,” the Sergeant said. “We’ve been looking for him. He’s wanted for murder. He killed another sailor down at a waterfront bar last week, knifed him—some sea captain by the name of Alward.”
“Alward!” Karl and Harry exclaimed in unison. “George Al-ward? Dead?”
“Yeah, the bastard tried to kill me,” Doyle snapped. “So I killed him!”
Doyle looked angrily from Karl to Harry. “We shoulda’ killed you two—and we shoulda’ thrown that bitch overboard, too! She‘s trouble!”
“Trouble! What do you mean, trouble?” demanded Harry.
“She killed Bert! She got a gun and shot him dead.”
Harry and Karl looked at the man not believing what he’d just said. Not Osa! Why she was so timid she wouldn’t hurt a flea.
“And that damned kid knifed Ace,” Doyle yelled over his shoulder as he was led away by the police, “Ace’s is dead, too!”
The two men looked at each other in disbelief. Hans and Osa! Killers? Impossible! Not those two!
CHAPTER 41
Osa and the Missing Money
”We did it Harry,” cheered Sanya. “Sombitch! That was a good fight!” She threw her arms around him, hugging him. “You good fighter for an old man—him too,” she said pointing to Captain Andress.
Exhausted, Harry dropped onto a chair, looking over just as Karl settled onto a chair facing him. They made eye contact, and both broke into big grins. It had been one hell of a fight. The best part: the last pirate was gone!
“I still haf to tell you bad news, Harry,” gasped Karl, straightening up, still catching his breath. His face grew serious again.
Harry looked at him. “What?” His interest was peeked now.
“Osa—”
“What? Is she hurt? Is she dead? What?”
“She’s married! She married Sigmund!”
“Married?” gasped Harry. “Sigmund?”
The impact of what Karl had just said hit Harry like a lightning bolt. He almost fell off his chair. Married? Osa and Sigmund? Muddled thoughts raced through his mind. He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, swear—or what. Osa and he were going to get married! Now she had gone and married Sigmund!
And then, after a few agonizing seconds, he let loose with a nervous giggle, then broke into laughter, raucous laughter that would not stop. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He shook his head. Poor Sigmund, poor innocent Sigmund! Where Osa had been the apt student learning about sex from him that wonderful crazy night in Shanghai, now she was probably the teacher, and Sigmund was the student!
“Dey ver married right after dey got back to Stockholm,” Karl said watching his friend somewhat cautiously. “Harry, are you okay?” He was worried about this man who sat before him laughing hysterically.
“I’m-I’m fine,” Harry assured him after another minute of laughter. “Just fine . . . ” He swipe
d at tears with his left hand, reaching for his beer with the other.
“Dey tought ve vas dead, lost at sea, shark food—”
“Understandable,” nodded Harry. “Understandable.” He took a long swallow of beer, still reeling at the news; Osa and Sigmund!
“And Osa is a very vunderful voman. She needs der love of a good man, and Sigmund is a good man,” Karl said. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes he is. He is a good man,” Harry agreed. “He always said she was a lady. I never suspected it, but I think Sigmund had a crush on your niece—”
“No!!” exclaimed Karl, and then, after a moment of contemplation, he laughed. “By golly, now dat I tink about it, I bet you are right!” He tipped his beer bottle to his mouth and drank heartily. ”Yah, I tink you are right!”
“I wish them well,” said Harry. He tipped his bottle and drained it. “Two more,” he called at Sanya.
“No bad feelings,” asked Karl trying to explore the man’s feelings, but in a gingerly way. “None,” Harry replied. “I loved her, truly loved her. I can understand why she did what she did. I’m dead! Shark food! Understandable. I know she’ll make him a good wife. She‘s a good woman!”
“And you know vat?” Karl beamed, “my vife says she’s got a lot of money. Der insurance company must haf settled with her in her husband’s death, cause she has an awful lot of money! Dey even bought a fancy home in a plush part of Stockholm—”
Harry erupted into another round of laughter.
The money! The damned tainted black market money! What a hell of a wedding present! He doubled over roaring with laughter so hard, he fell off his chair landing solidly on the floor on his butt. Karl jumped to his feet to help him up, but Harry waved him away, sitting on the floor laughing hysterically. Two million bucks!!
Still laughing, tears streaming down his cheeks, Harry grabbed the edge of the table and awkwardly pulled himself up, plopping back into his chair. What a hell of a wedding present: two million dollars!