HiJenks: 0238 hrs.
Hetta and Jenks, on all fours, braced themselves on the wet, heaving foredeck and peeked around the cabin as All Bidness, guns blazing, bore down on them. A wave slammed against the boat and sent a cascade of foam into Hetta’s face. “Please tell me this is not happening again,” she sputtered, sounding more mad than scared. “Now what? Back into the engine room?”
“Not this time. We’d be trapped. Flatten out here on the bow while I implement plan A.”
“Jenks! They’re firing at us! You have to stay down too.”
“We’re still out of range. They aren’t doing anything but wasting ammo right now. With any luck, they’ll run out by the time they get close enough to hit anything. But just in case, we’re gonna give ‘em something to think about.”
Endeavor: 0240 hrs.
“Automatic weapon’s fire,” Arrington growled, handing his binoculars to Xavier.
Xavier took one look and nodded. “Alert the gunner to range on All Bidness. We may have to blow her out of the water.”
“Sir, are you sure? I mean, we only suspect provocation.”
“Tell it to the ACLU. I’m getting real provoked, Rich. What the hell, I wanted to go sailing anyhow.”
All Bidness: 0245hrs.
Sam Houston whined and licked Bud’s face, then barked. Bud moaned, but didn’t move. The terrier nudged him again. Nothing. So he bit Bud’s nose.
“What in? Sam? You bit me?” Bud bellowed, sitting up and grabbing his nose. Sam moved deftly out of range while Bud swayed and fell back onto the pillow, his head spinning.
Sam Houston barked frantically, until Bud said, “Okay, okay, Sam. Don’t bite me again. I’m getting up.” Pushing himself to seated, Bud swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand, but his head roared with residual drugs and alcohol. He had to hold on to a bedpost for balance.
“Before you bit me you didn’t crap in my mouth did you?” Bud groused. He propelled himself towards the head, crashing into the doorsill as he went. Braced against the sink he threw cold water into his face and drank some to settle his roiling stomach. Then he realized his stomach wasn’t the only thing heaving; All Bidness swayed and bucked like a bronc he once rode at the Houston Live Stock Show.
“Sam, unless you gave the order to get underway I’d say we got us a mutiny. And what’s that stink? Puppy fart? No? Well then, little buddy, I guess you ’n’ me had better find out what the hey-all’s going on on my damned boat.”
Chapter 39
Old and young we are on our last cruise.
—R.L. Stevenson
From Endeavor’s bridge, a tight-jawed Xavier watched disaster loom. All Bidness, her bow glittering with muzzle flashes like paparazzi in pursuit of royalty, bore down on HiJenks with the same intensity as those infamous stalkers. Their salvo was falling short of target, but not for long. He had to make a move, even if it was a career-ending one.
“Attempt to override the open mic, Rich. Let’s warn off All Bidness. Let them know we mean bidness.”
“Aye, sir, will—” Arrington was interrupted by an excited voice blaring from an internal loudspeaker.
“Sir, we’ve got a bogie at six o’clock, range one mile. Low flying aircraft. Sir, he can’t see us.”
“What the? Secure from darkened ship. Get a range on that plane, and on All Bidness. And alert Matamoros about the plane.”
Just minutes from their drop destination, the pilot of the DC3 skimmed the waves while his copilot went aft to open a cargo door. The pilot, concentrating on his instrument panel, was jolted upright when Endeavor lit up like a floating city, right in his bloody path and not a quarter mile away. Banking violently, they climbed sharply. The warning he yelled to his partner was never heard because the copilot, along with a load of coke, took an unscheduled skydive out the cargo door, into the Sea of Cortez.
Aboard All Bidness, Kiki was terrified, but he grimly focused on closing the distance between All Bidness and HiJenks. He was praying, making a deal with the Virgin Mary. If she let him survive this night, he would atone for whatever sins he’d racked up by giving ten percent of his cut to the church. When he saw Endeavor light up, he crossed himself and said aloud, “Madre de Dios. Twenty percent.”
“Twenty percent of what, Kiki?” Bud growled, looming up behind him.
Kiki yelped and turned to flee, but Bud grabbed him by the collar, stuck a gun muzzle in his ribs, and spun him back in front of the steering wheel. “Stay on course and don’t even try to alert the others or I’ll kill you for sure. Do what I say, and you might have half a chance of seein’ sunrise.”
Kiki reached back with one hand and tried to grab the gun, but received a bite from Sam Houston for his trouble. He gave up and held tight to the wheel. “Señor Bud! I thought you were, uh...”
“Listen, you Mexican pissant, you ain’t paid to think. Now, stand there where the others can see you, and tell me what in the hell’s going on here.”
Bud, still woozy from his tranquilizer and booze overdose, fought to keep his balance on the heaving boat. When he was still below and saw the sporadic flashes of light through the main saloon’s windows, he thought they had been hit by a chubasco, but then he saw Pam, Gato and Gibbs brandishing weapons and knew he was mixed up in more than a thunder and lightning storm. But what?
He nudged Kiki hard. “Talk to me, Bubba.”
“I am only doing what la señorita Pam tol’ me to: trying to catch HiJenks—” He was cut off by the radio. Pam had turned off the lower station radio, but the flying bridge unit suddenly crackled to life.
“All Bidness, this is the United States Coast Guard Cutter, Endeavor, channel sixteen. Stop your engines and prepare for boarding, or we will open fire.”
Neither Bud nor Kiki could believe their ears.
On Bananas, Jaime yelled, “Nikki, did you hear that?” His wide grin glowed in the moonlight.
“Oh yes, I sure did,” she said, giving him a hug. Then she frowned. “Can we do that?”
“By ‘we’ I assume you mean your Coast Guard? It sounds as if they mean it, and even though there will probably be hell to pay later, I hope your Endeavor does blow All Bidness out of the water.”
“Jaime, has it occurred to you that your brother-in-law might be on All Bidness?”
“No, Nikki, he would never be involved with drugs.”
“But Bud Killebrew is?”
“I do not know, but tonight’s events surely point to him. John always spoke well of Mr. Killebrew, but there is, of course, the matter of the younger woman....” Jaime’s voice trailed off. He was glad Nicole couldn’t see his blush. “I, uh, mean, that John felt she might be pushing Bud beyond his pocketbook,” he stammered.
Nicole granted Jaime a wicked grin. “Oh, come on, I’m not all that much younger than you. And I have my own pocketbook.”
Jaime smiled gratefully and recovered his composure. “I meant to say that Killebrew might have thought to do one big deal for the money, then get out.”
“We know better, huh, Jaime? Once they’ve got you, you don’t get out.”
“Zactly. Carumba! What is that?” he asked, pointing at a silvery object climbing into the sky.
Nicole looked up. “Plane. Looks like a DC3. No lights, flying low at night? Gee, you tell me.”
“Can you take him out from here?”
Nicole’s mouth fell open. “You mean just open fire? Just like that?”
“In Mexico, he’s guilty until proven innocent, remember? We’ll ask him which he is later.”
Endeavor’s bridge
“Permission to open fire, sir?”
“Fire one over All Bidness’s bow,” Xavier ordered.
Matamoros
“Permission to fire on the airplane, sir?”
“Fire!” ordered Captain Ortega.
A fireball erupted on the right wing of the DC3, and cheers rang out on Matamoros and Endeavor, but on Bananas Nicole Kristin gaped at the burning plane. “Did I do that?” she asked
.
“Of course not, Agent Kristin. Foreigners in my country are not allowed to bear arms.”
First the popping noises, then the lights, and now the plane in flames proved too much for the captain of the shrimp boat, Gaviota II. No plane, no drugs, no pangas, no reason to stay. He threw the old engine into forward gear and headed back to Guaymas, but it was in vain; Matamoros had already launched a zodiac full of armed men in pursuit.
Aboard All Bidness, Pam screamed, “What was that?” and scrambled to her feet. Neither she, Gato, nor Gibbs heard the radio warning from Endeavor, so they were dumbfounded when a geyser of water and a shell concussion knocked them to their knees.
“I don’t know. Oh, shit!” As they gawked at the falling airplane, anger and despair welled up in Gibby Gibbs. He watched his future drop into the churning sea. “Gato, aim for HiJenks’s flying bridge, there are propane tanks up there.” He then leaned over and rasped in Pam’s ear, “Give me three minutes, then come aft.”
Gato grinned, braced himself and took aim at HiJenks.
Jenks and Hetta felt the concussion as well, and Jenks wondered where in the hell Bud got his hands on a cannon, but then they saw Endeavor materialize out of nowhere, followed by a flaming plane. Wondrous as these events were, he and Hetta didn’t have time to comment. They were busy implementing their own salvation.
“Are you ready?” Jenks asked.
“No, but let's do it anyway. I love you, Jenks.”
“I love you too, Sweetheart,” Jenks said. “Now, wait until I give the signal.”
He put the helm hard over and pushed a button on the remote control in his hand. Two-million candlepower spotlights bathed All Bidness in a halogen blaze as HiJenks turned broadside to the oncoming yacht.
“Hetta, on my cue. Get ready. Wait...wait...wait...fire!”
Hetta, sitting braced against the bow pulpit, had a white-knuckle lock on the grip of her 25mm flare launcher. Listening for Jenks’s signal, she understood the meaning of an itchy trigger finger. In the blaze of the spotlights, she could clearly see Pam and Gato on the bow, brandishing automatic weapons. Her trigger-finger trembled, but she waited until she heard Jenks’s calm voice saying, “Wait...wait...wait, fire!”
But she couldn’t fire. Standing at All Bidness’s helm—no more that five boat lengths behind them and clearly illuminated by their floodlights—was her friend, Bud Killebrew.
“Jump, pissant,” Bud told KiKi.
KiKi didn’t have to be told twice. He let go of the wheel, and All Bidness swerved wildly, broadsiding a wave, and throwing Pam and Gato to their knees.
Regaining their footing, they looked up just in time to see KiKi fly through the air, and Bud manning the helm.
“Cap’n Xavier, All Bidness looks as if she’s going to ram the trawler.”
“Hold your fire. We can’t take a chance on hitting HiJenks. Dammit all to hell.”
Gibbs rushed to Pam’s side and screamed, “I thought you took care of Killebrew, you silly bitch. Let’s move.”
“Shoot the Tejano,” Pam told Gato, pointing up at Bud. When Gato turned away, she and her husband ran aft, to the escape dinghy.
Gato stood his ground on the bow, intent on his target and grinning from ear to ear as he raised his gun muzzle at Bud. Before he could get off a round, Bud, his orange flare pistol aimed, not at Gato, but on the gasoline containers lining the rails behind him, roared, “Remember the Alamo, punk,” and pulled the trigger.
Gabriel Gomez sat in his panga, watching the dramatic events unfolding in his normally quiet part of the world. Staying well out of sight, he tracked the DC3’s flaming descent, and then sped towards the crash site. Determined to salvage some of the shipment from the wreckage, he’d load what he found and then go to the mother ship, get his chit and return to Punta Caracol to await payment. He was wondering whether he would still be paid the same amount for his night’s work when All Bidness, and his hopes of any compensation, exploded.
Captain Bill Xavier’s pulse quickened as he watched the gasoline-fired eruption. An air concussion from the explosion buffeted Endeavor, then a victory whoop rang out on deck. Grimly staring at the rocketing fireball that was once a sleek fifty-eight foot yacht, he feared the cheers of his crew were premature. Fully engulfed in flames, All Bidness hurtled towards HiJenks like a seaborne Molotov cocktail.
Nicole and Jaime stared in horror from the pitching Bananas.
“Crap, Jaime, HiJenks is gonna get rammed,” Nicole groaned.
Jaime nodded grimly and held his course, more determined than ever to get to HiJenks.
“Can you see Hetta and Jenks?”
“No.”
“Keep looking. And hold on.”
Nicole didn’t have time to ask why. Jaime opened a compartment next to the driver’s station, pushed a button, and Bananas almost went airborne.
“What the hell?” Nicole cried out as she was lifted off her feet by the surge of speed.
“Oxygen injection. Just hang on.”
They were less than an eighth of a mile away when All Bidness plowed into HiJenks.
“All stop,” Xavier commanded the Endeavor crew. “Launch the rescue boats.”
“Oh, shit,” Nicole whispered as Bananas rocketed towards the fiery nautical pileup.
“Can you get to the fire extinguishers, Nikki? I saw at least two below.”
Nicole made her way down into the saloon, bouncing off bulkheads as the Donzi skipped over and dove through cresting waves. Unclipping the red extinguishers from their holders, she staggered back into the cockpit.
“Jesus, I won’t have an unbruised bone in my body. Do you think these little things will do any good?” she yelled, dumping the extinguishers into a storage locker.
“Better than nothing.”
“Not much.”
“Rescue units away, Captain Xavier.”
“Rich, get us underway again and break out the fire hoses.” In minutes Endeavor was up to speed, with coasties on the bow wielding hoses capable of spewing tons of seawater.
They were still out of water cannon range when a cheer rose from the decks. All Bidness, with most of her bow blown away, scooped tons of water, her stern rose into the air, and she slipped below the waves.
HiJenks, flames spreading along her aft deck, kept going. Jaime yelled, “Bravo!” and slowed Bananas to steer the few pieces of still-burning flotsam that had once been All Bidness. “Nikki, get on the radio and tell Endeavor who we are, and that we will pursue HiJenks. Otherwise your fellow countrymen might think we’re villains and blow us out of the water.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Nicole saluted, her voice cracking with excitement. Grabbing the mic, she said, “United States Coast Guard Cutter Endeavor, this is DEA agent Nicole Kristin, over.”
A moment of silence, then a surprised Xavier responded. “This is Endeavor, Agent Kristin.”
“Endeavor, I am in the Donzi with Comandante Jaime Morales of the Mexican Federal Police. We are following HiJenks to ascertain the Jenkins's situation.”
“Understood. Stay with her. We’re launching rescue vessels to HiJenks, the plane crash, and where All Bidness sank. Keep a sharp eye out for survivors, Agent Kristin. And good luck.”
Xavier handed the mic over to the radio operator and said to his Executive Officer, “Arrington, I have a real bad feeling in my gut. Why isn’t HiJenks stopping?”
HiJenks’s autopilot held her on course, directly into the gale. Still cruising at ten knots, the heavy trawler ploughed headlong into the worsening seas and, as green water washed as high as the flying bridge, the onboard fire was snuffed out.
“Looks like we won’t need the fire extinguishers,” Nicole told Jaime as he maneuvered Bananas alongside HiJenks. The trawler's blinding halogen spots were still blazing, making it impossible to see inside.
“See anyone on board?” Jaime yelled to Nicole. Nicole shielded her eyes and shook her head.
“Nikki, do you think you can hold Bananas steady enough for
me to climb onto HiJenks?”
Nicole gulped. “I can try. Where do you want to board?”
“Let’s see if I can jump onto the swim platform. You’ll need to get as close as you can, match speed, then when I’m on the platform, veer off. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be. Jaime?”
“What?”
“I’ve decided all Hispanic males aren’t shits.”
Jaime looked at her in disbelief, and then grinned. “Gringas!”
Nicole dogged HiJenks’s port beam while Jaime balanced on Bananas’ gunwale rails. Spray all but blinded both Jaime and Nicole, while waves assaulted them with rib-cracking ferocity. Slowing slightly to allow the trawler to move ahead, she gritted her teeth and held position. Jaime, after a couple of hair-raising tries, managed to grab HiJenks’s aft rail. He swung against her transom with a thud. Nicole steered a hard left, let out a victory whoop, and hoped Jaime hadn’t cracked a rib.
The norther picked up considerably since the drama in the central Sea of Cortez began. Steep six footers topped with one-foot wind waves turned the sea’s surface into a surfer’s dream. And a mariner’s nightmare.
Spotlights dotted an area three miles across as vessels converged on oil slicks that were once yachts and airplanes.
Here and there, like predator fish after bait, pangas, their drivers determined the night not be a total loss, darted in to snatch a packet of cocaine and speed away before the navy could stop them.
Search lights from the Mexican Navy ship and Endeavor played over the disaster area while rescue boats combed for survivors. Scanning the grim scene from his vantage point on the bridge of his cutter, Bill Xavier jumped when Jaime’s voice boomed from the speaker at his station.
“This is Comandante Jaime Morales of the Mexican Federal Judicial Police. I am aboard HiJenks and I am afraid I have disturbing news.”
Troubled Sea Page 26