Harold and the Angel of Death

by Gary McPherson

  Harold stared at her with a goofy grin and let the memory of her soft lips upon his forehead linger in his mind until a thought rushed back in. The scrambled phone. “Oh, I’m never distracted. So, what? Does Garcia just sit around in the evenings and listen to the conversations going on around the ship?”

  “Only if he thinks there’s a reason not to trust you.”

  “So, what if I want some real privacy between Tom and me?”

  “Don’t worry. I have a solution, but I need to give you your gift later.”

  Harold stood up. “Well, I suppose I should see the rest of my beautiful yacht.”

  “It belongs to the CIA,” protested Darla.

  “Whatever.”

  The two walked out of the office, and Darla showed Harold the expansive master bathroom. A freestanding tub sat next to a mirror wall. A separate shower covered in marble tile and divided by a glass door sat on the other end of the wall. Large double sinks rested inside a countertop across from the tub with mirrors covering the wall above them. Harold wondered if John had installed all the mirrors to make the bathroom seem bigger or so that he could admire himself. The idea that it was now his reflection and not John’s in the mirrors brought a dark sense of joy.

  The two of them walked back to the large living and dining rooms. “How many eating areas does this ship have?” asked Harold.

  “Two main dining areas. This room and the top deck. The oceans are fickle. Some days you’ll want to eat outside, and other days you’ll be glad you’re in here. John likely had the smaller areas designed for entertaining small groups.”

  “How many Franks work to keep the food going?” asked Harold.

  Darla let out a short laugh. “We have two Franks that run the kitchen, one Frank that works as our bartender for any of the bars and one that helps keep the ship up. And finally, there is Captain Frank who works the bridge.”

  “How many Franks do we have for security?” asked Harold.

  Darla held up two perfectly manicured fingers. “They pull double duty.”

  Harold’s brow wrinkled. “What if something happens to the captain?”

  Darla patted Harold’s arm. “Not to worry, dear. Our Franks all have hidden talents that you will hopefully never have to discover.”

  Harold pointed towards the next door. “Please, continue.”

  Darla showed him the large galley. It had a griddle and gas grill, along with double ovens and refrigerators. Although the galley was tastefully done in stainless steel, teak, and mahogany, it was mostly covered by foodstuffs.

  “Did the Franks forget to put away the food?” he asked.

  “No, it’s a big empty ocean. We will always be packed with food stores. You’ll be surprised how quickly this kitchen will begin to empty out. Don’t worry though, we have emergency stores below.”

  “Really? What are they?”

  She chuckled. “You probably don’t want to know. Let’s just say the Marines didn’t want to eat them during the Gulf War. They don’t taste like much, but they would keep us alive in a pinch.”

  “Where to now?” asked Harold.

  “That depends. Do you want to take the elevator or the stairs?”

  His eyes grew wide. “This place has an elevator? That’s awesome.”

  Her serious expression wiped the smile from Harold’s face. “It’s for the wounded. Sitting off the coast of the Keys today seems like fun and games, but our missions are dangerous.”

  Harold’s expression became worried. “You guys do realize Joshua and I aren’t trained for that sort of thing.”

  “I’m not saying you’ll be involved, but it’s here for the people that are.”

  His mood sobered. He loved the Sweet Revenge, but she really wasn’t his. At least not yet. “I think we should take the stairs.”

  The two walked upstairs to the couches and black tables he had seen before. They passed through a small entertainment area and onto the bridge. Harold gaped at the sight of several flat-screen monitors that showed weather, radar, sonar, and a couple of screens he did not understand. He spoke in awe, “I feel like I’m on the starship Enterprise.”

  She laughed at his boyish words. “It’s impressive. Everything here is automated.”

  “What if the computers go out?”

  “Then we’re all in trouble,” replied Darla. “Don’t worry. There are several redundancies built in. We do have some manual backups to ensure the engines and steering would be available so we aren’t caught dead in the water during a storm, but hopefully we never have to use them.”

  Harold was enthralled. “So, do you think Frank will mind if I come up and keep him company sometime when he’s piloting the ship?”

  “I suppose it depends on how much of a pest you are.”

  “I can be a pretty big pest,” joked Harold.

  “Yes, you can.”

  He gave Darla’s shoulder a friendly shove. “Hey, what does that mean?”

  Darla poked him in the ribs and started to walk away. She looked over her shoulder. “I don’t know. You said it. Come on, we’re headed topside again.”

  He followed her back up the stairs to the top deck. Harold admired the sway of her hips as they climbed upwards. Darla stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at him. “I hope you enjoyed what you were watching.”

  Harold’s face flushed, and he did his best to look sorry, like he would with his mother when she found him doing something he shouldn’t. She winked and strolled towards the mid-deck where the dining table rested. Garcia and Joshua sat near the head of the table with waters in front of them. Two more waters sat in front of empty chairs next to them.

  Garcia waved them over. “Hurry up. I want to show you something we just discovered.”

  “Thanks, Frank,” Harold said towards the bar on the far end.

  Frank gave a cursory wave. Garcia was already turning his laptop around as Harold and Darla took their seats. The color video of the landscape reminded Harold of something out of Call of Duty.

  “What am I looking at?” asked Harold.

  “This is a high res video from a spy drone circling several thousand feet above us.” Garcia picked up a walkie-talkie sitting in front of him. “Frank, move the image towards the Sweet Revenge. The camera on the screen began to zoom down until the image of the gleaming white ship appeared.

  “Where are we?” asked Joshua.

  “You can’t see us. We’re under the array, but watch this.” Garcia keyed up his mic again. “Frank, turn on infrared.” Several reddish ghosts appeared on the ship. Garcia hollered at the bartender, “Wave for us, Frank.”

  Frank raised his arm and moved it around for a few seconds. On the screen, Harold saw Frank’s reddish silhouette waving to the camera.

  Garcia hollered towards the bar, “Thanks, Frank.”

  He keyed the mic again. “Okay, Frank, show our guests their new fan club.”

  This time the camera zoomed back and then centered itself on the edge of Islamorada at the resort and infrared was turned off. They could see people with telescopes on the top balconies facing the water. There were at least two telescopes pointed out towards the water and four people manning them.

  “Do you think they can see us?” asked Harold.

  Garcia put down the transmitter. “How much they can see is anybody’s guess. I expected Chuck to keep an eye on us. Except for our drone above, the airspace is clear, and sonar shows us clear below the water line as well. I didn’t think Chuck would try a submergible in shallow clear water, but you can never be too careful.”

  Harold started tapping the table with his thumb. “So, that long ride out here, sore butts, and red skin were for nothing?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was for nothing. We are pretty far out here, and Frank did a good job bouncing us around the tourist route. Captain Frank has made sure to keep the registration facing away from the shoreline. Chuck will find out about this ship sooner or later, but nobody said I had to make it easy on him.”
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  Joshua spoke up, “Did they know about the ship before we rode out here?”

  Darla answered, “No. Chuck has been keeping his eye on the team and trying to gather intel on us. The ship was at the naval station at Key West getting her refit before she sailed. Chuck would have no reason to search for her.”

  “Until now,” said Harold.

  “It’s time we get underway.” Garcia picked the walkie-talkie back up. “Okay, Frank, we’re good here. Let’s head further out into the Atlantic and take her back into the Gulf close to Cuba.” Garcia then pulled out an earpiece Harold had not noticed earlier.

  Harold felt the engines engage for the first time. With a low hum, the ship glided over the water. Harold stood up and carefully walked over to the forward railing as he attempted to get his sea legs. Looking towards the small dot of Islamorada on the far horizon, he raised his large arm and waved goodbye.

  “What are you doing?” asked Garcia.

  Harold turned to face him. “I’m giving Chuck something to think about. He’ll need to figure out if I’m waving goodbye to Islamorada or to them. If it was you instead of me, the answer would have been obvious.”

  “What good does that do?” asked Garcia.

  “If I was him, I’d want to know what we know. Now he has to figure out if we knew they were watching us.”

  Garcia grimaced. “Got it. Do me a favor. Next time you want to try something clever, don’t. Chuck is a murdering psychopath that has found a way to make money at killing. He’s not somebody you can play with.”

  Harold’s expression grew serious. He put down his arm and slowly walked back to the table.

  Garcia’s sunglasses panned around the group. “Okay, in ten minutes we are out of sight, and you’re off the clock. We have an open bar, and Frank will be serving lionfish or BBQ, your choice. I also recommend the tomato salad. It’s to kill for.”

  “Don’t you mean to die for?” asked Harold.

  “Please, we’re CIA. We don’t die for anything.”

  Harold chuckled. Darla and Joshua rolled their eyes and got up from the table.

  Joshua spoke up first, “If you all will excuse me, I have a phone call to make to a certain wife who misses me.”

  “Meet me in the Jacuzzi later, Doc?” asked Harold.

  “You got it.”

  “I suggest we all go below to freshen up before dinner,” Darla said. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m tired of sweating in these same clothes.”

  “I’ll escort you to your cabin,” Harold volunteered.

  Darla held up her hand. “I don’t think so, big boy.”

  “Oh, you can come to my bedroom, but you don’t trust me to go with you?” Harold said, mocking a wounded tone. His voice then became more sinister with a hint of sarcasm, “It’s a small ship you know.”

  Darla dropped her hand. “That’s true. Just remember, I know how to break your ribs.”

  “Are you guys going to be like this the whole trip?” asked Garcia.

  They smiled at one another.

  “If I’m lucky,” responded Harold.

  Garcia walked away shaking his head.

  Harold hollered after him, “You’re the guy who said to keep things loose.”

  Garcia stopped, turned around, and opened his mouth but closed it before saying a word. He headed down the stairs shaking his head again.

  Darla walked over and locked her hands around Harold’s waist. “Honey, I’m serious. We need to have some lines while we are on board. I don’t want you in my cabin. Are you going to be okay with that?”

  Harold felt disappointed, but he knew she was right. “Yea. I suppose now isn’t the time anyway.”

  Darla released Harold. She put her hand on his chest and patted it. His eyes locked with hers.

  Darla spoke softly, “That’s the spirit, love. One day we will have our entire lives together, but not right now.”

  Harold mockingly stuck out his bottom lip and nodded. Darla dropped her arm and went to her cabin. Harold walked over to sit on the cushioned deck by the Jacuzzi and watched the clear waters of the Caribbean slip past the ship. The ship and Darla were beautiful, but he had never thought his life would end up where it was. The fact that the ship reminded him of home made him think about his childhood and how much he missed being around his old memories. He looked up at the sky and spoke, “Is saving the company really worth all of this?” No sounds returned except the lapping of the water against the hull and the humming of the engines.

  Chapter 15

  Harold grabbed a cup of coffee off the indoor dining room table. The bright sun sparkling across the blue water was too beautiful to look at from indoors. The ship gently rocked as he made his way through the sliding glass door. The yacht started a slow turn as he started towards the aft of the ship, and it sent him bumping into the bar. Hot coffee slushed over his mug and onto his shirt. Harold gasped from the sudden heat and murmured a string of words he preferred not to share with the rest of the world. He grabbed a towel from behind the bar and sat down on the sofa at the rear of the ship.

  As he was attempted in vain to get the stain out of his shirt, Joshua walked through the door.

  “Drinking problem.”

  He responded without looking up, “Yea, Doc, something like that.”

  Joshua sat down next to him and put his mug of the coffee table. “It looks like we both had the same idea.”

  Harold glanced over. “Where’s your coffee stain?”

  “I was speaking of the enjoying the beautiful morning.”

  “That’s a shame. I’m willing to help you out if you care to join me.”

  Joshua grabbed his mug and took a long swallow. “Any dreams lately?”

  Harold tossed the towel on the table in frustration and drank most of his mug. “Not last night. I sometimes wonder if my brain has developed a short circuit.”

  Joshua sat silently for a moment simply staring at his mug.

  “Wow, Doc. I was expecting you to at least ask me a question. What’s going on? Am I losing my mind?”

  “I don’t know, Harry. I don’t think so, but this may be my doing. When I first started my hypnotherapy, I thought I was breaking new ground. I knew there were risks, like attaching my presence to whatever was going on inside of your mind, but we seemed to glide right past those. There is another risk though, and I don’t know if I was wrong in my assessments about the progress we made.”

  “What risks, Doc? Please don’t tell me you scrambled my brain.”

  Joshua put down his mug and turned to face Harold. “Nothing like that. There is a chance that we bottled up some of your anger, your rage, like coke in a bottle if you will. If something happens to shake it up, the cork could pop off.”

  “And all my rage comes pouring out.”

  Joshua tapped the back of the couch as he spoke, “Exactly. However, you haven’t really exploded into any sort of uncontrollable rage. It’s almost as if you have a slow leak. John could represent your hidden rage, and your brain may be trying to deal with it.”

  Harold finished off his coffee. “That doesn’t sound so bad. They’re just dreams after all.”

  “Yes, but I’m concerned about what could happen if you face another crisis before the pressure is released. What if Chuck or his men do something to set you off?”

  Harold stood and stretched his back. “Well, Doc, we both know the only thing that sets me off is when somebody is in danger. Maybe it would be a good thing if the cork came off. It could save our lives.”

  Joshua stood. “Perhaps, but you’re still dealing with killing John even though you saved our lives. What will happen to you if you kill again?”

  “I keep asking myself that same question. I guess I don’t know, but I do know I’ll have you to help me through it.”

  Joshua started to walk away.

  “Hang on, Doc. I do have you, right?”

  Joshua turned around. “Of course. I just have a lot on my mind.”

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nbsp; “That’s nothing new.”

  “Yes, I know, but it concerns your half-brother.”

  “I’m usually the one to bring him up. What’s going on?”

  “I thought I had succeeded with Bill because I managed to completely shut down his rage. Now, I’m worried. What if I only bottled his berserker? What if the cork comes off, or it already has? You managed to take our sessions and blend what you learned with what was going on around you. I don’t know how, but you found a way not to bottle up everything inside. Bill didn’t. Everything was bottled up tight. At least for as long as he remained in the orphanage.”

  Harold sat down and looked up at Joshua. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. Adam doesn’t know where Bill is. I’m thinking about going to North Carolina the first chance I get to look over my notes. I may need to find him for his own good, if I’m not too late.”

  “Do what you need to do, Doc. Just remember to tell him about me if you do have to find him.”

  “Of course.” Joshua turned and went inside.

  Harold looked back over the aft of the ship and the calm Caribbean waters. He hoped wherever Bill was that he was safe and doing well.

  ***

  Harold sat on the lower deck, watching the sun’s fiery ball rise above the watery horizon. He had quit counting the number of sunrises he had enjoyed at sea. His fishing pole gently bent back and forth against the drag of the lure.

  “Good morning, Harry.”

  Harold jerked in surprise at Joshua’s voice. “Oh, hey, Doc. I didn’t hear you sneak up on me.”

  Joshua sat down next to him. “I was roaming the ship and saw you fishing. Have you caught anything?”

  “Are you asking for a friend?”

  “Is that pole being used?”

  “Take your best shot.”

  Joshua baited the unused pole and casted aft from the other corner of the yacht. He took a seat next to Harold and let his legs dangle from the back of the boat. “So, you’re the reason Frank slowed the boat.”