North Harbor

by Kennedy Hudner

  “Can she take this pounding long enough to get there and back?” Pablo asked.

  “We’ll find out!” Mateo grinned.

  “Are we going to make it in time?”

  Mateo had his doubts, but he nodded. “I gave us plenty of time, don’t worry.”

  The boat plunged down again, covering them with spray. Pablo grimaced. “I don’t like this fucking water. Too cold!”

  “Welcome to Vacationland, amigo!” Mateo laughed. “But if you fall in, kiss your balls goodbye!”

  Arturo, reticent as always, said nothing.

  They plowed on, staying in the lee of Swan Island, turning east to Great Duck Island, where Mateo stopped the boat and the three men checked all their gear, in particular the satellite phone, and fuel reserves, and looked over the boat to make sure nothing was broken or loose. Once they left the scant protection of Great Duck Island, they would be in open water all the way to the freighter and then back again. The Shockwave was a go-fast boat; now they would find out if she was a strong one as well.

  Pablo checked the GPS unit again – still working, thank God – and used the measuring device to calculate the remaining distance to the rendezvous: 55.5 miles.

  “We can make it, but it could take us two, maybe two and a half hours,” Mateo said. Pablo broke out hot coffee and muffins – they would have all killed for a plate full of churros, but such delicacies were nowhere to be found on the uncivilized Maine coast – then Pablo gave each man two chocolate bars. On a night like this, calories would be important.

  Beside them, Arturo picked up the PKMS machine gun and cradled it in his arms. Next to him, he had a tripod bolted to the floor. The large, night-vision scope on the PKMS was covered with a plastic sheath to protect it from the elements. Arturo could place half his shots in a four-inch circle at three hundred meters, albeit on dry land, but he was pretty sure that even with the high seas he could hit something as large as a Coast Guard cutter out to 1,000 meters. The only problem was visibility – the night scope was good, but whether it was good enough in the middle of an ocean storm was another thing altogether.

  “Think you can hit anything with that when the boat’s jumping around like a goat in heat?” Pablo teased him.

  “Sí,” Arturo grunted, then fell silent.

  Another wave smashed the side of the boat. Pablo looked at Mateo and grinned. “Eh, this is going to be a fucking pig of a night!”

  Mateo laughed and increased the throttle. Pablo sang a popular Dominican pop love song. Arturo stared stoically into the night. It began to rain.

  The Shockwave surged out from behind the protection of the little island and plunged into the tender embrace of the dark, stormy Bay of Maine.

  ______________

  Not far away, the Tampa Bay pushed stolidly through the waves, three hours from the rendezvous point.

  ______________

  Katie opened the door to her trailer and pushed Jacob inside. As the door slammed behind them, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth, hands pulling the shirt out of his pants and then tearing at the buttons.

  Then she stopped. “Oh my God,” she said, backing away a step and laughing. “You were right, you do need to shower.” Laughing some more, she pushed him into the small bathroom. “Wash up, but hurry!”

  Jacob, as aroused as he had ever been in his life, tore his clothes off and dropped them on the floor, then stepped into the shower and got the hot water going. “When did you say your dad is getting back?” he yelled through the door.

  “The shower door opened and a very naked Katie pushed in. “Not until after midnight,” she said breathlessly. She pushed her body against him and kissed him again, her hands roaming wantonly. “Plenty of time.”

  With his body ready to burst from desire, it never occurred to Jacob that all this was moving along a little too quickly.

  ______________

  In the cramped Command Center parked on Naskeag Point, it was like watching a slow-motion video game. Very slow motion.

  The freighter Tampa Bay had reduced its speed to thirteen knots and was moving northwest towards the mouth of the Bay of Fundy. The Coast Guard Cutter Vigilant was now almost due south of the freighter, running on a course due west that would take it to a position between the freighter and the Maine coast. The LUNA drone had closed in to half a mile from the freighter due to the bad weather and was scanning the area with cameras and thermal sensors.

  So far, nothing but rain and wind and more rain.

  It was almost 9 p.m.

  ______________

  On board the Tampa Bay, Felipe Ochoa looked at his watch and cursed. They were running late. The freighter was supposed to be at the rendezvous point at 9:20 p.m., but the Captain had reduced speed and they would be at least thirty minutes late..

  Did he dare a satellite phone call to alert the Cartel? The nervous American had said no calls until the pickup boat had arrived. He chewed on a fingernail and tried to decide what to do.

  ______________

  “Okay, we’re here,” Pablo’s voice came through the headphones.

  Mateo, who had been concentrating on the rough seas, looked up tiredly. The rain had lessened, but the storm clouds were still low. The storm wasn’t through with them yet.

  There was no sign of the Tampa Bay. “You sure we’re in the right place?”

  Pablo glanced at the GPS display. “Right on the money.”

  Mateo checked the time – they were five minutes late. Had the freighter already come by and was now steaming up the Bay of Fundy to Saint John? He didn’t think so. In this shitty weather, it was more likely that the freighter was running behind schedule as well. “Pablo! Check the Marine Traffic site and see if you can get a fix on the Tampa Bay.”

  Pablo complied. “Weather may be screwing it up, I can’t tell. But it says the freighter is here right now.”

  Well, shit. They were about thirty miles south of Grand Manan Island, which sat like a sentry in the mouth of the Bay of Fundy. With the storm coming out of the northeast, the freighter would want to ride in the lee of Nova Scotia, but would be leery of getting too close to land in case the wind shifted. So…did the Tampa Bay turn to a more northerly course to cut the corner, or was it just running slower because of the storm?

  “Pablo, I think there’s a chance we got here first and the freighter is running late. They might cut north early to shave off some time. I want you to plot a course east-northeast for about five miles, then due south for four miles, then east-northeast again. Once you’ve got it plugged in, take the binoculars and keep scanning. Entender? Have Arturo help you with the other set of binoculars.”

  Pablo nodded and set to work. Two minutes later, he called out: “The course should be on your screen now. Just follow the path.”

  There was now a white line pulsating on Mateo’s large navigation screen. He took another swig of hot coffee, then brought the boat about to the right heading and increased speed. He shook his head ruefully. Why was it so hard to find a six-hundred-foot freighter?

  ______________

  Honeycutt thumbed the mike: “Big Eyes, this is Gollum. Status report?”

  Finley shot a glance at Honeycutt. “Big Eyes” was the Coast Guard Cutter Vigilant, which was controlling the LUNA drone. But Gollum? He knew Howard had an odd sense of humor, but his handle on this operation was Gollum? He glanced around the trailer. One or two of the operators were grinning, but most either didn’t recognize the Lord of the Rings reference or were absorbed in their work.

  It made Finley feel old.

  Big Eyes: “Freighter is under observation and is moving slowly. No sign of any go-fast boats. Seas running five to ten feet and wind stiffening from the northeast. Weather advisory says storm will intensify over the next couple of hours.”

  Gollum: “Status of the LUNA?”

  Big Eyes: “Still airborne, but fuel consumption is higher than forecasted. Winds are making it hard to stay on station and it has to get
in close to get decent images of the freighter’s deck. A good wind gust could slap it into the water.”

  In the Command Center, Honeycutt frowned. If they lost the drone, the night’s work would be immeasurably harder. “Big Eyes, how long can the drone stay up?”

  Big Eyes: “At this rate, maybe two and a half hours, max.”

  Gollum: “And how is your ride out there?”

  Commander Diane O’Brien, Captain of the Vigilant, chuckled evilly. “Oh, this is just a walk in the park for us, Gollum. Except for the newbies of course; they aren’t exactly happy right now.”

  Finley pictured half a dozen young sailors puking their guts out and winced. He was prone to sea sickness himself and did not envy them.

  Gollum: “Thank you, Big Eyes. Please keep us informed.”

  Big Eyes: “Happy to oblige, Gollum; you are paying the bill, after all. Big Eyes out.”

  ______________

  On the Shockwave, Mateo turned the boat south to stay on the plotted search path. The rain beat on them, making it hard to see much of anything. Also, the rain was playing hell with his headset, making it harder to talk to Pablo and Arturo.

  They were running now with the seas following behind them, so they seemed to be going slower even though he knew they were going faster. The Shockwave yawed left and right, the steering sluggish. Mateo focused on keeping the boat from broaching sideways, which would be the death of them all. And a cold, fucking death it would be.

  Then Arturo stood and pointed wordlessly over the starboard portion of the bow.

  Mateo could have wept in relief.

  ______________

  Katie was clawing his back and screaming in his ear and Jacob was thrusting in her so hard the bed was bouncing off the thin carpet on the floor of the trailer. She kissed him, then bit his shoulder and arched her back to meet his thrusts and he could feel his climax building and building and then she cried out, “I’m coming! Oh, God, yes!” and her hands clutched his buttocks to pull him even deeper into her and he exploded inside her and collapsed, breath ragged and sweat pouring off his body.

  And to his astonishment, Katie wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his chest, and wept like a forlorn child.

  ______________

  On the stern of the Tampa Bay, Felipe Ochoa saw the Shockwave emerge from the storm immediately behind them. He got his flashlight up, a big, four-battery LED flash, and blinked out a simple code into the rain-swept darkness.

  An answering blink came back almost immediately. Ochoa grunted, lifted the fifty-pound black bag as if it were no more than a bag of sugar, and hurled it overboard. The small boat darted in, the bag was hauled aboard, then two more flashes of light and it was off into the storm, headed for the coast of Maine.

  Ochoa watched it go. Then there was a flash of lightning and clear against the dark clouds he sensed movement and saw a small, airplane-shaped object wheel overhead and turn in the direction of the receding go-fast boat.

  “Aw, joder!,” he muttered. Fuck! He pulled out his satellite phone and dialed the number for the American running the smuggling operation for the Sinaloa Cartel. He answered immediately.

  “What is your status?” It was the same American voice.

  “I have just given the parcel to the go-fast boat,” Ochoa said, “but there is a problem. The Americans have a drone up. It saw the exchange and is following them.”

  There was a moment of silence. “Did they see your face?” the American asked in his nervous voice.

  Ochoa was a not a fool. He would have lied if he had to, but there was no need. “We are in a storm, jefe. It is raining and it is very dark. The only way I saw the drone was because of a lightning strike. Also, I am wearing a hat and a hooded rain jacket. I tell you, they could not see my face.”

  The American pondered for a moment. “What is your exact position?”

  Ochoa read it off the GPS.

  Through the phone, Ochoa could hear the American rapidly entering the GPS position into a computer. There were a couple of more clicks, then a grunt of satisfaction and the American came back.

  “Okay, you are still good. Throw the other package overboard now, Felipe. Right now! Then dispose of anything that might betray you to the Americans.”

  Ochoa grabbed the other bag – the white one – in one strong hand and heaved it over the stern railing. It struck the water with a splash and immediately sank from sight.

  “Realizado!” he said into the phone. Then, realizing he did not know how fluent the American was, he translated: “Done!”

  “Good,” the American replied. “They will interrogate the entire crew when you reach Saint John. Be calm, Felipe. We take care of our own. Just be sure to throw overboard anything that might link you to us. You will be safe then.”

  “Sí, señor.” And surprisingly enough, Ochoa believed him.

  He pulled his arm back and hurled the satellite phone and the GPS unit far into the ocean. Then he went below to his cabin to catch the rest of the soccer game.

  ______________

  Big Eyes: “Possible contact! I repeat, the drone may have something near the freighter!”

  Gollum: “Something? What is ‘something’?”

  Big Eyes: “Might be easier if I patch in the pilot of the drone. He can relay his camera image directly to you.”

  Gollum: “Isn’t the pilot with you, Big Eyes?”

  Big Eyes: “Are you kidding? He’s at the Rockland Station, where he’s not rolling around like a pinball and can concentrate on his flying. Patching you through now to Pilot Scott Kaeser.”

  Pilot: “I am circling the drone about three hundred yards off the Tampa Bay. Someone on the deck just dropped a large parcel to the ocean and a small boat moved in to pick it up. Boat has now departed, heading 300 degrees. Have lost visual contact with small boat, but am over freighter now. Orders?”

  Gollum: “Pilot, track the go-fast boat. We know where the freighter is going.”

  Pilot: “Roger. Estimate ninety minutes of fuel before must return to base.”

  Gollum: “Find that boat!”

  Big Eyes: “Command, we are west of the go-fast boat and it is heading in our general direction. We are turning to course of 90 degrees and will be searching for the go-fast boat using radar.”

  Gollum: “Understood. Good hunting.”

  ______________

  Mateo watched the fifty-pound package of heroin splash into the ocean. He blinked his flashlight twice at the small figure on the freighter’s stern, then maneuvered the Shockwave in close to where the package landed. The Shockwave rolled and yawed in the waves and he feared broaching, but a death by drowning would be a blessing compared to what the Cartel would do to him if he failed to pick up this drop.

  Then Pablo scrambled to the bow, armed with the long boat hook, and reached over the rail to grab the floating orange buoy. He brought up the rope, tossed down the hook and began to haul the package aboard. Another wave slapped the Shockwave hard on its port side, almost toppling him overboard, but he regained his balance and finally hauled a bulky, black, waterproof bag onto the deck.

  He cupped both hands and shouted to Mateo, “Go! Go!”

  Needing no urging, Mateo spun the wheel, advanced the throttle and the boat roared into the darkness, headed for North Harbor.

  North Harbor, and safety.

  ______________

  On the Coast Guard Cutter Vigilant, Captain O’Brien looked at the map in front of her. If the go-fast boat just picked up the drop from the freighter there – she marked the spot with a pin – and the Vigilant was here – another pin – and the drug smuggler’s go-fast boat was on a course of 300 degrees – she drew a line that hit the coast just off the southern edge of Mt. Desert Island, between Tremont and Swans Island – well, then…then…

  “Well, heck!” O’Brien exclaimed, “the idiots are coming right at us!” She grinned in delight. “Hooray for us!” She looked around the bridge. “Go to battle stations! We’re going
to nail these guys!”

  ______________

  Gollum: “Pilot, do you have a visual on the go-fast boat?”

  Pilot: “Negative. I have switched to thermal, but the storm is so bad that whatever heat signature they’ve got is being masked. I can take the drone lower, but if I do there’s a fair chance it will get slapped into the water by the wind or caught by spray.” Depth perception through the cameras was notoriously tricky, especially at night, and in the rapidly moving storm the altimeter was almost worthless.

  Big Eyes: “Pilot, be advised, winds are shifting to the north and increasing. Gusts are now over forty knots.”

  Gollum: “What’s the strongest wind you can fly in?”

  Pilot: “This is a small aircraft, sir. It only weighs ninety pounds. I shouldn’t fly it in winds over 30 m.p.h. That’s only 26 knots, sir. In this crap, there’s a better than 50-50 chance we’ll lose her.”

  Gollum: “Do we have another one available?”

  [Voice of Commander Mello]: “This is Home Base in Rockland. We have another drone, but I won’t authorize a launch in this weather. If absolutely necessary, I will launch a Jayhawk helicopter.

  In the Command Center, Howard Honeycutt grimaced and looked at Finley. “Great, they’re worrying about losing a $50,000 drone, so they’re going to send a $17 Million helicopter to replace it. And the helicopter pilots will be in the copter, not sitting in some conference room watching a computer screen and eating doughnuts.”

  Gollum: “Home Base, will the copter be any better suited to handle this weather than the drone?”

  Home Base: “Oh, hell yes! But that doesn’t mean I like to risk it unnecessarily.”

  Pilot: “Hold on, I might have it! Getting some tickles on the thermal sensors.”

  Big Eyes: “What heading is he on, Pilot?”

  Pilot: “Hold one.”

  Big Eyes: “Be advised that we are getting much stronger wind gusts here. Pilot, be sure to maintain a safe altitude or your bird is going to become a submarine.”