Danger Point

by Douglas J Bourg

  We’re silent as we motor the boat into the night, headed toward San Clemente Island.

  ◆◆◆

  “General, the first drug drop has been completed in San Diego and the money transferred into the Cayman Islands bank account,” his aide tells him.

  “Good, very good. Things are still running behind schedule, but with all the problems we have faced, it’s not unmanageable,” The General responds. “Is there any word on the other operation? Have we located Frasier’s wife and children?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  “Imbeciles!” The General slams his hand on the desk, causing his aide to jump. “I want them found right now, damn it. Advise them that whoever delivers Mrs. Frasier to me before one a.m. will get an additional five hundred thousand dollars, cash.”

  “General, we have teams looking for them here and in Oregon. We’ll find them. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Enrique,” says The General, in a much calmer tone, “This will give me the leverage I need to keep the Americans at bay. Once the last drug transfer takes place and we escape in the submarine I’ll have enough to build another drug lab. One large enough to deliver drugs to any part of the world. The Americans must know the location of our lab by now and will be working with the Mexican government to destroy it.”

  The General looks down at his Rolex. In the next twenty-four hours his fate will be decided. Life or death. If it were only that simple.

  Chapter 52

  The dream. The dream has awakened me; or has it? I hear shouting from down below—Delaney and the Master Chief are going at it. I look over and see DJ still at the wheel.

  “About time you woke up, you lazy bastard. It’s your watch,” he says.

  I get up; stretch and walk back to take over the helm.

  “Stay on this heading,” he says. “We’re about fifteen miles off San Clemente Island. I want us to swing a wide arc around it so when we head back in we can sail on a close reach. Then we can see how she really handles.” He pulls a cigarette out of the pack he has lying beside the wheel and lights it.

  “What are those guys arguing about?” I ask him, waving the smoke away with one hand.

  “Sorry,” he says, blowing his cigarette smoke away from me, “Who knows? We’re not invited to that conversation. I’ve been told by Delaney that we’re just the delivery system so they can take down The General.”

  “Well, they’d better settle this before we get close or the bad guys will hear them and make a break for it.”

  He stretches out on the bench in the cockpit, “Wake me up when we make the swing around the far side. Delany wants to be notified when we start the run to Abalone Point.” He’s asleep in minutes.

  DJ can sleep through just about anything. Delaney and Ferguson have finally calmed down and are speaking in normal tones. With everyone else asleep, I have the helm to myself. There are squid dotting the ocean. I love sailing on nights like this: the air fresh and clean, a million stars above, and the boat slicing through the ocean below. It almost makes me forget why we’re out here. As long as I stay on this heading and the wind doesn’t die, we’ll be on our way around the front side of island in a couple of hours. I pull my MP3 player from my jacket pocket, put in my headphones and find some AC/DC to keep me awake.

  The new wheel stands about five feet tall with a compass on its pedestal base and is attached to an all new steering system so the boat now handles like an ocean racer—so much fun. I’m so engrossed in the music and keeping the boat on the right heading that I don’t notice Murph walk up carrying a cup of hot coffee.

  He taps me on the shoulder, “Bobby.”

  I yank the headphones out of my ears, “Crap, Murph, you scared the shit out of me!” I hiss.

  “I didn’t see the headphones, sorry,” he says, handing me the coffee.

  “Thanks,” I say, carefully taking the coffee from him. “I guess I got caught up in driving this thing. This boat is officially certified Bad Ass now.” I take a sip of the coffee, “It’s pretty quiet down there. Did those guys get everything worked out?”

  “They have a plan,” he says, looking out at the ocean. “They’re getting some rest. Delaney wants to be on deck when we get to the end of the island. How close are we?”

  “We’ll be there in about half an hour. We’re about an hour ahead of schedule. If the wind holds tonight, we’ll be on site by about three a.m.” I say. “That’s at least an hour before Sandoval’s meeting with the sub.”

  “There must be something pretty special about this last deal, because he’s doing it in person,” Murphy says. “From what I understand, that’s not his usual style.”

  “I think you’re right, Murph, but what can be so special about this one?”

  ◆◆◆

  The Russian captain walks up to Aziz, who is sitting on his bunk, sucking on a thin, brown cigarette. “We are about three hours from our meeting with General Sandoval. Please make your final arrangements.”

  Aziz opens the locker in the room and removes what appears to be a metal briefcase. He opens it and looks at the timer. He will set it when he is safely ashore. At night the virus inside the briefcase will be carried through the moist wind and spread through downtown Los Angeles, in time for morning rush hour. The U.S. President is making a speech at the Rose Bowl stadium. He’s in Los Angeles to talk about his Employment Bill to rebuild the country’s infrastructure, which he has pledged to start in LA. The briefcase contains a strain of the 1918 influenza virus that killed over fifty million people worldwide. With the stadium full of people coming to hear the President speak, there was an excellent chance of infecting not only the President, but a good portion of the population of Los Angeles. These people will infect others, and this weapon could kill as many as one-quarter of the population of the United States, perhaps more. The critical part is for the Russian captain to get him to The General, who would in turn have him delivered to downtown Los Angeles. It will take twelve hours to get to his site, hide the briefcase and get away. He knows if he doesn’t get away himself, at least thousands of people will be exposed to the death he is unleashing upon the great evil of the world, The United States of America.

  Chapter 53

  Delaney and Master Chief Ferguson climb up on deck from down below. “How’s it going, Bobby?” Delany asks.

  “We just passed Wilson Cove and I’m sure that the Navy has eyes on us sailing this close. We’re about six miles out from the island, in unrestricted waters.”

  San Clemente Island is owned by the U.S. Navy and is highly restricted because of the testing they do there. “Right now we’re running little more than an hour ahead of our projected time frame.”

  “Hey you guys, shut the hell up. Can’t you see that I’m trying to get my beauty rest,” DJ says as he sits up and slips his legs over the side of the bench.

  He lights a cigarette and climbs back into the cockpit. “I’ll take it from here, Bobby. Where are we?”

  I step away from the wheel and sit down across from him, “We’re about six miles off Wilson Cove, making eight knots on a northwest heading. The wind is picking up and I think we’ll have a lay line in about an hour. If we put up the star cut spinnaker with a full main and the wind holds true, we should be at the meeting site about an hour early. That is, if we have no problems. We should probably raise the headsail right now. We’ll make better time with the wind picking up.”

  “That sounds like a great plan. Have you thought who you want to help you out when we tack?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him as I get ready to raise the sail off the deck. “I want Alexis on the mainsail and Murph on the spinnaker line. I’ll drop the headsail and have Delany and the Master Chief pull it in while I pop the chute. As soon as I get the foredeck tight, I’ll jump in for Murph and then it’ll just be you and me driving the boat again.” I raise the sail and DJ pulls the line in and ties it off to a cleat on the deck. I walk back to the cockpit, sit down and take over controlling the head sail. We’re
doing close to ten knots.

  “What are you guys talking about?” Delaney asks as Ferguson ducks down below.

  “We have to tack the boat,” I say.

  “Is that a big deal?”

  “Well, when we tack, it’s kind of like a controlled Chinese fire drill,” DJ continues. “What Bobby said was that he’ll set the spinnaker pole and sail at the front of the boat. I’ll take the boat from the heading we’re on now and change directions. When we’re on the correct tack, Bobby is going to raise the spinnaker and the spinnaker pole will come up at the same time. After that sail is set, he’ll drop the sail we have up now. You and the Master Chief will pull the sail up into the boat as fast as you can, and the spinnaker will fill. Murph will crank down on the winch holding the free end of the sail. Alexis will let the mainsail down and if everything goes perfect, we’ll be on a straight line to where Sandoval and the submarine meet up.”

  “And if everything doesn’t go right?” Delany asks.

  “Just pray that it does, Delany. Worst case scenario is we have to tack again, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

  The Master Chief comes up from down below, “We have a problem.”

  “And that is?” says Delany. They look like they’re ready to go at it again.

  “We have a fog bank that starts about five miles out from the coast. We won’t be able to see more than ten yards in front of the boat.”

  “We’ll have to go in on instruments, then,” says DJ.

  Delaney looks at DJ and asks, “Frasier, can you get us in close to the drop site with this fog bank?”

  “Yeah, I can put us where we need to be,” replies DJ. “My dad taught Bobby and me to sail using only a compass. We’ll be able to see the squid boats because of their lights, but it’ll be tough for us to see anyone else.”

  “Can we use the radar they installed?” I ask.

  “We can, but once we get close, I want to shut down all electronics,” Delany tells us. “That way no one can track us.”

  DJ says, “We have about ten more miles to go before we have to tack. Bobby, start running the sheet lines then check the halyards and the chute.”

  “This is not my first rodeo, DJ. I do know what to do,” I say pointedly. The tension must be getting to me.

  “Sorry, Bobby. I just want this to go smoothly and we haven’t done this with any of these people as crew before,” DJ says. “The wind is blowing pretty good and it feels like it’s building. This is hairy enough with an experienced crew let alone our crew.”

  I nod my agreement. “Sorry.”

  “Murph, give me a hand with this, will you?” I say as I tie off the headsail and reach into the locker where we store the sailing gear. I grab the inch and a quarter ropes that are braided with blue into one rope and red into the other rope. “The blue rope is for the starboard side and the red is for the port side,” I explain as I hand him the rope. “Attach the blue sheet line to that cleat on the bow and attach this block to the rail where the large blue marker is. Then run the sheet line through that block and lightly wrap it around the large winch at the front of the cockpit.”

  “Got it,” Murph carefully makes his way to the bow. Walking on the deck of a moving boat is difficult—even more challenging to an inexperienced sailor. We run the sheet and blocks with no problems.

  “Okay, Murph, I’m going to explain how this tack is going to go,” I say. “Master Chief, Delany and Alexis, you’d better listen to this, too. What we’re going to do is tricky and dangerous.”

  “Bobby, you have about twenty minutes to get these people in place. I need John G. in the cockpit with me to let the headsail loose when we tack and to winch it down when we set the chute,” says DJ.

  For the next few minutes I explain everyone’s job to them and put them into position for the coming task, hoping it doesn’t look like a Keystone Cops episode.

  Chapter 54

  “Prepare to jib!” DJ shouts. At the same time Murph lets the headsails sheet loose and I help the sail under the spinnaker pole as John G. grinds the winch, pulling the genoa over the port side of the boat. Alexis pulls the traveler guiding the mainsail boom to the starboard side. I raise the spinnaker pole to the height I want it and tie it down tight on a mast cleat. I then pull as hard and as fast as I can, pulling the spinnaker out of its sail bag and hoisting it to the top of the mast.

  “Dropping the headsail!” I shout back to the cockpit.

  “Headsail away!” yells John as he lets the rope off the winch.

  I start dropping the halyard that holds the sail up as Murph, the Chief and Delany pull the sail onto the deck. John G.’s now pulling in the sheet line of the spinnaker when DJ shouts, “We’ve got an hourglass! Fix it now, Bobby, fix it now!”

  “I’ve got it.” I run up to the bow. The spinnaker is starting to fill and if I don’t fix the sail now, we could lose the spinnaker. This is not the time for a problem, there is too much resting on the sailboat being in place at the correct time. I stand up on the bow and unfasten the sail clew. I quickly untangle the sail, but as soon as I do, the sail starts to fill. I finally get the sail reattached, but as I do, the spinnaker fills with wind. For a few scary moments, I hang in the balance. Alexis has raced up the bow to give me a hand and grabs my belt to keep me from being pulled up and off of the boat and into the water.

  She’s finally able to pull me safely back onto the deck.

  “Thanks,” I say. She smiles and I turn to the cockpit and yell, “Crank it down, DJ. We’re good to go.”

  DJ starts to set the boat on our course to meet The General.

  “Good job, everyone,” says DJ. “Thanks for not letting my first mate fall into the drink, Alexis.”

  I can feel the boat knifing through the water now. We’re doing twelve, maybe fourteen knots.

  “What’s our speed?” I ask DJ.

  “Fourteen knots plus. We’re flying. I hate to admit it, but she handles like a dream. Whatever you guys did to her made a huge difference.”

  Delany and the Master Chief are seated, enjoying the ride.

  “Why don’t you guys go down below and get into some clean, dry clothes?” I tell them. “Murph, I’ll release you as soon as I get this jenny reset. We’ll have to drop the spinnaker before we get into that fog bank.”

  Murph and I start straightening out the jenny and the sheet lines but after about twenty minutes I step down into the cockpit and say to Murph, “Why don’t you go get dry, Murph? I’ll take it from here.”

  Murph nods and heads below. I can tell he’s tired. He’s in great shape, but sailing is a whole different kind of workout. Once again, it’s just me and DJ sailing the boat.

  “If we weren’t doing something so serious, I’d say this is a lot of fun, Bobby. This boat has never handled better. My dad would have loved to see that tack,” DJ says, with a sad smile.

  We sit there, together, lost in our own thoughts, the boat cutting through the water, when DJ’s phone vibrates.

  “Hello?” he says. I watch his face as my best friend turns white. He disconnects and turns to me, “They have Maria.” His voice is strained and his hands are shaking.

  ◆◆◆

  The General doesn’t know exactly why, but he knows his plan is in jeopardy. He knows that Frasier and Paladin are involved and if he can control them, he can control the situation. He disconnects his call and looks at Maria Frasier sitting in front of him. She’s a petite woman with jet black hair and bright green eyes. His men had finally captured her in Dana Point Harbor. She’d left the kids at her parents’ house and come to Dana Point to surprise her husband. Some surprise. What she found was no boat, no DJ, just a couple of thugs who had obviously been waiting for her. She stares at The General defiantly.

  “Mrs. Frasier, let me assure you no harm will come to you if your husband cooperates. However, if he does not,” he turns to look out the window and continues with his back to her, “I will not hesitate to have you killed. Perhaps even your chi
ldren, just to make my point.” He turns back to face her, “Do you understand me?”

  After a moment, Maria Frasier straightens herself in her chair and looks General Miguel Sandoval straight in the eyes. She isn’t frightened. She’s pissed.

  “Yes. I understand completely,” she says with as much dignity and control as she can muster.

  “Good. If everything goes well, you should be reunited with your family tomorrow afternoon.”

  The General’s aide walks over and leans in close to him, speaking in a low, intense voice. After listening for a few moments, The General stands and looks at Maria, “Sergeant, I’m placing you in charge of Mrs. Frasier. Treat her well. However, if she doesn’t obey you or she tries to escape, shoot her.”

  “Yes, General,” The sergeant says as he salutes his leader, “I will take her down to the boat at once.” The sergeant grabs Maria roughly by the arm and pulls her to her feet.

  “Easy, sergeant, I’m sure Mrs. Frasier won’t give you any trouble. She knows what’s at stake.”

  The sergeant releases his grip a little and escorts her from the room and to the private elevator that carries them down to the parking garage. Before they exit the elevator he turns to Maria. “If you promise to cooperate, I’ll let you ride up front with me. If not, I’ll gag you, duct tape your hands and feet and throw you in the trunk, your choice.”