Hostile Waters

by William Nikkel

  She had his attention. “Just how close of a friend is this Lindsey person?”

  “I met her while working for Black Water. She was Army, a Spc. 4, drove trucks at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. At the time, there weren’t a lot of women at the base so we naturally gravitated together—spent a lot of time in the gym. You can imagine how it was for us there. We still keep in touch, mainly on holidays.”

  “Makes sense why you want to help her.”

  “There’s more to it. She took a sniper’s bullet in the thigh that was intended for me.”

  “Serious?”

  “Enough to get her sent home.”

  “So this is personal?”

  “Very. I owe her.”

  “She as pretty as you are?”

  “No shortage of men chasing her, if that’s what you mean.”

  “How about a husband? She married?”

  “She was . . . to a real abusive sonofabitch. I offered to kick his ass but she chose divorce instead. The offer still stands if he ever fucks with her.”

  He could see her doing that. “Does the asshole know what he’s in store for?”

  She smiled. “Of course he does. I told him in no uncertain terms.”

  “You don’t suppose he’s the problem Lindsey wants to talk about, do you?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “I have to agree. Especially with your threat hanging over his head.” He shrugged. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Jack raised anchor and scanned the sky. A pale blue swath in the east showed the first hint of sunrise that lay an hour away. The full moon still large and bright hung low on the western horizon. He felt good getting the boat underway. Cherise felt good about returning to Oahu as well. That was obvious from the jaunty tune she whistled. They both had lives to get back to.

  She emerged from below carrying an earthen mug in each hand. “Coffee for the road?” she asked, handing him one. “Or should I say waves?”

  He grinned. “Why not.”

  Nineteen hours later, he motored Sun Dancer into Honolulu Harbor at eleven forty-five. A favorable wind and a surprisingly smooth sea allowed them to make good time. He glanced toward where he last saw The Sea Nymph. Yang Li’s hundred and five foot yacht was no longer moored there. Gone, along with the corpses he and Cherise left behind.

  The vessel had been seized by the feds, he was sure. The bodies long buried.

  He carried no guilt for the men’s deaths.

  No regrets.

  The choice had been theirs.

  “Looks better without that pretentious pig’s boat sitting there,” Cherise said, nodding toward the empty dock. “I wonder what the DEA did with it?”

  “Cleaned her up and auctioned her off, I imagine.”

  “A few million more for the war chest against drugs. Too bad you weren’t part of the bidding. Would have made a nice boat to conduct your research from.”

  He shot her a sideways glance. “I liked my old boat.”

  She scoffed. “The one sitting on the bottom of the Ala Wai Boat Harbor.”

  He had tried without success to not think about Ali or Pono. Or Anna. Cherise’s comment rubbed salt into the wound. But he couldn’t hold what she had said against her. She had been the right kind of medicine when he needed it most.

  As he had been for her.

  An escape from everything and everyone.

  And now reality ushered them back to the lives they had briefly left behind.

  He cut the power to Sun Dancer’s engine and let the fifty foot sloop drift the last few feet into her slip.

  “Tie us off,” he called out as he hurried forward.

  Cherise hopped onto the pier and held out her hands. “Ready when you are.”

  He tossed her the bow line and he rushed astern to secure the aft mooring line. The bumpers he’d draped over the side of the hull fore and aft gently nudged the edge of the dock.

  “We made good time,” he said, adding a final cinch onto the turn cleat. “It’s not even midnight yet.”

  She joined him, fatigue showing in her expression. “In case you forgot, we got an early start.”

  He sighed, giving way to the weariness threatening to drag him down. “You still plan on flying out in the morning?”

  “I talked to Admiral Casey. I’ll be hitching a ride on a C-17 to Travis Air Force Base in California. From there, I’ll fly commercial to New York and find out what has Lindsey all worked up.”

  He raked his fingers through his windblown hair. The time they spent together had passed in a blur with few bad moments. He wouldn’t kid himself thinking he was perfect. Far from it. Neither was she. But they were good for each other. He felt it. And the uncertainty of a future with her left him saddened.

  A melancholy he couldn’t keep out of his voice.

  “You know I’ll be there for you like a shot if you need my help.”

  “I realize that. And I’ll certainly keep it in mind.”

  He took a deep breath, accepting the inevitable, and let it out. “Then this is our last night together.”

  She smiled, but her eyes betrayed a similar sadness. “Until next time, sailor.”

  * * *

  At five the following morning, Jack hugged and kissed Cherise in a farewell embrace he didn’t want to have end. When finally she pulled away, he helped her into the taxi taking her to Hickam Air Force Base at Pearl Harbor. The driver sped away with her, his hand inches from the door.

  He stepped back and watched her go. He’d seen her at her best, strong-willed and confident. But there also existed a chink in her armor that exposed a soft underbelly of vulnerability that oftentimes left her emotional, craving reassurance. A backward glance from her through the rear window of the fleeting cab tugged at his heart more than he could have imagined.

  She had been there for him. Now it was his turn.

  He held her gaze until her eyes were no longer visible, and stared a few seconds longer. For now, he’d have to be content to hold onto the memory of the three glorious weeks they’d spent together. She had her life to get back to, and he had his.

  Vacation was over.

  He spent the better part of the next hour tidying up Sun Dancer. Cherise had completed most of the cleaning and straightening on the way into port, which simplified the process for him. When he felt the boat had been transformed back into its pristine condition, he placed a phone call to Robert. No doubt he would be surprised. They hadn’t talked in nearly a month.

  “The wayward travelers return,” Robert answered.

  “Midnight last night,” Jack said. “How’s the gut doing?”

  “Good as new.”

  “Do you miss your appendix? Any separation anxiety?”

  “We were never that close. Where are you?”

  “Honolulu Harbor getting things squared away with Sun Dancer. I’ll grab a cab and see you at the house in an hour.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll pick you up.”

  “There’s no need for you to make a special trip.”

  “Forget it. I’m on my way. Kazuko is off island and I’m bored. You can buy me breakfast.”

  “She working?”

  “A NOAA conference in Monterey. You were invited but you were off with Cherise playing patty-cake. And speaking of Cherise, I take it she’s off doing whatever it is she does?”

  “You know what she does.”

  “If you ask me, that pretty much remains a mystery.”

  “Are you going to be this cranky all day?”

  “Breakfast will help.”

  “Then get your ass over here. I’ll get us a table at Tiny’s. You know the place. Or have you forgotten?”

  “Asshole. I’ll see you there in driving time.”

  Jack punched off and smiled. It felt good to be back.

  He checked the time. Made a call to Sun Dancer’s owner and settled up with him. Then he walked in the direction of the diner, taking his time.

  Cheris
e was on a military transport five miles high over the Pacific, speeding back to her world. He thought about her friend Lindsey’s phone call and wondered what that was all about.

  Whatever the problem, Cherise could handle it.

  That’s what she does.

  CHAPTER 3

  The early-morning crowd had thinned inside Tiny’s restaurant. Jack took a seat at a table and ordered coffee. He’d eat when Robert got there. He had taken his first sip when Robert walked in.

  “Cup of Joe,” Robert said to the waiter.

  “No breakfast?” Jack asked. “On the phone you said you were hungry.”

  “Thought I might be. I ate early.” Robert took a seat. “You go ahead.”

  The waiter set Robert’s cup in front of him and filled it from a glass pot. “Anything else?”

  “The three-egg special,” Jack said. “Over easy. Hash browns and sausage cooked crisp. Gravy on the side.”

  “Since he’s buying,” Robert added, “I’ll have the same. Only scrambled, no gravy.”

  Jack raised a brow. “Thought you already had your breakfast?”

  “More of a pre-breakfast, actually. And that was a couple of hours ago. And a man can change his mind.”

  “You seem to be in a mood.”

  “Boredom does that to me.”

  “So this is about you being bored?”

  “Something like that.” He handed Jack an envelope. “That arrived a couple of weeks ago. You’re settlement check for Pono, I imagine. Have you given any thought to a new boat?”

  “A little.” Jack folded the envelope and slid it into his back pocket.

  “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking for you.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  Jack couldn’t get Cherise out of his mind. By now she was well out over the Pacific. Flying five miles up. A cold, hard sea below her. An uncertain future ahead. Her friend Lindsey.

  What’s that all about?

  He had to wonder.

  “Are you hearing me?” Robert’s voice brought him back.

  “Sorry. My mind wandered.”

  “Cherise. You really like her, don’t you?”

  He didn’t have to think about his answer. Not even for a second. He felt good having spent time alone with her . . . extremely good. And relaxed. She proved to be excellent medicine.

  “There’s chemistry,” he answered. “You were talking about me finding a new boat. That means you’ve been on the internet.”

  “So what if I have?”

  Still surly.

  Jack hoped the food arrived soon. “So what did you find?”

  “You remember Hurricane Irma?”

  “Puerto Rico is still recovering from that one.”

  “So are the Keys. There’s a fifty-eight-foot power cat in Key West that I think you ought to take a look at. I found out about it through a friend, not the internet.”

  “A friend, you say?”

  “No one you know. More of a business associate, really. His company is helping with the reconstruction effort in the Keys.”

  “And you think I should set aside my plans and fly to Key West and check out this boat you were told about?”

  “Not just you,” Robert met his gaze and held it. “Us.”

  Jack chuckled. “You really are bored.”

  Robert straightened in his seat. “This has nothing to do with me being bored. I just think this might be an opportunity too good for you to pass up. And knowing you, it’d be good if I tagged along to offer a second opinion.”

  “Your two-cent’s worth?”

  “That’s right.”

  Their food arrived and Robert asked, “What do you think?”

  Jack spooned gravy onto his hash browns and set the bowl aside. “I’m thinking this could work out in more ways than one. It would also give me a chance to talk to Doctor Goddard at the aquarium there. I sent him data I compiled on reef deterioration and its effect on apex predators, but haven’t had an opportunity to discuss my findings with him. Tell me about this boat you think so highly of.”

  Robert pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, and handed it to Jack. “That’s a picture of her. You can tell by the scratches on her hull she took some minor hits in the storm, but she’s sound.”

  Jack studied the printout. “Nice power cat. Reminds me of Pono in a way.”

  “She’s better than nice. And she’s every bit the boat Pono was, and more. The Adeona is fifty-eight feet long and built for global exploration. A thirty-foot beam that makes her ultra-stable, two queen master staterooms, one queen aft stateroom, guest quarters with bunkbeds, four heads. She has a twenty-three knot top speed, seventeen knot fast cruise, and a ten knot trawler cruise with a range of eleven thousand miles. Exactly what you need.”

  “That’s a lot of fuel.”

  “Thirty-eight hundred gallons.” Robert grinned. “But that’s the best part. You won’t have to fill the tank more than once a year.”

  “What’s the asking price?”

  “Eight hundred and twenty-five thousand. A real steal.”

  “If she’s everything you claim she is, that’s cheap for a boat like her.”

  “That’s what makes this such a sweet deal. The Adeona underwent a survey six months ago. Her value is listed at a million three-hundred thousand with a replacement cost of three million seven-hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “So why is she for sale?”

  “The Adeona—named after the pre-Roman Goddess of safe and speedy returns—belongs to a former Italian model, Violetta Faggini. Her husband Antonio had the yacht custom built for her. They’d been visiting in Cuba and made the crossing to Key West. Which is where they were when Hurricane Irma hit. Antonio suffered a stroke at the height of the storm. Too much for him, I guess. Left him pretty bad off. He had been living in a medical rehabilitation center in Miami until a couple of weeks ago when the poor man suffered a second stroke and died. Now Violetta can’t bring herself to step back aboard the Adeona. The memories are just too painful for her to bear.”

  “I suppose you were up on your Roman mythology and knew all about the goddess Adeona?”

  Robert leaned back in his chair. “To tell you the truth, I had to look it up.”

  “Thought so.” Jack gave serious consideration to Robert’s opinion of the deal. “And Ms. Faggini will let her go for eight hundred and twenty-five thousand?”

  “Only we can’t waste time getting there. Not counting today, we have a two-day window to pull the deal together—no later than the twelfth. Hemingway Days officially kick off on the fifteenth. Ms. Faggini wants to have her business concluded and be out of town by this weekend, before the place is overrun with partygoers and drunks. If you’re not interested, she’ll list it through a broker and the price will go up significantly.”

  “Will you allow me time to shower and change clothes?”

  “You can even finish your breakfast.”

  “You’re a kind man, Robert.” Jack forked up a large bite of hash browns.

  “You might want to rethink that being kind part,” Robert said. “Our flight leaves in three hours.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Cherise crossed her arms, leaned against the bulkhead, and closed her eyes in a mental attempt to block out the annoying vibration and tedious drone of the jet engines. Mind over matter for the next five and a half hours.

  Piece of cake.

  Short of being in the air and speeding toward her destination, traveling by military transport did not compare, even remotely, to a flight on a commercial airliner. None of the amenities civilian travelers take for granted aboard a plane were available. No smiling flight attendant to see to a passenger’s needs. No in-flight cocktails. No movie. Only an uncomfortable web seat and a noisy fuselage.

  Not her first time.

  And the flight could be worse.

  The C-17, though loud in its own right, was far quieter than the C-130s she had flown in during her tour in Afghanistan. S
he also appreciated having the use of a flush toilet instead of a honey bucket sitting behind a curtain on the cargo ramp.

  Whoever adopted that modification deserved a medal.

  Perhaps Admiral Casey could make that happen.

  He made a lot happen.

  The arm of the uniformed soldier sitting in the seat next to hers, brushed against her in a shudder of turbulence that jolted the C-17 as though the plane had been struck by Thor’s hammer. She glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye. Army. Large framed. His big hands rested in his lap, a paperback novel spread open between them. Two other uniformed personnel sat next to him. Air Force. One male. One female. Young stoic expressions. Their thoughts directed inward.

  Not unlike herself at that age.

  A time when her entire military career lay ahead of her.

  She closed her eyes and relaxed against the nylon webbing of the seatback. In spite of the discomfort, she harbored no complaints about her flight accommodations. It had been enough that the admiral had gotten her aboard the transport at such short notice.

  A courtesy that saved her from sitting idle at the airport on standby waiting for a seat to open up on a commercial flight.

  Wasted hours she needed to avoid.

  Time, she felt, was of the essence.

  She thought about the conversation she had with Lindsey when they last spoke on the phone to each other. How was she then? Living in New York and working at the United Nations. Still single. And happy she had connected with her biological father. She and Lindsey had warmed to each other immediately as though they had never been apart.

  But how long ago was that?

  Too many months.

  No, years.

  Cherise felt bad for having allowed so much time to slip by. Her regret made worse by Lindsey’s phone call for help.

  A plea Cherise wasn’t taking lightly.

  The last communication she had with Susan was an exchange of texts prior to take off. Susan sounded glad to have her back. There had been no further contact on Lindsey’s part.

  Cherise could only wonder why.

  The phone call she’d made to Lindsey from Hickam had gone unanswered. So had the text message she sent. She tried not to read anything into the failed attempts to reach her. There could have been a multitude of reasons for her not answering the call. Not all of them bad. Only now Cherise would have to wait until she touched down at Travis before she could try again. Until then, she had plenty of time to wonder what had happened to cause her friend to reach out to her for help.