by C J Schnier
She fiddled with some switches and controls, executing practiced motions that would be second nature to an experienced pilot. Suddenly she paused and checked something again. Her previous fluid movements devolved into jerky, frantic gestures. From behind the windshield I could see her well enough to watch her smug expression wither and die on her face, replaced by frustration and anger.
I crawled through the long grass, taking advantage of her distraction. Inch by painstaking inch, I advanced. First, I moved parallel to the craft, and then, once beside it, I moved as close to the pilot's door as I dared. I stopped a handful of feet away, freezing in place as Jaye ripped open the door of her plane with a growl of annoyance and hopped out to stand in front of the wing.
Her entire demeanor had changed. Gone was all the confidence and swagger. Now she was a cornered animal, fierce but scared. The whites of her eyes flashed as they darted about, scanning right over me and into the tall grasses and dark tree line before eventually turning back towards the dirt road. I kept myself still, knowing that I was invisible as long as I didn't move. My biggest fear was that my pounding heart would give me away. She ended her search with another groan, and then reached into the cockpit of the plane and withdrew a small flashlight, leaving the door open as she went to the front of the plane and opened the cowling.
Timing is everything, I told myself as I fought an internal war between my mind and my adrenaline. Part of me wanted to spring up, grab her pack from the cockpit and make a run for it. Another part of me argued that a slow, stealthy approach would serve me better. Precious seconds went by, seconds that I knew I didn't have. The one option I couldn't afford to take was to do nothing. Mercury was a sharp person. It wouldn't take her long to find the mess of cut wires.
After one last glance to make sure she was occupied in the engine bay, I rose from the grass, and quietly, but quickly, snuck towards the open door of the plane. Inside, the cockpit was nearly pitch black, but I could make out her pack sitting on the passenger seat, barely within reach. Leaning in, I strained to reach the bag until my fingers brushed across its fabric. Seizing the bag, I lifted it off the seat, surprised by its weight, and turned to slink back into the brush only to stare directly into Jaye Mercury's eyes.
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that stealing was wrong?" she asked.
"Well, shit," I replied. "Am I that bad at this or are you that good?"
"You're that bad at it. Though I have to admit, beating me back here and sabotaging my plane was a pretty smart move. You're going to owe me for that, by the way. Now hand over the bag."
"But, I kind of like it. It matches my shoes. Can't I please keep it?," I replied.
"OK. Have it your way," she said as her hand shot out towards me. I had anticipated her move and evaded her grasp easily, backing away from the plane. Silently she advanced on me, but I matched her step for step, keeping my distance, circling slowly around the plane. I inched farther down the grassy runway, keeping her back to the village road and angling to keep my escape route through the forest out of her sight.
"Chase Hawkins, this is your last chance, I'm done playing with you. Give me back that bag!" she hissed.
I froze. Two yellow beams of light cut through the darkness and bounced down the dirt road. Mercury's face morphed from malice to puzzlement, and she too stopped in place.
"Hide!" I commanded, dropping any pretense of humor or animosity. Like synchronized divers, we dove into the cover of the tall grass as one of the military trucks came to a squealing halt at the entrance to the airstrip.
Four soldiers jumped out of the back, commanded by a fifth who slid out of the passenger seat. Flashlights cut through the darkness and quickly settled on the airplane and the open door. With one curt order from the officer, the men moved to surround the plane, two focusing on the cockpit and two more sweeping the airfield and tree line. The officer pulled a pistol from his holster and approached the open door. Bardales must have come down hard on his men, because these guys were definitely not playing around anymore.
Once he was confident that the cockpit was clear, the officer climbed in. His light bounced around the small cabin before seeming to settle. He had found something, but the nose and dash of the plane kept me from being able to see what it was.
Several tense moments passed before he slid himself off the pilot's seat and back to the ground, holding what looked to be a folder.
"What is that?" I whispered.
"Keep quiet!" came Mercury's hushed but terse reply.
The officer holstered his weapon and hurried back to the truck where the driver, who had remained in the vehicle, hopped out and handed him what looked like a telephone handset. He spoke rapidly into the receiver, hung up, and then with the wave of an arm let out one quick command.
All five of the soldiers swung their weapons towards the plane and opened fire. Automatic gunfire ripped through the plane, shredding its thin aluminum skin, shattering glass, and ripping chunks from its chassis, as bullets ricocheted into the forest. I pressed myself flatter to the ground to avoid picking up a lethal case of lead poisoning. Twenty seconds later the gunfire stopped, and part of me waited for the plane to explode. But it didn't. Instead, it seemed to sway on its now destroyed tires as bits and pieces swung loose and fell from it.
"Damnit! I liked that plane too," came a hushed whisper from my left. "I hope you have a good escape plan, Hawkins, or we're both fucked. That folder had all my information and a dossier on you and Dr. Blatt. They'll be looking for both of us now. We need to go."
"What the hell makes you think I'd help you escape? You tried to kill me!" I replied.
"Oh, come on, that was before. Now I'm just another maiden in distress," she said with mock sweetness.
I smiled. Anyone that could crack a joke twelve seconds after ducking automatic gunfire was OK in my book. "I suppose if I've got to run for my life, I might as well do it with a pretty woman," I said.
"Shove it up your ass, Casanova. What's the plan?" she asked, but before I could reply, the officer barked another order in Spanish and the men stalked through the high grass, heading towards our position. If we ran, they'd see us. If we stayed still, they'd find us. There weren't a lot of options, Jaye was right, we had to go.
"Stay near me, and when I give the signal, be ready to run."
"That's it?" she asked, panic in her voice.
"Trust me," I said, reassuring both her and myself. Rapidly, I crawled diagonally across the field towards the little path that I knew lay hidden a hundred yards away. My ears rang in the gunfire's aftermath, and they strained through the whine to pick up any sounds of alert from the soldiers steadily working their way towards us. Somehow, miraculously, our heavily armed pursuers did not see us. I waited a couple of seconds for Jaye at the opening to the pathway.
"Now what?" she whispered, eyeing the pathway suspiciously.
"Now we run," I said.
There has to be an easier way to make money than this.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The security guard was snoring in his booth when we reached the marina's gate. I signed for Jaye to be quiet and tip-toed past him. I took one last look at the empty road before taking off in a loping jog towards my boat. My footsteps crunched on the crushed shell pathways, sounding like booming thunder to my hyper-alert senses. Jaye, in contrast, made no noise. She bounded next to me as if she were on springs.
Her pace slowed and stopped as we neared the docks. "That's your plan? A frigging sailboat?!" she gasped in exasperation. "You couldn't get away from a wounded snail in that thing!"
I glowered at her. "You could stay here, keep Bardales busy for me while I get out to international waters," I offered. "We only need to get twelve miles out to sea and we're home free."
"And how long does that take?"
"A couple of hours." I responded.
"A couple of hours?"
"If we're lucky. I know it's not as fast as your plane, but it's the only chance we've got right now."
> She shifted from foot to foot and tapped her thumb against her thigh repeatedly, weighing the pros and cons of the situation. "Damnit. Let's go. This thing isn't going to sink from under me, is it?"
"She got me here, didn't she?" I replied, a little hurt by her disapproval of Paramour. "I'll crank her up, start turning us loose."
I threw the doors to the cabin open and, ignoring the stairs, swung myself into the salon. Moving the throttle up to running speed, I turned the key and listened to the ancient Volvo rumble to life. The little engine settled into its typical steady rhythm within a few seconds. While it idled, I flipped switches on the electrical panel. I heard the telltale beep of the GPS and the depth sounder as they powered up. Back on deck, I found Jaye had us ready to go. She had turned all but one line loose and she stood on the mid-deck holding it, ready to fling it off the dock cleat. I moved behind the wheel, and glanced over the gages and the GPS which was still booting up.
"Alright, let's get out of here! Turn us loose," I commanded.
Jay whipped the line out from under the dock cleat. As soon as I saw it arc free, I slammed the gear shifter into forward. The transmission let out a deep clunk as Paramour jumped forward and cut through the flat, dark waters. I tapped the throttle lever, inching it forward, increasing our speed. The entrance to the marina, and the river past it, were approaching fast. I held my breath and pushed the throttle farther forward, ignoring safety. The GPS screen flashed, finally done booting up. Now it displayed the base map of the area, and more importantly, my recorded track. A dotted line on the screen wound up the river and into the marina. Following it should take us back out safely. I zoomed the screen in all the way for maximum detail.
"Chase! Look!" Jaye yelled, breaking my concentration. I looked up from the screen to see her pointing behind us. Following her finger, my heart sank as I saw it. The covered military truck was skidding to a halt outside the gate to the marina.
"Damn." I muttered as I turned the wheel and brought the boat out of the marina and into the river. "So much for a clean getaway," I said as we slid around the corner and out of sight.
"What do you mean? I didn't see any other boats in the marina, they can't follow us," she said, confused. Despite her declaration, I noticed she was watching behind us for any sign of pursuit.
"Those soldiers might not have a boat, but we can't outrun their radio. We have to make it downriver and offshore. We have to get far enough away that Bardales can't come after us," I said, and then added, "Can you drive a boat?"
Mercury whipped her head around to face me, "That's not exactly my forte but I can try."
"Come here then," I said. She moved behind me, stooped beneath the sun-shade, and peered over my shoulder. I pointed towards the chart plotter screen. "See this little boat icon? That's us. Keep it on the dotted black line in the middle of the river. Use small corrections on the wheel and remember its kind of like a plane, it doesn't turn like a car, she will slide a little."
She nodded her head in understanding and said, "Got it."
I nodded my head towards the wheel and moved so that she could take my place. "Try to stay on the line. I don't know how deep the sides of this river are or what's under the water. If we run aground, it's going to be a very short trip."
"No pressure," she muttered as she settled in behind the big wooden wheel.
I watched her for a few seconds, making sure she could handle the task. Convinced that she was competent, I left her to it and prepared to raise the mainsail. The maneuvers were well practiced, and within a minute I had the towering white sail hoisted. Seconds later it was catching wind.
"Woah!" Mercury said, turning the wheel more into the wind as the boat heeled over on its side a little. "It's getting a little harder to keep on course."
"I forgot to tell you, it'll be harder to steer with the sails up, but we'll go faster than with the engine alone. Here, I'll take over," I said, grabbing the wheel. She moved to the side of the cockpit, tense and coiled, looking as restless as I felt.
"What next?" she asked, fidgeting and tapping her thumb against her thigh like a jackhammer. Again she was scanning the river banks with her eyes. It was clear that she was out of her element, but for the first time in days I was in mine. I relished the reassurance that gave me. For the first time since laying eyes on her, I had the upper-hand. I looked her over again and noticed that she looked rather cute. At least she was when she wasn't throwing punches or tossing me off cliffs. I had known that she was beautiful, but she had been cold and untouchable, more of a force of nature than a real woman. Now, watching her fidget, I could see the humanity under the tough shell she had erected around herself. I found I liked that. A lot.
A sudden gust of wind heeled the boat over and forced me to steer hard against it, bringing me back into the moment. I made a mental note to revisit my feelings for her later when we were out of Cuban waters. Checking the chart plotter, I noted our speed, and then ran through my mental checklist for a quick getaway.
"Ok, see that white and blue line by your feet there?" I asked.
She stooped down and picked it up, "This one?"
"Yeah, wrap it clockwise twice around that winch behind you. When you're done, uncleat that black line tied off right beside the winch." She did exactly as I commanded and looked to me for more instructions.
A pang of guilt shot through my heart. It had been a long time since I had anyone to help pull the lines. That had been Kelly's job. The memory of her had stayed with me so that I had never felt alone, even when I was hundreds of miles out to sea. I had refused to risk giving up that part of her. That part that I held on to so tightly. I never cheapened the experience with crew. But now that I had someone else aboard, I had to admit that it was pretty nice. Paramour was not an easy boat to sail single-handed in tight confines. Inshore waters such as bays and sounds were hard enough. This narrow river would have been impossible. I was grateful for the help, even if it brought up painful memories.
"Ok, get ready to take the wheel again," I said, stepping out from behind the helm. "I'm going to pull out the genoa, that should give us a little more speed. Make sure you're ready to steer against it."
"Genoa, sure. Whatever the hell that is," she grumbled. Her head was bowed, buried in the chart plotter as she focused, trying to stay on course.
I grabbed the line she had pre-wrapped around the winch and gave it a pull. The genoa spun, unfurling itself from its foil mounted over the jib stay. Within a couple of rotations, the wind caught the unfurling sail and pulled the rest of it out. The massive sail filled with air, powering us forward and leaning us over farther. Grabbing one of the winch handles stashed around the cockpit, I cranked the winch until the genoa was working at peak efficiency.
With the added sail area, I could feel Paramour surge ahead. That left one sail to deal with, the mizzen. "How's she doing now?" I asked, knowing the answer before she gave it.
"That definitely sped us up a couple knots, but she's harder to steer. She keeps trying to turn away from the wind," she said.
"I've got a solution for that, hang on." I reached up and removed the sail ties holding the mizzen sail secure on its boom and then hauled on its halyard. A small white triangle of sail shot to the top of the mizzenmast. The mizzen had long been my favorite sail. Its small size made it easy to hoist and trim, but it was powerful enough to steer the boat. Like the previous sails, I trimmed it for the wind conditions and then looked back to Jaye at the helm.
She was no longer fighting or straining against the wheel. Instead she was relaxing, standing up straight. A phantom of a smile touched her lips.
"Whatever you did made all the difference! She's sailing dead straight now."
"Good," I responded. "Now just keep us on that dotted black line. There is one big turn coming up and then we'll be out in the ocean. From there it's twelve miles to safety."
Jaye did exactly that, following my previous track perfectly. It wasn't long before I saw the last bend in the river, right
before it opened up to the Caribbean Sea. I held my breath as we rounded the corner, scanning for any sign of the Cuban patrol boat. But there was nothing to see except black-blue ocean butting up against dark green hills. We could make it.
"Ok Jaye, point her dead south, let's get the hell out of this country."
"I'm down with that plan," she said as she swung the boat a handful of degrees to port and then settled into a new course. "There, that's dead south," she reported.
I made a few minor adjustments to the sails and then moved back into the cockpit to check on our progress. Cuba was shrinking behind us at what felt like a glacial pace. But the GPS reported our speed at 6.5 knots, heading due south.
Mercury looked at me with a mix of questioning and expectancy. "Is this as fast as we can go?" she asked.
"Yep, we're at hull speed. She's not going to get any faster."
Her eyes narrowed, "I really wish you hadn't sabotaged my plane."
"How else was I going to get you alone on my boat?" I replied, daring to give her a wink.
"Hah!" She said, letting out a sharp laugh. "Alright there Casanova, I'll give you points for that one, but you're still going to owe me a plane when we get back to Florida."
Behind us and to the west, a flash of light caught my attention from close to shore. "Hold on to that thought, gorgeous, I think we have company."
I ran down the companionway steps and retrieved my binoculars. I didn't even bother going back on deck and instead ripped the protective lens covers off and peered through the pilothouse windows. Through the magnification, I could clearly see the white frothy wake spraying out from both sides of what could only be a small military vessel. They were a scant few miles away and closing on us.
