To Honor We Call You: A Florida Action Adventure Novel (Scott Jarvis Private Investigator Book 9)

by Scott Cook

  “Not a bad bit of luck, that,” Gray commented. “A dozen right seamen comin’ to our side like they done.”

  “Aye,” Palander nodded. “Even if they’s a pack of… well…”

  “Well,” said Kate in a tone of finality. “That at least gives me a reasonable concept of our condition… you know, I think we might even exercise the great guns this afternoon. As inconceivable as it might seem, we may have need to fire them in earnest someday. We’ll use the schooner to set targets. See to that, will you, Danvers? As well as organizing what men we’ve got into gun crews? Thank you, gentlemen. Danvers, a moment, if you will.”

  The other men filed out and Danvers stood in the center of the cabin waiting patiently. Kate gazed at him for a long moment, “I’m heaping a great deal on your shoulders, aren’t I? Practically giving you the boatswain’s duties on top of your own.”

  Danvers grinned, “Well, mum, I was the boatswain’s mate before the goddamned Frogs… beggin’ your pardon, mum… before the attack. All things bein’ considered, I don’t mind at all.”

  “Good,” Kate said, standing and coming around her desk to face him. “As shorthanded as we are… and admittedly many of the people aboard see me as a matter of convenience at best and a laughing stock at worst… I’m glad to have a strong right hand to rely upon.”

  To his surprise, she stuck out her hand. He took it in his large horny one and was surprised at both the strength in her hand as well as how feminine it was. He smiled, “Much obliged, mum. I know I started out as one of them right awkward buggers… but seeing you come roaring up thrusting to and fro with your hanger… and then the way you took up that bit of railing and banged on them Frogs to beat the band, well… ye’ convinced me.”

  They both laughed.

  “So what’s your pleasure, then?” Kate asked. “I can rate you boatswain, or would you prefer to stay my coxswain?”

  Danvers grinned, “I can rightly manage both, if you please.”

  “I’ve no doubt… but I don’t want to heap too much on you… and I like the idea of having somebody on my side.”

  Danvers thought for a moment and then said: “Well, your honor… I think I’ll stay as I am, by your leave. That fella Mathews would make a fine boatswain by my reckonin’.”

  Kate nodded and smiled, “Good. Thank you, Danvers.”

  Danvers knuckled his forehead and went to see to his duties. Kate stared out at the brig’s wake creaming under the stern windows and smiled. Against all odds, against all notion, Catherine Cook, illegitimate daughter of James Cook the younger and granddaughter of James Cook the renowned explorer was in command of a seagoing vessel and all before her eighteenth birthday. Would wonders never cease?

  16

  Jackie Stevvins was right behind me on her Harley and I had to grin at what the guard at the Davis’ neighborhood gate thought about somebody driving a hog into this upscale and exclusive community. I could at least be grateful for the fact that Jackie wasn’t one of those Harley enthusiasts who insisted on glass packs and removing the muffler.

  We pulled into the driveway and I got out to grab Jackie’s duffel from the cargo area. She removed her helmet and hung it on the handlebars. She was dressed in jeans, boots, a white T-shirt and a leather jacket. The clothing hung well on her and with her strong and shapely figure, she was admittedly sexy. She must have been reading my mind because she smiled and winked at me.

  “Welcome home, mijo!” Came a pleasant call from the house.

  We turned to see a figure standing in the doorway illuminated by the soft light from the coach lamp next to the door.

  “Wow… forgot how beautiful your girlfriend is.”

  I chuckled and leaned closer to Jackie, “Dude… That’s her mom.”

  “Jesus Christ…” Jackie said with a wry chuckle of her own. “She looks just like Lisa. They could be sisters.”

  I introduced Jackie to Aleja and we were led inside. George was in the front room watching TV and I waved as we went by. Lisa was perched on a bar stool at the kitchen counter with something cold in a glass in front of her.

  “Hey,” She said with a smile. “How’d it go?”

  “Swell,” I said, giving her a quick kiss. “You remember Gunnery Sergeant Jackie.”

  Jackie shook Lisa’s hand and grinned, “Sisters.”

  “You’re in the military?” Aleja asked, moving toward the bar.

  “Yes, ma’am, Marine Corps,” Jackie said. “Scott and I are… in the same unit.”

  Aleja nodded, “Ahh… can I get you something, Jackie? Mijo?”

  “Couple of beers,” Jackie tossed off as she sat next to Lisa. “And whatever the Commander wants.”

  That got a chuckle and Aleja brought two cold Landsharks back with lime wedges sticking up out of the neck. She kissed me and went to stand on the other side of the counter. When she picked up her own drink, probably a mojito, she cast a slight frown in the direction of her daughter.

  “What?” Lisa asked guiltily.

  “Tell him,” Aleja urged sternly. “Tell Scott what you did today.”

  “Uh-oh, is somebody in trouble?” I teased.

  Jackie snickered but said nothing.

  Lisa rolled her eyes, “It’s my job, mom!”

  Aleja folded her arms across her chest.

  Lisa sighed, “I already told him.”

  Aleja sighed too, “Scott… Loca went and almost got blown up today!”

  “I heard,” I said. “What’re ya’ gonna do, huh? These kids today… with they hair and they clothes…!”

  “It’s not funny,” Aleja almost pouted. “This is dangerous work for a…”

  She trailed off, not wanting to say what she was feeling. Yet we all knew what she wanted to say. Lisa was a woman, a smallish one at that, doing man’s work and her mom didn’t like it. Aleja came from a very traditional culture, yet she was no throwback to the days where women were thought of as the weaker sex. She was a strong and modern woman in her own right. Yet this was her daughter, and all of that flew out the window when Lisa’s safety was in question.

  I went around the counter and put my arms around Aleja, “Lisa is tough, Aleja. She’s smart and she’s capable. Believe me, I’ve seen that firsthand on many occasions.”

  Another sigh, “I know… I just don’t like it that you let her do these things.”

  I scoffed, “Like I could stop her! Believe me, I’ve tried. She just laughs and says bad words.”

  Aleja laughed and squeezed me, “Ay dios mio… what ever happened to getting a nice job and living a normal life?”

  “I live a normal life,” I said. “Got a dog and everything… two dogs now.”

  “And anyways,” Lisa continued to protest. “Nothing happened, really. I’m fine.”

  “Si… lucky for you you’re cabeza dura,” Aleja grumped but with a grin on her face.

  “It’s not my fault,” Lisa pointed at me. “I’ve got bad influences.”

  “Ah… how quickly one’s closest compatriots contrive to hurl one beneath the public transportation,” I sighed. “So you said there was more to tell. What all happened today? Get in a fist fight with a ravenous zombie octopus or what?”

  Lisa grinned sheepishly, “Well, after my visit to the Morris brothers’ trailers, I went over to Robbie’s Marina to check out the Rebecca D. As I mentioned earlier.”

  Jackie smiled and sipped her beer.

  “And then what happened?” I asked?

  “I met the four crewmen,” Lisa said. “The deck boss and three hands. Deck boss, Brad Winston, was kind of an asshole. The other three were okay, though. A Cuban guy named Miguel and two black guys. Eddie and Carl.”

  “And then what happened?”

  Jackie snickered again and Aleja only shook her head. Lisa stuck her tongue out at me.

  “Then…” She emphasized. “I found out that the shrimper had met up with a few boats the last time they were out as I mentioned on the phone earlier.”

  She related
the detailed information about the Zodiac and then the sport fisherman captained by none other than Cooper Trent. I found the details quite interesting.

  “Cooper…” Jackie muttered disdainfully.

  I grinned, “I know, right? Oh, and you’re gonna love this, Gunny… he’s dating an FBI agent that I… know.”

  Jackie looked at me in expectation and then her brown eyes got wide, “Wait… you mean that broad you met in your first book? The one who faked her death and then came back a year or so later? What was her name…? Nancy…”

  “Nikki Sloane,” I said. “Yes, it’s quite bewildering. That connection would lead us to believe that ole Cooper isn’t a drug runner… but that’s an assumption, and you know what they say about assumptions.”

  “No,” Lisa said in overly-exaggerated complacency. “What do they say?”

  “That when you assume, you make an ass of u and me,” I said.

  “I’m not following,” Lisa commented blandly.

  “Or maybe it makes an ass of you,” I said and stuck out my lower lip.

  Aleja only laughed, “You two are so silly.”

  We all chuckled. Jackie tapped her oddly well-shaped fingernail on the neck of her bottle for a moment and then said: “Sounds like we need one of them private dicks to go find out what the deal is with this Trent guy.”

  I looked at her hands, “you have nails?”

  “Of course,” Jackie said, waving her crimson talons in the air. “How could you not have noticed?”

  “But… that just doesn’t seem to go with being a bad ass Marine Gunny,” I pointed out.

  “Oh, young Jarvis,” Jackie said with a world weary sigh. “I’m many things. There are many layers to this complex and sexy onion.”

  “Oh great,” I said. “Yet another wise ass.”

  Aleja laughed and went off into the living room to check on her husband. Jackie took another pull from her beer and looked at me in expectation.

  “What?”

  “When do you go and break into this guy’s house or boat and snoop around, TM?” She asked with a grin.

  “You mean when do we go snoop around,” Lisa pointed out.

  “Hold on there, Jim Rockford,” I quipped. It was nice to finally get to do that to somebody else for a change, rather than simply having Sharon do it to me all the time. “What’s this we binness? I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day. On account you done went and got yourself sploded n’junk.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Jackie commented.

  “Yes, you will,” I said. “Because you’re staying here, too, Gunny.”

  “Scott, I’m fine and I’m more than read—“

  “I know, but you’re still staying,” I said. “It’ll be easier if I’m alone. Besides, it might be too dangerous… for a little girl.”

  Jackie guffawed. Lisa only frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, “Giving up on sex, are ya’, Jarvis?”

  I scoffed, “I don’t bend to blackmail, lady. You’re not gonna hold your vag over my head… hmmm… on second thought…”

  Jackie had tears in her eyes, “Oh, don’t worry, Commander… I’ll give you some, if it’s absolutely required.”

  “Aww,” Lisa said. “That’s awfully kind of you, Jackie.”

  “Well, somebody’s got to do it,” Jackie commented.

  “Yeah, he gets all poopy pants if you don’t tickle his pickle every now and then,” Lisa added with a laugh.

  “You guys suck,” I grumped.

  Jackie sighed, “If only… but I doubt Lisa is the sharing type.”

  “Nope,” Lisa stated and then grinned wickedly. “Then again, we could do a three way. Least I know nothing funny’s going on.”

  “What the Christ?…” I asked no one in particular.

  The two women laughed and Jackie sighed, “You guys are funny. Seriously though…”

  “Seriously though,’ I stated matter-of-factly. “The kid is going solo on this one. It gives me the best tactical advantage, honestly.”

  “Probably true,” Jackie admitted unhappily.

  “You’re just mad because I threatened to withhold nookie,” Lisa accused with a crooked smile. “You know I’d never do that, punkin.”

  “Jesus…” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll take a ride over to Marathon and see what I can find out. Couple of hours there and back, ten minutes on the boat… what’s it called again?”

  “Maestro Pescador,” Lisa stated.

  I harrumphed, “Okay, a quick run there and back. No sweat.”

  Well, here was your favorite hero, once again racing through the night on a clandestine mission of discovery. Or, to put it another way… the Evil Doctor Jarvis was utilizing the cover of darkness to conceal his no goodnick doins’.

  I arrived at the Grassy Key Marina on Marathon a little before midnight. Things were mostly quiet, although a few boaters were still awake, sitting in their cockpits listening to music and having a few cocktails. Nothing unusual about that. It was a beautiful November evening in the Keys. The temperature hung somewhere in the low -seventies and the air was comfortable and the humidity fairly low.

  As I made my way onto the docks, moving quietly but casually, I took in a long breath of the tangy salt air, watched the reflected lights shimmering on the mirror finish of the water and listened to the sounds that floated over the land’s edge. The faint hum of the breeze through sailboat rigging, the occasional splash of a mullet and the ghostly sound of quiet conversations or musical melodies that hovered like a mist over the basin.

  It was very pleasant. I found myself wishing that I’d come down in my own boat. Especially since I realized that this was the first time I’d been to the Florida Keys since last June. A sailing vacation that had quickly turned into a fast-paced and deadly case. So intense had the experience been that I’d written a book about it. It had been fifteen months since the events I’d chronicled in Isle of Bones, and it made me a little sad.

  I loved the Keys, always had. When my friend Mike Rivers and his wife Amber had moved to Key West a few years back, I was ecstatic. His posting to the Coast Guard base meant I had a buddy in town and a place to stay. I’d visited Mike a few times, yet sadly, that sailing cruise had been the last time I’d been to Cayo Hueso. Although Mike and Amber had come up to O-town after, I hadn’t made it back to them. Mike had just been re-posted to San Francisco a few months back. That was a little sad, too. It somehow made the Keys seem just a little emptier without the two of them there.

  I found Ray Tavares’ sport fisherman tied up stern-to near the end of one of the outer docks. The boat was a classic Viking of a little over forty feet. She had back curving ports on the sides of the saloon and the windowless forward bulkhead, long foredeck and Carolina flared bow. A definite offshore boat that could handle heavy weather. Two outriggers were tucked up alongside, rising past the saloon and the bridge and reaching nearly to the top of the tuna tower.

  The boat was dark and silent. I didn’t expect anyone to be aboard, of course. This was a working boat and I knew that Cooper lived on Marathon in a small apartment or house or something. The boat would be empty.

  I removed my flip flops and carried them in my hand as I stepped onto the gunwale and down into the cockpit. I set the shoes down on the fighting chair and went to the saloon door. It was locked, of course. A quick inspection showed that there was no alarm system. I pulled my trusty little cloth baggie of picking tools out and went to work on the lock.

  Most larger power boats had doors that slid sideways to give access to the main saloon or whatever cabin lay beyond the cockpit or after deck. Like sliders in a house, they had a rotating lock that lowered an angled hasp into a cavity in the frame to prevent unauthorized access. Unlike a sliding glass door in most homes, a boat’s was heavy duty and couldn’t be lifted or pried easily.

  However, the locking mechanism was fairly simple and it didn’t take long for me to lift the latch and slide the hatch aside. I stepped into cool, air-conditioned da
rkness and slid the door closed behind me.

  The saloon was comfortable yet simple. An L-shaped sofa on the starboard side and two chairs set to either side of a low entertainment table on the port side. A fifty-inch flat panel TV was mounted to it, high enough to watch from the sofas and low enough not to block too much of the view out through the port. Forward of the living room area was a galley and dining booth. Between these, a companionway led down into the bow where the staterooms and head would be.

  I did a quick once over of the saloon, opening drawers and looking under furniture and behind cushions. Nothing jumped out at me. There were lockers built into the spaces behind the walls and under the side decks. Nothing there but blankets, pillows and movies. The galley was well stocked but did not contain any drugs or paraphernalia. I didn’t expect there to be, that would be the height of foolishness if there were.

  It struck me as somewhat ridiculous for this Cooper guy to be smuggling drugs when he was dating an FBI agent. He knew that’s what she did, so it wasn’t like Nikki was posing to catch him. On the other hand… all that rendezvousing at sea with the shrimp boat, the captain and the mate quitting and then being murdered… well, something just wasn’t what the youngsters called copasetic in all of this.

  There was something very big going on here. All of these seemingly random and unconnected events that had taken place over the past few days and I guess weeks were not unique unto themselves. I knew it deep down in my soul. The drug smuggling that was probably going on with Ray’s fleet, the fire at his motel, the attempt on his safe aboard the yacht, the break in at my grandparents’ house… and the revelation that a yacht from Central America had gotten to the wreck site of the Ariovistus before the Navy could not be coincidental. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d stepped into a very large spider’s web this time. I also couldn’t help feeling inadequate to the task, as well.

  Here I was, a lone gunman, as it were, facing a very complex scenario. I had little or no information and had to poke around in the dark… literally… and hope I stumbled onto something that would lead me to something else.