His voice no longer carried terror or fear, but something akin to awe. I swiveled around following the direction of his stiff, frozen hand.
We both stared out. The rain and wind was hitting from every side now, and under us the gulf swelled and peaked, in ever-undulating mountains of grey-green and frothy white. Everything seemed even more ominous, darker, and bigger. I concentrated on the moving ridge coming at us.
“Not so big, not so big. But hang on, anyway.”
We both grabbed at the helm to brace ourselves. The bow disappeared for a moment inside the swell, but resurfaced just as fast. The wave was only half the size of the preceding one, maybe twenty feet or so. Was I becoming blasé? The radio came to life above my head. We both looked at it.
“This is the United States Coast Guard, Houma, Louisiana. How may we assist you? Over.” The voice was male, sounding young, professional, and unemotional.
“The Coast Guard!” I almost kissed the microphone. “Help!”
“Please state the nature of your emergency. Over,” he said. He sounded like a waiter at Denny’s taking a breakfast order.
“The ‘nature of my emergency’? How about I’ve been shot, I’m with a child who was kidnapped, we’re in the middle of a hurricane, and the only person who knew how to drive this tub fell overboard several miles back. You do the math.”
“Understood, Ma’am.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Reed stand and return to the bar near aft back. “Where are you going?”
“Lee, you’re bleeding all over the floor.” The kid, feet spread out for balance, waddled to the back bar, while he shouted over his shoulder. “We have to stop it. I think there’s an emergency kit under the bar. I thought I saw him take something from there yesterday.”
“Ma’am, what is the name of your vessel and your location? Over.” The unseen voice floated out into the pilothouse.
I turned back to the radio still feeling a little woozy. The fury of the storm, static, and how I felt blocked out some his words to me.
“Say again.”
“State the name of your vessel and the location. Over.”
“The name? Ah…Laura’s Folly. Location? Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. We want off!”
“I understand the name of your vessel is Laura’s Folly. Are you taking on water? Is the engine operational?”
“I wouldn’t know any of that. I’ve been too busy being shot. I need medical attention right away. Get. Us. Off. This. Tub.”
“Laura’s Folly, are you saying you need to abandon ship? Over.” Said like, do you want fries with that?
“One of us is not listening.”
“I repeat, Laura’s Folly, are you abandoning ship? Over.”
“Yes,” I bellowed. “We took a vote. We are abandoning ship.”
Reed returned with a good-sized emergency kit. He set it on the helm and opened it up, digging through the contents in between fighting to stay on his feet.
Another swell, maybe not as high as the last one but clear as glass, came at us. For just a split second, I thought I saw the body of Manning suspended in it, arms and legs akimbo, but his eyes looking directly at me, red bullet hole prominent between them. I let out a small scream, the hand clutching the mic pointing at the oncoming wave.
“Do you see him?” My voice came out strangled, not sounding like mine at all. “He’s right there.”
“Who?” Reed looked out the windshield.
Manning was gone in a flash.
“You must have. He…he was there.”
“There’s nobody out there. And I was looking right where you pointed.”
The swell hit. It took us up into the stratosphere, and held us there for a second. We fell back onto the ocean with a thud. Reed clutched onto the armrest of my chair then proceeded to take out gauze and wrap it around my arm. I looked up at his face. He’d seen nothing. Maybe I hadn’t either.
I broke out into a cold sweat, heart racing. With all that was going on, I hadn’t had time to think about the fact I’d just killed a man, but maybe my subconscious knew it only too well. The radio voice came alive again.
“Please give us the coordinates of the vessel and number of persons aboard. Over.”
I fought the pain in my arm and in my mind. I got control, finally.
“Two. Two persons. A boy and myself. And you need to save us or we’re over. Over.”
“Understood. Please state coordinates of Laura’s Folly. Over.”
“Ahhhh…” I looked at the flashing dials on the console. “Where the hell would I find those?”
I heard loud static and thought the radio had gone kaflooie. Then there was silence. Just as I was about to panic, I heard the voice again.
“Laura’s Folly, this is the United States Coast Guard, Houma, Louisiana. Laura’s Folly, do you copy?”
“Yes, yes,” I said.
“We are receiving a message from the United States Navy Aviation Rescue Swimmers. We will patch them through. Over.”
Who or what was United States Navy Aviation Rescue Swimmers? A few more squawkings. Then I heard a distorted voice slightly familiar to me, but detached and formal.
“Laura’s Folly, do you read me? This is Commander Gurn Hanson of the United States Naval Reserves aboard the HSM Nine Nine. Over.”
“Gurn, this is Lee.” My voice cracked in the middle of saying his name. “Where are you?”
“I’m on a helicopter, babe. The AIRR is coming to get you.”
“I don’t know what AIRR is and I don’t care. Just come get us.”
“We’re on our way. What’s this I hear that you’ve been shot? Are you all right?” His voice changed, love and worry shading his tone, as sure as if he was standing beside me. Only he wasn’t. Time to put on my big girl panties.
“It’s just a flesh wound.”
It was almost a casual statement, like it happened to me all the time. I didn’t mention that I was bleeding all over everything and had bouts of dizziness. Or that I’d killed Manning, sent him to Davy Jones’ Locker, but moments ago King Neptune tossed him back at me. Or maybe he didn’t. Time for all that later.
“It didn’t hit near any major veins or arteries. Reed is fixing me up. Over.”
Gurn let out the breath he’d probably been holding inside since he’d heard. His voice returned to being more official.
“Good, good. Laura’s Folly, we are commencing an air rescue mission and should rendezvous with you within twenty, twenty-five minutes. Over.”
“You are? But I don’t know where we are.” I wailed then caught myself. “Listen up, HSM Pinafore, how will you find us?”
“We are locked onto coordinates from both the GPS in your phone and the FBI tracking device aboard. We know where you are within forty feet. Over.” More squawking and a faint exchange of voices. “Is the auto-pilot on?”
“You mean, who’s steering this thing? Well, it sure isn’t me. All I know is we’re crashing into waves at about a hundred miles an hour.”
“Not possible. Top speed for that boat is fifty-five miles an hour, roughly forty-seven knots.”
“Well, it feels like a hundred miles an hour.”
“Copy that.” I could feel his smile. “Is the boat hitting the waves bow first?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“Are the bilge pumps working?”
“One of these gadgets says they are. Should I believe it?”
“No reason not to; that’s their job. You would be alerted to a malfunction. Do you have on life-jackets?”
“Life jackets?” I looked at Reed and we both shook our heads. “No, should we do that? Do you think we’re going down?” The panic caused my voice to raise a few decimals. Even Reed began to hyperventilate.
“Life jackets should be worn at all times, Lee, no matter what the conditions. As for Laura’s Folly, she’s a seaworthy craft and can take on weather like this, barring the unknown.”
“I hate the unknown.”
“
This is only a category one hurricane and if you weren’t injured, you could probably ride it out.”
“Well then, thank God I’m shot. I don’t want to ride it out. Whoa!” The last word was in response to going up on a crest and slamming back into the ocean. “This is one crazy ride. Get us out of here!”
“Copy that. I will contact you again in a few minutes. Stand by. Over.”
“Where would I go? Hey! Don’t leave us.” Silence. I turned to Reed. “Okay, you heard the man. We need to find some life jackets. They’re the orange, bulky things.”
“I saw some under the bar.” Reed stood and walked to the back with much more control of his body than I would have had. He returned less than a minute later. He was already slipping his over his head. It was big, but he adjusted it with a few tugs of the ties.
He thrust another inflatable preserver at me. I set down the mic and took it with my good hand. Reed studied me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you into it.”
The moment I attempted to straighten my left arm, I saw stars. I tried not to cry out, but Reed must have seen the pain written on my face.
“I’m sorry, Lee, but we have to do this. Nice and easy,” he said in a very grown up voice, as he took my left wrist and gently put it through the armhole. I felt sweat dripping down my face and let out a sob masked in a shudder. He wrapped the vest around me and hooked the front of the jacket over my chest. I managed a smile. He returned it.
“Okay,” I said. “All nice and legal now.” We slapped another large wave head on and I was thrown against the back of the chair. “Next step, how do we tell where we are?”
“Maybe this?” Reed sat in the other chair and pointed to a glowing blue square box to the left.
I stretched forward. Inside the box was a flat drawing of the northern hemisphere laid out behind a white grid. A small blue light was blinking in the Gulf of Mexico. That was probably us.
“Reed, is that showing what I think it’s showing?”
“It also shows the longitude and latitude down here.” He pointed to a double row of digital numbers, changing in small increments by the second. “We learned about longitude and latitude a couple of weeks ago in school.”
I looked at him with astonishment and pride. The radio sprang back to life, complete with static.
“Laura’s Folly, this is the Navy Aviation Rescue Swimmers. Do you copy? Over.”
“Gurn? I mean, Commander Hanson, this is Laura’s Folly. Over.” Maybe I was getting the hang of this. No, I wasn’t. Another wave hit us slightly portside and we rocked and rolled for a time. I felt nauseated but fought it down.
“Laura’s Folly, I need to verify your coordinates. Can you locate the marine chronometer and read me the longitude and latitude? Over.”
“Yes, we think we have it.” I read from the glowing blue box. “Top row of numbers are twenty-eight point eighty-four, seventy-eight, sixty-two. Next row. Minus eighty-nine point forty-seven, fifty, ninety-eight.”
“Roger that. We are confirmed. Next, do you see the autopilot? It should be a black box, looking like a small computer monitor. The word pilot should be written somewhere on it.”
“I see it,” shouted Reed. He pointed to the autopilot, which if it had been a snake, would have bit me. And considering the day I’d been having, it would have bit me hard.
“We see it,” I said, trying to imitate Reed’s enthusiasm and sense of adventure. He was starting to have a grand time. I was glad, but on the other hand, we were in the middle of a frigging hurricane in the middle of the frigging ocean. I mean, frigging good gawd.
“Are there any numbers in that box? Over.”
“Yes, it’s got a bunch of numbers in it,” I said.
“Those are your predefined reference course. Read me the numbers one at a time.”
“Top row, minus, three, three, period, zero, four three, zero, seven, two, five, nine, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. Bottom row, minus, seven, one, period, six, two, five, two, eight, four, one, seven, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. What’s with all these zeros, anyway?”
“It’s somewhere in the Pacific, off the coast of Chile. Your final destination has been set into the auto-pilot and the boat is adjusting to the seas and weather as you go along.”
“That’s good, right? We don’t have to worry about anything except getting rescued. Then Laura’s Folly can go wherever it wants.”
“Not exactly. I need you to change the auto-pilot coordinates so the boat goes directly into the eye of the hurricane.”
“Say what?” If you can reel from a sitting position, I did it. “Repeat that, please.” I stuttered.
“You’re only one nautical mile from the eye now, but you’re running parallel to it.”
Gurn’s voice took on the tone as if he were talking to a child. I was more of a babbling idiot. He went on.
“Laura’s Folly needs to change course for you to be picked up in the eye of the hurricane. There will be no rain or wind in the eye. It will be a safer rescue all around, especially with your injury.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” I interjected.
“You will have to take it off of autopilot before you put in the new coordinates. Also, when you come into the eye, you will have to decrease your speed. We don’t want you to stall but we do need you to decrease your speed. That will keep you in the eye for the longest amount of time possible. I’ll tell you what to do, but don’t touch anything else on the console. Do you copy?”
“Holy shit.”
“I repeat, do you copy?”
Reed leaned in and spoke into the mic. “We copy.”
“Copy, copy,” I added.
“Good. Here are the new coordinates. Do you have pen and paper?”
“Yes,” Reed said, reaching up and pulling down a pencil from a clip. He ripped a small sheet of paper from a holder beside it.
Gurn said the coordinates twice, while Reed wrote them down. I read them back to Gurn and once it was decided we had the same numbers, the time came for us to disengage the autopilot.
“Before we do that, let’s throttle back. Reed, do you see two side-by-side levers? They should be right near the wheel.”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked over at a kid who was a little scared but having the time of his life. He came to the other side of me, reaching both hands out over the gears.
“You’d better share this chair with me, Reed. Keep you from falling over,” I said, scrunching to the left of the seat. Reed is a skinny kid, so he managed to get his bum in beside mine.
“Let me know when you’re ready.” Gurn’s voice was loud but comforting at the same time.
“I think we’re ready,” I said.
“Ready, sir,” Reed said.
“Good. Reed, I want you to pull both levers at the same time - and keep them even – and stop in the center. Then read me your speed. It should decrease as you pull back.”
Reed wrapped his small hands around the throttle levers and pulled them about half way toward him. I felt the boat slow down, just as we got slammed with a wave.
“Yes, sir. We’re at twelve knots, sir.”
“Just a minute.” A rustling sound came over the mic then static and voices in the background. We waited for a full thirty-seconds before Gurn’s voice came back on air, pressing and filled with alarm. “HSM Nine Nine….Laura’s Folly, do….copy?”
“Yes, yes.” I panicked then shouted. “But I’m losing every other word.”
We heard static going in and out along with a soft screeching sound.
“Laura’s Folly, Laura’s Folly, do you read….? I’m trying another frequency.” Static almost covered his voice, but I could still hear the urgency in it. “Can you read me?”
“We do, but there’s a lot of static. What’s going on?”
“Lee, Richard just contacted me. They’ve deciphered most of the documents and…” The rest was lost to static. A few words came through. “found….not just….but the email list
shows….”
“What? Say again. I didn’t understand what you said. The email list?”
Static. “I said…” More static. “….name is there.”
“Who? Who’s name? I didn’t get it. Over.”
“I expect that would be my name, Miss Alvarez, they found on the email list.” Delphine Robochaux’s rich, contralto voice filled the air, less jazzy now and far more lethal. “We were careful about keeping my name off the documents, but Manning did email me from time to time.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Changing Players
I rose and wheeled around to face Felicity Llewellyn’s housekeeper standing at the top of the stairs coming into the pilothouse from below deck. Her trim, athletic figure was wearing a one-piece, navy blue bathing suit. Hair and body dripping, she aimed her rather impressive gun at me. I kept my right thumb on the mic’s talk button. Whatever happened, I wanted the boys in the helicopter to hear every word. I looked at her and tried to do a curled lip similar to Elvis Presley’s smirk.
“I had a feeling you were too good to be true, all that To The Manor Born stuff.”
She bowed her head, with a little smile. “I try to be a valuable and conscientious servant.”
“How did you get onboard?”
“Who’s voice is that?” Gurn’s tone held command, but he was clearly thrown. “It sounds like Delphine.”
“Yes, it is. I’m wondering how she got here.” I raised an eyebrow in Delphine’s direction.
“As you can see, you’re not the only one who can swim out to a boat, Ms. Alvarez. I got on forward. There’s a handy little ladder there. I’ve been following you most of the day, my pet. I knew I could count on you to lead me to Manning. I’d lost him in all the ruckus or rather, he deliberately lost me. Fortunately, I always have my bathing suit in the back of my car, so when I watched you buy the wetsuit at the marina, I knew what you were up to. Manning was trying to make a run for it, leave me holding the bag. He shouldn’t have done that. It made me angry.”
“Delphine Robochaux, your resistance is futile.” Gurn’s voice was firm and unemotional. “We have evidence of your participation in a --”
“Shut him up,” Delphine demanded.
DEAD....If Only (The Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries Book 4) Page 22
