He shot a look over at Sebastian. “You’re staying here, right? Because someone has to stay behind with the women and make sure they’re safe.”
That set her off on another outburst. Anniston put her hands on her hips in a defensive pose. “What did you just say? If you’ll recheck my resume, I think you’ll find I’m the only female in this room who routinely carries a weapon and I’m trained to use it. I hardly need my big brother around to ensure my safety.”
That brought out responses from all the other females standing nearby. Lenore folded her arms across her chest and glared at Tanner. “Don’t you stay behind because you’re worried about me. You should know better. I have your army-issued .22 rifle here and I’m not afraid to use it.”
Tessa speared a finger at Jackson. “After the firing range, I might not be accurate at long distances, but as Anniston reminded me, I don’t have to be. I can hit the target at ten yards. Plus, I have access to a very sharp butcher knife. I’ll sleep with it under my pillow if necessary while you’re gone. Although I do wish you’d wait until the weather clears up.”
Dominka piped up, “I travel many places. Always bring with me full can of pepper spray wherever I go. I protect myself.”
“That’s the spirit.” Anniston glanced around the room. “See, I think you’ll find the women here are fully capable of looking after themselves while the men go off to sea. Now that I think about it, you should dash off into the dark of night if that’s what you want to do. Don’t let me stop you.”
Garret let out a tired sigh at her attitude. “Fine.” He reached down to the ankle holster he’d strapped to his leg and drew out the SIG P230 he’d bought from Michael Tang. “It’s not the fancy 210 you lusted after, but it’s a well-made firearm. I bought it as a backup. Keep it here with you while I’m gone.”
Anniston’s fiery temper melted. Disarmed by the offer, her shoulders slumped. She eyed the blue-steel slide and her heart thawed the rest of the way into slush. She crossed the ten feet separating them and curled her fingers over the gun. “No, it’s okay. You keep it for now…as backup. I’m sorry I’ve been upset with you since you decided to pull this crazy stunt.”
“Upset? You passed upset…never mind. I accept your apology. It’s not a crazy stunt, though. We need to find this German guy. You want to find the link to Walker, I think Reiner might be it.”
She tugged his hand and led him into the kitchen where they could say their goodbyes without an audience. She framed his face and leaned into him. “I don’t know what it is about you.”
He slid his arms around her waist, covered her mouth. “I’m glad you’re worried about me, but there’s no need. I’m not exactly a newbie on board a boat, although I’m not fond of the small space where you have to bunk and shower.”
She linked her arms around his neck. “I just wish you’d listen to reason.”
“I got that.”
“Yeah. Well. I’ve been slightly miffed at you ever since Dominka arrived on the scene.”
“And I tried to explain you have nothing to worry about. Besides, she’s Sebastian’s problem now.” He kissed her mouth again and teased out a slow moan.
She patted his chest. “I got over Dominka. She’s actually not a bad person. I just want you to be safe out there. Come back to me in one piece. Not like that movie, Perfect Storm, where everyone gets caught in a gale.”
He laughed and nipped her bottom lip. “You write me a love note while I’m gone and send it to me. I promise I’ll put it to memory.”
“Hmm, Bobby did that with Christina’s, didn’t he? Most romantic thing about the whole movie. I’ll have to make mine an email, gets there quicker, and no one will read it but you.”
In the living room, Mitch dealt with the hysterics over the storm. “I’ve been doing this for a dozen years now. I’m a good sailor. I’ve picked the best available men for my crew. Count on me taking care of my brothers while we’re out there. Going out with a depression building is nothing to laugh at, but I assure you, we’ll be fine.”
Jackson threw an arm around his dad’s shoulders. “It’s okay to stay behind to keep an eye on Mom.”
“You know, I think with the weather so nasty, I’ll hang around the house. Despite your mother’s assurance that she’ll be okay, I don’t think I want to risk leaving her alone.”
“Good call. While you’re at it, could you keep a watch on Tessa for me? Maybe you could ask her to stay over here until I get back.”
“Consider it done.”
By midnight Garret watched the crew of The Black Rum get underway with skill and precision. Mitch punched in the coordinates that would potentially hug the coastline and motored the boat out of the marina.
In the command center, Walsh had used the latest software to check with the National Weather Service out of Miami and learned it had downgraded the tropical depression.
“The weather service says Hanna is losing strength. She won’t even make it to a Category 1, but she’ll still pack a punch. Expect winds as high as forty miles an hour. The good news is we’re not in her direct path. She’s staying on the east coast of Florida and moving north. Since we intend to keep to the west side of the Keys we should be okay. But don’t kid yourself, it’s gonna get plenty rough even if she stays eastward and doesn’t veer off course.”
“We’ve hit rougher seas before,” Mitch tossed back. “Are you worried?”
Walsh studied the choppy waters in Sugar Bay and knew the swells would get a lot worse once they hit the open sea. “I’m cautious. I’ve been around long enough to respect Mother Nature.”
“It’ll be bumpy until we turn south and head toward Key West.”
“You really think this Reiner guy is important enough to head into a gale like this?”
“I wouldn’t take the risk if I didn’t.”
“I just hope this odyssey pans out,” Walsh mumbled. “Nobody asked me anything, but do you think it was wise to give up the surveillance on Dandridge and Baskin like we did? That didn’t sit well with me.”
Jackson came up to the helm and slapped Walsh on the back. “They obviously knew we were tailing them. We made a judgment call. We’re counting on Anniston and Sebastian to keep track of them via video surveillance. I’m not sure where they’ll install the cameras but they assured us it was a better solution than sitting in the car all night. Let’s hope they’re right.”
“How’s baby brother doing?”
“Garret’s fine. The bumpy ride isn’t the problem. He’ll sit back like he’s on a roller coaster and enjoy every minute. It’s the closed up quarters that get him every time.” Jackson went over to the chart table. “So, how do we do this?”
Mitch lifted a shoulder. “For starters I stationed two men on lookout—one on the bow, the other on the stern—using infrared, high-powered binoculars. They’ll keep watch for two hours, then we’ll rotate the shift.”
“Fresh eyes every couple hours, good idea.”
Walsh brought over a pot of steaming coffee, poured the black liquid into three mugs. He dumped two fingers of whiskey into his own cup. “Night like tonight, who needs cream in his coffee?”
Jackson chuckled. “You’ve got the right idea. Hit me.”
Walsh obliged, more than generous with the bourbon. He got comfortable near all the digital readouts, sipped. “Do you ever wonder how those guys—Baskin and Dandridge—are communicating with each other including whoever they’re working for? It’s gotta be a covert operation.”
“What are you thinking?” Mitch asked, taking a slug of his java minus the booze.
“That they have to be using an encoded message system in order to chat back and forth.”
Garret came through the door heading for the coffee pot. “You mean like spy stuff?”
“CIA does it all the time.”
Garret grinned. “I don’t even want to know how you came by that info. Something tells me I’m glad you’re on our side, though.” He dumped sugar in his coffee, added eno
ugh cream to turn it into a white blend resembling café au lait. “I’ll relieve Jenkins when we make the turn south around 3 a.m.”
“Same here,” Jackson muttered. “I’ll take over the three to five shift from Blaine and then try to catch a few winks afterward. Remember, I spent several months on a research vessel. I’m fully capable of taking over at the helm if you need me.”
Mitch sent him a wry smile. “Good to know. But for the next few hours, I’ll be wired. Walsh and I will take turns handling the wheel until daylight. Mainly because we could navigate these waters blindfolded. But we will need some relief at some point.”
“If we do find this old guy, how do we get him to come back with us, short of kidnapping him?” Garret contemplated.
Walsh didn’t have to think about it too long. “Friendly persuasion.”
Hours later, the rain continued to fall as Garret took his turn on the bow of the ship. Dressed in a rain slicker, he peered through the infrared goggles as the wind battered his face. At the opposite end, Jackson stood at the stern doing the same thing. The brothers communicated using walkie-talkies.
“See anything yet?”
Even though it was the middle of the night, Jackson found that funny. “All I see is a bunch of rain. How about you? Let me know when it stops on your end.”
Garret chuckled. “To think it’s heading toward four in the morning, you’re a funny guy.”
“I’m trying to stay awake. I tried listening to music through my headphones but the damn things are soaking wet now.”
They kept up the chatter until five on the dot, when a young crew member by the name of Prentiss appeared next to Garret.
“I’m here to relieve you, sir.”
Garret stretched his back. “Thank God. I feel like I’m about to drop. I remember when I used to party till dawn and still have the energy to cut through a wave.”
“You’re the surfer. What’s it like to make a living on a surfboard?”
Garret studied the man’s eager face. “Do you surf?”
“I used to. I’m from San Diego. I don’t get much chance anymore.”
“We should go sometime. I’ll show you some moves you can use back home to impress the women.”
“That’d be great. I been kinda bored staying in port all this time,” Prentiss admitted.
“I imagine so, especially when you’re used to hunting for treasure.”
“It’s not what I thought it’d be, you know? I miss my family back in California. I might go back soon. I haven’t told Mitch yet though. I’m trying to stick it out here and not leave him shorthanded.”
“He’d appreciate that. In fact, my entire family would. I’m glad you stayed.” Garret slapped him on the back and looked up at the sky. He caught the little peep of sun beginning to break through the horizon. “I haven’t seen any sign of the Schneewind yet. But it’s almost daybreak and the rain’s letting up so that’s good news.” He shoved the field glasses toward the fresh-faced seaman. “Hopefully, you’ll have better luck than I did.”
By mid-morning all the men were bleary-eyed and dragging but still fervent about locating Hugo’s sailboat. Running on adrenaline and caffeine, they scanned the busier ports, as well as dots on the map where coves offered little or no fuel supplies. They even checked the string of private docks along the way.
While the lookouts were stationed above deck, the rest of the men gathered in the galley. The hub of the ship was a roomy place to eat and assemble where Mitch could hold meetings, or the crew could kick back and relax. They could often be found passing the time drinking coffee, or playing video games.
“You have a homesick sailor on board,” Garret revealed when Mitch sat down to enjoy a plate of scrambled eggs. “Maybe when we get back to port we should invite your crewmembers over to the house. It might ease the monotony for them.”
“Who was bitching?”
“He wasn’t complaining. The man’s homesick. Besides, what difference does it make who it was?”
Mitch stopped eating long enough to look at his brother. “Let me guess. Prentiss. He’s my newbie. I worried about giving him the job, too immature, too green.”
“Maybe it’s his first time away from home.”
“It is. That’s what I meant by immature. But he needs to find a way to suck it up.”
Under the table, Garret shifted his leg and kicked his brother. “You’re such a hardass. Not everyone handles being away from family with the same cool, indifferent approach you do. Your crew could use a break. Think about it. Sitting around, spending the day playing cards like they’ve been doing stuck in Sugar Bay isn’t as exciting as looking for sunken treasure in the Bahamas.”
Mitch sipped his coffee. “Yeah, well, Prentiss signed a contract. He needs to keep to it.”
“Do you hear yourself? When did you get to be so cold dealing with people?”
“I run a business, not a daycare. Like you would know what it’s like to make payroll. I pay these guys top dollar and medical benefits, in addition to them getting a piece of the action when we locate and bring up the goodies. What more do you want me to do?”
Garret stood up. “Grow a heart.”
With that, he walked out to go find Jackson.
When it was his turn to take watch again, Garret found the sun overhead warm and soothing, a slight breeze wafted out of the south and hit his face. He took in the blue skies, grateful the storm had moved on. He much preferred the outdoors to spending time in the bunk area, closed off like a jail cell.
The boat had just passed Sugarloaf Key, near the campground, when Garret spotted a good prospect through his field glasses. The antique listed in the water at a slight angle. The length of the hull was right, probably forty feet, and it looked like the clipper class sailboat he remembered, with the same markings—white on top and a faded blue at the water line. He radioed Jackson to check out the old tub on the starboard side of the ship. “What do you think?”
Through the binoculars, Jackson found the schooner and searched for a name, but it was angled the wrong position to make out the lettering. “That’s gotta be fifty years old. We should definitely check it out.”
Garret used his walkie-talkie again to alert Walsh, at the helm, to slow their speed so he could get a better look.
Mitch came out on deck to make his own assessment. “That’s it. I’m sure that’s Hugo’s cutter. All engines stop!”
Garret rushed to the railing. “We can fit three in the dinghy. It shouldn’t take more than that.”
“You hope,” Jackson stated, beginning to change into his wetsuit. “We should take two just in case.”
Garret scratched the side of his jaw where he hadn’t bothered with a razor. “If we have to wrangle this guy into the skiff we’re already in trouble.” He reeled toward Mitch. “You coming?”
“You bet. I want to meet up with this guy.”
They hurriedly changed into wetsuits in case they encountered the swarms of jellyfish that hung out around the jagged reef.
Rough chops filled the surf with whitecaps as they lowered the dinghies over the side. Mitch took one raft while Jackson and Garret took the other. They motored over to the U-shaped island, fighting eight-foot swells all the way.
When they got close enough to shore, they jumped out, left the lifeboats, and waded onto the beach. The spot seemed devoid of tourists, a nice place to hide out in a fairly deserted stretch of Key.
They approached the ancient sailboat planked in well-worn teak. Garret pointed to the bow and the name, Schneewind. “Jackpot,” he whispered.
As they climbed on board, they noticed the smell. The tub reeked of stale beer, puke, and fish, and maybe even a backed-up toilet. The hull looked as though it hadn’t seen a paintbrush in twenty years. The deck definitely hadn’t been cleaned in this decade.
“Who goes below?” Jackson murmured.
“I’ll rock-paper-scissors you for it,” Garret offered.
“Step aside. I’ll do it,” Mitch
said. “Can’t you hear the snores coming from below deck? The guy’s obviously sound asleep.”
Mitch disappeared down the boat’s stairs to the cabin below. He found the old sailor on his back sleeping one off in a grimy bunk.
Hugo had a crop of white hair. His wrinkled face, aged by sun and weather, hadn’t seen a razor in at least a week. His eyes showed the ravages of booze and a poor diet. From the looks of the boat’s galley, he didn’t have much food on hand, which probably was the reason he didn’t weigh more than a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet. His clothing consisted of a tattered shirt and filthy pants that hadn’t seen a washing machine in five years.
Mitch waved a hand in front of the old guy’s face. “Whew, smell the rotgut whiskey.”
“He has to be pushing seventy-five if he’s a day,” Garret noted from the doorway.
“This place is in really bad shape,” Jackson noted, checking out the living quarters. “Maybe we’re doing the man a favor by taking him out of here.”
“Whether we approve of it or not, this is the guy’s home,” Garret reminded them. “It’s hard to believe this is the same man who was able to talk Walker into looking for gold.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mitch said. “If I met this guy in a bar, I likely wouldn’t believe a word that came out of his mouth.”
The back and forth banter never even caused Hugo to stir.
“So how do we get him out of here? I’m not carrying him,” Mitch declared. “In fact, I’m not sure I want to touch him.”
“Then we have to sober him up.”
“He’s gonna love that,” Garret surmised. He walked over and tried to shake Hugo awake. “Hey! Mr. Reiner, wake up!”
Hugo uttered something in German.
“Come on now, wake up! What’s German for wake up?”
Jackson rubbed his chin, thought for minute. “Uh, wach auf.”
“Louder.”
“Wach auf! Wach auf!”
Speaking German did the trick. Hugo sat up quickly, rubbing his aching head. But when he saw three strangers standing in his cabin, he began a rapid-fire dialogue in his native tongue. “What do you want? Why are you on my boat?”
The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set Page 56
