Mist

by Miller, Maureen A.

  “Yes,” he yelled over the next bout of gunfire.

  As soon as he grabbed one of the polyform boat fenders hanging from a rope, he used it to haul the kayak closer to the hull. They collided and bounced apart, but his grip held firm, even as the wet rope sliced his palm.

  “Now,” he commanded.

  Olivia scrambled out of her seat and grabbed onto the steel bow rail. The boat veered towards the right to evade gunfire from the Odyssey. Only Jack’s clutch of the flailing buoy kept them connected. He reached for Olivia’s rear and gave her a strong boost, propelling her onto the deck. Once he was sure she was secure, he used his grip on the rope to haul him close enough that he could grab the steel rail and hoist himself in.

  As soon as the driver saw that Jack was stable, he yanked on the steering wheel, arcing the boat until the Odyssey was behind them. At that moment he pushed the throttle and the craft surged forward, widening the distance from the trawler.

  Olivia climbed onto a cushioned bench and clutched the frame, her hair flailing around her shoulders. She took turns eyeing the Odyssey and the stranger behind the console.

  “This is Ray,” Jack said, rubbing his face to conceal his scan of the deck for something that could be used as a weapon. “He’s the guy who was chasing us on the pier.”

  Color fled Olivia’s cheeks. Even the purple and yellow patch faded. She began backpedaling in her seat, but there was nowhere to go. The ocean surrounded her, and the Odyssey trailed behind them. The desperation of being trapped was stamped all over her face.

  “Hey,” the man at the helm held his hand up, making a show of tucking the gun back into its holster under his denim jacket. “I tried to tell you before that I was here to help, but you guys were so hell bent on running.”

  “We’re not big on the whole trust thing at the moment,” Jack muttered, studying the man guardedly.

  Ray’s sunglasses flashed as he craned his neck to gauge the distance to the Odyssey. “Ray Gordon,” he announced to Olivia with a nod. “I’m a security contractor for BLUE-LINK.”

  “I have never heard of BLUE-LINK,” she responded in a lifeless tone.

  The distance between this bowrider and the Odyssey was increasing. Still uneasy, Olivia’s death grip had nonetheless slackened some when she saw the man put his gun away.

  “It’s a global risk management company. I personally don’t know a lot about it. I’m just the hired henchman.”

  Jack disputed the modest claim. This man was military all the way. Much more hardcore than the military training he had received in school. And when Ray said security contractor−well, they were in the Atlantic Ocean dodging a seized research vessel armed with men even more cryptic than Ray himself. That took the claimed position to a whole other level.

  Sliding in between Olivia and their captain, Jack crossed his arms and braced his thighs against the roll of the waves.

  “Where are you taking us?”

  Ray shook his short-cropped sandy hair. “Jeez, you need to lighten up. I’m taking you back to your science center. I’m sure BLUE-LINK will have arranged for the proper authorities to be there waiting for us,” he paused, “and not those guys you called in earlier.”

  “Hey,” Jack tensed. “I contacted the closest FBI office. I had to have some faith in the system. I tested them when they arrived−and they failed.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “The Odyssey has a radio. The men on board have cell phones,” he pointed out. “They’ll have a welcoming committee ready as well.”

  Ray’s lips clamped into a thin line. He released the console wheel and dipped his hand behind his back, extracting a secondary pistol. With a brusque nod he offered it to Jack.

  An olive branch?

  Jack took the Ruger and checked to see if the magazines were full. His eyebrow cocked to discover it was almost fully loaded.

  “How far out are we?”

  Ray dipped his head and studied the small GPS monitor. “About fifteen miles. We should be back at the Pennington place in about twenty minutes.”

  Searching over his shoulder, Jack saw the Odyssey’s profile shrink on the brightening horizon. “And they’ll be back there in less than an hour.”

  Ray tipped his sunglasses down to reveal amber-colored eyes. “Do you really think they’re going to follow you into port? They might have some connections, but they’re not that stupid.”

  Salt spray stung Jack’s eyes as he stepped up alongside Ray. “You know who these guys are?” he challenged.

  “Specifically?” Ray shrugged. “No. But I know their kind. Government. Military. Clandestine. They’re a dime a dozen these days, and each one thinks their level of corruption is so super-secret and more critical than the common citizen could ever fathom.” He had to yell to be heard over the wind. “Their arrogance is the only thing grand in size.”

  “So you know nothing about the guys that just stole our research vessel…hell, our second research vessel?” Jack was incredulous. “Surely Amanda confided some information?”

  Ray glanced back over his shoulder. “I got a call a few days ago that I was supposed to connect with Warren Pennington. That’s all I was told.”

  “From this Amanda Newton?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Isn’t it odd to send someone like you out? Couldn’t she just pick up a phone?”

  “Someone like me?” Ray turned his head, tawny-colored eyebrows creeping over the rims of his reflective lenses. “Oh hell, someone like me just grabs their biggest gun and heads off dick-first into the fire without asking any questions.”

  Jack snorted. His lip curled up into a reluctant grin. “Alright, perhaps I stereotyped a bit there.”

  “You think?”

  Ray seemed unaffected as he continued. “I do what I’m told, Mr. Morell, and I collect a paycheck. I’m not a grunt without a brain. I am an educated man with skills that warrant a decent paycheck.”

  “Are you a hired assassin?” Olivia yelled out from behind them.

  The tall man clutched a hand to his heart in dramatic flair. “Damn, another one keen on offending me. No. I’m not a hired assassin. I simply oversea BLUE-LINK security in the United States. If the company or its employees are threatened in any way,” he hefted a thumb at himself, “I get called in.”

  “Well, I’m sorry BLUE-LINK feels they are threatened, but as I understand it, they’ve only been threatened financially with a lawsuit.” Jack reached back and gripped Olivia’s shoulder, meeting her eyes. “Miss McKay here has been physically threatened. My uncle is missing at sea, and I can only presume the worst about him right now.” He stared out into the distance. “We have been shot at, abducted, held at gunpoint−not to mention two engineers and a witness that might have been subject to foul play at the hands of these lunatics− It’s hard for me to understand BLUE-LINK’s exhaustive involvement here.”

  “Fair enough,” Ray nodded.

  He turned a couple of dials on the console and then adjusted the steering wheel. The wind abated slightly and the warmth of the sun was a welcome caress against Jack’s neck.

  “I’ve mentioned that I have never met Amanda Newton,” Ray explained. “We’ve spoken on the phone only. But from what I’ve heard, she is maniacal about maintaining BLUE-LINK’s exemplary reputation.”

  “So it’s all about her,” Jack scoffed.

  Ray’s wide shoulders rose and lowered. “When I couldn’t locate Warren Pennington, I was told to find you and make sure you were safe, and to see if your uncle confided anything with you.”

  “Oh crap, you too?” Olivia swiped her hair away from her eyes. “How can−”

  A rumble in the distance arrested their attention. It sounded like thunder, but the sky was clear.

  “There!” Olivia cried, pointing.

  If its structure wasn’t so concise, one could discount the flurry of smoke in the distance as a horizon-hugging cloud. But its concentration and the accompanying recoil that just reached them indicated an explosion. Silently they w
atched the ball of smoke in the far distance, producing a chalky column that jutted up into the sky−a punctuation mark ending a sentence they had yet to read.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Livvy stood shoulder to shoulder with Jack, scrutinizing the smoke in the distance. To the west, the Odyssey still pursued them, but it was a scant silhouette now. It was not the Odyssey that blew up.

  “The Algonquin?” she whispered to him.

  The wind and a pack of raucous seagulls stole her question. She changed her mind about repeating it.

  “Interesting,” Ray uttered, pulling a cellphone out of his jacket. He hauled it up to his ear and after a momentary pause, announced, “They’re with me. They’re safe.”

  Livvy tried to listen in as he made limited observations about the pursuit of the Odyssey, and then added, “And there’s been an explosion—”

  He fell into a grim silence, nodding occasionally to the voice on the other end.

  Jack’s hand cupped her shoulder. She leaned into him, burrowing into his warmth. The chill of shock had finally taken root. A trembling began at her core and permeated recklessly throughout her body. His arm crept down, corralling her in his embrace. A soft whisper dusted her ear. “I don’t like this situation anymore than you do, but the guy handed me a loaded gun. I guess we should give him the benefit of the doubt. I prefer our odds here above the Odyssey or the kayak.”

  Nodding into the lapel of his jacket, Livvy moved in tighter. Just days ago she did not even know this man, and now she was plied close enough to him to memorize his entire anatomy. Heat flooded her cheeks as she used her palm against his chest to manage a little separation.

  Studying the stranger on the phone, she thought some might consider him attractive with his towering frame and surly expression. To her he just looked dangerous. She found Jack’s athletic build and dark features much more appealing.

  “It’s almost over,” he murmured.

  Almost over, she chanted in her mind. Oh Mom, I miss you so much.

  Jack’s grip on her arm jarred her from her reverie. She looked up at him only to see his head cock to the side. She followed it and glimpsed the gray viscous strip of land. In a few moments it congealed into a solid craggy bank littered with seagulls. As they progressed she began to recognize the coastline and knew they were on their way towards the cove that housed Pennington Marine Science Center.

  It was impossible to relax, though. The Odyssey was out of view now. This boat’s speed had placed enough distance between them. But what awaited them? More men in sunglasses? More guns? Hell, one of them was driving this boat.

  But Jack had a gun now.

  One look at him stabilized her. He stood facing the oncoming shore, his dark hair spiking in the wind, his broad shoulders braced for the unforeseen. Long legs were rooted in place, the muscles in each thigh flexing for stability. He held the gun below his hip, his other hand gripping the windshield. For this man, the past few days had been riddled with the unknown. One glimpse of his chiseled stature and she knew he was prepared for it.

  Sensing her stare he glanced over his shoulder. Eyes that mirrored the overcast sky beckoned her. His arm extended in invitation as she moved in beside him. They stood shoulder to shoulder, squinting into the briny mist, watching as land loomed.

  ***

  Ray’s testimony was correct. They did arrive to find two marine patrol boats docked at the PMSC pier. Up the hill, a trio of SUV’s were visible, their red and blue lights pulsing. State Police. Jack recognized the insignia even from this distance. A few plain-clothed men milled about the deck, some talking into their cell phones while one climbed down the plank and offered Ray a hearty shake of the hand. After a few words, Ray tipped his head towards Jack. The man stepped forward, his hand proffered.

  “Mr. Morell,” he asserted. “I’m special agent, Mark Cowler, CGIS.”

  The Coast Guard Investigative Service. Interesting.

  “I’m going to need to talk to you and Miss McKay,” the man continued. “Perhaps we can go up to the main building for some privacy.”

  Blood wormed into Jack’s scalp. He studied the clump of officers huddled at the end of the pier. His gaze slid to a plain-clothed agent steps away glancing at his watch and scratching the side of his head. On the sidewalk, two orange-vested paramedics strolled towards the deck.

  No urgency.

  No gravity.

  No clue.

  Jack’s perusal continued to the mouth of the bay where he anticipated seeing the Odyssey chug in at any time. According to some of the hushed conversation between Agent Cowler and Ray he gathered the veteran vessel had disappeared.

  A comforting hand clasped his arm.

  “You look like your head is about to blast off your shoulders,” Olivia whispered with a sympathetic smile.

  Well, yes, that’s actually what it felt like.

  “Do you believe this?” he barked, drawing the curious stares of Ray and the agent.

  “No,” Olivia nodded.

  Agent Cowler extended his arm and waggled his fingers. “Please, let’s go up to the building and talk. I’m sure you both need to get out of the cold.” He glanced ahead. “The paramedics are here. They will assess if you need any medical attention.”

  “Surreal,” Olivia mumbled as she fell in alongside Jack and trailed after the man in suit pants and a pullover gray sweater.

  No bullet-proof vest for the CGIS. Not even the bulge of a gun at his back. Was this another group of bogus administration? If so, it was an extensive ruse, enlisting the state police, the rescue squad, and the marine patrol boats.

  No, this time, Jack believed the support was genuine…but, considerably lackluster.

  Ray did not join them on the hike up to the science center. Still skeptical about the man, Jack felt that he deserved a word of gratitude. After all, he did save them from either death by gunshot or the elements.

  Olivia waved off a female paramedic, but accepted the offered blanket.

  “Don’t you want one?” she asked, her breath hitching from the steep exertion.

  “Maybe later the cold will set in,” he reached to drape the cotton blanket across her shoulders, “but right now I’m hot.”

  “Yeah, hence the whole head blowing up observation.”

  A grin toyed with his lips, but the doorway ahead arrested his attention.

  Agent Cowler stood patiently at its side, smiling blankly as they climbed the three steps and approached. Jack tapped in a sequence of numbers, using his back to shield the motion. It was an old habit.

  As the door opened, two state police officers appeared and entered before them. Their diligence was of some comfort. Jack no longer possessed the Ruger. Ray had reclaimed it as they pulled into port. It was licensed to him and he didn’t want any harassment with the law enforcement engaged on the pier.

  As they entered his office, Jack’s first priority was Olivia’s well-being. He hiked the blanket around her neck and looked her in the eye. In the ambient light her pupils grew and she swallowed when he swept his thumb over her bruised cheek.

  “You’ll be going home soon,” he whispered, ignoring Agent Cowler who boldly seated himself behind Jack’s desk.

  She nodded, but her eyes were anxious. Pale lips parted, but the words never formed.

  “Mr. Morell. Please have a seat,” Agent Cowler instructed in a voice that lost some of its congeniality. “Can you get these two some hot coffee?” he asked one of the officers standing outside the doorway.

  Jack pulled back the visitor chair on the opposite side of his desk. He tried to avoid blatantly staring at the cabinet that housed his backup pistol. Instead, his gaze wandered to the bank of security monitors. With dismay he noticed the blinking red light that represented the Algonquin had now ceased.

  “So,” Agent Cowler set his elbows atop the desk and steepled his fingers, his narrow chin resting atop them. “I understand you’ve had quite an experience in the past twenty-four hours.”

  “Long
er than that,” Olivia injected.

  “Yes,” he glanced down at a notebook resting beside his elbow. “I see the claim that you were assaulted in your home, and that you believe it somehow ties into your recent abduction at sea.”

  “Claim?” her voice piqued. “Does this look like a claim to you?” She waved a hand at her face.

  “Miss McKay,” Agent Cowler began patiently. “I am not making any judgements. I am here to collect the facts. Initially the Coast Guard was handling a search mission for the missing research vessel, Algonquin, owned by Pennington Marine Science Center.” He dropped his hands to slide the pad over before him. “Investigative Services were contacted after several mitigating factors.”

  “Such as,” Jack prompted, fighting the impulse to rise and pace.

  “Well, Ray Gordon’s call. I know he is contracted by a global company now,” he looked at his notepad, “BLUE-LINK, but he has many connections and is a respected security contractor. He alerted us of your abduction at sea. “This BLUE-LINK company and other calls−” the agent glanced at his writing, “−such as the one from you last Wednesday, Mr. Morell, claimed that the Algonquin’s disappearance was suspicious and not a byproduct of weather as the surviving engineers suspected. And, well−” He sat back in the chair, wearing an expression similar to someone suffering from digestive problems. “There’s that mess upstairs. Ray Gordon states that there were two men secured by bungee cord−armed men who shot out the front lobby in what Mr. Gordon says was,” Agent Cowler picked up his notebook, “a hostile act.”

  Setting down the binder, Agent Cowler folded his hands and volleyed his glance between Jack and Olivia. “Why don’t you both just tell me your tale?”

  ***

  At some point, they moved to the cafeteria in search of more coffee. Olivia sat with her legs tucked under her chin, the blanket still clutched around her shoulders. As subdued as her stature was, fire brimmed in her eyes. Jack shared that ire. It stemmed from the dispassionate regard of Agent Cowler. Sipping his coffee with aggravating nonchalance, he took a few notes and nodded as if he had already pronounced sentence.