The Olympus Device: Book Three

by Joe Nobody

  Hughes nodded, his mind already running down the same route.

  The admiral began typing on the laptop’s keyboard. Without peering up, he said, “I’m doing a search on every freighter sold since our attack on Washington.”

  A few moments later, he twisted the screen around so the senator could see for himself. “There have been just six sales since our failed attempt. Only one of them was in Seattle.”

  A few more inquiries told the two men the name of the ship. Armstrong actually laughed, “There has been only one vessel of that size recently reflagged. The S.S. Parthenon? Now, isn’t that rich? I can see someone in Washington still has a sense of humor.”

  It took Armstrong a bit longer to gain access to the U.S. Coast Guard’s mandatory inspection report. Even the richest men in the world wouldn’t sail a large boat without insurance, and that meant an inspection by the “Coasties.”

  Armstrong whistled, scanning the multi-page document filed for disclosure. “They have done a significant amount of work on that ship in a very short amount of time. The refit includes an electrically operated vault that required a special marine certification. Now, why would someone want such secure storage on a freighter?”

  “To store a rail gun,” Hughes whispered.

  “Exactly. And I see here they’ve filed a plan for Pearl Harbor. Conducting sea trials no doubt. They’re leaving…. Today!”

  Armstrong almost knocked Hughes to the ground, so rapid was his rush to get out of the bed. “We’ve got to move and move right now. Get my men together, Senator. We’re going to get off this tub and into some larger accommodations, complete with the world’s most powerful weapon. Our dreams of changing America might not have completely evaporated just yet.”

  “Hold on a second, Ted. Just what the hell do you intend to do?”

  “We’re going to execute what the boys and I call a Somalian Pirate Special. We’re going to hijack that ship, and then we’ll see if the FBI is so eager to bring us to justice.”

  Chapter 15

  According to Captain Bard, it was going to take a just over three days to reach Pearl Harbor. Fair weather and calm seas were predicted for the maiden voyage of Parthenon.

  “We’re going to hug the coast to the south for a bit and then turn west. I’ve got brand new engines, controls, and electronics onboard. It there’s any trouble, I would like to be able to reach a port or call for help. We’ll take it nice and slow to break in this new gear properly.”

  Dusty and Grace spent the rest of the day touring the ship’s facilities, the Texan curious about every nook and cranny of his new home. The ship’s second in command conducted the tour while Bard monitored the boat’s systems from the bridge.

  Lunch was excellent, the salt air relaxing. The few crewmembers they did encounter were professional and polite, if not a bit standoffish.

  “Most of these men are like Captain Bard and myself,” the first officer explained after Grace commented on the professional and positive attitudes. “Good men who ran into circumstances beyond their control. We all see this job as a second chance. You’ll not find a better, more experienced crew anywhere.”

  Late in the day, Dusty and Grace were enjoying the view from their stateroom. The Pacific sun, low on the western horizon, was turning the endless waters a spectacular shade of blue.

  Grace nuzzled her head against the Texan’s shoulder, the couple holding hands and recalling their busy, first day.

  “So this is what a date is like for regular people,” Dusty commented. “I wondered what we would do without all the drama associated with the Olympus Device.”

  Grace swatted him playfully on the arm. “Durham Weathers! We have endured incarcerations and murder attempts and federal investigations. I am looking forward to some ‘regular people’ days.” The rural attorney smiled at her companion, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I can think of nothing better than sharing my days with you, sleeping in your arms, and waking up beside you with every sunrise,” she declared.

  The genuineness of her speech prompted Dusty’s introspection. A cool, evening breeze caught them both by surprise, and the attorney shivered in the cold. The tall Texan moved closer to her, wrapping her in his oversized jacket. “You know, I can’t imagine anyone else I would rather have had by my side during this entire ordeal, Grace.”

  She turned her face toward his neck and kissed him lightly. “I feel the same way, darlin’,” she whispered in his ear. “But as adorable as you are, don’t expect any discount on my billable hours,” she teased.

  “Hey, Counselor…. I’m being serious. The one thing this whole episode has shown me is that life is too short for the folks you care about to wonder where they stand with you.”

  “Oh, no doubt,” the attorney replied, her eyes now fully mesmerized by the evolving sunset before them.

  Dusty could see that his companion was enamored with the twilight color brushed across the sky – so much so that she didn’t seem fully vested in the conversation at hand. Determined to command her full attention, the Texan continued, drawing her face close to his, allowing him to peer directly into her eyes. “I love you, Grace. You know that, right?”

  “I know you had better,” she teased as the sun’s rim began to slip over the horizon.

  “Grace, I’ve got an idea,” Dusty announced.

  “Oh, no. Not another invention. I’ll not have it,” she responded, maneuvering for a better view of nature’s final splendor for the day.

  “No, no,” he grinned. “Not anything like that. Something much more important.”

  Without warning, he turned to face her, taking both of her hands in his, and then dropping to one knee. For a brief second, the attorney thought something was wrong with him. She’d never seen such a look in his eyes, the expression on his face unreadable. “Grace Kennedy, will you marry me?”

  Despite being a toughened lawyer, veteran of government prosecution, and able-bodied outlaw, Grace was stunned. She shook loose from Dusty’s gentle grip, raising both of her hands to her cheeks in surprise. “Why… why… Durham Weathers… I… I….”

  “Well, you want to get hitched or not? I could ask the captain to turn this boat around if you’re sick of me already.”

  “Oh, yes! Yes! I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. Yes, I will marry you.”

  Smiling, Dusty rose from his knee, taking her in a strong embrace and kissing her passionately.

  “Do you think we’ll be able to find a preacher in Hawaii?”

  “I was going to ask the captain to perform the ceremony. I think he can still marry people at sea.”

  “But it’s all so sudden. Shouldn’t we wait until we meet up with Mitch and Andy in Hawaii? Won’t they be disappointed in not having been a part of it?”

  The Texan considered her objection but shook his head. “Andy might be uncomfortable in watching us walk down the aisle anyway. And believe me, Mitch won’t care. My gut says our time at Pearl is going to be a rushed madhouse anyway, so our throwing a wedding into the mix is just going to put more stress on everybody. Let’s go ahead and do it. Out here where it’s just you and me. A private ceremony. We can celebrate with friends and family later.”

  “Oh, Dusty! You’re right. Let’s go ask the captain to perform the ceremony before you change your mind,” she teased.

  They found Captain Bard on the bridge, sitting in his center-mounted chair with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand.

  After acknowledging the visitors to his domain, Dusty got right down to business. “We’d like for you to marry us, sir. A captain can still do that, right?”

  Christopher laughed, “No, not really. That’s an urban legend. As a matter of fact, the U.S. Navy has regulations strictly forbidding it.”

  “Oh to hell with those stuffy old naval regulations. You’re not in the service anymore,” Grace countered.

  “I’d be happy to perform the ceremony, but there’s not any country that will recognize the legality,” the skipper grinn
ed.

  “And?” Grace questioned. “Technically and legally, we don’t exist any more, so what’s the harm?”

  “It’s not like we’re going to be applying for social security or life insurance,” Dusty added.

  The captain thought it through, a huge grin donning his face. “Why the hell not? It will be a first for me, and I can tell you two are hell bent on being man and wife. When do you want to do the dirty deed?”

  Grace and Dusty looked at each other, both shrugging their shoulders at the same instant. “Why not now? That is if your duties permit?” Dusty added.

  Bard looked around the bridge, the navigator and first officer grinning from ear to ear. “I suppose we’ll need a witness. How about my second in command?”

  “Sounds good,” Grace replied. Let’s do it on the deck outside our quarters in about an hour. I want to freshen up.”

  Dusty appeared deep in thought, something troubling the Texan. “Let’s make it two hours. I’ve got a few things I need to take care of before the ceremony.”

  “It will be dark by then,” Bard noted. “A wedding under the stars of the Pacific Ocean. Sounds very romantic.”

  Dusty walked Grace back to the cabin door but didn’t follow her inside. “I’ve got to take care of something real quick. I promise not to be late.”

  “What’s wrong, Dusty?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he replied with a grin. “There’s just a personal matter I need to attend to.”

  Sensing innocent mischief, Grace nodded her approval. “You better not leave me at the altar, Durham Weathers. Hell hath no fury….”

  Dusty waved off the tease. “Like there’s anywhere I could run off to,” he responded, hand sweeping the surrounding ocean.

  He made his way down into the machinery spaces, having noted a well-equipped workshop during their tour. He was met by the chief engineer.

  “I need to borrow your lathe,” the Texan announced. “I have no time for long, detailed explanations. But I’ve got to make a wedding ring, and like I need it yesterday.”

  The ship’s head mechanic and all-around craftsman rubbed his chin for a moment. “I think I’ve got just the thing,” he announced. “Would some titanium rod stock do the trick?”

  Ten minutes later, the gunsmith and the engineer were at the lathe, watching the die shave off thin swaths of the silver-colored metal. “Any idea what size her finger is?”

  “Shit,” Dusty responded. “No idea. You’ve seen her onboard. What do you think?”

  “Well, not that I have noticed or anything,” the sailor hem hawed, “but I did spot a pretty, little filly by your side earlier today. I remember because she was about the size of my ex-wife,” the old salt dog replied. “I think she wore a size six.”

  “How big is that?” Dusty asked. “I don’t have a clue.”

  “Don’t worry about it; I’ll look it up on the internet. You can find just about anything there.”

  “There she is,” the admiral said, lowering the binoculars. “Right about where I thought she would be.”

  “Thank God,” replied the man at the helm. “We’re getting low on fuel. Much longer, and I don’t think we could have made it back.”

  They had been chasing radar signals all afternoon, even the sea-savvy admiral surprised at the number of freighters moving along the West Coast.

  Finally, they’d found Parthenon, making 8 knots just 200 nautical miles from the Oregon shore. “We’re not going back,” Armstrong informed the helmsmen. “We never were. Hang back until darkness falls. We will go alongside then and board her under cover of night. I’ll tell the men to get ready.”

  Armstrong almost knocked Senator Hughes over, the two meeting on the stairway leading down from the bridge. “We found her,” the admiral informed his partner in crime. “In a few hours, we’ll be stretching our legs on a much bigger boat.”

  “I want to talk to you about that. I’m having second thoughts. What if they have a well-armed crew? What happens if your boarding party fails? Hell, I’m not even sure I can climb up the side of an enormous ship. I’m not just exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

  No, but you are a chicken, the admiral thought, his patience with Hughes wearing thin after so many weeks sharing confined and cramped quarters with the high-maintenance man.

  “Senator,” Armstrong stated with frustration, “We’ve been over this already. The FBI is eventually going to find us if we stay in the U.S. And frankly, sir, our chance of successfully locating refuge somewhere else is slight. Our only hope of maintaining our freedom and setting things straight in Washington is floating over there on that cargo ship. I need the rail gun, sir. I need it to rally forces to our cause and defeat those that won’t join us.”

  The admiral didn’t wait for Hughes’ reply, moving on past the worried–looking politician with a hurried determination.

  Armstrong arrived in the salon to find his men performing a pre-operation check of their kit. Weapons, night vision goggles, thermal imagers, full magazines of ammunition, and load bearing equipment were scattered everywhere.

  “Three hours, gentlemen. We take the Parthenon in three hours.”

  Dusty examined the wedding ring with a critical eye. After inspecting the shiny metal circle from every possible angle, he glanced up at the ship’s engineer and smiled. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  The Texan then glanced at his watch, “Oh, shit! I’ve got to get moving.”

  He hustled up the seemingly endless flights of metal stairs, deciding the exercise would be a good thing if it weren't for a crucial appointment.

  He managed the stateroom door with just enough time for a quick shower and shave. He’d decide what clothes to wear while rinsing off the machine shop’s grime.

  He found a note from Grace, chiding him for being late and informing him that she was on her way to the main galley to see about a small cake.

  Ten minutes later, he emerged from the cabin, dressed in a pair of khaki pants, dark blue button down shirt, and his finest boots. It was the best he could do.

  He rushed outside, pausing suddenly to verify the location of the ring in his pocket, laughing at himself over his case of “wedding jitters.”

  He found Captain Bard and his first officer waiting by the rail. “Beautiful evening, sir,” Christopher announced, pointing up at the milky-white canopy of stars.

  “I broke out some of the emergency candles,” the second bragged. “A little ambiance never hurt a thing.”

  Having been raised in West Texas, Dusty thought he’d seen the world’s best star field, but he’d been wrong. “Amazing,” he breathed, looking up at the twinkling mass of distant suns. Grace strolled on the deck, smiling in her mid-length white skirt and peach-colored top.

  “You look beautiful,” Dusty informed the soon-to-be bride. He took her in, noticing her hair was perfect. She was a vision. “There’s no one else I would ever want to call Mrs. Weathers.”

  Aglow with the event, Grace’s smile was as bright as the star field above.

  “Are we ready?” the captain said, reaching for the Bible offered by his second in command.

  “We are gathered here today,” Bard proceeded, having found the words for a simple ceremony. Both Dusty and Grace thought it was perfect – no pressure over invitation rhetoric, no keeping the ring bearer on track, no political correctness regarding who would give the bride away…. In reality, so many of the entrapments of traditional services invited an abundance of stress to the event as surely as the folks who received an engraved invite. And Dusty and Grace had had enough stress to last a lifetime. They decided they wanted their special day to be as fresh and carefree as possible.

  “Sir, repeat after me….” the captain pivoted toward Dusty, directing this part of the ceremony to him. “I choose you, my darling. I take you to be my best friend, my faithful partner and my one true love….”

  Pesky witness protection program, Grace mused. Her mind drifted for a split second as she considered one of the mos
t interesting questions Bard had asked of the couple – how the two of them wanted to be addressed. Did they want a ceremony for Dusty and Grace or Mr. Smith and Miss Jones? In the end, they had opted to use more generic titles to avoid breaking the security protocol. You just can’t be too careful these days, especially if you are hiding out from every scoundrel on the face of the planet, she thought.

  “… to respect and honor you for as long as we both shall live,” Dusty repeated, staring deeply into his bride’s eyes. The groom paused for a moment to take it all in. His life was finally coming together. Not only was he a free man, but he was marrying the woman of his dreams. He stood spellbound as he admired the captivating lady before him, about to exchange eternal promises with him. His mind swirled with joy… and anticipation… and possibilities.