‘It’s not San Francisco at all,’ Zach beamed triumphantly half an hour later. Everyone gathered behind him and peered over his shoulder at the street guide spread out on the saloon table. ‘Look, here and here, here and here,’ he said as he pointed alternately to the list of street names that had been collated and the street guide.
‘Well done,’ Mark said, slapping him on the back. He looked heavenwards. ‘Thank you, Aunt Margaret. Your memory wasn’t so bad after all. The name does start with San.’
‘So how far are we from San Diego?’ Zach asked.
Mark was already studying the chart. ‘About nine hundred and fifty nautical miles.’
Fergus was looking at the chart too. ‘How many days?’
‘Depends on the wind. At least four. Five, maybe six.’
‘I hope you’re not thinking of going within a hundred miles of San Diego, given what we’ve heard on the radio,’ Jessica said solemnly. She was sitting on the couch protectively cuddling the twins.
‘Exactly,’ Jane agreed.
‘It’s because of what we’ve heard that we must go to San Diego, and soon,’ Mark responded.
Jane shook her head.
‘We won’t go in unless we’re sure we can go in safely,’ Mark promised.
‘We won’t go in at all,’ Jane replied firmly.
‘If I was the girl those men were talking about, I’d want you to go in and help me.’
They all looked at twelve-year-old Nicole. Jane had hoped her daughter hadn’t fully understood the conversations they’d intercepted.
‘And if it was Nicole, Mum, I’d want to go in and help her too,’ Zach added.
Mark held up his hand. ‘We’ll keep heading towards the coast. We’ll monitor the transmissions as we go. But as I said, we won’t go in unless we can do so safely.’
Activity aboard AWOL intensified. In addition to monitoring the transmissions and analysing the intelligence gathered, they began to learn as much as they could about San Diego. Commander Ball’s chart of San Diego Harbour and the street guide were taped up on the bulkhead. The main saloon became the intelligence operations room. From scraps of information a picture was painted, brushstroke by brushstroke. There were many gaps on the canvas, but other sections were painted in great detail. Everyone helped.
On the Sunday evening, just over five hundred miles out from San Diego, they gathered in the saloon and consolidated all the intelligence they had gathered.
It was clear Brad and Hank’s transmissions were clandestine. The group to which Brad belonged was located somewhere close to the waterfront of downtown San Diego. The group numbered perhaps as many as a hundred individuals. They had a military background, almost certainly navy. Brad mentioned the odd crew name, but no names mentioned were female.
Hank gave the impression his group lived a considerable distance away from where Brad’s group were. His group also seemed to have a military background but AWOL’s crew could not decide to which branch of the military they belonged. The group seemed to be much smaller, probably fewer than a dozen individuals. It comprised both males and females, although the males outnumbered the females, which appeared to be a significant factor in the negotiations.
The third and smallest group were known as the Chats. They lived a short distance from Brad’s group and were tagged to prevent them running away. There were at least three females. At one point Mark had the impression there might be a male member of the group too, but the single vague hint was not repeated. The derogatory manner in which Brad referred to the Chats indicated he regarded them as a sub-class whose only purpose was to serve the needs of members of his group — and Hank’s, providing the price was right.
One of the Chats — Julie — had become the subject of a complicated trade negotiation. Three members of Hank’s group, including Hank himself, were about to leave their settlement on a routine foraging expedition. Hank would travel to San Diego alone, to collect Julie and take her to Los Angeles, where she was to entertain the three men for three days in return for the four hundred grams of heroin finally agreed.
Many other facts had been gleaned from the transmissions. Unlike those in England and New Zealand, the groups appeared to have plenty of ammunition. The mention of air conditioning, freezers and tool shops indicated Brad’s group also had a significant source of energy, yet they, like Hank’s group, had no automotive fuel and were relying on horses. The contradiction puzzled Mark. The Gulf Harbour community had produced power using wind generators, solar power and banks of batteries and inverters, but nothing approaching the power supply the San Diego group were apparently generating. It just didn’t make sense.
The final piece of information in the intelligence dossier was the fact Hank would be heading towards San Diego the following day and would be collecting Julie at noon on Friday.
‘One thing’s for sure,’ Fergus said as the review concluded, ‘we can’t let that bastard Hank get his hands on Julie.’
‘It’s too dangerous,’ Jane said softly. ‘I know it’s a noble cause. I know she might be a relative.’
‘She’s a human being, even if she’s not a relative,’ Mark said sharply. ‘Heaven knows what Hank and the remainder of his cahoots have in mind for her.’
‘Probably the same as they’d have in mind for Jane and me if things went wrong and we were captured,’ Jessica said quietly.
‘We won’t get caught,’ Zach boasted.
Fergus wasn’t so confident. ‘There’re a lot of them and it sounds as if they’re heavily armed.’
‘Only Brad and Hank will be involved in the handover,’ Mark pointed out. ‘We also know the handover isn’t taking place till noon on Friday. If this breeze holds we’ll be in and out and have rescued Julie and the other women before Hank arrives.’
‘We don’t even know where Julie and the others are holed up,’ Jane reminded him.
‘We know roughly where they are,’ Zach corrected. ‘They’re in an area called Little Italy.’
‘Roughly is not good enough. We can hardly go wandering around San Diego looking for them,’ his mother said sharply.
‘Surely we must try?’ Mark pleaded, looking towards Jessica and Jane.
Jane shook her head. ‘As Jessica says, we could end up in the same predicament as Julie. And what for? A few more Chatfield genes?’
‘They’re not all Chatfields, perhaps …’
‘You’re mad,’ Jessica interrupted angrily. ‘Now you want to capture the sort of men who — who trade women. I thought Nigel and his sons were bad enough. This lot are even worse.’
The debate raged on. Jessica and Jane demanded AWOL alter course towards South America immediately. Fergus was wavering. Zach’s bravado was rapidly dissipating. Only Nicole remained gung-ho, and Mark suspected she didn’t understand the full implications of the situation.
‘I accept Jane and Jessica’s concerns,’ Mark said finally, ‘but I still want to give it a go.’ Jane opened her mouth to protest. ‘Just hear me out,’ he continued.
‘There’s no way we’re going in,’ Jessica said resolutely. Fergus nodded in agreement.
‘Just hear me out,’ Mark pleaded. ‘I want to take AWOL in.’
‘We’ll be seen.’
Mark walked over to the chart taped on the bulkhead. ‘We’ll go in at night. We’ll make our way up here,’ he said, pointing to a mooring area off Grape Street Pier.
‘Even if we go in after dark, we’ll be spotted at daybreak,’ Jane said.
‘We know Brad’s group is concentrated somewhere in this area here,’ Mark continued, pointing to the Downtown area. ‘We’ll just be one mast amongst hundreds of others in the distance.’
‘Assuming there are still boats in the mooring area.’
‘If there are no boats moored, we’ll head back out to sea immediately. We’ll be well clear by dawn.’
‘Even if there are other boats moored and we’re not observed getting in, we’ll still be at risk,’ Fergus cautioned. ‘We could easi
ly be spotted while we’re ashore searching for the women.’
Mark prepared to play his trump card. ‘What I propose is that all of you remain on AWOL, out of sight below decks. I’ll head ashore and search by myself.’
‘No!’ Jane said firmly.
‘It makes sense. I’ll be the only one at risk and I’m expendable.’
‘You’re not expendable,’ Fergus retorted. ‘Apart from anything else we need you to get AWOL back to England.’
‘You’re more than capable of getting AWOL back yourself. You’ve all had a damned sight more experience than many who have completed circumnavigations.’
‘Not circumnavigations via the Horn and not circumnavigations without GPS and weather faxes!’
‘You’ve got enough experience. Believe me.’
‘It’s academic, we’re not going in. It’s too risky,’ Jane repeated.
‘It’s an acceptable risk. I stand the chance of finding Julie and the others and adding them to our gene pool. If I get captured, I’m an old man, I’m expendable.’
‘You’re not expendable,’ Jane shrieked. ‘You’re my father.’
The argument continued past midnight. In the end Mark, by sheer force of personality, got his own way. It was agreed they would attempt to sail into San Diego harbour at night on the strict understanding that they would turn tail immediately if there were no other yachts in the designated mooring area. Jane, exhausted, climbed into her bunk at one o’clock in the morning, closed her eyes and prayed for offshore winds.
12
The next day, everyone clustered around the radio set to follow what they understood would be the final transmission before Hank set off to meet Brad for the handover in San Diego. The transmission was short — a final check that everything was in order.
‘See you Friday noon at Date Street. Don’t be early. The girls will be working till eleven thirty. Their last clients won’t be out of the area till eleven forty-five. I need our arrangement to remain secret.’
‘Are you sure Julie won’t be missed?’
‘I run the place, remember. The few in the know will keep their mouth shut. They need their drugs. I’ll double up the schedules of the other girls while she’s away.’
‘Date Street,’ Mark said triumphantly as he turned off the set. ‘We know where the women are.’
‘Yes, but where on Date Street?’ Fergus cautioned. He was studying the street guide on the bulkhead. ‘It’s a hell of a long street.’
The winds did not blow offshore as Jane hoped but they were light and fluky. AWOL made slow progress. Though he said nothing to the others, it was clear to Mark they would not be in and out before Hank arrived. He became increasingly concerned as to whether they would arrive before the planned handover at all.
On Thursday evening, after the younger children had been bedded down for the night, the adults and Zach and Nicole gathered in the cockpit.
‘Are we going to arrive in time?’ Zach asked his grandfather as the sky began to darken.
‘If the breeze holds we will. I reckon we’re about thirty miles or so off the entrance to San Diego Bay. With any luck we should be in and anchored well before dawn.’
‘I think I can see land,’ Jane said suddenly.
Fergus lifted the binoculars. ‘You’re right. There’s a big headland off our port bow.’
Mark took the binoculars and looked for himself. ‘That’s got to be Point Loma, off the western entrance to the bay.’ He turned AWOL a few degrees to starboard and handed the wheel to Fergus. ‘I want you to hold this course. I’m going to get some shut-eye. Call me when we’re about five miles off. When you get closer in you should see low-lying land to starboard where the US Naval Air Station lies.’
Instructions given, he hurried below. His sleep was fitful and all too soon he felt his arm being shaken.
‘Dad, Fergus reckons we’re about five miles off now. We’re making four and a half knots.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Two thirty.’
He dressed quickly and followed Jane on deck. ‘Where’s Fergus?’ he asked when he found Jessica at the wheel.
‘Up here.’ Fergus was sitting up the mast on the spreaders. ‘You’re not going to believe what I can see from here.’
‘Believe what?’
‘The place is lit up like a Christmas tree.’
Mark looked ahead, but could see no lights so he climbed the mast. Fergus was right: there was a cluster of bright lights obscured at deck level by the low-lying land of the airbase. He noted the position, descended the mast and hurried to the main saloon to study the chart on the bulkhead.
‘I’m guessing the lights are in the Downtown area here,’ he said to Jane, who had followed him, ‘which is exactly where we thought Brad’s group were holed up. They’re a good distance from the mooring area. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m not stupid,’ Jane said angrily. ‘I can read the scale on the chart. And you’ll be even closer at Date Street, where Brad is.’
‘I’ll be fine. I won’t take any silly risks.’
Unwilling to debate the matter further, Mark scrambled up the companionway ladder and took the helm for the run into San Diego Bay. With a new moon, there was just enough light to make out the main channel. It was pleasant sailing, but they all felt the tension of venturing into the harbour.
‘What’s that noise?’ Fergus asked suddenly. ‘It sounds like someone crying.’
They caught sight of a buoy marking the channel ahead and saw shapes moving on it. Mark swung the helm over.
Nicole, who had charge of the binoculars, laughed. ‘Sea lions,’ she announced. Her laughter helped break the tension. Mark swung AWOL back on course.
As they proceeded up the harbour the wind gradually died and Mark became increasingly concerned they might not be anchored by dawn, even thought he kept assuring a nervous Jane they would.
‘Masts — I can see masts dead ahead,’ Fergus announced at last. As AWOL ghosted towards the mooring area the sky lightened and the breeze died completely. AWOL began to drift sternwards out of the harbour on the ebbing tide. They hurriedly launched the dinghy and with both Mark and Fergus rowing furiously, AWOL was towed into the mooring area.
Jane passed the bow-line through the mooring ring of a vacant buoy close to the seawall while Fergus and Mark rowed a stern-line ashore and passed it through a mooring on the wall. With AWOL secure, lying stern-to to the harbour wall in the same manner as many other yachts, the dinghy was hoisted onto the foredeck and everyone disappeared below.
Mark glanced at the saloon clock. It was six o’clock local time. Hopefully no one was up and about yet, though he knew from experience that in the post-pandemic world, life was ruled more by the hours of daylight than traditional work-hour conventions. He hurried to his cabin and returned moments later, rifle in hand.
Jane’s face was strained. ‘Dad, I don’t want you to go.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ he said gently.
‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Fergus asked.
‘No. I want you to take charge here. If I haven’t returned by nightfall, sail without me.’
‘But …’ Jane began.
‘I must go now. I’ve got to get into the back streets before anyone’s about.’ He hugged Jane, Jessica and all the children and shook Fergus’s hand. Then he scurried up the companionway, pulled AWOL’s stern in towards the harbour wall, leapt ashore and hurried away.
He could hear Jane, Nicole and Zach crying as the weight of the mooring buoy chain pulled AWOL away from the wall. He was relieved that after so long at sea the yacht looked so scruffy. She didn’t look out of place. She was just one yacht in a line moored stern-to against the seawall.
13
Opposite Grape Street, Mark halted and looked each way along Harbor Drive. There was no movement and the only noise came from birds roosting on the ledges of buildings on the opposite side of the road. A barricade of burnt-out buses stretched two-thirds of the way ac
ross the road. He crept along the side of the vehicles and sprinted across the gap to the bushes on the other side of the road. As he made his way up Grape Street he was surprised not only by the quantity of skeletons lying on the pavement, but also by the number that had bullet wounds to the skull.
He nervously crossed the Pacific Highway and relaxed only when he had cleared the railway and tram tracks beyond. Turning off Grape Street, he made his way along State Street, hugging the buildings, until he reached Date Street. It was, as Fergus had pointed out, very long. It was also very wide. With only a few parked cars and the occasional bush encroaching over the pavement, there was little cover.
He quickly realised it would take him hours to search the buildings on either side of the street. He was also concerned that while he was searching one building he would miss someone leaving or arriving at another. The only sensible option was to find a vantage point and keep a lookout.
At ten o’clock his patience was rewarded. Men in naval uniform arrived at an intersection further down the street towards the harbour. As they sauntered across the intersection a dog broke cover further down the street. All three raised their automatic weapons and fired a volley. The noise was deafening, as if they were fighting a full-scale war. They missed, however, and the dog scurried from sight.
Laughing and joking, they walked towards the entrance of a four-storey building at the opposite corner of the intersection. They were met at a doorway by a fourth man. Faded letters on the facade announced they were entering La Pensione Hotel. As all four men disappeared from view Mark was both elated and concerned: elated that he suspected he now knew where Julie and the other women were being held, concerned that he was outnumbered and outgunned.
Using abandoned cars, doorways and bushes as cover he made his way down the hill to the intersection of Date and India streets. As he ducked through the smashed-in door of a restaurant opposite the hotel he glanced nervously at his watch. He knew the handover was planned for noon, but he couldn’t be sure he had correctly guessed local time.
Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? Page 7
