by Noah Waters
“Good morning, Beautiful,” he whispered in her ear. Rachel lay down the cell phone and picked up her wristwatch—it was almost noon.
“It’s more like, afternoon,” she remarked.
“What time did you get in?” Bobby asked.
“I don’t exactly remember.”
“Did you see my note?” Bobby asked.
“Yes,” she reluctantly replied.
“I told you to wake me, Rach.”
”I figured you needed to sleep.”
“You can’t put this off forever, Rachel.”
The silence filled the air as Bobby waited for some sort of response.
“I’m sorry, Bobby, I don’t have time to talk now. Master chief needs me to report in as soon as possible.”
“Do you need me to drive you?”
“No, I’ll take a taxi.”
“Do you know when you will be back?”
“No.” The tension Rachel had could be felt—this was exactly the type of questioning that caused her such grave concern about marriage.
Rachel stood up from the side of the bed to pull back the ruby red curtains only to see distant clouds drawing closer.
“Looks like there is a storm coming.”
“It’s been off and on all night,” Bobby replied.
“The clouds over the hill certainly look angry to me.”
Rachel’s concern deepened as she knew that the sea marshals boarded continuously. She had become friends with not only Casey and Noah, but with almost all the other members of the team. Pulling the curtains closed as if to shut out the storm from the bay area, Rachel dressed expediently.
“I’ll check all of your camera equipment,” Bobby volunteered as he hopped out of bed. Changing the subject would ease the tension in the air—at least for the time being.
Abdi lived in a confined space. The ventilation system aboard the Calla Lily was antiquated at best. He often referred to the air as poison because of the claustrophobic conditions. He was growing weaker by the day. He had hoped the fresh air above would have given him more strength, yet for some reason, being exposed to the sun caused him to have a headache.
Abdi had managed to place a dressing mirror in his space for prayer time to Allah and to ensure that he cleaned his body appropriately. He slowly removed his kitchen attire to reveal an olive-skinned, well-built frame. To his surprise, erratic dark spots appeared on his skin. He quickly prayed for guidance and strength that Allah’s will be done. It was his personal hope that land was near before his flesh gave him away.
Abdi’s concentration was broken by a rapid tapping on the door.
“Abdi,” came the whisper through the door cracks. “Abdi, open the door. It’s Marcel.”
“Enter.” Abdi had just enough strength to cry out.
Marcel stepped inside the cabin and cautiously leaned against the wall with a frightened appearance upon his face. The dark rash was everywhere. “It has begun,” Marcel whispered with intensity.
“Praise Allah, Allah Akbar,” Marcel dropped to his knees, leaning forward and striking his forehead against the steel floor in a repetitive motion. Abdi never removed his eyes from the mirror. His focus remained one on the dark circle forms on his body.
“We should be reaching the shores soon.” The intensity in Marcel’s voice could be heard easily. After Marcel completed his fifth repetition, Abdi immediately proceeded to stand, “I shall return,” Marcel instructed Abdi. Suddenly, Marcel was gone.
Chapter XXIV
THE VIBRANT RINGING OF THE TELEPHONE COULD BE HEARD THROUGHOUT THE sea marshals’ Operations Center when it was suddenly overridden by a distinct voice “Damn it.”
Looking over his thick-rimmed glasses and down his shirt, Gramps had again spilled hot coffee down the front of his uniform.
“Damn telephone won’t let me have a cup of coffee in peace.”
This time it was the red phone. This was the phone that connected Gramps directly to Washington, D.C. Ignoring the ringing for a second, to get a closer overview of the board to ensure he had listed all boardings for the day, Gramps proceeded to set his coffee cup down. “Hello,” he said picking up the receiver. “Sea Marshals’ Operations.”
“Master chief, this is Captain Baker from ICC.”
“Hello, sir.”
“I’m calling you about the Calla Lily.”
“I have her on my board, sir. Do you have updated information on her?” Gramps asked.
“Yes,” Baker responded. His voice changed tones.
“It looks like her final destination is going to be in Sacramento. She will certainly come in through your channels and proceed through the center of California.”
“She is on our list to be boarded, sir; however, we have no intelligence regarding a specific threat or capability.”
“I’m fixing to help you out with that situation,” Baker responded. “Let’s go to Top Secret level on the STE.”
“Yes, sir.” Gramps immediately proceeded to press the button on the STE. “Go head, sir.”
“It looks like the Calla Lily made an unspecified stop along the African coastline and possibly picked up one or two additional crew members. We have no specific intelligence about their purpose or their final destination. What concerns me even more is their intent. Nonetheless, the Calla Lily is to be boarded and the sea marshals are to remain with her all the way to Sacramento.”
“Understood, sir,” Gramps replied.
“We will keep a close watch on her from Washington. Please let us know immediately if there are any problems once she has been boarded.”
“Will do,” Gramps promised. “Thank you, master chief.”
Slowly placing the receiver back into its appropriate place, Gramps reached down to take one more swig of his coffee. His face reflected his concern as he listened to the radio. The weather channel continually warned of increasing winds and rain that would be approaching the coastline causing severe tidal changes. His concentration was abruptly interrupted by the laughter coming through the side door. His eyes looked upon Casey and Noah walking in. “Well, looky, looky,” Gramps stated. “If it isn’t my two special people.”
“Hello, master chief,” both Casey and Noah responded.
“Believe it or not, I have your first assignment, folks.”
The laughter of Noah and Casey dissipated. They could see the seriousness on Gramps’s face. “The Calla Lily will be approaching tomorrow afternoon about the same time the storm will hit. It should make for an interesting jump. She is to be boarded at sea and ridden all the way to Sacramento.”
“That’s a long crawl,” Noah abruptly remarked. She knew that once the boarding had taken place riding the Calla Lily to Sacramento was the equivalent in speed of an inch worm crossing a football field.
“Nonetheless, it’s required,” Gramps replied.
“Understood,” Noah responded.
“Go home, pack all your gear and get prepared for one of the toughest boardings we have completed to date. I’m going to assign you both on to the Calla Lily. I will be briefing out Commander Dewey and Admiral Percy this afternoon and the Pilots Association will be picking you up no later than 9 A.M. to take you out for boarding in the potato patch area.” Casey’s eyes enlarged. The potato patch was known to all seafarers in California for her unevenness—boarding there presented problems all of its own. It often resulted in the jump platform being extremely unstable even when the weather was fine.
“Do you have any questions?” Gramps asked.
“No, master chief,” both responded.
“We’ll be ready.” Casey and Noah departed.
As Casey pulled the door closed, Rachel entered.
“Hey, guys, bye, guys.”
“Bye, Rach.”
“Hello, master chief.”
“Hello, Rach,” you just passed our first high-risk boarding team.”
“High-risk team?” Rachel questioned.
“Yes, they are going to be boarding a vessel with a
surprise stop and certainly not in the best weather conditions. We want to capture this moment for prosperity of history and that my dear is where you come in. We want you to take photos of them boarding the pilot’s boat, but once they depart the shores you cannot follow, young lady.”
“Understood, master chief. Departure time?”
“9 A.M.,” Gramps responded.
“Rachel,” Gramps leaned forward on his desk once again looking over his glasses while pulling them down his nose, “you are the only person who will capture this moment so do it right.” The surrealism of the moment was like no other.
Marcel closed the small oval door leaving Abdi in solitude. Marcel’s head leaned against the vessel walls while shivers ran down his spine. The combination of joy and fear tingled throughout his body. The next step must be completed. He realized the timing was right. Proceeding down the hallway and up the narrow stairwell, he knew the swabbing of the aft of the deck should be occurring right about now. The squeaky steel door caused him to slow down slightly as he proceeded topside. As he peeked around the corner to observe the open deck, all looked clear. The time was at hand. He took in a deep breath of fresh air, still trembling from his exposure to Abdi’s body. The whistling and singing of a single crew member swabbing the deck could be heard.
He will do, Marcel thought. “Hello.” The swabbing of the deck continued. “Hello,” Marcel spoke louder.
“Can you not see that I am busy, man?” the deckhand replied. “This is a large deck to swab and I have only a short time to do it in. Why are you topside anyway?”
“We should be arriving at our destination soon and I thought you could answer a question for me” Marcel quickly responded. Reluctantly the deckhand set his mop aside.
“I’ll stop for only a few minutes, man. Be quick about your question.”
Marcel’s pace picked up as he steadily walked across the deck until he reached the far end. Grabbing hold of the rail, he leaned forward to view the swift churning of the propellers. The movement was far below the surface yet the suction was strong.
“I wouldn’t lean that far over the rail, it’s not safe ya’ know. She’s an old vessel and clearly rusted in places.” The deckhand slowly and cautiously approached Marcel.
“What is it you want to know?”
“My mariner’s license is limited. I know once we arrive in America, they may want to check my credentials. If you don’t mind, may I look at yours. I would like to see what credentials from the Philippines look like.”
“Nervous about America, are you?”
“Yes, it’s my first crossing.” The deckhand reaching into his right back pocket removed the old worn leather card holder.
“I’m quite proud of these, you know. I’ve been sailing for some time. The only problem with my credentials is the photo is very worn and blurred. I’m not worried though for if the Americans say anything, it will be for me to get a new photo—the dates are still valid.”
Marcel smiled, for his luck could not have been any better. Slowly, as the deckhand continued to fumble with the holder, Marcel walked in a half circle that forced the deckhand to turn in order to speak to him directly.
“These are the ones you will need.” The deckhand extended his arm with credentials in hand.
“I owe you much gratitude,” said Marcel.
The extension of the deckhand’s arm presented Marcel the opportunity to grasp America’s future in his hands. A low whisper passed his lips, “Thanks be to Allah.”
A tweak of the deckhand’s head as he leaned inward to hear the reply gave Marcel the perfect opportunity to snap his neck. His strong arms developed from his many trips to Pakistan had served their purpose. The snap was instant. The deckhand’s body went limp. Marcel’s left hand supported the deckhand’s waistline as he stepped forward shoving the body overboard. All that could be heard was a single thud as the body struck the Calla Lily—disappearing forever.
Stepping back, Marcel proceeded to hurriedly straighten his clothing, hiding the mariner’s credentials. It was his hope that the mission could be completed before anyone missed the deckhand. As soon as he hid the mop and bucket, he returned to Abdi.
The sun was shining through the bridge windows, as first mate, Olga Heinrich, rested her binoculars under the small wood-frame panel. Olga had been a first mate on the Calla Lily for more than 10 years. She had made the trip through all seven primary shipping channels. Her knowledge of the high seas was extensive. While her crew members varied often, her vessel did not. Captain Achilles worked close with Olga for she knew the ship like the back of her hand; his expertise was the shipping channels.
Olga’s thoughts often turned to the first time that she met Captain Achilles and how his only request from her had been that she make no jokes with regards to his name. While a Greek captain and a German first mate were rare, the two combined provided extensive experience on the high seas.
Today’s assignment for Olga was to ensure that all paperwork had been faxed according to policy. Bills of lading had already been provided along with the advance notice of arrival. Olga knew, without a doubt, that Customs and Border Protection would come aboard for inspection. Her claim to fame was organization and she planned to keep that status.
Chapter XXV
LAUGHTER COULD BE HEARD DOWN THE HALLWAY; CASEY AND NOAH WERE still gabbing from the testing.
“Thank God, nobody asked us to actually swim today,” Casey’s voice cracked with a sigh of relief as he slapped Noah across the back. Noah’s small frame flung forward.
“Damn, Casey, don’t kill me. I just barely managed to survive all that.”
“We have the rest of the day. I’m going to make a few phone calls back home,” Casey remarked as he stepped inside the elevator.
“Me, too.”
“Be sure to lay out all your gear in case the operation changes without much heads-up.”
“Yep” was all that could be heard from Noah as the elevator bell rang to signal its arrival.
Noah turned the key and entered her apartment. She took a deep breath of the vanilla-scented air within. It always reminded her of the tropics—a reminder of home. It was sweet and calming, something Noah rarely experienced in her everyday life. Flopping on to the couch, as she removed her gun belt, a great relief came over her. The burden of the extra weight on her small frame always took its toll.
The pitter-patter of raindrops falling could be heard out on the iron rail of her patio. Not again, she thought. The weather here in California is crazy. The next few hours would be filled with finite, detailed preparations—not only for the boarding but for an emergency also. Noah breathed out slowly pursing her lips as her bangs blew upward. For the first time, the thought of death hit home.
The ringing telephone caused Mabel to jump—the lid flew off the blender. Mabel’s nerves had not been the same since Casey had departed. Taking care of the girls, her job, and the house along with the extra activities was more than she could handle. Her thoughts of Casey were always sweetest at night. She would lie awake for hours after the girls had been tightly tucked in, remembering their times together over the years. It has taken her years to get used to Marine Corps life. Years apart at a time—the Coast Guard had provided them an opportunity to enjoy a closer relationship.
“This had better be important,” Mabel’s quick-tempered response replied. “Hello.”
A low whisper could be heard on the other end of the line.
“I’m an admirer. I want your body.”
“Well, you’d better hurry up while my husband’s out of town.”
Mabel recognized Casey’s voice anywhere. Casey laughed. “Not every man can handle you, woman.”
“You’re telling me,” Mabel’s responses were always sarcastic.
“So what’s the word?” Mabel asked.
“We are not sure how long we’ll be here. The mission itself is still being drafted. We have our first boarding tomorrow.”
“Isn’t the weather g
oing to be bad tomorrow?” Mabel was concerned.
“It is, but in reality it’s been bad since we’ve been here. I think ‘getting worse’ is the appropriate forecast.”
“Will you be alright?”
“Yes, don’t worry, my fiery redhead. I wanted to say I love you to you and the girls.” Not a sound could be heard. “You know Mabel we always have to look at all the possibilities.” Mabel knew where this was going as she glanced over her shoulder to see Margie and Maxie playing on a blanket awaiting strawberry milkshakes.
“You know where the will is and you know what to do should something happen.”
Casey’s sarcastic and fiery redhead suddenly found a small tear rolling down her cheek. The thought of losing him had been addressed before, yet every time, it brought terror along with a deep sinking feeling to Mabel’s heart.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes” she replied. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.” Now Casey’s tone perked up, “Let me holler at my two fireballs.”
“Girls,” Mabel motioned quickly for them to come over to the phone. “Daddy, Daddy,” as she hit the intercom button in order to hear Casey on the speakerphone.
“You two, behave yourselves while I’m gone. Be sure to take care of Marx and don’t overfeed him—get to bed by eight. Maxie, win your T-ball games and Margie, you take good care of Puddin.” Puddin was Margie’s favorite doll. “Mabel, I’ll call you tomorrow night.” This provided Mabel with some relief—at least she had a destination point to hold on to. “Bye, girls.”
“Bye, Daddy,” and with a click the call was over.
Reaching down for a sip of water, Captain Baker wanted to ensure he was up to speed on all intelligence reports. His anxiety grew as various target vessels got closer to U.S. entry points.
“Am I up to par on the Calla Lily?”
“She should be in U. S. territory in the wee hours, sir.”
“No more reports with regard to crew pickups?”
“No, sir.”
“Any suspicious shipping companies noted on the Bill of Lading?”
