Amelia

by Harvey Mendez

  She poked around the window crack with a nail file and the glass gave way. She grabbed the biggest piece but several smaller ones dropped inside the room. Amelia shut her eyes and waited for the splatter of glass.

  The noise never came. The glass landed on packing in one of the open cartons. She sighed, dropped the big piece into another container, and brushed the remaining glass from the window ledge. Inching through the opening, she lowered onto an edge of the closest crate.

  Amelia dug through the padding and uncovered a rifle stock. Tearing away the straw, she gripped the large, greasy weapon, then cleaned her hands on a cloth. Was this why Harry was in Brisbane? Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Crates covered most of the room. Some nailed shut, some open with packing exposed.

  Moving from one large container to the next, Amelia pulled out more rifles but could not read the markings. She found several smaller cartons stacked against the wall and pried off a loose top with an iron bar. She lifted out a .45 caliber automatic pistol and fingered it. Other boxes contained ammunition and she loaded a clip.

  God! Harry must be running guns. They sure weren’t going to America. He’d told her Vincent was the bad guy. Now, she didn’t know. She’d better tuck the pistol in her bag. Damn—she left it outside on the trash can. Wiping the oily gun with a cloth, she stuck it in her tight waistband, under her blouse.

  Amelia started climbing up the crates to the open window when she heard shouting upstairs. She turned to investigate, felt her way into the main room of the warehouse. A little light filtered through from outside, formed shadows on the high ceiling. Stairs by the front door led up to a second story. Two large, canvas-topped trucks were parked by the far wall straight back from a main double-door entrance.

  Amelia walked close to the wall around the back of the trucks to the steps.

  “You sons of bitches!” Harry’s voice boomed down to her. “What do you think I pay you for? When I said eliminate him, I meant it. Two blunders in one week will not be tolerated by Triangle.”

  Amelia flinched at his tone. She’d never heard Harry talk like that. At home, he was the model of obedience to his father. Was he talking about killing Vincent? She crept up the stairs one step at a time. Near the top, she stopped and listened. Harry sounded like the boss. He wasn’t the Harry she knew.

  Amelia hugged the wall, advanced a step or two, then heard a creak behind her. Crouching, she scanned the warehouse. Nothing moved.

  She ducked underneath the window, peeked into the room. Harry waved a bayonet above his head, chopped circles in the air. She took a big gulp of air, tightened her muscles. Before she exhaled, a strong arm squeezed her throat.

  Her hands flew up; she flailed against the door, still unable to breathe.

  The door flew open. Amelia toppled to the floor at Harry’s feet and gasped for air, clutching her throat with both hands.

  “What the hell?” Harry said. “What’s this bitch doing here?”

  Amelia looked up, her dark eyes blazing. “Harry! What’s going on here? Who are these people?”

  Harry stepped back, sneered. “Electra’s girl.”

  “Who’s Electra?” Amelia started to rise but a guard pressed the butt of his automatic rifle on her right shoulder. She gave Harry a long, stinging glare.

  “Let her up,” he said.

  The guard took away his gun, moved against the wall.

  Amelia staggered up, straightened her skirt. Her blouse, loosened by the fall, still hid the gun in her waistband. “Harry, I don’t like this. Let me go.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “Why are you here?”

  “I followed you. Thought you hadn’t told me everything about Vincent and my dad. I knocked downstairs, nobody answered.”

  The guard who caught her shook his head. “No.”

  “I see.” Harry nodded at the guard, then turned back to Amelia. “You were told to extract information from Carlson, that’s all.” He grabbed her shoulder.

  Amelia’s eyes flashed at the smirk on his face. Her temper was about to explode. She thought better of it and took a big breath. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but you don’t have to treat—”

  The sharp blow to the back of her head swallowed her in blackness.

  Amelia woke up groggy, didn’t know how long she had been out. Her head ached; she saw blood on her fingers. The windowless room smelled of oil and grease. Rising from the wooden floor, she sat on her haunches until the dizziness subsided.

  One wall was stacked halfway up with large black cans. A thin streak of light shot under the door from outside. She felt for the gun at her waist. Damn—gone. Voices filtered through the opening under the door. Amelia crawled closer.

  “Electra must be wiped out.” Harry’s voice was loud. “Get rid of him for good. Toshio will walk in. That’s who Triangle wants.”

  Amelia had heard those names before. What did they have to do with Vincent?

  She heard several grunts, the clatter of weapons against the floor, then silence. The doorknob turned; she backed away. A shadow filled the doorway. Harry walked in. Amelia shielded her eyes.

  “It’s me,” he said.

  She uncrossed her hands. “What happened?”

  “Sorry, but they would have killed you.”

  “They? Sounded to me like you were the leader. Why are you mixed up with these people?”

  “It’s out of my hands. They’re my. . .my boss’s army.”

  “Army? Who’s your boss?” Her face twisted. “Does your father know about this?”

  “I’m in too deep. Can’t get out now.”

  “What are you going to do with me? Harry, you have to help me.”

  “Don’t know if I can. Much at stake here.”

  “I’ll go to your dad. He’ll know what to do.”

  “No.” Harry stiffened. “If I can get you out, you must stick with Vincent, wherever he goes.”

  “Why?”

  “They want him. He’s much more than he seems. Remember who killed your father.”

  Amelia looked at him. Yes, she remembered. But, Vincent didn’t seem like a killer. Still, she must avenge her father. Harry wasn’t what he seemed either. He said Vincent was the killer. Was Harry lying? She’d wait for now. She had to go along with Harry. “Okay, but how do I get out of here?” She held her head, afraid to move. “Those goons really hurt me.” She tried to find his eyes in the dim light.

  Harry took a step toward her, stopped. “I’ll try to make arrangements.” He saw her twisted face. “Hang tight, I’ll be back.” He shut the door.

  Darkness closed around Amelia once more. She crawled to the door, tried the knob. Locked. She leaned against the door; numbness snared her. The only sounds, her own deep breathing, the pounding in her head.

  CHAPTER NINE

  From a doorway across the street, Marvin Yamaguchi had watched Harry and his men depart Jungle Wings. Amelia popped through the swinging doors and looked both ways on the street. Harry’s head bobbed along, a half block ahead. She trailed him, ducked into a swarm of sightseers.

  Marvin waited a few moments, then sped after them. He moved in and out of the crowd, kept sight of her bright blue skirt. A dark suede purse, on a long strap, hung from Amelia’s shoulder.

  Close to the wharf, Marvin lost her when happy partygoers tried to persuade him to come aboard their yacht. He excused himself, worked his way around the warehouses and dry docks until he came upon the South Seas Trading Company. The building looked too well maintained. Its name jogged his memory. Many times in the past, his father told him how the Japanese hid their war build-up before Pearl Harbor behind dummy import-export firms.

  The quiet street was almost too dark, no one around. Marvin saw a touch of light upstairs in the rear of the building and slipped around back. Before his eyes adjusted to the blackness, he stumbled over a trash can but caught himself by grabbing the top. A suede purse fell in his lap. Then he saw the broken window. What the hell was she doing?

&
nbsp; Turning the trash can upright, Marvin peered through the window into the darkness. He pulled a penlight from his pocket, shone it over the interior. Piles of crates were staggered around the room. He smelled Cosmoline™, guessed guns were in the cartons. Toshio told him weapons were getting to Nam from sources other than Russia and China. Could be the main link here. He’d better find Vincent, fill him in.

  Amelia... well, if she was dead, it wouldn’t matter. If she wasn’t, a while longer wouldn’t matter either.

  Marvin climbed down, started toward Vincent’s boat. A few yards into the street, he stopped. Hell, he’d better get her out. She could blow the whole set-up. Toshio wanted Ito.

  He ran back and climbed in the window. Inside, his light gleamed off M-16s, AK-47s, and light machine guns in open cartons. Damn, were those copies or military issue? He poked through more cartons. How was Ito getting those?

  Groaning interrupted him. He followed the sounds to a bolted door in the back of the warehouse. Sliding back the bolt, he saw Amelia slumped against a wall. She seemed half-conscious.

  “Wake up.” He patted her cheeks. “Wake up.”

  She opened her eyes, saw his Japanese face, and covered her head with her arms. “Don’t hurt me again.”

  He held her arms. “Hold still. We’re getting out of here.” Pulling her up, he steadied her. “Come on, grab my hand.” The force of his grip propelled her through the door. Marvin pulled Amelia toward one of the trucks. “Here, get in the cab. I’ll be right back.”

  He ran back into the storeroom and found an ammunition box, then wiped the grease off two AK-47s and two M-16s. A few minutes later, Marvin laid the four loaded weapons and extra ammunition in the back of the truck. He ducked his head under the dash and started to hot-wire the vehicle.

  Amelia sat on the edge of the seat, looked at Marvin and looked out the windshield. “Hurry!” She kept wiping her hands on her skirt.

  Marvin, forehead sweating, glanced up at her. “It takes a while.” He worked the wires.

  “I heard something.” Amelia’s eyes widened. “The stairs!”

  Marvin twisted the wires together. The engine finally caught. He revved the motor, popped the clutch. The truck shot forward, burst through the big doors.

  Harry and his men charged down the stairs, jumped into the other truck, and roared onto the street.

  Marvin glanced into the rearview mirror. “Duck!” He pushed Amelia’s shoulder.

  Automatic weapon fire cracked after them. Marvin zigzagged down the street scattering anyone in his way.

  Vincent had just turned a corner onto the dock area when Marvin’s truck came screaming at him. He drew back against a wall, but bolted out when he saw Amelia in the cab. He leaped onto the right running board, gripped the side mirror.

  “Vincent!” Amelia rolled down her window.

  He took a better hold. “What’re you guys doing?”

  “The VC had her,” Marvin said. “They’re running guns.”

  “You’re the guy from the bar—saved my life.”

  “Yeah, Marvin Yamaguchi—Toshio’s son.”

  “Well, I’ll be.” Vincent stuck his head inside the cab. “Get to my boat!” A bullet whizzed past Vincent, pinged off the right front fender. “Move this thing!”

  Amelia squeezed his shoulders. His open mouth pressed on her smooth neck. His breath came fast, hot. She trembled. Was it the danger? Or was it the wetness on her neck? The truck whirled around a corner. Amelia and Vincent banged heads. He pulled back, gazed into her blazing dark eyes.

  “I put weapons in the back.” Marvin pointed.

  Vincent saw the guns. “My boat’s right here.”

  Marvin slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded to the left, almost off the wharf before it stopped. Amelia braced her hands on the dash. Vincent flew off the running board.

  Marvin hopped out, rushed to Vincent. “You okay?”

  Vincent shook his head, flexed his legs. “Yeah, just getting a little old for this.”

  “You and Amelia grab a gun, get aboard. I’ll take care of our friends.” Marvin leaped into the truck bed, handed Vincent two M-16s, picked up an AK-47 assault rifle. “Go!”

  Vincent grabbed extra ammo, motioned Amelia on, and ran to his boat.

  Marvin aimed at the fast-closing truck, fired several rounds at the center of its windshield. Glass splattered over the truck’s hood. The truck veered left into one of the moored boats. Two men scrambled out of the cab and took cover behind the wreckage. Marvin let go again, sprayed the whole area with fire.

  Vincent and Amelia, on deck, looked back at Marvin.

  “What about him?” Amelia touched Vincent’s arm.

  “He stays.” Vincent pointed. “Pull those lines.” He rushed to the cockpit, started the engines.

  Amelia cast off the lines, stood behind him. “Where’re we going?”

  Vincent glanced at the flashes of light on the wharf, then turned to her. “My island.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Vincent checked the oil pressure, engaged the clutch, and opened the throttle to three-quarters speed. Coast Guard better be busy elsewhere. Gotta move it.

  Amelia stared back at the gunfire surrounding Marvin. We should’ve stayed, helped him. Vincent was cold, just left him. What kind of man was he?

  Their wake rocked moored vessels when they passed through the harbor. Vincent scanned port and starboard for patrol boats. Near the harbor’s mouth, he opened full throttle, glanced back once more, and headed north.

  An hour in open sea, the wind picked up. Vincent motioned to Amelia. “Take the wheel. Just hold it steady.” He saw she was hesitant. “I know you’re hurt, but you can handle it.”

  She rubbed her bruises. “I’ll try. Head it straight into the wind?”

  “No, a little starboard—to the right. I’ll make sail.” He hoisted the canvas, trimmed the sails. The masts pierced the star-marked sky, full sails drawing in the night. He came back to the cockpit, took the wheel from Amelia, and cut the engines. The boat thrust through the waves.

  Vincent steered upwind; wind spilled from the sails, luffing briefly. He turned the wheel over to Amelia. “Steady, steady.” He released the jib. The boat headed into the wind. Now, wind blew across the deck from the port side. The sails filled. He took the jib in; the boat came about to port tack.

  Vincent checked for any boats following them, then took the wheel. Amelia stood near him, her long, black hair tousled in the wind. He saw she was still in pain. But they were out of danger, for now, racing to his island. Seemed more than a few weeks since they met. All happened so fast. Such an intriguing, beautiful woman. His eyes lingered on her.

  Amelia caught his gaze, saw longing and uncertainty in his eyes. She cracked a little smile and turned away. Was he really that cold guy who left Marvin fighting alone on the docks?

  Vincent gripped the wheel tighter and stared into the darkness ahead, letting his mind wander... .

  The wind had died. Their boat had barely cut through smooth waters. Vincent stood behind Amelia near the railing on the foredeck. He placed a hand on top of hers and slowly caressed it over the polished teak rail. A carnal twinge moved through his lower body. She turned, lifted her face. The night was darkest now, but he made out her fine features, felt the heat of her gaze.

  He nudged her. She came closer; her small breasts touched his bare chest through her thin blouse. Hotter sensations charged through him. He wanted to open her blouse, press hard against her soft, naked bosom. But he held back, let the feeling linger. Couldn’t believe his restraint, after all that time alone. Amelia was more than special. If they made love, it would be slow.

  Amelia put her arms around his neck, lifted her eyes to his. She opened her lips, wet them with the tip of her tongue.

  He paused, took in her beauty. Then he skimmed her lips with his. Such softness, such wetness.

  Her body quivered to his touch. She raised on her toes, pressed her mouth closer. Her breasts nuzzled tight against hi
s chest. Her mouth opened wider.

  Vincent’s lips trembled. His hips moved against her. How could he hold back any longer?

  A sharp crack pierced the night air. He jerked backward. Amelia had slumped in his arms as blood poured from her neck... .

  A hand touched his shoulder. His whole body convulsed as if he awakened from the dead. A giant chill twisted his body.

  “You okay?” Amelia stood in the cockpit with him; a quizzical expression graced her face. “I didn’t know where you were.”

  Vincent wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I was there, a shot, blood—so real, so terrible.”

  “We’re real, you and I. And we’re here.” She smiled.

  “Right, but when does the real adventure begin?”

  She laughed. “Next week—you know, new chapter, new danger.”

  “Yeah, an old salt and the daughter of his dead buddy. Very intriguing. How did it get this far?” He touched his beard.

  Amelia folded her arms. “Because my friend put me onto you. So I find out he’s not my friend, but involved in gun-running.”

  “With the real bad guys.”

  “Sometimes it’s hard to tell who the bad guys are. And you, you’re more than just an old salt.”

  Vincent eyed her. “Well, you aren’t exactly what you seem either.”

  “And what do I seem?” She moved a little closer to him.

  “More than just a beautiful woman.” He wanted to touch her.

  Amelia lowered her eyes. “I would hope so.”

  “Intelligent—mysterious.” He breathed in the night air. “What else could a man want? Especially when you picked me out of the crowd at Jungle Wings.”

  Her head snapped up. “You knew I did that?”

  “Fairly obvious, wasn’t it?”

  “Guess so, now that I think about it.” She moved backward. “Harry said you like my type.”

  “How would he know?”