Blood of His Fathers (Sinners and Saints)

by Michelle Chambers

  “Okay. Slowly and don’t hold my breath,” Drew repeated. He was truly nervous now. He went in search of Jason at the other side of the boat.

  “Talk to Nick?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah, he seems to know his stuff. This is some boat.”

  “He’s the only one aboard that can recognize the magnetic aura of a ship on a piece of paper.”

  There was a slight pause, and Drew turned his gaze out to sea. “Beautiful,” he murmured with a hint of awe.

  “Scared?”

  “Terrified.”

  Jason chuckled. “Once you’re underwater you’ll forget your fear. Just breathe normally and try not to panic.”

  “I know.” Drew turned back to Jason. “Have you been diving long?”

  “All my life. My—father taught me. You wouldn’t think so now, but as a child we were incredibly close to him,” he added. “We did so much together. He taught me all that I know—diving, fishing, business. He’s one dynamic businessman.”

  “Sounds like you still admire him. It must be hard going against your father like this,” Drew stated.

  “He’s my father, but I stopped sharing his views, which has made me his rival since my early twenties,” Jason replied quietly. “I didn’t know what I know now, but it must have been extremely difficult for my mother to deal with a demanding husband and an equally recalcitrant son.”

  “Why did she kill herself?”

  Jason glanced sharply at Drew and released a deep breath. “She wanted to spare me.”

  “From what?”

  “Is that the policeman asking, Detective Inspector?”

  Drew shrugged. He probably deserved that.

  “Let’s say, my mother had a conscience,” Jason added. “As do I.”

  “And your conscience allowed you to sell weapons, Mr. McCormack?”

  “Touché,” Jason returned. “Eva could be quite persuasive.”

  “How did you two meet—as a matter of interest?”

  “At a party my father threw after the conservative victory in eighty-seven. He was a staunch Thatcherite.”

  “Which explains his defection to the BNP,” Drew remarked wryly. “You must have been—what? Eighteen?”

  “Seventeen,” Jason returned. “We married in nineteen ninety so I was hardly wet behind the ears,” he quipped.

  Drew gave a short laugh. “Neither was I. I guess we’re not so very different as I’d first thought,” he said. He shifted uncomfortably as his remark fell unguarded into a notable and tense silence. “I’m sorry I kissed, Jess. If it’s any consolation she felt very guilty about it.”

  “She kissed you back?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what happened to make her come out here in the first place, but I think she wanted to prove to herself she didn’t love you. It didn’t work.” Drew held out a hand. “No hard feelings.”

  Jason took the offered hand in his after the slightest hesitation. They would never be firm friends, but there was the beginning of a mutual respect and that was a good start.

  “No hard feelings. Find out anything of use at the bank?” Jason asked, dispelling the awkwardness between them.

  “Account numbers, from January nineteen ninety-one to November nineteen ninety-two, linked to various banks across the world and redirected to accounts in Eastern Europe, but no names. I’ve faxed the list to Colin—”

  “Colin?”

  “My Detective Sergeant at New Scotland Yard. Hopefully he’ll have a list of names behind the accounts by the time I get back to England.”

  “How long to the dive site?”

  “In this old thing? Another hour or two.”

  Drew settled in one corner of the boat and closed his eyes.

  “Wake me when we get there.”

  “Sure.”

  In fact Drew didn’t need Jason’s wake up call.

  “We’re approaching the search area,” Nick shouted.

  Drew shook off his sleep and hurried to where Jason stood checking equipment. The boat slowed and Jason moved to where the sonar lay positioned.

  “Give me a hand,” he said to Drew.

  Together they lowered the sonar and a magnetometer into the water.

  “Ready, Nick!” Jason called.

  The boat began a steady procession back and forth across the search site. Read out after read out from the sonar signals were studied and compared to magnetic printouts. Nick continuously confirmed old and known wreck sites. Precious time passed before it happened, a sudden increased scratching of pointer on paper registering data from the magnetometer. Nick charted the boat’s position.

  “Well?” Jason asked hopefully.

  “According to the map there are no known wrecks in this area.”

  “Could it be the Lady Helen?” Drew asked.

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “Wait,” Nick called out as Jason shrugged impatiently into his diving gear.

  Drew lost no time in following Jason’s lead.

  “We have to analyze the complete data,” Nick agued.

  “She’s there, Nick. I can feel it.”

  “Maybe…maybe not, but we don’t even know how deep it is.”

  “We’ve set the dive parameters for a hundred and fifty feet, right? I know better than to dive beyond that. I have to check this out, Nick. Now. Before we lose any more light.”

  Drew lost no time in following Jason’s lead.

  “Jason,” Nick tried again. “What will I tell Jess if anything happens to you?”

  Jason slipped beneath the water’s glassy surface.

  * * * *

  Drew was in complete awe of the underwater scene that greeted him. Jason signaled him. He signaled back. He was all right, although adrenaline raged through his veins at panic-inducing levels and his heart quaked violently against his ribs.

  Breathe normally. Don’t panic.

  He overrode the adrenaline rush and followed Jason down into the huge reef. From the surface it’d seemed less daunting with the sun shooting arrows of light through the smooth water.

  Seventy, eighty, ninety feet.

  They continued their descent into the shadowy, cold depths of the reef. Their lights illuminated the breathtaking architecture of the jagged structure where life clung beneath a wall of rock shelves and hid within the cracks and the crevices. Anonymity had been kind to the reef and Drew couldn’t contain his admiration of all he saw.

  Tiny creatures poked out from holes within the structure, hunting for edible items within darting reach before disappearing again. There were creatures in numbers and diversity he could never have imagined and fish of all descriptions and sizes. It was almost hallucinatory. He was excited, frightened and overwhelmed by the vastness of the entity surrounding him. They descended further.

  One hundred, one hundred and ten, one hundred and twenty feet.

  The reef became almost eerie in its quietness and fearsome in the hidden depths it plummeted.

  Breathe normally. Don’t panic.

  Just ahead, Jason signaled for him to swim closer. He hovered on the edge of an underwater abyss. Drew followed the path of Jason’s powerful spotlight and directed his light down into the terrifying canyon of coral. Excitement filled him as he saw the wrecked hull of a ship cradled in a cavernous opening. It was covered in silt and sea creatures. His excitement spilled over and he gave Jason a thumb’s up.

  There were a lot of fish here—grouper of every type, color and variation. Yellowtail snapper and creole wrasse darted about in an indigo-colored frenzy before quickly departing once their curiosity was sated. Silver tarpon passed regally by, their implacable eyes showing neither interest nor alarm and green moray eels slid partway out of their crevice homes.

  But they needed to get down there, beyond the dark water where their spotlights barely broke the surface.

  Three reef sharks loomed toward them from the shadowed depths. Both Jason and Drew remained perfectly still—one due to experience and the other due to frigh
t. But the sharks continued their ascent, having appraised and dismissed them both as worthy of neither fearing nor eating.

  Jason motioned upward.

  It took them a little more than five minutes to return to the surface.

  “We need to go again with more divers, more lamps and cameras,” Jason said once they’d scrambled aboard the boat.

  “Well, is it the Lady Helen?” Nick asked.

  “There’s a ship down there. We saw the hull, but it’s sunk too deep to determine more than that.”

  “How deep?”

  “At least another five stories.”

  Jason peered at Drew. “It’s difficult enough for experienced divers going to those depths—”

  Drew chuckled, raising a hand. “I’m all right with that.”

  Jason shrugged off his wet suit.

  “Simon’s in Florida. Maybe he can bring a couple of divers along,” Nick said.

  “I know. Adam too. I’ll make the calls. See if we can’t dive again tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  Jason awoke to the sound of loud voices calling out for permission to board. He looked over to Drew and Nick slouched across the couch in the small cabin. They’d decided to spend the night on the Atlantis instead of going back to the hotel. Something neither of them will do again. Drew stirred.

  “Is everyone here?” Nick said without opening his eyes.

  “Sounds like it,” Jason answered. He got to his feet and rubbed a hand down his face.

  The voices called again.

  “I’d better call us in and ask for clearance then,” Nick added. He still didn’t move.

  Jason chuckled and left the room. He made his way portside and leaned over the railing, looking at the group of divers gathered on the wharf.

  “Hey, Simon,” he called.

  “Jason!”

  “Come aboard.”

  There followed a chorus of “hellos” and “woo hoos” as the group edged toward the gangplank.

  Jason greeted his friend with a firm handshake as he stepped onto the boat. “Thanks for coming, Simon,” he said.

  “No problem. Where’s Nick?”

  “In the wheelhouse.”

  Simon moved to one side. “You remember Roger and Eileen,” he said. He gestured to the man and woman behind him.

  “I hear you’re married now, Jason,” Eileen said, reaching to kiss his cheek. “Congratulations. Where is she?”

  Drew had joined them and Jason caught his eye.

  “She won’t be here for another few days,” he said. “This is Drew,” he said, extricating himself from Eileen’s embrace.

  Eileen turned to greet Drew while Jason shook Roger’s hand.

  “Roger, good to see you.”

  “And you, Jason. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “She’s too good for him,” a voice chipped in.

  “Adam,” Jason said, catching the man to him in a firm hug.

  “Starting your honeymoon alone?” another voice piped in.

  “Either that, “Adam laughed, “or she has divorced him already.”

  Jason chuckled. “You wish.”

  He reached his hand to the other man who’d spoken. “Charlie.”

  “This is Maddy,” Charlie said, introducing a small dark-haired woman next to him.

  Jason smiled and offered a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  He led the way onto the deck. The motor started. They were on their way.

  Charlie, Simon, Adam and Roger made their way to the wheelhouse, quickly followed by Eileen and Maddy.

  They ate and chatted excitedly about the Lady Helen. No one cared that there wasn’t treasure to be had. A new find and the thrill of the dive made this trip more than worthwhile.

  “We’ll be diving to one hundred and seventy feet,” Jason said, answering Eileen question. “It’s lodged in a Blue Hole. Drew and I barely managed to see the hull yesterday.”

  “What about you, Drew? Are you diving with us?” Simon asked.

  “Not this trip,” Drew replied. “One hundred and twenty feet is my limit.”

  Nick’s voice interrupted their enthusiastic exchange.

  The Atlantis neared the dive site.

  The group readied themselves putting on wet suits and buoyancy compensators, and checking equipment—compasses, dive computers and dive lights. It was agreed Jason would carry the underwater camera.

  “No longer than twenty-five minutes for the dive,” Jason said. “And decompression stops. Thirty feet per minute with a safety stop of five minutes at twenty feet. Agreed.”

  Everyone nodded before falling one by one from the boat into the water.

  They swam down the anchor line to a depth of one hundred feet, and then down another twenty feet to the edge of the abyss.

  Jason motioned to the others to follow, and went into a five-story freefall, spiraling down into the haunting darkness below. Powerful dive lights illuminated his way, pushing back the shadows until all that was left was the ghostly shape of a long-lost galleon.

  Jason took pictures. Lots of pictures. Of the ship, his friends and their euphoria. They swam below the decks, checking every inch of the vessel. And although the major cargo had gone they did find a few items to take back to the surface-goblets and bowls and a musket. An indication the galleon had been shipping something of importance, although there was nothing to prove that she was the Lady Helen.

  Jason motioned upward and received six thumbs up. He led the way. Then stopped. He took a photo of the wall of coral. He signaled to Adam to shine his light on the reef. He took another photo and then swam forward, dislodging the hand he’d spotted wedged on a jagged ledge.

  * * * *

  Jess sat with Milly on the old porch in front of the house in the half-light of evening. It felt good to be outside, to feel the sea breeze on her face after two days of being cooped up in her small, cramped room, although she wanted for nothing. Milly saw to that. She gingerly lifted her left arm, testing its movement. Her shoulder was still a little stiff, but the wound on her chest was healing well.

  There was a slight chill in the air, yet she didn’t mind. She was just grateful to be alive. She took a deep breath and another sip of the sweet, pink healing tea Milly had prepared. And as with so many other sights, sounds and smells surrounding her it triggered her memories.

  For two days she’d lain in bed confronted by her new memories and mourning the faces of people she would never see again.

  She remembered her grandmother sitting in front of the small shop she’d owned by the sea. Although it’d been more than a shop—it’d been a meeting place where friends gathered to play dominoes in a backroom, a hairdresser’s where she’d watched her grandmother cut and style hair while food simmered for hours at a time on a white old stove.

  There was laughter in that little shop, and love and warmth the likes of which she’d never found again. There’d been Zip who’d brought her grandmother fish every morning and never left without buying a soda or exchanging a friendly word. And there’d been the man who’d told her to follow the moonlight.

  She couldn’t picture him very well, but she remembered feeling incredibly safe in his presence. Happy and carefree. She recalled how they’d once played all day on the beach and as evening descended with a shimmering light, they’d gone in search of the Brassilita.

  “T’is the magic hour,” he’d said in a mysterious tone. “And only in the magic hour can we find the special Brassilita the fairies use to make their tea. Follow the moonlight,” he’d told her.

  Jess smiled remembering the soft lilt in a forgotten voice. They’d followed the moonlight, and just like magic its light had illuminated a small shrub hidden beneath the undergrowth. The leaves glistened with a red hue, beautiful and surreal as if indeed they had been sprinkled with fairy dust. But the secret of the tea he’d made hadn’t been in the leaves, but the bark of the shrub that turned the boiling water red like blood. And like two witches they’d gathered
about the small pot waiting for a taste of fairy tea.

  Red tea, hot and sweet. A drop of milk to turn it pink.

  “Brassilita,” Jess murmured, taking another sip of Milly’s brew.

  Milly’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Are you missing Jason?”

  Jess raised her eyes to Milly’s astute gaze and her sadness returned. The last time she’d seen Jason’s face was the moment before she got shot. He’d been about to kiss her. Jess sighed. It wasn’t Jason’s fault. He would’ve prevented her being shot if he could. She’d heard his voice calling to her in the darkness asking forgiveness, blaming himself for not protecting her. It was unfair of her, unreasonable and totally unjustified, yet she couldn’t help it. She blamed him too. Jess dropped her gaze. She couldn’t find the words to speak.

  “You need time to heal, Jessica. I understand that,” Milly said. “But don’t forget Jason loves you.”

  Jess closed her eyes. Sometimes love wasn’t enough.

  That night the click of a gun and the ricochet of a bullet haunted her dreams. The cold shadow of nothingness threatened to pull her into its maw and she woke clasping the bed sheet and gasping for air. She glanced at the clock on the wall—four o’clock—and then out the meshed window at the iridescent blue-black sky.

  She swung her legs from the bed and reached for the cardigan Milly had set aside for her. She slipped her right arm through the sleeve, leaving her left arm free, pulling the garment across her shoulders over the too large T-shirt and loose-fitting pants that she’d also borrowed from Milly.

  She pushed back the faded green curtain separating the small bedroom from the main living area and, taking care not to make a sound, crept toward the front door. The stiff wood resisted her initial efforts, but finally squeaked open. She pulled the door to and headed toward the well-trodden path leading down to the beach.

  The crashing sound of the sea echoed through the nocturnal silence. It was intense and eerie and strangely peaceful. She reached the beach and sat down between two tall palm trees.

  For so long she’d kept a part of herself locked away, pain and denial erasing memories of a time she’d once cherished. A time that had been full of love. But the past had resurfaced offering her an insight into the woman she’d become.