Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

He swallowed hard. On the way out, Alanna murmured under her breath. “I’ll see you in a bit, no matter what.”

  A moment later, Flynn stood in the wheelhouse, nothing but dark outside the windows. A few flashes of lightning lit the sky, briefly revealing the rough seas beyond the cove in which the yacht was nestled. The rain had lessened, as had the wind, now merely a consistent breeze instead of ripping through the treetops on the island.

  The captain plopped in his cushioned seat at the helm and wiped his brow. The only sign of fatigue Flynn had seen him show.

  “You’ve put me in a serious dilemma, sailor.” Chen’s voice turned vicious. “I’d slap handcuffs on you myself and kick you off this ship into the hands of the authorities if I were in any other situation.”

  Flynn’s eyes narrowed, curious to know his interpretation of a serious situation, but he kept silent.

  “The clients are to be escorted to shore and taken to the nearest international airport,” Chen continued, sounding more irritated with every word. “We’re arranging their flights to Singapore, as the Penny Saved is no longer able to complete the voyage.”

  “Sir?”

  Chen chewed on something, clearly having a hard time admitting the next sentence: “Unless you’re able to fix the equipment that the lightning strike just electrocuted.”

  Flynn blinked. “The radios?”

  “From what I can tell, some of the electrical systems, a few lights, and the air conditioner.”

  Flynn hissed to himself. That’s a lot of work. “Any hull damage?”

  Chen shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. It wasn’t a direct hit, but close enough to disable us. If you can repair the equipment and get us underway, I’ll forget this incident with Stacia and not turn you into the authorities for assault.”

  Flynn bit the inside of his cheek. Blackmailed into servitude. “And if I can’t?”

  “Then I’ll call a tow. Liang Wen will take you to shore and drop you at the local police station.”

  “No,” he replied curtly.

  Chen’s eyes widened. Flynn didn’t stop there.

  “When I fix the equipment, you take us the rest of the way to Singapore immediately. Without the clients. No side stops. Direct route only.”

  The captain’s face darkened. “You’re holding this ship hostage?”

  “No more than you’re doing to me.”

  “One day. Get the ship working in the next twenty-four hours, or the deal is off.”

  THE DARK NIGHT FADED INTO a pale-yellow sunrise peeking through the receding clouds. The waters sloshed under the yacht, settling down from the angry winds as Alanna dumped yet another dustbin of debris into a trash bag. The fallout from Flynn’s redecorating. Her arms ached and her skin flushed through her humidity-dampened clothes.

  Overnight, Flynn had returned to the cabin only briefly to change his shirt and shorts before he disappeared into the engine room. But not before he’d explained the deal he made with Captain Chen, and then kissed her. Thoroughly.

  Everyone on board was weary, overworked, and tense. Every window was open to air out the putrefied atmosphere. Marcus and Jaime reset the furniture from the storm, while Alfred cooked breakfast, among every available fan connected to a generator so he could breathe. But nothing was more fowl than Liang’s fuming hatred toward Flynn for not having been fired. The only pleasant factor about today was the lack of clients. No more scorpion.

  As Alanna wiped the sweat from her temple, Marie opened the patio door from the sky lounge. The chief stew was covered in sweat. She took a deep breath in the open air with a weak smile.

  “Still better than waiting on those brats.”

  Alanna leaned on the broom and swallowed the dryness in her throat. “Any word from Flynn?”

  Marie stepped over to the railing, guzzling a bottle of water. “He’s still tinkering away. Been at it for hours. I don’t know how he can work down there in that swarm.”

  With enough motivation, one can survive anything just to move forward.

  “I’ll bring him more water to keep him hydrated,” Alanna remarked.

  A glimmer of worry flashed across Marie’s face.

  “Are you all right?” Alanna asked.

  Marie nodded, followed by a swig of water.

  Marcus turned the corner, a rag in one hand and bottle of cleaner in the other, his forehead creased. “How you two holding up?”

  “Managing,” Marie replied.

  Marcus’s eyebrows rose. “You need to tell her.”

  “Now’s not the time,” Marie replied.

  “What’s going on?” Alanna broke in.

  Both gave her a wary look that made the dark pit open up in her stomach again. What now?

  Marcus looked around, as though checking to see if anyone else was near. “When we dropped the clients off at the airport, Solana was on the news.”

  “Marcus!” Marie spat through a whisper.

  Alanna’s heart jumped into her throat.

  “She needs to know,” Marcus hissed.

  “Why did you keep things from me?” Alanna barked at Marie.

  The chief stew bit her lip. “I didn’t want you to worry more. There’s nothing you can do from here.”

  Alanna tried desperately to inhale through the broiling fury in her gut. More people keeping things from me just to keep me ‘safe.’ I’m sick of this.

  She held up her hand to stop Marie’s excuse. “Marcus, what did you see?”

  When he hesitated, she restrained the urge to howl at him, but she stared him down. She needed to know, no matter what.

  “Reports are sketchy, but they say around eighty people are dead and this Bendetto guy has control of the palace, the ammephire mines, and the marina. Apparently, some of the military is fighting back against the terrorists, all being led by an Army general. But…they found the prime minister. His body was mutilated. Dumped him in front of the Royal Square.”

  Alanna closed her eyes. Dios le de paz. Give him peace. She didn’t know Prime Minister Masters very well, but her father had liked him. He’d always been nice to her at palace functions, and had even endorsed the project she worked on at the hospital expanding the pediatric wing.

  “What about the UN? Are they going to intervene?”

  Marcus shook his head. “Delayed. Again.”

  Alanna wanted to scream, but she swallowed it. “Did they say anything about my brother?”

  His lips flattened.

  “Tell me,” Alanna sighed.

  “No one has seen or heard from Prince André in almost a week. He was last spotted in Vegas, being escorted out of a hotel by his security staff.”

  Alanna took a deep breath. No change there. At least not yet.

  “What do you want us to do, Lanna?” Marie asked quietly.

  The princess looked her straight in the eyes. “First, never withhold information from me. I need to know everything, no matter how devastating. Understand?”

  They nodded.

  Alanna continued. “Do whatever it takes to help Flynn fix this yacht. I have to get to a U.S. Consulate.”

  Marcus’ brow furrowed. “There was one in Manila. Why didn’t you go there?”

  When Alanna told them what had happened with the customs agent and Lozano, their faces blanched. Marcus shook his head.

  “I knew Flynn didn’t kill that agent. He’s not the type.”

  Alanna warmed inside. She’d felt the same way the first time she saw her savior. He was someone you could trust. “Thank you for not turning us in in Puerta Princesa. There are so many people in Lozano’s pocket. I have no idea how far his reach goes.”

  “Well, one thing’s certain,” Marie chimed in, confidence bolstering her voice. “His hands don’t reach this boat.”

  “Get to work.” Liang Wen’s voice boomed from below. Alanna peered over the railing and saw the first officer glaring up at them from the lazarette on the lower deck.

  Mierde. How much did he hear?

  Marie and Mar
cus flashed each other a look.

  “Slave driver,” Marcus muttered.

  “PLEASE LET THIS WORK.”

  Flynn inhaled the engine room’s sweltering air and pressed a button for the tenth time. The lights across the electrical panel he’d been working on the last six hours still glared an angry red.

  “Yeah, I don’t like you either.”

  Which meant the problem had to be between the switch and alternate power supply. The dreaded UPS. Which was behind the wall somewhere. He turned to find the right panel to remove, but then the room spun. He braced himself against a pipe to stay upright.

  Crap. Forgot to drink water. Dehydration was so inconvenient. He had to repair this boat and get Alanna to Singapore.

  Panting, he propped his hand on the wall and let the surge of discomfort pass. It wasn’t the first time he’d been so absorbed in a task and the clock got away from him. He grabbed the bottle of water Alanna had brought him earlier and downed the last few gulps. It was hot, barely refreshing, but it would keep him going.

  Alanna had periodically come down with water bottles, and eventually another fan, though it had only succeeded in circulating stagnant, filthy air. But seeing her every few hours brought him back to reality. Reminded him of the goal. How time squeezed in on them.

  When the nausea settled, he searched for the switch. It could only be in one section of the room.

  He grabbed a screwdriver from the toolbox and unscrewed a wall panel. He tugged on a part, but the bottom corner was caught on something. A luggage strap?

  A black strap of fabric hooked on the panel’s bottom screw, the fabric similar to a duffle bag.

  Below the floor?

  Flynn pulled on it, but it didn’t budge. He knelt and tried to peek under the flooring, but there wasn’t enough space. He unscrewed the panel the rest of the way.

  Not one black duffel bag. Four. Stuck between the pipes and metal railings like insulation batting. A makeshift smuggler’s rig.

  What the hell?

  He unzipped one of them. Beneath a layer of burlap and more fabric were at least a dozen automatic rifles and assault weapons.

  “Shit.”

  He unzipped the others, the contents the same as the first. All weapons were illegal in most countries. At least in the ones on their itinerary. There was no way any government official would believe these were for personal protection.

  “What are you doing?”

  Flynn spun on his heel. Liang Wen’s expression was unreadable, but he carried a radio in one hand and what looked like a Swiss army knife in the other.

  Flynn palmed the screwdriver and stood, his gut signaling to defend himself.

  He turned to the first officer, keeping his expression purposely impassive. The slight dizziness from dehydration was a little harder to ignore than he liked.

  “What the hell are those?” Liang’s voice was low. Accusatory.

  Oh shit. He thinks these are mine.

  “I was looking for the alternate power supply to test the system. Someone stashed these down here.”

  “Are you smuggling weapons on this ship?” The first officer gripped the Swiss Army knife, his knuckles white.

  “If I was, this would hardly be the place to do it.”

  Something flickered across Liang’s face, and then he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. Flynn turned to his side, gripping the screwdriver behind him. No one on this boat was safe any more.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning or who you’re working for,” Liang murmured. “Right now, our job is to fix this boat and get to port. We’ll figure all this out later.”

  “These aren’t mine,” Flynn barked.

  “I don’t care!” Liang spat, but then lowered his voice. “Just cover them up. Get the ship running, or I’ll call the authorities and they’ll deal with you.”

  “Cover them up? You must be joking.”

  “Do you want to spend the next thirty years in prison?”

  What?

  “That’s what they do to gun smugglers here.” The first officer slipped the knife in his pocket and wiped his brow. He opened the door, but waited at the entrance. “Shall I take you to shore now, or would you prefer to fix the boat and go to Singapore?”

  Flynn trudged to the bridge. Drenched in sweat and apprehension, he stopped outside the doorway. His nerves double-timed, hearing the captain’s exchange with the first officer in Mandarin. No way for him to understand it.

  It’s do or die.

  He braced himself for the onslaught, and turned the corner. The men stopped, their expressions inscrutable. Then again, Flynn had never been good at reading other people’s emotions.

  “I see you fixed the air conditioning,” the captain started. “Good work.”

  Flynn glanced at Liang Wen. They stood there looking at each other longer than Flynn was comfortable. Sweat trickled down his temple. He needed to find out how much the captain knew. How much Liang may have told him already. And what had happened to Alanna.

  “Check the nav system. Should be working now.”

  Chen turned and pressed several buttons. A minute or two later, he nodded. “It is.”

  Liang never took his eyes off Flynn.

  “Then all systems are functioning, per your demands.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  The entire bridge held its breath, or at least that’s what it felt like to Flynn. Waiting for someone to flinch or blink. Which of these men was the smuggler? Or were they both in on it?

  “Our bargain?” Flynn asked the captain.

  Chen’s jaw twitched. A long moment later, he spoke. “Liang, weigh anchor. We need to make up some time.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “I assume you’re exhausted,” the captain directed to Flynn. “Eat something and then retire to your cabin until next shift.”

  Retire. Sounds like he’s imprisoning me. “I’ll enjoy the outside air for a while first.”

  “Suit yourself.” The captain turned to the navigation board.

  Liang Wen made his way out of the bridge, Flynn followed. When clear of the wheelhouse, he grabbed Liang’s arm.

  The Asian spun and ripped his elbow free, eyes wild. “What?”

  “Where’s Alanna?”

  “Why should I let you have any contact with your accomplice?”

  Flynn’s eyes narrowed. “She and I have nothing to do with that load below deck. For all I know, it’s you or the captain. Either way, you will not touch her.”

  “If it is the captain smuggling those guns, then you better keep silent until we make port. For everyone’s sake.”

  Flynn grabbed the first officer’s arm again, a stitch on his sleeve ripping. “Where’s Alanna?”

  Liang wrenched himself free again. “Having lunch with the rest of the crew. Top deck.”

  “HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK he heard?” Marie asked over the lunch table outside the sky lounge. Marcus shrugged a shoulder and guzzled water, keeping his eyes on Alanna. All of them were worried about Liang. What he knew, whether he’d inform the captain, or if he’d shove Flynn into the police’s hands at the end of the day. Well, that was Alanna’s worry.

  Jaime cleared his throat. “Crazy beast or not, I hope Flynn can restore this floating pile of fiberglass.” His Castilian accent was as thick as his neck. “I’m starting to hate this cove. The mosquitos have enjoyed this traveling buffet for too long.”

  She scowled at him. “Don’t call him that.”

  Alfred elbowed him in the arm. “Stop eating all the sweets on board, and they won’t be so hungry for Crème-de-la-Jaime.”

  Alanna shuffled the broccoli florets around her plate. She hadn’t taken a single bite of the lunch Alfred made for everyone using the remaining contents of the fridge before they spoiled.

  “It’ll be all right, Lanna,” Alfred began, his eyes soft. “We’ll get you there, one way or anotha’.”

  Alanna smiled weakly. The chef leaned forward and held her hand, the casual
gesture from a civilian unfamiliar, yet comforting. Friendships had been rare in her personal life, protection her parents’ primary concern.

  “If the captain doesn’t keep his word,” Alfred pressed on. “I’ll jump ship with the both of you. I won’t work for someone who reneges on promises. We’ll use my passport to hire someone to take us the rest of the way. We’ll get you home.”

  Marcus nodded, as did Marie. Their show of support was touching, but she hoped it didn’t come to that. She’d endangered enough people’s lives.

  Jaime folded his arms across his chest. He stared long and hard at Alanna. “Say your brute boyfriend fixes this boat, and God willing, the air conditioner, and we make it to Singapore. What happens then?”

  Alanna ignored the second insult from him. “I go to the American Consulate, and urge the UN to intervene at Solana.”

  Jaime shook his head. “No, after that. What happens to us?”

  The princess tilted her head. Where is he going with this?

  A bread roll whizzed in front of Alanna’s face and smacked Jaime square in the overgrown nose. “You wanker,” Marie hissed. She followed it with pieces of broccoli at his forehead and continued, “Your personal motto should be tattooed across your forehead, What’s In It For Me?”

  “Para!” Jaime dodged a broccoli floret, and then caught the next one, sling-shotting it at her.

  Alanna shook her head and put down her fork. Everywhere I go, it’s about leverage. Leaning back in her seat, she placed her arms on the table in much the same manner her father used in negotiations. “Jaime, do you know what you get out of this?”

  The whole table silenced. Jaime cocked his head.

  “Whatever you want,” she answered simply.

  His eyebrows almost hit his pointed hairline. “Whatever I want?”

  She nodded. “You can choose to do whatever you want. As far as what you’ll receive from me? Not a damn thing.”

  His lips firmed into a straight line.

  “Because you forced the question,” she pressed on. “Because you tried to force my hand.”

  “Then why should I bother helping you?” His voice scraped along her skin like a pumice stone.