HIGH TIDE

by Miller, Maureen A.

  “Moku Land Inc. may I direct your call?”

  “Lena, is Kathy there?”

  “Kathy? Umm, let me check.” The ukulele sounded distorted through the bad connection.

  “Hello?”

  “They have Briana!”

  “Naoki? What do you mean they have Briana?” Kathy’s voice rose, making her sound like a teenager.

  “It was, it was—” Naoki sighed and hanged his head. With glum finality he uttered, “It was Joy.”

  “Joy? You’re not making any sense, Naoki. Where are you?”

  “At the pier. Listen, can you get a number for Nick McCord? Call the University or something. I know he may be out on the water, but maybe they have a way to contact him.”

  The desperation in his voice spurred Kathy’s fingers into life across the keyboard. She spoke through the mouthpiece as she tucked the phone between her shoulder and chin. “Have you called the police?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Alright.”Reading into that bleak declaration, she took a deep breath. “Look, I’m going to find Nick, and I’ll be down to the pier in fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes? It takes a half hour to get here without traffic!”

  “It’s always the quiet ones who are hell on wheels.”

  If circumstances were different Naoki might have smiled at that. “Be careful, Kathy.”

  Soft, but urgent, she whispered, “You too.”

  For the umpteenth time he raised his arm and stared at his watch, cursing the second-hand that crept too slowly. Naoki came alert when he saw an impressive vessel chug into the bay. Even from this distance, the huge letters USGS were boldly visible on its side.

  Hypnotized by the sluggish approach of the behemoth boat, Naoki began to jog parallel to it along the shore. Aware that he was being watched by Brianna’s captors, he pondered a way to arrest the attention of who was hopefully Nick aboard this approaching USGS cutter.

  Naoki’s cell phone chimed in his pocket. He tore it out and dropped it in the sand. Stumbling to retrieve it, he cried out, “What?”

  “I found his mobile number online. Here it is.” Kathy rattled off the digits.

  Running and punching keys, Naoki barked into the connection before anyone even answered, “Mr. McCord! Nick!”

  ***

  “Alright, there’s the pier, and the Merryweather is still there.” Relief stole over Nick. “Anchor here and I’ll take the launch in.”

  Evidently they were finally in range of a cell tower because Nick’s phone was vibrating in his pocket.

  Briana.

  The thought of hearing her voice had him grinning like a lottery winner. God, I’m gone.

  The phone number was not one he recognized, though. He held it up to his ear to answer, but heard shouting on the other end. He listened and then charged out onto the deck, noticing the man in khaki shorts and a yellow polo shirt jogging along the beach.

  “Stop moving!” he shouted into the phone at the figure in the distance.

  His tone arrested Keo’s attention. Their eyes met and Nick nodded to drop the anchor...now, he mouthed.

  But he knew. Nick knew that the anxious message was about Briana. The realization clamped down on his chest like a pallet of bricks.

  “Okay.” He saw the young man hunched over as ragged breathing sounded through the phone. “Now, repeat that.”

  “They’re gone!” Naoki cried. “They have about a fifteen-minute head start,” he stuttered his defense. “I tried Nick, but she had a gun—”

  Sorting through the anxious bedlam, Nick strove for composure. Had he heard Naoki correctly?

  “Briana had a gun?”

  “Joy!” Naoki whined.

  “Joy?”

  “My girlfriend.” An aggravated hand flitted in the air.

  Totally baffled, Nick nodded at Keo who was lumbering back across the deck. “Get the launch ready.”

  One look at Nick’s face and Keo stopped in mid stride. He wiped the bottom of his huge aloha shirt against his face and turned back.

  “Now, start again, Naoki. What does your girlfriend have to do with Briana?”

  A squeal of tires was heard through the phone, and then Nick saw the spiral of dust as a green Volkswagen van braked halfway up the curb next to Naoki. Even from here Nick could hear the screech as the door swung open. A waif-like blonde emerged, crossing her arms with barely controlled patience.

  “Your girlfriend?” he asked into the phone.

  “No!” Naoki shouted, but reached for the blonde’s outstretched hands as she nearly collapsed into him.

  “That’s him,” Naoki stuttered to her. “That’s Nick out there on that boat. He-he’s on this phone.” He held the phone away from his face as if to authenticate it.

  “Oh, thank God that number worked.” The young woman cried. “I didn’t know what to do. I really wanted to call the police.”

  “You didn’t, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Okay,” Nick’s deep voice cut into the melee. It was arresting enough to cause Naoki to slap the cell phone back against his ear.

  “Listen to me,” Nick began. “Give me a twenty-second lowdown, and then tell me what direction they went.”

  Naoki stared out across the water.

  “Briana wanted to come here. She was worried about you.”

  The harsh ring of judgment carried through before he hurried on. “We were about to get out of the car when she saw the gun. It was Joy. She told me that if I called the cops I’d be seeing Briana’s body wash up on shore.”

  Jolting, Nick still battled the knowledge that Briana was here to find him—or in her mind—to save him.

  “They dragged Briana off to a motor boat, and that met up with a bigger vessel that was waiting a few hundred yards off shore.” Naoki paused and lifted his hand to point at a shadow on the horizon. “That one. It all happened so fast, and now it’s so far away.”

  Nick motioned to Keo and then tipped his head at the profile of a ship far off the starboard side. Keo gave a curt nod and hoisted up the launch before ambling into the cabin.

  If anything happened to Briana— No. He could not allow that thought to form. “And this Joy, she just let you go—let you just walk away?”

  Even from this distance he could see Naoki toy with his glasses. Dejected, Naoki muttered. “She said something about ‘old time’s sake.’”

  Glaring at that ominous contour in the distance, Nick had a pretty good idea of its destination. There was a zeal in the eyes of their captor last night. It was the biting hunger of greed. Nick was certain they would return to the site of their unfinished business, and if they happened to be caught, Briana was their trump card.

  Aware of the silence on the other end, Nick looked towards shore to see the couple standing side by side staring back at him. If they were waiting for a thumbs-up, it wasn’t coming. They sought him out as if he was a miracle worker. Hell, he was just a man. A man terrified over the safety of his woman.

  It was a struggle to achieve the confidence in his tone that they expected. “One hour,” he instructed. “Stay here. If Briana or myself have not contacted you within an hour—then you go to the police.”

  “But—”

  Nick’s upheld hand curtailed Naoki’s outburst. In the distance he saw their mutual nod of compliance.

  Without a backward glance, Nick turned and vaulted into the cabin, swinging his arm in an arc, prompting Keo to kick up the speed.

  Desperate, Nick gripped the console. They had to reach that vessel.

  They had to reach it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gripping a pair of binoculars, Nick leaned against the balustrade and cursed a horizon dotted by tourist crafts and hulking freighters—all obstacles in his quest to view their target.

  Briana.

  Tortured by images now seared in his mind, he saw her reclined against the pillows, one arm tossed carelessly above her head. A spill of golden hair fanned around her
like a sunburst. She smiled and reached for him, offering him a home in that tender refuge.

  Glare from the sun cast brilliant spokes across the rippled surface, each flash causing a momentary spell of blindness. He squinted against the assault and shifted the lenses to another patch of sea. Speckles of light marred his vision to the point he was sure it was an illusion, but he swore he detected the ship not far off their port side.

  In the subtle purr beneath his feet he felt the Inquiry swing its wide berth, and realized that Keo made the same observation from his perch on the bridge.

  Uttering a mantra of, “Come on, come on, come on,” Nick urged the cutter to move faster.

  How did I discount these pirates? How did I let Briana go this morning?

  Part of him wanted to berate Briana for being so reckless. Granted, there was no way he would have been able to rein her in today—or any other day for that fact. She was industrious, determined, sexy as hell, and she had worked her way into his heart. She had delved deep into his soul and not been seared by his scorn. She had survived the resentment. She had conquered it.

  He couldn’t lose her.

  “Keo! Can we catch them?”

  ***

  Secured on deck by a rope fastening her to the rail, Briana sat rigid atop a vinyl-padded bench and eyed the fizzing trail of their wake. She had made great strides with Nick last night in battling her fears, but now the angry spray was a familiar adversary. It pursued her, lying in wait, ready to stake its claim.

  So engrossed was she with the water, she barely acknowledged the activities of the crew as they geared up in their black diving suits. Joy approached, her lithe figure sheathed in black Neoprene. A snorkel and a mask dangled around her neck.

  “That’s right. You don’t like the water, do you?”

  Briana glared at the woman. Ignoring the bait, she returned her attention to the sea, trying to look beyond the shadowed depths, towards the horizon. For a moment she allowed herself refuge from anxiety by reminiscing about last night. In Nick’s embrace she harbored no fears.

  Here, I feel doomed.

  “You fascinate me. You come across as this powerful businesswoman, yet you’re afraid of something as innocent and beautiful as the ocean. Want to tell me why?”

  “Not particularly,” Briana mumbled, keeping a wary eye on the actions of Joy’s cohorts before she volleyed, “Want to tell me why you sent me that envelope?”

  “Well,” Joy drawled and tossed her lustrous mane.

  For a woman who had epitomized the portrayal of a recluse for Naoki and his family, Joy seemed to thrill in the limelight of her role as captor.

  Interrupting Joy’s fervor, however, was the sudden emergence of the Mexican Briana recognized from last night. Sinewy arms lugged an oxygen tank, but he paused in mid-task to frown at her. Beneath damp bangs loomed a fresh, jagged abrasion.

  My handiwork.

  Just the sight of him set her to trembling, but she clamped her hands onto the rim of the bench and sat ramrod straight. With the aid of the sun, she was better able to analyze his features. His cruel countenance actually seemed a product of nature. Black eyebrows rode low over narrow eyes to give him a perpetual scowl. He was thin, but it was a wiry weave of muscles—a combination she didn’t care to underestimate.

  “There isn’t any time to fraternize, Harare,” he called to Joy.

  The motors were cut, and with that cessation of sound, the hungry protest of a spiraling seagull rang from above.

  The Mexican jutted his chin in Briana’s direction, but directed his command at Joy. “Have her ready. We’re about to lower the explosives.”

  His leer grew when he detected the flicker of panic in Briana’s eyes. Tapping the scratch on his skull, his lips thinned. “Thought you were pretty smart last night, didn’t you? Thought you got the upper hand? Guess you thought wrong.”

  He stepped forward and brushed a finger that smelled of rubber to her cheek. “I’m banking on that boyfriend of yours showing up to rescue you so that I can, ummm—kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. You heard and learned too much last night.”

  Briana jerked away from his touch. Her eyes flashed a challenge. “I learned enough to be curious—not enough to be killed. And if my boyfriend does show up, what of the Police, the Coast Guard—when he brings them, are you going to kill everyone?”

  A garish smile ripped the stark plane of his face. “I’m pretty certain he will come alone, but if he doesn’t—” the man shrugged, “—with all the explosives we have packed downstairs, we’ll be able to destroy a small army.” Cocking his head he made a tsking sound, “Oh, you environmental freaks won’t like that, will you?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s more than just us environmental freaks that would like to ensure that you don’t blow up the island. Whatever it is that you’re after, isn’t there a better way?”

  “No.” He waggled his finger. “No, there isn’t. Truth is—what we’re looking for is too big to slip past inquisitive eyes, so we have to ensure all those eyes are blinded. Temporarily, or permanently—so we are going to need a proportional distraction.”

  “A Spanish Galleon,” Briana recited coldly, satisfied when the Mexican’s face registered shock. “You’re willing to kill others, most likely yourself too, all for a pipedream? For old folklore?” She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “Are you a fool?”

  Shrewd eyes narrowed, calculating her. “I knew you were watching us. I guess I underestimated you. That was my mistake. But you, Miss Holt, have just sealed your fate.”

  “Harare!”

  Joy’s head snapped at his commanding tone.

  “Untie her and get her ready. Keep that gun at her head. If she moves, kill her.”

  As if it gave him a sense of power, the man snaked his arm around Joy’s waist and hauled her to his hip to partake in a kiss that looked more like a mauling. When he was through, his head rose and his triumphant sneer narrowed on Briana.

  Joy took a moment to compose herself, and mechanically swiped her hair back into place. Before the transformation to cool efficiency was complete, Briana detected a look of revulsion in the woman’s eyes.

  “What power does he hold over you?” Briana whispered after he left.

  That solemn green glance considered Briana for a moment, and then Joy jolted the safety on her automatic weapon, leveling it on Briana’s neck. “No one has control of me. Not even, Chavez.”

  The nip of steel against her throat made Briana gag, but she persisted. “Then why the envelope? Why did you want me to know what you were going after?”

  A long silence was filled by the steady splash of water against the hull as Briana believed that her question would go unanswered.

  Joy reached for the ropes that bound Briana to the rail and tugged forcefully, enough to really hurt.

  “Chavez is changing.”

  As soon as the lanky Mexican disappeared below deck, Joy’s touch gentled somewhat. “When we first learned of the trek of the Oro Francisco, and the fact that it never made it to Guam from its origin port of Acapulco in 1675—we were all excited about the historical ramifications. There had been rumors, even from the mouth of Captain Cook himself, that when he discovered Hawaii he saw European influence on the islands. Spanish influence, to be more exact.”

  A keen gaze swept the ocean. “If that galleon sank off the coast of Hawaii, and its crew survived to cohabit with the natives, it changes the scope of the island’s history. That is what fascinated me, that is what drew me into this project.”

  The bite of the rope slackened, but Joy pressed the muzzle of the gun against Briana’s collarbone just to remind her who was in charge.

  “When we originally acquired the map,” Joy continued, “we tried legal measures to secure a permit to dive the site, but we were rebuked by the government and sent away. That was when Chavez changed.” Her smile was strained. “Well, that, and the rumor that the Oro Francisco’s cargo was overloaded with currency for trade.”

&
nbsp; It was worth the risk. Briana rubbed at a cramp in her shoulder and kept her gaze averted from the woman at her side. She spoke quietly into the wind. “They have combed these reefs before based on the very same rumors you’re suggesting now—and came up with nothing. What has you convinced enough to kill?”

  “Chavez appropriated this map from one of the descendants of the crew of the Francisco. The genealogy checked out, and this man, down on his luck, settled for a few dollars to make our dreams a reality...well, with some coaxing. Anyway, the map helped us to narrow down the course of the Francisco. We factored in weather and knew that the search area was broad. That is why we’ve been off this coast for some time—long before your development broke ground. Just recently our sonar picked up on a suspicious shadow and our diving team deemed it worth investigating. The explosives have been necessary to get at what is hiding beneath the surface.”

  Briana studied Joy as the woman calmly jerked the gun, prompting her to stand up. “And you?” she asked. “You don’t approve of that, do you, Joy? Well, I don’t approve of you using Naoki. And obviously I don’t approve of you committing murder to get what you want—so I have to repeat, why did you send me that envelope?”

  A sigh caught on the wind as Joy grabbed Briana’s arm and shoved her forward. Startled by the sudden change in demeanor, Briana understood better as Joy cast a seductive smile at the man ascending from the deck below. It was Chavez. And he didn’t seem fooled by that false charm.

  Stern black eyes contemplated the two women before he pivoted to face the crewman at his rear. Sharp hand gestures and authoritative commands encouraged two men up from the hold. The container they lugged was bulky and Briana recognized it from the shadows of her confinement last night.

  Explosives.

  “Because,” Joy hissed quietly into her ear. “Chavez has become consumed and careless, and I sense our endeavor coming to an end.” Her fingers constricted around Briana’s arm. “I found you to be interesting. I thought that if something happened to me, to Chavez, to this operation—I thought that maybe you might—” The nimble fingers dropped to her side. “Well, you struck me as someone who would not let this galleon go undiscovered. The bureaucracy made it impossible for us to approach this legally. We had no choice. Perhaps you have more clout. Perhaps if something happens to us, you will continue this search.”