The Gift of the Dragon

by Michael Murray

  Ian

  “We just got that message you were waiting for, boss.” José said over the plane’s internal comm system. “The guests are at the cottage.”

  “Roger, José, thanks. Are you ready to try our hittles?”

  “Hittles, boss?”

  “The opposite of missiles. Isn’t that right, Top Gun?”

  Awake now and securely bound and gagged in the copilot seat, Current could do nothing but glare angrily at Ian. Ian grinned back.

  “Gotcha, boss. Yep, we are all green to go back here. You designate the target and then let them babies fly!”

  “I promise you some fireworks, José. Like I told you, this will be a night worth seeing,” Ian flew low over the water up the Dinner Key Channel. Stepanof must still be doing his job with the Coast Guard and Miami Air Traffic Control radar, as no one challenged his unusual low-level flight. However, Ian thought it likely that noise complaints were being phoned into the Miami PD about some crazy pilot rattling the very expensive windows of the oceanside mansions and condos along the shore of Gables Estates and Coconut Grove.

  The Hellfire itself could be fired from up to five miles from its target, but the Iraq-bound Cessna didn’t have the top-of-the-line guidance system installed. The range needed to be under three miles to hit anything at night. We don’t want the Iraqi Air Force to be a threat to US Apache helicopters! Ian would need to “see” the Endurance with a forward-looking infrared targeting system before he could fire. Then he had to keep a laser designator on the target until the missiles hit. At least it’s better than hunting with a spear!

  Even if he had brought more advanced missiles, he would not be turning away tonight, as he wanted to get good images of the Endurance blowing up with the cameras mounted in the plane’s sensor pod. There will be no escape for the targets of this mission.

  Ian relished the thought of flying low over downtown Miami with the burning wreck of the ship below him, like Belushi’s scene out of that movie. Of course, someone would probably take a shot of that with a cell phone, and tracking those pictures down and erasing them remotely would give Stepanof an even greater challenge.

  While these thoughts raced through Ian’s mind, his well-trained hands guided the plane into firing range. Ian panned the FLIR thermal camera over the waterfront and clicked the targeting button when he saw the distinctive superstructure of Northwin’s ship lit up in black and white. This simplified touch-screen targeting system had been designed for use by lightly-trained pilots, and so he just needed to touch the target on the screen to lock the weapons on. He then dragged the cursor down so that the missiles would hit just above the waterline of the Endurance.

  Next to him, Current thrashed around as much as his tight bonds would allow. Ian grinned at him again and then made a show of mashing the red button. “Tally-ho,” he shouted as two of his four missiles shot on streaks of fire toward the target. Flying at Mach 1.3, the Hellfires would take nine seconds to cover the two-and-a-half miles.

  Ian followed them in at a much slower pace, just above the Cessna’s stall speed so he could get good pictures. No sense setting off fireworks if you don’t watch them explode!

  Alice

  The Endurance rocked gently against her large fenders, about two feet from the dock along the seawall, and the main deck stood six feet above that, a serious jump for the bruised and battered pair. They looked at each other and leaped for the shore at the same time. As they landed on the dock, two men in black clothing rushed forward, shouting, “FBI, freeze!” Alice looked at Jacob, shocked. He did not look surprised, but opened his mouth to say something when they heard a loud whoosh behind them.

  “Down!” Jacob yelled and threw himself on top of Alice, flattening her to the asphalt.

  Alice tried to catch herself with her hands, her broken fingers sending lightning bolts searing into her brain. “Ouch, Jacob, what the he—”

  Her words were covered by an earsplitting series of rapid booms. A wash of flame rushed over them, most of it passing over their prone position.

  Alice looked out from under Jacob’s heavy arms and saw that the FBI men who had been yelling at them were not so lucky as fire flashed over them, knocking them backward and leaving them burning where they fell. A third man rushed from the shadows, yelling at his wrist as he ran to the first of the fallen agents.

  After the initial explosions, Alice realized she could barely hear the screaming from the burning men over the ringing in her ears. The agent’s attention being off them for the moment, she heaved against Jacob, screaming, “We should go!”

  He quickly got up and helped her to her feet.

  “We should split up, meet back at the room!” They ran toward the hotel.

  “Not the room, we look like hell!” Jacob yelled over the thump of more explosions from the ship. “Meet at the car. We can clean up!”

  Alice nodded and cut to the left, intending to circle the hotel that way to get to the parking garage. Jacob broke right, limping on his bad ankle. As she passed the building’s corner, she stopped and looked back at the ship. It burned brightly, slowly sinking. The mast had fallen, and the upper deck looked to be a twisted mess of metal with flames roaring out and shooting skyward as things inside the ship exploded. She felt sure Callan Grant was toast by now, and for a minute she felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving him tied to the mast to die a fiery death.

  Then she thought of Sara, and the moment passed. She would have killed him cleanly if she had decided to kill him herself. This way, he would have no chance of fighting or buying or charming his way out of prison. She looked at the FBI men and saw that one crawled slowly away from the blazing ship while the other dragged the body of the man who had been yelling at them to stop. There came a greater roar from the ship, and a tower of flame shot skyward as the fire found something more friendly to it than the wood and steel of the superstructure.

  “Time to go,” Alice whispered to herself and walked toward her car.

  Chapter 14, A Story at the Golden Shores

  Alice

  Alice looked around the room, not feeling pleased. The Golden Shores Motel on Key Biscayne appeared to have been built long ago and not updated since then. But when she called the Epoch, they told her that an explosion had rendered it unsafe and all guests had been evacuated. When the clerk got very curious about her name and her room number, Alice broke the connection. Jacob had been staying at this cheap motel on Key Biscayne before sweeping her off her feet in front of Guzman’s restaurant and convinced her that it would be a good idea to come back here.

  “They always have rooms and don’t ask questions,” he said.

  Looking at the sandy terrazzo floors, smelling the vague odor of old smoke and older spills of various liquids, and listening to the wheezing sound of the air conditioner on its last legs, she could see why. His eyes looked afraid. He should be!

  “Okay, now what the hell happened back there, Mister Castellan?”

  He held his hands out, palms up. “We almost got killed, several times, but we came out of it and our enemies didn’t?”

  “Nice try!” She grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him down to her level. She bit her lip to keep silent as her broken finger screamed at her to stop it. “What happened at the hotel? The parachutes? Leaving me sleeping while you went after Northwin alone!” She let go, shaking her hand, but she held his eyes with hers. “When was all that added to the program?”

  “Sorry, Alice. Price called me and said that Northwin’s crew had left the ship. You were sleeping. I decided to take the chance and just go confront him.” Jacob rubbed his face with his hand. “It was a mistake.”

  Alice slammed her fist onto the tiny breakfast bar. “I have been shot in the head, saw my best friend killed, can’t remember anything else about her.” Alice felt her voice rising, and she did not care. Her hand was throbbing now. She shoved the pain away. I have to stop hitting things! “Then, I got attacked in Tampa, I got attacked in Miami, I saw a kind w
oman get killed and her little girl almost die, and then I almost died again tonight! Now I’m stuck here with you! I slept with you, and now I am not sure I can even trust you.” Alice jabbed her finger into Jacob’s chest. “You made a plan with me to take on Northwin together. You made a big deal of how important that was, and then you left me and went after him yourself!” Alice paced the few steps from the back wall of the room to the front.

  “Why is this room so small!” Her head throbbed.

  “I had to take Callan Grant on alone, with a couple of glass faucet handles, because you took all the bullets! He almost killed me, Jacob. He almost killed you. That is what came of you trying to play the hero, trying to protect me!” She pounded her fist into her hand. It hurt less than hitting the breakfast bar. “I’m on the wrong side of the country, in a tiny room in a cheap motel, and I want to know everything that is going on. Now, Jacob!”

  “Sure. Of course, Alice. Ask me anything, I’ll tell you.”

  The phone rang; they both jumped. Jacob picked it up.

  “Yes?”

  Alice could hear a tinny voice on the line. It seemed to be shouting.

  “Sorry, yes, I do realize what time it is.” More tinny shouting. “I know we are lucky you found us a room.” Catching Alice’s eyes, he rolled his. She sat down and took a deep breath. This room sucked, but she didn’t want to try to find another, not tonight.

  “I will, we’ll be quiet from now on.” The phone made softer noises. “Thank you.” Jacob hung up the phone.

  “The front desk. Someone complained about yelling.” Jacob sat down on the bed with his head in his hands. Then he looked at her. “Look, Alice, there is a lot I need to tell you, but can we talk about this later? We both are exhausted, and I for one could use a drink and a shower!” Jacob lay back on the bed. “What do you say?”

  He made sense. There would be time for this later. The hot flame of her anger cooled some. She remembered something. To help her with the side effects of her injury, she had asked Ami how to record all her calls. Ami found her an aptly-named app called Record My Call. It was running on her phone. Later, she would listen and learn what Jacob had said to Price. Maybe I am worrying about nothing.

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I don’t want to end up sleeping in my car tonight.” She held up her hands. “That would hurt too much.”

  “Yeah. Look, let me go get some ice. Maybe I can find something besides water to drink.”

  “Don’t make more promises you can’t keep, Jacob!”

  Jacob grimaced and then grabbed the door key and left.

  She fell back on the lumpy bed. Having a bed she could fall on felt good. The adrenaline rush from the fight was gone now, and her hands hurt like hell. Not to mention her shoulders, shins, and everything around her belly. Her broken fingers were sending arrows of pain into her brain with every heartbeat.

  And she was starving! She almost talked herself into getting up to see if she could find something to eat in the funky-smelling kitchen of the motel room when Jacob came back in the door with a bucket of ice, humming happily.

  “What song is that?”

  “'Margaritaville,' of course!” Jacob smiled, his black eye squinting shut.

  “Well, aren’t you in a good mood!”

  “Hey, we are alive! A little messed up, beaten, and a bit broken, but we are still on our feet with tequila, limes, and ice. Callan and Laird Northwin are feeding fish at the bottom of the Miami River!”

  Again he made sense. Callan had almost beat them. And he had not been planning to leave them for the authorities to deal with, either. No, he would have left them as headless as Northwin’s men, bleeding on the deck.

  “Where did you get tequila at this hour?”

  “I went to apologize to the night manager. I’ve known him for a while. He has a quite a liquor cabinet hidden in the storeroom. For some reason, he said I looked like I could use a drink.”

  Jacob smiled with his mouth more than his eyes. And one of them looked swollen almost shut anyway. Alice counted her sore and broken places, sad she would not be able to have Jenny set her bones and write her prescriptions anytime soon. She stepped into the meager flow of cool air from the laboring AC unit. Then she smelled herself.

  “First, I need a shower. And… what do you have for food?”

  Jacob looked chagrined. “Just macaroni and cheese, I’m afraid.”

  “Ketchup?”

  “Dijon ketchup!”

  “Sounds like heaven.”

  “I’ll make some. The shower is all yours. Don’t get lost in there.”

  She opened the bathroom door into a truly tiny room with a little fiberglass box for a shower, wedged in beside a toilet, next to a sink that would be small for a dollhouse.

  As she took her pants off, she felt the weight of the tablet in her pocket. Well, now that she had the necklace and the tablet, maybe they could find out what was going on. Everything could wait until after she got clean, though.

  A half hour later, Alice emerged feeling human. Her hands and shins still ached, but the aches were duller now. Bearable. She walked out in her underwear and placed her pants with the tablet on the room’s only table. “Sorry, I couldn’t bear to put that filthy shirt back on after getting clean.”

  “No complaints here, hon—” Jacob bit off the word as Alice curled her lip at him. “Alice, here is your dinner.” Jacob handed her a paper bowl full of macaroni and a drink in a paper cup. As though it were gourmet victuals on the finest china, she moaned in delight and sat at the cracked linoleum breakfast bar. After her third bite, she saw Jacob watching her, smiling.

  “Your turn, mister. The thing here that stinks as bad as I did is you. Get going. I left you some soap.”

  Jacob saluted her and without a word headed for the bathroom.

  After the drink and the sandwich, Alice felt ready to sleep. First, though, she wanted to see if the tablet still worked after what they had all been through. She pulled it from her pocket. This was the first time she could get a close look at it, and its ruggedness impressed her. She pressed the power button and heard it say, “Droid,” as it came to life, but then immediately a window popped up with a message about there being only one percent power left, and that she should find a charger.

  “Shoot.” She looked at the sides of the device and found two rubber covers. She opened one, and it looked as though it would fit the square end of her dragon’s tail. The other one looked the same as her phone’s charging cable. Her phone was dead too, but it could wait. “Sorry, Ami,” she said as she plugged in the tablet. She lay down to wait for Jacob to finish his shower.

  She heard a sound like a large animal charging. She rode a hairy beast on an endless plain. “What am I doing on a buffalo?” She screamed at herself. Then, panting, she woke up. Jacob lay beside her, snoring. Alice laughed. The sun shone through the window, lighting up the room. The air conditioner still sounded strained but had not given up. The room did not seem to smell as bad as it did before, or maybe she had just gotten used to it. As she tried to move, every muscle screamed, “Don’t!” However, she remembered there was a coffee pot, and Jacob had said something about a Starbucks bag in the freezer. Her desire for coffee proved stronger than the protests of her arms and legs.

  She thought about resuming the argument from last night and then remembered that the tablet would be charged by now. She brought Jacob a coffee and some microwaved macaroni. They sat in bed and looked at the tablet together.

  “Well, here we go.” Alice took off the dragon necklace and pushed its square tail into the other socket in the tablet. Immediately, a window popped up with a number of documents. An icon labeled “Start Here” shone bright green while the others were a dim gray color.

  Cautiously, Alice pressed the icon. The screen now displayed a new window.

  “I think it wants a password,” Jacob said.

  “Cripes!” Alice said. “This thing is making me mad.”

  “I think if there were
a bomb, it would explode without requiring a password.” Jacob retrieved the tablet, and they sat with it at the breakfast bar. The password prompt was a gray box with a phrase above it and a place to type in some text. An on-screen keyboard had popped up, as though it were trying to be helpful.

  The phrase on the screen read “One Particular Harbor.”

  Jacob said, “Looks like Moore liked Jimmy Buffett.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That password hint there is the title of one of his songs.”

  “What do you think it wants us to put in, then?”

  “I’ll try some of the lyrics.”

  Alice let Jacob have the tablet. She had another idea. “Okay. I’ll ask Ami!” Alice had plugged in her phone when she unplugged the tablet.

  “I don’t think your smartphone knows any more than you do, Alice.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  While Jacob tapped away, the tablet giving off a mournful tone each time it rejected what he typed, Alice turned on her phone and said, “Ami, what is the answer to the question one particular harbor?”

  “‘One Particular Harbor’ is a song by Jimmy Buffett and Bobby Holcomb. It was released as a—”

  “Stop, Ami, thank you!” Alice reached for the tablet. “Jacob, let me try.” He shrugged and handed it to her. “I’ve been through the whole song…”

  “Yeah, let me try a hunch.” She typed in “Sangerman and Moore.” The tablet made a happy sound, and the password screen went away.

  “Wow!” Jacob raised his eyebrows. “How did you know that would work?”