Code Name: Ghost

by Natasza Waters

  “There’s Bravo dock,” Gord said, pointing off to their right.

  “And I think that’s the harbor patrol boat, halfway down the dock,” Barry added.

  “Let’s go say hello.” She led the way, and in single file they traipsed down the sharp metal nonskid gangway. The tide was out, steepening the angle. Larger vessels with deeper drafts sat close by, requiring a deeper depth. Stepping onto the hardy planks of the dock, she breathed in the sea air and it reminded her of shaking hands with an old friend. She never could run far from the sea, always working near it. It had to be in her blood, but she simply didn’t spend time on it, just next to it. A cruise was a novelty.

  At least fifty feet of weathered but sea-worthy patrol boat lay against the jetty. Within a couple seconds, a man appeared from the wheelhouse.

  “Afternoon, I’m Captain Themes. Welcome aboard!” he said, sporting a weathered complexion from a lifetime on the sea and a broad smile. He jumped over the side and greeted them with a handshake. “Watch your step, ma’am,” extending his hand to help her onboard.

  “Thanks for having us, Captain.” She jumped to the gunwale and then the deck.

  “So, you folks are from the Base Command Center and Captain Redding says you need an in-depth tour of the Port, so that’s what we’re going to do. Grab a lifejacket and get comfortable. Ma’am…”

  She held up her hand. “Not ma’am, no more ma’am. I’m Kayla Banks.” The Captain grinned at her. “This is Gord and Barry.”

  He nodded at each of them. “Go on into the wheelhouse and meet my crew. They were kinda wondering who you were,” he said, giving her a friendly once-over.

  She nodded and left Captain Themes with Gord and Barry to meet the patrol boat crew.

  * * * *

  Gord watched the Captain while a flutter of protectiveness pulsed through him. “I bet,” Gord said dryly, easily reading the attraction in his eyes.

  Themes unglued his gaze from Kayla’s rear end, and raised his brow good-humoredly. “Beautiful woman. She gets lots of attention, no doubt.”

  Gord waited until Kayla entered the wheelhouse and was out of earshot. “Not really.”

  He shook his head not understanding. “Why not?”

  “Dunno. That’s just Kayla,” he lied.

  The Captain’s attention swayed to watch Kayla as she shook hands with his crew. “How long have you known her?”

  “I’ve worked with her for fifteen years, and nine years for Barry here.”

  “She’s a nice lady,” Barry added. “Although, you don’t want to piss her off.”

  “Independent woman, huh?” Captain Themes asked.

  “Yup, most definitely,” Barry stated. “And she bites if she has to.”

  “Husband?”

  “Nope. She’s never really shared her personal life with us,” Barry said. “She lives to work. Kayla always covers us if we need time off.”

  Captain Themes offered a quick smile. “Well, you guys get comfortable and we’ll drop the lines. I’m going to show you every crack and crevice of the port. You’re going to need it working in Base Command.” Themes strode toward the bow and waved to someone in the wheelhouse, probably signaling they were dropping the lines.

  “Nice guy,” Barry said, stepping into the wheelhouse. “But he’s barkin’ up the wrong tree if he thinks he’s gonna grab Kayla’s attention.”

  Gord gave a short laugh. “No shit. I’ve known her longer than you, and he doesn’t have a hope.”

  “I don’t get why,” Barry asked, taking a quick glance around the roomy, worn galley.

  “And you don’t want to, believe me, man. It isn’t something she’ll talk about, so don’t bother asking,” he added, a harsh line seaming his lips together.

  “What? You do know something. What-up?” Barry tugged once on his elbow to stop him, but didn’t look at him, instead watching a deckhand let go the stern line out the back hatch.

  “Barry, she’s starting fresh. We all are. Leave it at that.” The taut command in his voice hopefully enough to tell his friend the subject was closed.

  “Come on, man, you sound like there’s a deep dark secret or somethin’. Kayla’s my friend, too. She’s like a big sister to me, least she gives me shit like one.”

  “That’s because you’re an asshole and deserve it,” Gord said, grinning at his friend. Barry had joined them a few months after Kayla had been released from the hospital. Ten years had passed since the incident that had almost taken her life. She didn’t speak about it, nor did anyone who watched a determined Kayla with a heart of gold wither in front of them until it was too late.

  Nothing would make Gord forget those long days when he sat beside her in the hospital, talking to her, reading to her, watching for any sign that she was ready to come back to them. It was a living nightmare, he never wanted to experience again. Days turned into weeks, but eventually Kayla opened her eyes. She crawled, then she walked, and finally ran, joining the world of the living again. Time—doesn’t always heal all wounds. Kayla built a wall around herself. She only trusted one man, the man who kept him company in the hospital. The man who held her hand, furiously praying, badgering and pleading for her to open her eyes. Many times, Gord would walk into the room and see him with his head resting against her heart, crying. He would quietly back out, giving them privacy.

  Guilt is an ugly poison, attaching itself to an injured heart and regretful mind, but the man who wept over a silent Kayla didn’t deserve it.

  The warrior spent every moment he had with her when he wasn’t deployed. The man was on a mission when Kayla woke up, and he was the first person she asked about when they removed all the tubes and equipment.

  “So, you’re not going to share,” Barry said giving him a rueful expression.

  “No, I’m not.” He glanced over his shoulder seeing Kayla in conversation with the crew circling her. Two at least, had a hungry look in their eyes. “Think we better go save her from those guys. They’re startin’ to look like a pack of wolves.”

  “Gonna be a nasty letdown for them.” Barry stopped him with a questioning look. “How come you never—you know?”

  He shrugged. “Cuz someone else loves her, and doesn’t let anyone near her. Besides, she’s like a big sister to me, too, and that’s just gross.”

  “Are you talking about that Lieutenant Commander she knows? The one who appears out of the blue sometimes?”

  “That’s the one. Come on.”

  * * * *

  They toured for about an hour and half and then a vessel hailed them on the Port working channel. “Harbor Patrol, this is T-One Alpha, stop your vessel. We’ll be boarding on the starboard side, assemble all persons on deck, over.”

  Captain Themes picked up the handset of the VHF radio, keying the press-to-talk button. “What’s the problem, boys?”

  “What’s wrong?” Kayla asked, but Captain Themes just shrugged.

  The voice on the radio came back sharply. “Please do as instructed, Captain. Your vessel will be boarded and searched, over.”

  His eyes widened and then he flashed a look at her. “Want to have a little fun?”

  How could being boarded and interrogated by the Navy be fun? She glanced behind her. “What kind of fun?”

  “It’s the SEALs, they’re exercising, and using us.” He brought the mic to his mouth and said, “Don’t think I’m going to stop today, boys, got a special cargo.”

  “Stop your vessel now,” the voice commanded sharply over the radio, “or you will be boarded as an unfriendly. Intel says you’re carrying illegals. Your vessel will be searched. Will you comply, over?”

  “Give it your best shot, boys, and by the way, if the illegals get to the water before you find them, you’re buying me three rounds tonight.”

  Five seconds of silence passed on the radio and then, “Deal.”

  The Captain hit the stems full ahead. “You can’t outrun a RHIB,” she said, seeing two rigid-hull inflatables gaining on them fast o
ff their port and starboard quarters.

  “Nope, this old girl can only make about fifteen knots, but we’re gonna give them a run for their money. Care to make it harder?”

  She grinned. “Always up for a challenge, Captain.” She gave Gord and Barry a wink as a little thrill shot through her. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Hide, and then when they board, try to make your way to the water.”

  “You want us to jump in?” Gord asked, laughing at the same time.

  “It’s just water, lad, you’ll dry off.”

  “It’s May guys, come on—how cold can it be? This isn’t British Columbia,” she scoffed.

  The RHIBs caught up fast, even with the harbor boat giving her captain all she had. The guys scrambled, and she scanned the wheelhouse quickly. A set of deep teak cabinets doubled as a navigation table and created a buffer between the galley and the navigating area. “What do you think, can I fit?”

  “Go for it. I’ll try to get them outta here.” They both watched as the first SEAL boarded the vessel. “Hurry.”

  Kneeling, she shimmied backwards into the cabinet. The Captain knelt down in front of her, feeling like a trapped rat, she gave him a crooked grin. Themes gave her a wink before shutting the door and encasing her in darkness. The vessel slowed down and then the lazy sway of the sea lobbed against the hull while they set to drift.

  A lot of shouting began as the SEAL team boarded. How the hell they all understood each other yackin’ out at the same time she didn’t know, but then again she could do the same thing, listening to several comms at the same time and understanding everyone.

  “Where is she?” a gravelly voice called out, entering the wheelhouse.

  “Think you got the wrong boat, boys,” Captain Themes replied.

  “Take him,” the voice said.

  “Have a seat, Captain,” another voice ordered gruffly. The creak of old wood told her someone settled on the bench behind her.

  “Where are the illegals?” a different voice barked.

  “Small boat really, if you can’t find ‘em maybe they’re not here,” the Captain drawled.

  “Two men and one woman. Where did you hide them?” Silence followed, Themes not giving in. “Captain, I’m sure I saw a couple sharks swirling around out there. Swimming right now would not be good for your health,” the guy added.

  “Hey, I’ve done nothing wrong, sir.”

  Kayla covered her mouth to muffle a laugh. Even though it was only an exercise these guys were playing for real. Hoo-rah she mouthed the SEAL chant, at least she thought that was the chant. Now, how the heck was she going to get out of here?

  “Take him on deck. Search the vessel," someone ordered. She held her breath, realizing the guy barking the orders stood right in front of the cabinet.

  “There’s not many places to hide on this vessel, Commander.”

  The Commander’s voice filled the wheelhouse. Low and dangerous he said, “She’s one little woman, ya think she’s swimming back? Find her.”

  One little woman? Screw him. One little Canadian woman, and that was like ten normal gals. She waited, listening—and then cracked the door when she couldn’t hear any more movement. Un-wedging her butt past the cabinet frame felt like uncorking a wine bottle, reminding her she had to put a few more miles of walking in each day. She slithered across the floor and peeked around the corner. Heavy boots thumped across the deck above her. Peering down the short, steep steps into the forward cabin, she saw it was clear. Radios broke squelch all over the vessel as the team spoke to each other searching for them.

  “Got an illegal,” someone squawked over the radio.

  Gord or Barry had been found.

  Carefully, she slid down the stairs to the forward cabin. There had to be an access to the chain locker in there. She saw the hatch and carefully cracked the stem to open it. “Please don’t squeak,” she whispered. “Yes!”

  A waft of old iron from the anchor chain struck her nose, mingling with the scent of burnt diesel from the vessel’s engines. A familiar smell, one she loved. Looking into the inky darkness of the chain locker, she saw a pinhole of light beamed from the hatch leading to the upper deck. Stepping through the hatchway, she carefully closed the heavy steel door behind her. Hopefully, no one got the idea to let go the anchor while she was in here.

  Heated conversations snapped over the radios, and her insides jumped when the voice of the Commander rose above the rest. He barked at his team. “Where is she?”

  She bit down on her lip. She’d done some time in the naval reserves before she enlisted. She was a lot younger then, and was damn good at taking prisoners and keeping herself out of the wet locker. Those days of agility were gone, and some mornings she actually felt achy. Time was marching on, and her thirty-five years were marching across her body with heavy boot prints. She refused to give in to the thought of arthritis. Even though she’d had a bit of a rough ride in life, she wasn’t going down without a thick gulp of denial.

  She listened. Luck would have to be on her side, she’d only have a second to throw open the hatch and then get to the water. She listened again—silence, but they were probably doing the same. She stepped carefully across the anchor chain. Grabbing hold of the cool metal handle, she waited.

  Silence.

  Eyes would be everywhere. There were eight or nine of them against her. Ah—no sweat. The next time the Commander barked an order she’d go.

  “Well, what the hell, she’s not a fairy.” She heard his deep voice bellow at his team.

  “Don’t know, Commander, she’s not here. We’ve searched the entire vessel,” a different voice replied from the deck above her.

  “She’s here,” he boomed back.

  She threw back the hatch, grabbing the thick plated edges of the upper deck and yanked herself out. A SEAL stood not more than ten feet away.

  “Behind you, Tinman,” someone shouted.

  She lunged toward the gunwale, and with one hand heaved herself over the side. Cheers came from Gord, Barry and the harbor patrol crew as she fell the fifteen or so feet then sliced through the cool seawater, luckily clearing any RHIBs.

  The ocean enveloped her and a storm of salty bubbles rose with her to the surface. “Whoo-hoo,” she cried out when she surfaced. Within a second, a RHIB stopped beside her. Hands clutched her arms, and slid her over the side as if they were landing a big old halibut, but someone saved her, catching her before she hit the deck.

  Turning onto her hands and knees, she looked up to see four men gazing at her with black and green grease paint covering their features. They wore wide brimmed hats, sunglasses, and bandannas wrapped around their heads. She remembered the movies she’d seen about Navy SEALs and now she was face to face with them. How bizarre!

  Sitting back on her haunches, she said, “Hey guys. Looking for me?” Their facial camouflage made them intimidating, but they were all smiling at her.

  The navigator gunned the powerful outboards once, and the RHIB veered away from the patrol boat as one of the men spoke into a portable radio. “Snow White’s been captured,” he reported.

  “Captured, my ass,” she said. “I made it to the water. Your Commander has to pay up.” All the guys chuckled. “Give me that radio.” He obliged, holding it out to her. “SEAL Team Commander this is,” She paused, rolling her eyes at the guy who had coined the name. “Snow White, over.”

  The Commander stood on the bow of the ship with his arms crossed looking down at her. Geared up in fatigues like his team, he radiated an aura of command, mostly because of his physique. Long, muscular legs and a massive chest filled his clothes. Her heart beat heavily. She wasn’t sure if it was intimidation or something else, the feeling so foreign to her. His cap hid his dirty blonde hair. At least he had some, compared to most men she’d seen on the base.

  The Commander raised the radio to his lips. “Go ahead, Snow White.”

  “Commander, I believe in the war of 1812 we Canadians kicked your Yankee butts
out, and you haven’t been back since,” she paused. “There might be a reason for that, over.” His arrogant comments when they met had made her bristle, time for payback, in a passive way of course. She winked at the men surrounding her. The Commander’s head shook and he dropped his powerful arms to his sides for a moment. Was he laughing? She doubted it, but it sure looked like it.

  “Roger, Snow White. I admit defeat. What will my surrender cost?” the Commander responded, his voice carrying a warmer note.

  The RHIB team waited, their lips curling, then one of them said, “Make him pay big time.”

  “No, I can’t rub his nose in it, that wouldn’t be very Canadian of me.” Activating the press-to-talk key, she said, “Commander, someone owes me a rum, and…I’d like your men to take me for a ride on this vessel that’ll make my heart patter like a hail storm.”

  Another SEAL walked up beside him, almost as big as he was. The man leaned into him and said something. The Commander nodded, raising the portable radio to his mouth. “You heard her, men, take her for a ride. I doubt you can scare the shit out of her, but try anyways.”

  “Hoo-yah!” chorused the men surrounding her.

  “Guys, you wouldn’t happen to have a dry shirt, would you? It’s actually bloody cold out here.” Before she could even turn, a sand-colored camouflage shirt dangled in front of her. “Okay,” she drawled, unable to subdue a grin. The SEAL with pearly white teeth and dark smiling eyes had taken his own shirt off to give to her. Bulging muscles cascaded across his chest and rippled down to his taut, sculpted waist. Holy crap. “Turn around. All of you.” She narrowed a look on him. He swept a jacket up and surrounded her in it.