by JB Sanders
Contents
Front Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgements
A Teaser, James Bond Style
Entanglements
How Rum Solves Everything
What's Another Name for Spy?
Long Cool Woman in a Uniform
Brazil Calling
Jeremy's What!?
Sharing the Load
How to Mediate Conflict
This is a Spa, Right?
Surf and Turf
Gunrunning 101
Blackjack is for Wimps
Calling Home
Treasure, It's Never Where You Think It Is
Not the Bermuda Triangle!
Reporting from the Beach
The Perils of Eating Out
Tea With Spies
Clue in the Wind
We Need an Action Scene
Talking with Jeremy
Late Night Talks
A Long Walk on a Short Pier
Well That's Just Silly
Not Pirates
A Horse By Any Other Name
Actual, Honest-to-God Pirates
Making an Entrance
Those Pina Coladas Don't Make Themselves
Phoning the Big Guy
The Best Kind of Treasure
Not Your Average Clambake
Lei on the Luau
Front Page
Glen & Tyler’s
High Seas Hijinks
Book 4 of the Glen & Tyler Series
By JB Sanders
Copyright Notice
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, persons, or places is entirely coincidental.
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2015 by JB Sanders
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, in whole or in part, in any form.
Cover Art © 2014 by Michael Broderick
For more of Michael’s amazing art, see his website: http://www.hottlead.com/
(Some of his art is fairly adult in nature.)
Dedication
To my parents, for the obvious reasons and for making my childhood as full of opportunities to learn things as possible. Thanks!
Acknowledgements
I couldn’t get this book done without my Special Readers, and the members of the Lazy Bastards Writer’s Guild.
Special Readers: Doug, Greg, Rebecca, Heather, Tricia, Laury, Lee, and Amy.
A special shout out to Greg for his ever-helpful culinary and gustatory advice. Without him this book would be significantly less mouth-watering and a lot less urbane.
Thanks to Doug for pointing out my “sausage fest” problem and the countless plot holes which I have hopefully filled in and paved over. This book is better for his advice.
And of course, thanks to all the people who liked the other Glen & Tyler books. Your positive comments kept me going and made this book (and the ones after it!) possible.
A Teaser, James Bond Style
Glen and Tyler were in the Caribbean, finally taking Glen’s ship for a serious trip. They’d taken the Douglas out a few times around Scotland, but it just was not the same as sailing him in warm tropical seas. The Black Douglas was a fine ship, and Glen was exhilarated even to be lying on his deck, tanning.
The Douglas’ keel was laid down in 1930 as a luxury yacht and was one of the largest steel-hulled schooners ever built. It had three masts, white sails with solar-cell striping, and a pleasant teak deck. Despite the size when it was built, 150 generous feet long, the ship was a little cramped by modern-day standards. The boys had a stateroom, sure, but it held little more than a large bed and some pop-out cabinets. Its signature feature was the exceptionally well-appointed lounge, which also did duty as the dining room, meeting room, and video conference room.
Glen and Tyler had meant to be on the Black Douglas over a month ago, winding down from their crazy Paris adventure, but what with one thing and another, something always kept them away.
Glen relaxed back against the deck, letting the sounds and smells surround him.
Waves lapped joyfully against the ship as it sluiced through the water. Ropes and canvas snapped rhythmically in the wind. There was a tang of salt in the air and all the scents of the sea. A breeze rippled through his hair and over his toes.
“If I fall asleep, poke me.” Tyler pulled his sunglasses down onto his face and lay back.
“If you fall asleep, it means I already have and we’ll both be lobsters by tea time.” Glen applied a little more sunscreen to his muscled chest, just to be sure. He was very fair skinned and the line between tanned and burned was very fine.
“Tea time? Let it go, ok, we’re in the Americas now and we can just have supper or an afternoon snack or whatever you want to call it.”
“Hey, this ship is registered to Dunberry, Scotland, and if I want to have a proper Scottish tea-time, I will.”
“Scottish tea time? Does that mean scones instead of cakes?”
“And gunpowder tea.” Glen leaned back, satisfied that he had about ten minutes of sun-time now that he’d applied enough SPF 50.
Tyler sighed. It was a contented sigh. In reply, Glen reached his hand out and took Tyler’s.
“This,” Tyler said, with a world’s worth of satisfaction in that one word.
“Yeah,” Glen said back, in complete agreement.
A speaker near Tyler’s elbow crackled. “Sir, we have a bogie incoming.”
Tyler sighed, not from contentment. “Details?”
“Small craft, current position about 18 nautical miles south-south east. Been in our general area for the last hour, but only accelerated and came in our direction in the last five minutes. Satellite’s thermal confirms no internal surprises.”
“Name, crew?”
“The Anna Beth out of Nassau, and we can see five men on-board. Three of them are visibly armed with assault rifles.”
Tyler squeezed Glen’s hand, in apology, Glen thought. “Right, alert everyone. Get Kevin setup with his usual surprise. Hmmm.”
Glen looked over and could see Tyler’s lips pursed in thought.
“What are you thinking?” Glen asked.
“I’m thinking it’s time to try out the big guys. James, what satellite coverage are we under just now?”
“One of ours, obviously, two US, one Cuban and one old Soviet bird. One of the US ones is commercial, not supposed to have any down-pointing cameras, just communication. The other US one is a government bird. You know, the Cuba-watching one.”
“Ok, so we’re going public. Let the others know to be ready with the Nautilus Maneuver on my signal.”
“You sure, sir? It’s just some local amateur pirates. We could disable them from here.”
“We’ve got to test it out in a live situation at some point, and it’s best to do it when we’ve got overwhelming force. Plus I think that the right kind of talk will get around after this, don’t you, Tim?”
A different voice came on the speaker. “Yeah, we show off to these small-time guys, word will definitely get about.”
“Excellent. James, please set it up. Tim, make sure we’re recording everything, so I can do an after-game analysis. Oh, and are they jamming regular radio like in the advisory?”
There was a slight pause, then James came on. “Yes, sir. Right on schedule for the previous attacks.”
“Great. Let’s go meet the neighbors.”
***
> The ship pulled alongside without much fanfare. One man stood at the wheel, and three more stood in the section where sport fishermen would normally stand. These men had other quarry in mind, and held their guns handy but not pointed at anything.
“Hail the ship! We’re coming aboard.” The lead man was in his late 40’s, pretty overweight. In Glen’s opinion, he’d taken the Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts thing a little too far.
Tyler leaned up from lying on the deck. He pushed his sunglasses down a little and gave the men a Look.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.” Tyler’s tone was calm, almost bored. He didn’t get up.
“Look, kid, keep your hands where we can see ‘em and don’t start screaming, ok? We’re going to take what you’ve got and then move on.”
Tyler lay back down. “Nope.”
Glen was sitting at the wheel of the sailing ship. He watched the three men exchange confused glances.
The lead man stood up on the side of his boat, preparing to jump to theirs.
“Wouldn’t do that.” Tyler didn’t even look over. “If you step onto our boat, my man will shoot you. Look down at your chest.”
The man hesitated, crouched slightly to jump. He looked down at his stupidly loud shirt and went very still when he saw the laser dot.
“What the fuck?!”
Tyler sat up slowly, turned towards the other boat and then slowly stood up. For Glen, it was a exceptional view of Tyler in his tight speedo. For the men on the other boat, it was obviously a little intimidating. The two guys with guns stepped back from the side. The lead guy still hadn’t moved.
“Hey there.” Tyler gave them a friendly tone, like they were meeting for cocktails and barbecue. “I’m Tyler Conrad. You might have heard of me.”
One of the two men in the back said “Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. So. Here’s the deal. I know you twerps have been going after small vessels around here, and while normally I’d be calling local law enforcement to come take your asses away, here’s what I’m doing instead.”
Tyler leaned against the ship and put out his hand. Glen smiled and passed him a martini.
“We’ve recorded you coming over and threatening to board our ship with guns, so in case you plan on continuing in this career, be aware that you’ll be known to the authorities. When you leave here, you’re going to sail on back to your buddies, and tell them how crazy obnoxious our security is, so I don’t have to have this conversation six more times while I’m here. Questions?” Tyler sipped.
The lead man ran his tongue over his lips and very, very slowly backed off the side of his boat and onto his deck. “You have one sniper. You think that’s ‘crazy obnoxious’?”
Tyler laughed. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I’m so forgetful. You’ve just seen my conversation starter.” Tyler turned his head slightly and spoke a little louder. “Ladies and gentlemen, go for Nautilus.”
The lead guy looked confused, and looked back at his own men, who shrugged.
Around them, the seas boiled.
A wide circle around both ships foamed white in the gently swelling water. Shapes rose from the sea.
Five submarines broke the surface.
They were the old-style diesel submarines from before the age of nuclear behemoths. On the deck of each of them was a large gun emplacement, held in two hands by a man or woman in scuba gear. Each of them turned to point at the pirate boat.
The pirates gaped at the submarines.
“Now that is my security. Please pass along the word to keep the hell away from me. Am I clear?” Tyler snapped out the last part, in exactly the right way to make a drill sergeant proud.
Glen could see the lead guy swallow even from where he sat.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Tyler waved the pirates away. “That’s all. You may go now.”
Tyler sipped his martini and watched the pirate boat pull away.
***
“Pink?” Glen gave him an arch look.
Tyler looked sheepish, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “It’s part of my master plan. With that color, the world’s governments just won’t take them seriously.”
“And you think painting your submarine fleet pink will detract from the fact that we’re the only private citizens in the world with a navy force that includes submarines?”
“Yes?”
Glen paused for a moment, pursing his lips in thought. “You might have to make the sailors—“
“—Submariners.” Tyler interrupted.
“—Yes, them. You’ll probably have to get them pink wet suits.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Glen turned more serious. “I have a more important question.”
Tyler gave him raised eyebrows. “Yes?”
“It’s not your style to just let bad guys go like that. All you did was scare them.”
Tyler smiled. “And also delayed them in one place long enough to have a locator beacon attached to their hull, and to get their up-close-and-personal photos. We’ll be letting the local authorities, and the navies of all the nations in the area, know all about them. Plus knowing where they go will lead us to more.” Tyler made a dismissive noise. “All I did was scare them. Please.”
Entanglements
How Rum Solves Everything
“Why are we in Miami again?” Glen looked out the porthole at the crowded marina.
“Little side errand before we get too involved in our big project. We need to stock up on a few things.” Tyler checked the pockets of his cargo shorts and then pulled on a slightly worn t-shirt. It had the Pittsburgh Penguins logo on it.
“And what’s with this.” Glen gestured at what Tyler was wearing. “Are we undercover or something?”
“Sort of. Remember, we’re still a little hot after Paris.”
“Yeah, hadn’t forgotten. That’s why I’m surprised we’re not in the middle of the ocean somewhere.”
“Well, in order for us to have the perfect fun-filled vacation, with hunts for pirate treasure, we have to make a stop here in Miami.”
Glen raised his eyebrows. “Ok, obviously you’re not going to tell me until we’re right on top of whatever — or whoever — we’re here to get. Fine. Just tell me what I’m wearing.”
Tyler pointed to the bed, where there was a jumble of clothes. “Take your pick.”
Glen tossed the towel he’d been wearing at the hamper, missed, and walked naked over to the bed. He didn’t have far to go, even in the luxurious surroundings of his sailing ship the Black Douglas. It wasn’t cramped, but it was a far cry from the luxury-style living they’d done in the airship on the way here.
Glen picked up a t-shirt that said “I’m only here for the knights” in a Medieval script, snorted and pulled it on. It was just slightly tight over his muscled chest.
Tyler eyed Glen’s exceptional legs. “You’d better put on some more clothes or we won’t be leaving the ship any time soon.”
Glen grinned at him, and slowly put on cargo shorts to match Tyler’s.
“Commando?” Tyler choked out.
“Yup. Since you don’t feel like sharing this morning, I’ll be happy to torture you with a tight t-shirt and shorts that are only barely covering up my nudity.”
Tyler pressed his lips to conceal a smile and blushed. “You are a cruel man, Glen Merriwether.”
Glen crossed the room and took Tyler in his arms. “I learned it all from you.”
“Flatterer.”
Tyler kissed him.
***
They looked like a co-ed hockey team, although the “Willowbrook Karate Club” t-shirts most of them wore probably gave a different impression. Glen, Tyler and their younger security guys and gals — all dressed like students — crossed the main quad of Miami’s Anderson University. Despite their world-wide celebrity, they didn’t attract a lot of attention. Apparently the disguises were working. People looked, of course — hot bodies — but nobody rushed over for an autograph o
r to have a loud argument.
Inside the humanities building, Tyler studied the directory and then moved down a hallway to a frosted glass wooden door. On it was “Dr. Elizabeth Harding, PhD”. The door was slightly ajar.
Tyler tapped on the door politely.
“Go away. Office hours are on Tuesday, and I’m grading papers.” The woman’s voice was British, cultured, and firm.
Tyler pushed the door open slightly more. “Excuse me, Professor Harding? I’m not here about—“
The door swung all the way open, and they were greeted by a slightly older woman in tweeds. She looked a bit like Helen Mirren. She too was aging very well, with an almost page-boy haircut, and a look on her face that made you think she could step on you quite easily.
“Was I unclear? I don’t want to be—“ She looked around at them, Glen and Tyler in their student-wear and sunglasses; the security team in loose-fit jeans and tight shirts, which showed off their physiques. “—Disturbed. What are you, some sport team?”
“No, Dr. Harding.” Tyler took off his sunglasses and smiled, the same smile he’d been using on every TV interview over the last four days. By now half the world had seen it at least twice.
Nothing. Not even a hint of recognition lit up her face.
She sighed. “What is it?”
“I was hoping I could hire you for a job.”
She frowned, and shook her head. “I’m rather engaged with academic work at the moment. And even if I wasn’t distressingly busy, I don’t help athletes cheat their way through the system.”
“Wow, nothing?” Tyler put out his hand, and said quietly “I’m Tyler Conrad.”
She frowned, shook his hand perfunctorily and then made to close the door.
Tyler put his foot in the gap. “Please, Dr—“
“I don’t care who your rich daddy is, young man, I’m quite busy.”
Tyler was about to speak again, obviously getting a little frustrated, when Glen stepped in.
