Glen & Tyler's High Seas Hijinks (Glen & Tyler Adventures Book 4)

by JB Sanders

  “What kind of authority do you have?”

  “I have a signed Presidential security letter. And some kind of funky grey swipe card with no writing on it.” Tucker cleared his throat. “I don’t mind saying, I’m a little intimidated by that card.”

  Tyler nodded, a little distracted. “You probably should be. Ok, that’s informative and probably useful, at least once we get to the end game.”

  Tucker blinked. “End game?” He looked around the room at everyone else. “Does he really talk like that?”

  Kevin and Glen both nodded at him.

  Tyler was still distracted. He started counting on his fingers and twisted left, then right in his chair. His eyes were looking at something not in the room.

  Tucker opened his mouth to say something but Glen held up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t bother, he won’t hear you. He’s thinking. Give him a second.”

  After about a minute, Tyler snapped back.

  “Ok, Tucker, here’s how things stand. Let me know what you think…”

  Long Cool Woman in a Uniform

  Glen stood on deck next to Captain Patterson. The ocean was mildly choppy and Glen hung on to some nearby rigging.

  Captain Patterson was meticulous and careful in her appearance, as in everything she did. The uniform she wore looked freshly pressed and she had been on duty for hours. Patterson had years of tall-ship experience and came with glowing recommendations. In fact, her last employer had only let her go when he couldn’t afford his own ship anymore.

  Captain Patterson put a hand-held radio to her mouth. “Black Douglas to USS Saratoga, ready for visitors.”

  The two of them watched as the grey-painted US Navy destroyer shed another craft, which sped towards them. The orange boat wasn’t all that small but next to the destroyer it seemed like a toy.

  “Ever wonder what it would be like to captain something like that?” Glen nodded towards the destroyer.

  Captain Patterson snorted. “Yes, and I can tell you three reasons I’d rather not. One, I make far more than what a Navy captain makes. Two, when I take a break I can sip perfect mai tais instead of instant coffee. And three, in the evenings, I retire to my luxury cabin. No, I don’t wonder at all.”

  Glen smiled over at her. “Despite having to work for conceited rich assholes?”

  Patterson spared him a glance, then went back to regarding the oncoming boat. “Have you ever met an admiral?”

  Glen laughed. “Yeah, ok, point.”

  The launch pulled up alongside, perhaps only ten feet separating them. Captain Patterson tossed a rope over to one of the crew, who immediately made it fast to the launch. Then the Captain pressed a button on the winch and the launch was pulled tight along the schooner. Once they were set, she kicked a rolled up assembly of rope and wood, which rolled over the side and became a rope ladder.

  A striking woman in a khaki Navy uniform looked up and called out. “Permission to come aboard?”

  “Granted,” Patterson called back.

  The woman nimbly climbed up the ladder and accepted Glen’s hand aboard.

  She saluted Captain Patterson, who nodded in return.

  “Commander Fuller, welcome aboard.” Patterson offered her hand, which Commander Fuller shook.

  Glen waved down at the launch. The crewman nearest them hefted a canvas bag and motioned at Glen with it. Glen waved and the man tossed it up. Glen caught it.

  Commander Fuller blinked at him. Glen offered his hand.

  “Nice to see you again, Commander.”

  She gave him a stern look and clasped his hand. “What did I say about that?”

  “Specifically? Only to use the title when you’re in uniform.” Glen grinned at her.

  Commander Fuller rolled her eyes. “Yes, fine.” She stepped to the side, and waved down at her crew. “Thanks, guys!”

  The launch cast off the line, and pulled away, picking up speed as it moved away.

  “We’ve got lunch set out, and someone is waiting impatiently for you to come inside.” Glen tapped his ear. As they made their way forward, Glen half turned. “I thought you’d retired from the Navy?”

  Genevieve sighed. “Yes, well, I made the mistake of presenting a paper at a conference on trauma medicine and the wrong Admiral was there to hear it. He liked it so much, I got called up from the reserves, bumped up a grade, and I’m doing a fleet-to-fleet tour training on the technique. You know what they say.”

  From behind her, Captain Patterson said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  “Exactly.”

  They stepped into the central lounge. James and Tyler were there, looking over charts on the large table. Tyler saw Genevieve and waved James away with a smile.

  James glanced at Kevin. “I’m officially off-duty. Call it in.”

  James seemed to teleport over to Genevieve, and it was a toss up who kissed whom more fiercely.

  Glen turned to Kevin, who seemed just slightly shocked to see his normally stoic boss smooching so … enthusiastically. Glen held out Commander Fuller’s bag. “Could you put this in Commander Fuller’s cabin. Kevin?”

  Kevin started slightly, turned to look directly at Glen and somewhat automatically took the bag. Kevin keyed his radio, said several code words, and then left. Captain Patterson followed him.

  Glen went over to Tyler. “Have we ever been that bad?”

  “Are you kidding? I think he’s copying that stunt we pulled in York.”

  “What? That was totally justified. We almost got hit by a double-decker bus!”

  “I’m just saying.” Tyler pointed. “He’s even doing that thing you did with your knee.”

  Glen leaned in and caught Tyler’s eyes with his own. “Oh? I don’t recall you had much room for thought at the time.”

  Tyler grinned back, blushing a little. “Seriously? Everything about that kiss is seared into my brain.”

  There was a snort from behind them. James and Genevieve had pulled apart, both a little breathless and red. James nearly had a grin on his face.

  “Sir? Do you need me for a while?”

  “Don’t need you at all until after…” Tyler watched, amused, as James and Genevieve ran out. “…supper.”

  ***

  It was sort of a dinner at the Captain’s table.

  Glen and Tyler liked to host a dinner every night with as much of the crew as possible, to get to know the guys a little better, and to compensate a little for the guys doing double duty. Every one of their crew was also a member of their security detail.

  This night was a little unusual, with two new people on board.

  Captain Patterson wore her formal black uniform, and sipped her mai tai delicately. “Glen, perhaps you could introduce us?”

  Glen nodded. “Right, Captain Patterson, this is Evan Von Rees. He’s doing some consulting work for Tyler.”

  Patterson extended a hand, and Tucker shook. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Von Rees. Welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you, Captain. This is a fine ship.”

  “Thank you. What sort of consulting do you do? Or is it one of Tyler’s special jobs?”

  Von Rees / Tucker let that slide off him, his face professional and politely jovial. He might not be a field agent but he was certainly no stranger to small talk at parties. “Special job, sorry. Have you been with the Conrads long?”

  “Just the last few months, getting the Douglas up to snuff, breaking in the crew, and sailing down to the Caribbean.”

  James and Genevieve came in. James had squeezed his large frame into a tuxedo — a tailored one because Tyler had gotten all of his security peeps tuxes. Genevieve wore a slinky off-the-shoulder black dress, clasped with an emerald and silver brooch. She’d transformed from a hardened sailor into a strikingly beautiful woman, though Glen couldn’t help noticing that she surveyed the lounge as if looking for ninjas.

  Glen wasn’t certain, but he thought Genevieve started slightly when she saw Tucker.

  “Mr. Hardaway, Commander.
What would you like to drink?” Patterson gestured at the bar. “Cookie makes an absolutely divine mai tai, if you go for that sort of thing.”

  “A little sugary for me, thanks. Scotch?” Genevieve raised an eyebrow.

  A tumbler of amber liquid was put into her hand promptly.

  Glen pointed at Tucker. “Genevieve, this is Evan Von Rees. He’s doing some consulting work for Tyler. Evan, this is Commander Genevieve Fuller, United States Navy. She’s a doctor who specializes in trauma medicine.”

  Genevieve and Tucker/Von Rees shook hands. There was nothing he could point to but Glen got the very vague impression that there was some hidden tension between the two of them.

  Captain Patterson set down her drink. “Right, I’ll be back in a moment. Just need to check on dinner.”

  As soon as the door was closed behind the Captain, Tucker turned to Genevieve. “Thanks for covering. Sorry for the shock.”

  James looked just slightly surprised, which for him was like a gasp.

  Tyler swallowed some of his mai tai and grinned. “I should have caught that. You treated Tucker after that Cuban thing a few years ago, right?”

  Genevieve nodded. “Kind of a bolt from the blue seeing him again sipping cocktails on your ship, but I guess I shouldn’t be at all surprised. The life of a secret agent…”

  Tucker gave James a friendly elbow. “You’ve got quite the catch there, Hardaway. She’s a damned good doctor. And I’m just an analyst but I appreciate the promotion.”

  James snorted. “She caught me but thanks.”

  Genevieve gave Tucker an exasperated look. “Just as mouthy as I remember you … what am I calling you?”

  “Evan.” Tucker coughed.

  “Try not to get shot on this one, Evan.” Genevieve turned to Tyler. “I assume there’s a thing going on?”

  Tyler looked innocent in exactly the same way a three-year-old looks innocent while chewing on stolen cookies. “Why, Commander Fuller, where do you get your ideas? We’re just vacationing on our sailing ship, and doing a spot of treasure hunting for fun. What else would we be doing?”

  Genevieve sipped her Scotch, and regarded Tyler blandly. “Defeating the Cuban missile crisis, stopping a pandemic, breaking up a drug cartel, or maybe arresting Doctor No.”

  Tyler and Glen laughed.

  Brazil Calling

  Excalibur Report 5561, intelligence extracted from source 5A

  Transcript of phone call between unidentified woman (labeled Cell #1) and unidentified males, using unknown phone number (land line) in Brazil.

  Man #1: Please report.

  Woman: We’ve successfully reduced competition in the area, and I’m consolidating the remaining players.

  Man #1: Excellent. We were a bit worried that this would cost more than it was worth.

  Woman: It was hardly that expensive. A one-time fee to our old Soviet friend for the ship and an on-going expense no worse than the standard operational budget for any of our regular shipping lines.

  Man #2: Plus the risks.

  Woman: [snorting noise] The procedure is quick, basically invisible, and no personnel are ever put at risk. The ship was designed for this.

  Man #1: Yes, and seems to be working surprisingly well. What about official entanglements?

  Woman: The beauty of working through established locals is that we never appear on the radar. [Pause] As far as the government is concerned, this has simply been a period of consolidation in a crowded marketplace.

  Man #2: On that topic, we understand that there is some concern that the list we paid for has not been received.

  Woman: I’m looking into that. There was a problem on the initial receipt end, our agent in DC, and we tracked him down. His position has been terminated. The trail after that is less clear.

  Man #1: [sternly] Make it clear.

  Woman: Of course. I have my best people on it. We’ll get it back.

  Man #2: Yes, you will.

  Jeremy's What!?

  They were lunching in their cabin, after a leisurely morning of reading the Internet in bed, when Tim came in with unwelcome news.

  “Jeremy’s what?” Tyler looked at Tim in disbelief.

  “Missing. He slipped the security detail on his New York apartment.”

  Tyler grimaced. “Ok, I guess I can’t blame them too much for that. Are we tracking his phone?”

  “He ditched it.”

  Tyler stood up and started to pace. Glen could see that he was both angry and afraid for Jeremy. “What about his panic button?”

  “We tracked that to JFK, the charter flights area, and then it vanished.”

  “Why are we only hearing about this now?” Tyler stopped his pacing to give Tim a firm stare.

  “Jeremy went into the bedroom of his apartment. He said he was taking a nap so he’d be rested up for a night out, which meant he’d be asleep for several hours. He’s done this lots of times in the past, so it was nothing out of the ordinary. After going into his bedroom, he apparently immediately went up the fire escape to the roof, in the roof door, down the back stairs past the sentry stationed there, while holding full garbage bags to obscure his face and then past the sentry in the alleyway the same way.” Tim leveled an exasperated look at Tyler, who frowned.

  “How is taking out the garbage a disguise from your own security detail?”

  “He was muttering to himself in Spanish and wore a hat.” Tim folded his arms. “Did you know your brother was fluent in Spanish?”

  Tyler waved this away. “Yeah, sure. How else do you think he could seduce the help?”

  Glen winced.

  Tyler threw up his hands. “I know how that sounds, but he got into the language because all our hot gardeners and sexy maids were from Mexico and El Salvador. Blame my Dad and the evil Step-Mom — I was like nine or ten at the time. Jeremy has a thing for Latin men, and women.” Tyler sighed. “Ok, first step: find Jeremy. Track all charter flights out of JFK and find out where they went. And not where they filed flight plans for, where they actually landed. Get Excalibur involved if you need to, and put us on an ongoing threat alert.”

  Tim nodded, and left the cabin.

  Glen stood up, stepped in front of Tyler’s pacing and took him in his arms. “It’ll be ok.”

  Tyler hugged him back, tightly, as if clinging to a life raft. “It better be,” Tyler said in a small voice.

  ***

  “Ok, I think we’ve got him, and you’re not going to be happy.” Tim sat down at the table as Glen and Tyler enjoyed the latest confection their on-board chef Cookie had come up with. The things that man could create in a galley smaller than the tub in their master bathroom back on the island was astounding.

  How the man had made perfect donuts on board a ship, Glen had no idea.

  Tyler put his donut down, and made a “bring it on” gesture with his hand.

  “One of the charter flights in our sweet spot time frame when we lost contact with Jeremy’s panic button is due to land in Bermuda in thirty minutes.”

  Tyler shook his head. “Nope. I do not like that. Take it back.” Tyler pointed at the door.

  Cookie put his head in. “What?!”

  “Not you, Cookie. Everything you put in front of me is some kind of heavenly food experience.”

  Cookie grinned and ducked back out.

  Glen poked Tyler. “Apologize to Tim.”

  Tyler sighed. “I’m sorry. Tell me more about this flight — who owns the plane, who chartered it, other passengers, the works.”

  Tim put a folder in front of Tyler and then pilfered a donut off Tyler’s plate. Glen knew that Tyler was intent on the contents of the brief, because whenever Glen tried that same food-stealing maneuver, he’d gotten his hand slapped.

  After a few intent minutes of reading, Tyler leaned back, a distant look on his face.

  “Huh,” he said eventually.

  Glen gave him a couple of raised eyebrows, and nonchalantly chewed on another creme-filled pastry.

&n
bsp; “It’s complicated, but interesting. There are … aspects.” Tyler absently chewed on a cruller.

  “And?” Glen nudged Tyler.

  Tyler nodded, as if making some point to himself mentally. He reached up and pulled down the ship’s phone, punching the button for the wheelhouse and handing the handset to Glen. They’d worked out a system — Tyler might decide where they were going, but only Glen could order the crew around, at least as far as the ship’s operations were concerned. It was Glen’s ship, after all.

  “Captain?” Glen said into the phone.

  “Yes, Glen?”

  “Is there any way we can lay on more sail for Bermuda?”

  “Sure. It’ll still be about … two days travel, probably slightly more this time of year.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Glen passed the phone back and Tyler hung up. “We’re still two days out.”

  Tyler stared at him. “Two days!?”

  Glen folded his arms and gave Tyler a Look. “Exactly what do you think we’re traveling in, a cigarette-runner? A nuclear aircraft carrier? No, we’re in a sailing ship — which means it’s slow.”

  “Right, right, I know. Sorry. I also forgot for a second that Bermuda isn’t exactly in the Caribbean. It’s way north and east of here.” Tyler turned to Tim. “Ok, first thing, get our Bermuda asset in place to surveil Jeremy. We want to know where he goes and who from that plane is with him. Then scramble a security team out there pronto. Under no circumstances let Jeremy know he’s being watched, unless it looks like he’s in trouble, and then grab him, obviously. And since we have a few days, let’s prep our arrival and figure out the best place for the team to stay.”

  ***

  They waited until the man had left the bungalow, hopped on his scooter, and driven around the corner.

  Then Glen, Tyler and their eight-man security team went into the small bungalow. They effected a silent entry by the simple expedient of picking the lock on the front door.

  Glen and Tyler found Jeremy asleep in the back bedroom. Two security guys joined them, the rest holding down the house discreetly.