Ghost Ship

by Roger Weston

  Jake jumped up as Isa flashed under the wire with a commanding victory. He watched as Edgar cooled Isa down and then rode his horse into the winner’s circle.

  Edgar dismounted and stood tall in the circle for a moment. He stroked Isa a couple of times and then buried his face in the horse’s wiry mane.

  Now Petri rose from his seat. Jake looked over at him. The big man was breathing heavily.

  “What just happened?” Petri said between breaths. “That’s not possible. Vatar just won horse of the year. He’s won ten of the last ten races. They’re calling him another Citation.”

  Jake was stunned, but he tried not to show it.

  Petri gave him a stony glare. “Where did you find him?”

  “Edgar spotted him in Morocco and we shipped him across the Atlantic.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend of mine.”

  “That horse smashed the track record by two seconds,” Petri’s trainer said as he walked by and then climbed the bleachers with a nervous look on his face.

  “Who’s your trainer?” Petri asked.

  Jake gestured toward Edgar. “Rodnell does that for now.”

  “You don’t even have a trainer?”

  “Rodnell knows horses.”

  “The race was fouled,” Petri yelled. “I want a rematch.”

  “Your rider fouled him.” Jake shook his head. “Rodnell had the disadvantage. The results stand.”

  “The results are void. Unless there is a rematch, the race is scratched.”

  Edgar walked over to Jake beaming. “Did you see that? We won.”

  “You didn’t win anything,” Petri spat out.

  Jake looked at Edgar, then at Petri. “Fine, we’ll race again.”

  Edgar walked back to the track, looking over his shoulder at Jake and Petri as he did.

  Petri waved to a waiter, who came over. “More pisco, por favor.” He waved the man away. “You.” He looked at Jake. “Meet me back here in thirty minutes. We will see who wins then.”

  When Jake turned to watch Edgar walk back to the barns, he got a clear view of the man he’d seen earlier standing by the rail—the man he’d come to confront, Tom Koch, the murderer of his father. He was walking towards Richter’s mansion now.

  Jake jogged over to Edgar and Isa. He glanced at the motor home and removed his hat, wiping the sweat from his brow for show. He watched as Petri sat down and the waiter returned with more of the spirits made from grapes. Petri held his glass as the man refilled his cup. The brown-haired belly dancer grabbed the boom box and walked toward Petri and his men. That got Petri’s attention.

  He watched as she set down the box in front of the bleachers. A couple of Petri’s associates who were sitting behind him on the bleachers nodded in approval and murmured among themselves.

  Petri looked behind him. “What’s this?”

  Jake ran over to Petri. “We brought entertainment. The famed belly dancers of Argentina.”

  Petri grunted. “You are quite a showman, Butler.”

  The dancers turned on their music. The drums and flutes captured the attention of Petri and his entourage.

  “Enjoy the show,” Jake said.

  Jake found his way to the motor home where Cody Larkin was waiting with a smile on his face.

  "Are you ready?" Jake said as he grabbed his backpack.

  Cody held up his .45 and shoved the weapon into his side-leather under his left arm beneath his jacket. “Just don’t forget about my payoff.”

  “I told you that you’d get what you had coming, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but I’ve been sitting in this rig watching the security around the place. There’s a lot of very serious looking armed men around. I want twenty grand now.”

  “Look, we’re not renegotiating now. We have to move quickly.”

  “Then agree to it.”

  Jake slammed his elbow into Cody’s jaw. The criminal collapsed. Jake pounced on him and wrapped an arm around his head. “I’m gonna make a counter offer, my friend. You live up to your end of the bargain, and I won’t break your neck.”

  “Alright, alright.”

  “You sure, because you’re wasting time right now, and I’m very tempted to break your neck for wasting critical minutes.”

  “I’m positive. Ten grand is plenty.”

  “Then let’s go. You get your payment after the job, just like I said.” Jake let him up.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you, man?” Pain gripped at Cody’s facial expression. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Shut your mouth, and remember, you take the front. If you see trouble coming our way, it’s up to you to stop it. Looks like there’s four or five guys surrounding the house.”

  Cody looked at his gun, then at Jake.

  “I’ll see you there. This should go fast.” Jake continued on his way. He was almost to the house when he glanced back over his shoulder. Cody Larkin was following at a distance. Jake entered the door around the back. Even though he entered through the servants’ quarters, the rooms were luxurious and rustic at the same time. Tile floors and enough antique furniture to have emptied out a warehouse filled the space. Jake hurried down the hall and was relieved that there were no guards in the house. At the north wing, he approached an ornate, solid door and found it locked.

  Jake looked at his watch. He was a few minutes behind thanks to the murderous Cody Larkin. Where was Koch? He was starting to head down another hall when a voice shocked him.

  “Jake.”

  He spun around and aimed his gun. It was Cody. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be watching my back.”

  Cody raised his hands, one of which held a handgun, though he wasn’t pointing it at Jake. “Easy now. I just want to see what you’re after. I want my fair share.”

  “Get back up front now.” Jake screwed a silencer onto his Glock handgun. “Get up there and watch the front, or I will shoot you right now—and don’t think I won’t.” Jake pointed the gun at him. “I warned you.”

  “Alright.” Cody backed up slowly.

  “Now run,” Jake said, “or I’ll give you your share right now—in lead.”

  As Cody jogged for the main entrance, he looked back over his shoulder with doubt in his eyes.

  After he had gone into every room looking for Koch. He checked his watch. By now the belly dancers at the track would be finishing up their second dance and beginning the third. Maybe they would keep Petri occupied, maybe not. Either way, it wouldn’t be long before Petri would be wondering about Jake. And now, thanks to Cody Larkin, they were a several minutes behind schedule.

  Jake entered the north wing with gun in hand. He quietly checked the rooms as he worked his way down the hall. Giant paintings by the masters, paintings that were probably stolen at some point in history and worth millions, lined the wide corridor. If he was gunned down here, he would die amidst incredible splendor. He suddenly regretted that he hadn’t shot Cody for slowing him down. He found Tom Koch sitting in Richter’s media room watching the big screen with his back to him. He turned and saw the intruder enter with a gun and silencer.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  Jake pointed his gun at Koch and said, “You killed my father. I should kill you right here, but I know what you and Richter are up to, and you’re not going to get away with it again.” Jake tore off his disguise.

  “Sands, what the—? How did you get here?”

  “I ought to kill you right now.” Jake walked to the bed.

  “Back off, man.”

  Jake slammed his free hand against Koch’s ear, sending a shock wave up his ear canal stunning the inner ear and rupturing the tympanum. Koch cried out in pain.

  Jake raised his gun. “Get up or I’ll blow your brains out.”

  “Calm down.” Koch tried to stand, but his equilibrium was off from the blow. He stumbled, using the bed to break his fall. Jake slammed his ear again, and Koch let out a muffled groan.

  “
You’re a fool. This house is surrounded by armed guards. All I have to do is call them, and they’ll take care of you.” He grimaced in pain.

  “Not before you’re dead. I’m not leaving without a signed confession of your plans.”

  “What plans?” Koch said, holding one hand over his damaged ear.

  Jake grabbed Koch and put the gun behind his neck and said, “Your plans to sink the Queen Mary.”

  “Okay, Okay.” Koch jerked his head to the side still holding his bleeding ear. “I need something to write on. Richter’s office is down the hall.”

  “Let’s go.” He pushed Koch forward with the gun and shoved him out the door. Staggering, Koch led Jake down the hall and into Richter’s office.

  Beyond the ornately carved doors, a massive mesquite desk stood in the center of the room in front of a large credenza. A large mirror filled the wall behind the credenza. Framed photos of race horses in action decorated the walls.

  Jake threw Koch into the chair in front of a computer monitor. “Type up your confession quickly and keep it short. Then print it out and sign it.”

  “She’s going to Taiwan. There’s no plan to sink her.”

  “Hurry up.” Jake held his gun to Koch’s head.

  “What’s this going to do? It won’t stop Richter. He’s already at sea. She’s going down.”

  “If she does, then I’ll turn your confession over to the authorities, and you’ll go straight to a Chilean prison.”

  Jake jammed the gun harder into the base of Koch’s skull. “You better hurry up. After what you did to my father, I wouldn’t mind putting a few bullets in you right now.”

  Koch started typing.

  As Jake watched Koch write his admission of his guilt, anger filled his veins. The fact that this was the man who sent his dad to an early grave nearly overwhelmed his soul. He turned his head a moment to control his impulses.

  When he did, Koch leaned back in the chair, knocking Jake off balance. Then he grabbed a crystal paper weight and threw it at Jake’s face with the speed of a striking rattler. The blunt object ricocheted off Jake’s head, stunning him so badly that his fingers opened up and his gun fell to the ground. With demonic speed and strength, Koch grabbed a chair and came after Jake, hammering him across the spine as he reached for his pistol.

  Jake collapsed, but was still coherent. He rolled onto his back and pulled his legs to his chest. As Koch tried to assault him with the chair, Jake thighs tensed, and his legs exploded outward, driving Koch back.

  Jake reached for his pistol, but Koch pivoted and crashed the chair down on the floor, just missing Jake’s hand. Jake whirled on his spine and kicked at Koch’s legs, but the killer jumped over Jake’s swinging foot as if it were a jumping rope.

  Rolling away, Jake tried to gain his feet, but Koch slammed into him. Jake crashed down on the credenza. As Koch went for the gun, Jake pulled a drawer from the credenza and winged it. The drawer hit Koch’s arm with enough force that he cried out in pain and backed off.

  Despite the expression of pain on Koch’s face, Jake saw in an instant that he was going to make another dash for the gun. Gaining his feet, Jake snagged the top half of a broken earthenware lamp. He lunged for Koch, who jerked away from the jagged edge, knocking the gun under a couch.

  Koch picked up the printer and hurled it at Jake, missing by just inches. Then he swept up a lamp—long, thin, and metal. His first swipe shattered what was left of Jake’s clay wreckage. As a follow up, Koch heaved his metal lamp at Jake, who took a hard blow in the ribs. Like a man possessed, Koch then threw the computer at Jake as if it was weightless. Jake dove to the floor, just avoiding getting hit again. The computer crashed against the wall and left a dent in the stucco.

  He watched as Koch grabbed a briefcase and ran towards the door. Jake reached under the couch and got his fingers around his gun. Yanking his hand out from underneath, he saw Koch flash out the office door before he could get his pistol pointed in his direction.

  Stepping into north wing hall with gun drawn, Jake worked his way down the hall checking corridors, looking for Koch.

  Then he saw him. He was climbing through a window at the end of one of the halls, holding the black leather briefcase.

  Jake sprinted after him, lunging himself out of the window and on top of Koch. They struggled for a few minutes before Koch was able to free himself. By then, ostriches that inhabited the pasture off the north wing had circled both of them. A bold male bird taller than both Jake and Koch made the first move. He kicked Jake in the back with a four-inch talon. Jake hit the ground hard and slid in the dust. Seeing the attack, Koch jumped back through the window of Richter’s hacienda. Then Jake got up and turned to face the towering ostrich that had punished him. The rest of the ostriches laid flat and the big guy backed off, but by that time Koch was gone. Only the black briefcase remained.

  Jake picked it up and shooed the black gangly creatures away.

  Then Jake heard gunfire erupt at the front of the house. He hoped that meant that Cody had stopped Koch. Then he saw the motor-home careen around the corner and in front of the pasture.

  The blond belly dancer at the wheel hit the brakes and the rig slowed by the fence.

  Holding the briefcase, Jake ran alongside the horse trailer’s open door and jumped in. “Go! Go! Go!” When the motor-home swerved around the front of the house, the thugs, who were shooting it out with Cody Larkin, were caught off guard. Jake threw down the briefcase and opened fire on them through the side window of the fast-moving horse trailer. Finding themselves attacked by their exposed flank, the thugs panicked. One got up and ran, but Cody leveled him before he got five paces. A few of them fired at the motor home, but only got off a couple of wild shots because they were under attack now from two directions.

  If they took cover from Jake’s shots, they would have to go around the other side of the cars, and that would put them directly in Cody’s sights. One of them did just that, diving around the side as Jake’s shots slammed into the car inches from his body. When he made this critical error, Jake could only guess about the consequences, but he switched his focus to Petri, who was wielding an M-16. The big man opened up on the motor home and horse trailer, sending a burst of gunfire that blew out a window of the motor home and punched holes in the horse trailer. Jake ducked down, but then he came up and squeezed off a few shots and managed to hit Petri in the leg. The big man jerked and rolled. He came up firing, but only unleashed one burst, and it struck the trailer above Jake’s head.

  Jake ducked down and pushed the send button on a disposable cell phone. The three cars that a few of the thugs were using as cover exploded into fireballs. Bodies flew through the air. At the same time, another explosion rocked the front gate, which Jake couldn’t see. Next thing he knew, the motor home was racing down the long driveway off the property. It turned onto the main road and picked up speed. They’d gone close to a mile when they came up alongside Edgar, who was galloping his racehorse, the brown-haired belly dancer riding double.

  As the motor home and trailer slowed, Jake threw down the ramp door and got out of the way. Edgar rode the horse right up into the moving trailer. The animal was spooked but responsive, and Jake pulled Edgar and the dancer over the rail into the next stall. That done, Edgar took the reins and calmed the glorious beast.

  “What about Cody?” Edgar said.

  “I’m sure he got what he had coming to him,” Jake responded

  ***

  Back at the ranch, Koch got Richter on the phone and told him what had happened.

  Richter was quiet for a moment. “Get to the science facility immediately. We’re speeding things up. I’ll order the cargo transfer to begin at once. I want you there to oversee the operation. Make sure the cargo is en route to make the rendezvous point at the specified time. And don’t forget the satchel.”

  Koch cringed. “I’m on my way.”

  “No delays. I want that cargo en route as soon as possible.”

  ***
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  Friday Harbor Marina

  San Juan Islands, Washington

  Ashley tried to sleep, but was restless. What was going on in South America? She hadn’t heard from Jake since before he went to the Richter estate. She sure wished he would call. After a while she dozed off. A few hours later, she was awakened again by the sound of footsteps on the deck of Jake’s fishing boat. The boat swayed very gently, and terror seized her bones. They’d found her! She looked around for something to defend herself with, but it was too dark and she didn’t see anything. She breathed faster.

  What could she do? The gun. Jake had told her where the gun was. She crawled down the hallway and opened the bottom drawer. It was there, but she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to load it in the dark.

  Scream. That was the answer. There were other boat owners around. If she screamed, it would attract attention.

  A window shattered. A brick hit the wall and landed in the galley sink. Glass rained on her. Her scream was unintentional and sincere. She heard the shuffling of footsteps and someone running on the dock.

  In the galley of Jake’s fishing boat, Ashley pushed the magazine into the gun’s handle until it clicked.

  She peeked out a cracked open door for a couple of minutes, then made her way on deck and closed the boat door behind her. She leaned against the accommodation for a few minutes. She searched among the patterns of railings and masts under dock lights. The task was dizzying. There were hundreds of boats, hundreds of radars and antennas. She sighed. All she could do was hope they wouldn’t come back. If they did…no… she couldn’t even allow herself to think about that. She held the pistol firmly and scanned along the shore, but saw no people.

  Back inside the boat, she locked the door, closed the curtains, and covered the broken window with a piece of cardboard.

  Then she barricaded the door and placed the pistol next to her laptop.

  Chile

  South America

  Jan 14, 2014

  After a few hours of driving away from Richter’s estate, Jake paid off his troupe of entertainers and dropped them off in the city of Talca. He’d already turned Isa’s Fire over to Lorena, who’d met him at a ranch near Santiago. As Edgar sped down the Carretera Panamericana highway, Jake laid his head down in shame on the small laminate table of the motor home. He’d come all this way and accomplished nothing. He didn’t have the confession he needed to prove that Richter planned to sink the Queen Mary. Lifting his head he peered over at Edgar who was in the driver’s seat, still glowing from his win. Then Jake looked at the window as the vineyards of the Mocha Valley swirled by under the stern watch of the volcanoes of the Andes range.