by Selena Kitt
Stripping out of a damp wetsuit was its own kind of workout. Cardinal struggled to pull the neoprene over her thighs and calves, but to be dressed again in pants and an additional wind jacket was worth the trouble. Cardinal stood at the desk, turning the blue wine bottle over in her hand. The crab insignia on her breast distorted in the reflection on the glass. There was no label or embossing. It seemed to be just a cheap wine bottle. The note it saved was written in small, neat script and signed with flourish. Obviously someone with formal schooling. No one Cardinal knew signed their name this legibly except Motocross. She supposed private tutors would do that.
"Natalie Bowman ... who are you?" Cardinal was curious—what kind of person sends a distress call by bottle? But despite dredging it up in that bag the pirates had dropped, she didn't think it was relevant to their mission. Millions in scientifically useless but culturally powerful ivory was more important than a ten-year-old message.
The radio chirruped. Then static. Cardinal leaned over to turn up the volume.
"—rates are boarding! We're just tourists here, there's nothing of value on board! SOS! Help! Does anyone speak English out there?"
Cardinal grabbed the radio. "This is Zodiac Cancer craft oh-three-four. We hear you, SOS. Repeat your location."
A scramble of Italian clashed on the radio, then, "Oh, thank God, it's Zodiac. Guys, I've got Zodiac! We're just past the bay point. Come quickly!"
"Take a breath, we're already on our way. What's the problem?"
"PIRATES!"
Cardinal didn't believe in coincidence. She jumped from her seat and sent the wine bottle spinning. She flew up the stairs. "Whip! The bay point. Now!"
Whiplash hauled the craft to starboard and throttled them up to full speed. The boat jumped on the water. Cardinal navigated back down to the radio squawking in a panic without her. "Listen to me," she snapped. "Lock yourselves in where you are and barricade the doors if you can. Duck under anything that will give you cover. Stay away from the windows."
More voices, both English and Italian. "What do they want from us?"
Cardinal frowned at the bottle on the table, remembering Whiplash's words. "Hostages."
Static on the line. The delicate sound of breaking glass. Cardinal slammed the radio down and hauled open a cabinet. It was a gunfight Whiplash wanted, and a gunfight she'd get. Cardinal holstered her M9 pistol at her thigh and slung a shotgun across her back. She grabbed Whip's MK23, checking the cartridge automatically. The forty-five was hefty for close-quarters, but if it came down to guns, Zodiac operatives always packed to win. Cardinal raced up to the deck. There was nothing across the water. No SOS craft. No pirates.
"Here." Cardinal handed off the guns. "Pirate attack on a tourist boat at the point. Might be our guys."
"See, hostages. Much more profitable." Whip's frown gave her light words an ominous tone.
"Maybe we get lucky."
But the boat could only go so fast and the pirates had hours on them. By the time Whip and Cardinal reached the point and the overrun boat, it had been scuttled. There was no sign of the pirates and debris littered the bay mouth.
Whiplash powered down to a slow idle, and motored between floating cargo and pieces of boat hull. "No local enforcement," she said sadly.
Cardinal shook her head. "Probably paid off." They'd already argued with the dock police more than once. Cardinal could appreciate resisting a foreign ops group dispensing law where they saw fit, but this was a local boat. Wasn't it? Fiberglass slapped and sucked against the hull. She shaded her eyes against the sliver of sun and peered across the bright surface of the water. The effect was a strange, high-contrast view of the wreckage. Nothing moved.
They bumped a larger chunk of hull. It rocked around and revealed a man, exhausted, clinging to the piece of flotsam. "Whip! Man overboard!" Cards stowed her weapons, stripped off her wind jacket, and dove into the water, portside. It was oily.
She grabbed the man around his chest and he flailed in sudden panic. She tightened her grip. "Hey, I'm here to help, relax, calm down."
"Who ... who are you?" He stopped fighting but shivered uncontrollably.
"Zodiac. Cancer. I'm getting you out of here." He was dressed only in shorts and a t-shirt, and he had to be nearing hypothermia. Whiplash helped haul him aboard and immediately stripped his soaked clothing.
"Hey—!" He didn't have the coordination to protest. The cold water had sapped fine motor function from his muscles.
Cardinal wrapped him in a thermal emergency blanket and guided him down the steep stairs of their live-aboard. "Let's get you warm," she said.
With no other sign of survivors, Whiplash guided the boat out of the wreckage. Below, Cardinal tuned the radio and explained the situation in fluent Italian to the authorities.
Chapter 3
"What's your name?" Cardinal poured a hot mug of tea for the tourist in her berth and sat on a corner of the bed. He accepted the cup gratefully, still wrapped in the emergency blanket.
"Frank," he said, shaking. "Frank Dwight."
Slightly balding and late middle-aged, an adventure seeker Frank was not. He had a bit of weight around his middle and showed no sign of familiarity with boats. He overcompensated every time their craft rocked on the water.
"Whiplash is taking us back into Punta Ala Marina. Do you have anyone you can stay with?"
He nodded. "My wife, she went shopping today. Thank god." He rubbed a hand down his face. "Oh my god, I would have died out there. Thank you."
Maybe. Cardinal didn't find it useful to speculate. "I've told the authorities at the port what I know but they'll have questions for you, too. They'll make sure you can contact your wife."
"Why are you guys even out here? I mean, I'm grateful, but isn't this a little far for the Cancer force?"
"We operate anywhere you can float a boat, Mr. Dwight. And there are worse places to be assigned than the Mediterranean." Cardinal smiled and encouraged him to drink the tea. "Can you walk me through what happened?" They needed information, but Whiplash wasn't quite a people person. Between the two of them, Cardinal had all the soft skills while Whip preferred to punch first and questions rarely came up.
Mr. Dwight pulled his blanket closer. "I don't know why they did it. It was just a tourist boat. This other boat came up really close on one side and a woman on board yelled at our captain. They were talking in Italian; I don't know what they argued about."
"Do you remember anything about the boat?"
"It was white, like ours." He smiled and said sheepishly, "Sorry, not really a sailor."
Cardinal gave him another gentle smile. "That's ok. What happened after the argument?"
Mr. Dwight took a drink of the tea. "Our captain turned the boat away. I think he was trying to go back to the port? The pirates tied our boats together and boarded. That was when some of us ran up the stairs and locked the door. I got on the radio to call for help—then I heard you guys."
Cardinal nodded. She indicated her speaker beside them. "I heard glass over the radio—did they break into the wheelhouse?"
"Wheelhouse?"
"The cockpit you were in with the radio."
Mr. Dwight shook his head. "I don't know. They broke the lock on the door and two guys started carrying people away. There were ... I don't know, seven of us in there? Oh, yes—one of them did break the glass with his gun. They were dragging people out the window when we barricaded the door." He stared at his tea for several breaths. "They took everyone out, then it was only me and they came back. I was fighting them when the floor started tipping. They ran after that. I climbed out the window when they left, the boat was leaving, though and ours was breaking. I hung onto a piece and that's how you found me."
"Was there anything different about the pirate boat from yours? Words or a picture maybe?"
"Hmm." He swallowed his tea. "They did have something written on the back. Mile Flor? Flory?"
"Millefiori?"
"Sure. Maybe?" Cardinal found a
notepad and wrote it out for him, but he shrugged. "What does it mean?"
"It's Italian for wildflower. It's the name of the boat." The same boat that dropped a bag of shoes and some wine bottles to throw them off.
Frank shrugged again and drank more tea.
"If there's anything else that you remember, you can call this number." Cardinal passed him a business card from her breast pocket.
Mr. Dwight turned it over. "Aries? I thought you were Cancer."
"His name is Cleo," Cardinal said. "He'll make sure anything you remember gets back to us."
"Okay." Frank clutched the card in his hand.
Cardinal left him below. She filled Whiplash in on what she'd learned as they came into the marina. Whip cut the boat's speed and idled between a thick wishbone of docks and white boats. Row after row of pristine hulls. If the Millefiori was here, she would take days to find.
The port authority met them at their slip with no record of a Millefiori. At least, no record they were willing to share without a hefty bribe. They weren't willing to buy the information just yet. Cardinal handed Frank over with promises that he would call if he remembered anything.
Whiplash watched them walk away. "Let's fill Cleo in and get something in our stomachs. We can walk the marina afterward."
Chapter 4
The phone rang. Cardinal rolled away from the noise but training and habit opened her eyes. It was way too early for phone calls.
The phone rang again. Cardinal heard Whiplash turn out of her berth and fumble the phone out of its cradle. "Yes? … Oh. Hey, Cleo. Hold on, let me put you on speaker."
Cleo? It was nine already? Cardinal swam out of her bedding and rubbed her eyes. Her watch confirmed it: nine am exactly. Time for their daily check-in. She felt like she hadn't slept at all. After walking the marina for four hours, they'd only covered half the berthed boats and Whiplash had declared it bedtime. Cards rolled out of her berth and yawned.
Whiplash returned the phone to its cradle and the sound came through the speakers. "Good morning, ladies. I have some good news for you."
Cardinal leaned on the sink counter, elbow deep in the cooler, seeking out the milk. "You found the Wildflower for us?"
His light voice laughed. "No, still cycling through satellite photos. There are a lot of white boats. I haven't been reduced to hacking into the marina network yet but it may come down to that this afternoon."
"Can you do that?" Whip asked.
"Diea can." The smile on his face was audible.
Cardinal asked, "Diea?"
"With Gemini."
Whiplash said, "Oh, I know him. Partnered with Phade?"
"That's the one."
Cardinal gave her who? look as she shoveled cereal into her mouth.
"Tall guy, long braid."
Cardinal grunted negative and drank the last of her milk.
Cleo moved on. "But I've found Natalie Bowman for you in the meantime."
Whiplash sat up. "Really? Where is she?"
Cardinal frowned. "You had him chasing after the bottle message?"
"There wasn't much to chase. She was the daughter of an oil baron in Saudi Arabia and went missing about twelve years ago. She was never found. Presumed dead."
"That's disappointing." Whiplash slumped. "No sign of her since?"
"Your bottle is the most recent date as far as speculation is concerned. Her mother died some time ago and she had no siblings. Her father went broke trying to find her. He lives in the Tuscany hills now, that's about where Natalie's trail ended and he ran out of money."
Mention of Tuscany turned Whiplash's mood around in a beat. "Oh, we should go see him!" She had that look in her eyes, the one that said she'd latched onto the idea of a crazy adventure and there was no talking her out of it. "It's not that far."
Cardinal tried to stare her down. The message was ten years old. They had smugglers and pirates to catch. Their boat was probably in this very marina. Maybe. She rubbed her eyes. Whip wouldn't let it go and Cards would never hear the end of it. Cardinal dropped her bowl in the sink and nodded.
Whiplash whooped. "Send the address, Cleo. I want to meet this guy! I'll let you know what happens."
"Already on its way. Call me before dinner. I should have some kind of trace on the boat by then."
"Thanks!"
At least someone would be doing their job today. Both of their phones chimed beside the radio. Cardinal saw she had a text from Cleo. She has more fun when it's an adventure. Pick me up a souvenir and enjoy the hills. :) Cardinal smiled.
"Yes, I have an address!" Whiplash tore into her travel bag for appropriate clothing.
Cardinal pocketed her phone and dug into her own bag with sudden relish. Cleo was taking care of their boat. She could afford to be a tourist. And they were investigating a disappearance. Technically.
Chapter 5
Cardinal had to wonder about Cleo's idea of destitute. The house, while neglected for some time, was still beautiful. Olive trees were scattered up the driveway and it looked as though the herb gardens had gone to seed. Wild rosemary blanketed the tiers of landscaping on the northern edge in violent bloom. The house itself held a range of embedded stone. It looked like someone had claimed all the scrap rocks in a quarry. The effect was somewhat chaotic, but the colors had muted with time and the overhanging star jasmine softened the edges.
It was peaceful, a well-tended garden reclaimed by the wild forest.
Whiplash stood tall on the doorstep with her tight, digital box cap and sternest boot-camp face. She knocked. The sound echoed around for a while but didn't trigger any movement inside the building. She knocked again and after the sound bounced into silence, they heard shuffling.
The door opened. An old man with an unkempt beard and bags under his eyes frowned at them. He was not impressed by their Zodiac uniforms.
Whiplash cleared her throat. "We're here to speak with a Mister Farid Al Yami?" The Italian language and Arabic syllables rolled elegantly off her tongue. Far better than Cardinal could muster. Whiplash looked at the man expectantly. "It's about his daughter."
The man snorted and turned away from the door. "I have no daughter," he said in heavily accented Italian.
Whiplash flipped to Arabic for him, as fluent in one as the other. "Natalie Bowman is her name, mother is Clarissa Bowman—why didn't she take your last name?"
Farid moved deeper into the house, forcing Whip and Cardinal to enter or be left yelling. They entered. For all the neglect outside, the house was clean. Empty, as if no one really lived here, but clean of dust. Farid was halfway up a set of stairs tiled with a bright flower motif. "My family name was too difficult for her to pronounce. It was the lesser of her many complaints."
Whiplash smiled back at Cardinal who just shook her head slowly. They didn't know anything useful yet. Whiplash rolled her eyes, too excited to be brought down. "We found a message from your daughter." She fished the small note out of her breast pocket.
"I have no daughter."
Cardinal scowled and gathered her limited Arabic. "Why do you say that?"
Farid stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled down at them. His teeth were faintly blue. "Because I sold her for two kilos of fire eyes while she was still young enough to be worth something."
Cardinal felt cold. Whiplash froze on the stairs, fingers in her pocket. "You sold her for drugs?"
"Best purchase I ever made." He sighed deeply. "But I admit, I was not expecting my next delivery to be so attractive. You should smoke with me." He trailed off and shuffled further down the hall.
Cardinal put a hand on Whip's arm and switched to English. "Like hell you're going in there."
"I'm not going to smoke anything, Cards."
"It's an inhaled hallucinogenic, you won't have to even get close."
Whiplash pulled against her. "But--"
"Not up for debate," Cardinal overrode her. "Were you listening? He sold her while she was still young enough to be worth something. That's a se
x trafficking deal if I've ever heard one." Cardinal didn't want to say it but Natalie had probably been raped the second drugs had traded hands. It made her throat tight just thinking about it. She pulled Whip down a step. "You want to find Natalie, fine, but this guy isn't your solution."
Whiplash was unhappy about it, Cardinal could see it in the set of her mouth, but she nodded. They fled the villa without saying goodbye.
Back on the boat, Whiplash admitted they were probably just retracing old ground. The search for Natalie had not been small. Someone would have talked to her father long before they did. "What I don't get, though, is why he would have spent his whole fortune to find her? He even moved to Italy because someone mentioned seeing her."
