by John Avery
Brandy sat alone on deck enjoying a nice garden salad. In honor of another beautiful day in paradise, she wore nothing but a thong bikini with a very skimpy top.
“Ahoy there,” a man’s voice called from the dock.
Brandy looked over the railing and saw two men in Hawaiian shirts approaching the Cayman Jewel.
“Coming,” she called. She wiped her hands on a towel and headed over to the gangway to investigate.
“Pardon the intrusion, miss,” the shorter man said. “I was hoping you could answer a couple of questions.”
Brandy could spot a shoulder holster a mile away — even under a baggy floral pattern.
“You guys cops?” she said, glancing up toward the marina office. She wondered why Jason hadn’t seen them first.
“I guess you would consider this a social visit,” the man said. “I’m James Harness, and this is my good friend Larry Holt.” Harness had thought of using fake names, but he knew this lead was a long shot anyway, so he didn’t bother.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Holt said, nodding politely.
Brandy looked up at him. She had never seen a black man both that huge and that good looking. You should take up acting, she thought.
“I’m Brandy,” she said, shaking their hands.
The men struggled to maintain their composure. Standing that close to a half-naked woman as stunning and fragrant as Brandy without dropping their pants was proving difficult, if not impossible.
Brandy sensed this, of course, and it sent a thrill up her leg.
“I was wondering if you knew this man,” Harness said at last. He handed her a photo that Holt had dug up somewhere. “He and I met back in the States a couple of years ago, and since I’m rarely in the area, I thought I’d look him up.”
Brandy took a look at the picture and smiled to herself: she had never seen Jason in his Naval Officer’s dress uniform — and he looked amazing.
“Never seen him before,” she said calmly, wondering how this stranger found out where Jason lived.
Harness searched Brandy’s eyes. She was hiding something — he was sure of it. He took out a pad and pen and jotted down his number.
“Sorry to have disturbed you, miss,” he said. “If you happen to see him would you give me a call? It would be great to talk to him again.”
“I could do that,” Brandy said.
“We appreciate your time,” Harness said.
He started to leave, but as a detective he couldn’t resist giving Brandy a little something extra to think about. “Keep an eye out, will you?” he said. “One of the locals thought maybe Jason lived right here in this marina.”
He gave her a nod that said, Chew on that for a while, bitch, and then he and Holt started back down the gangway.
* * *
Just then Jason and Aaron came out of the marina office. Jason stopped when he spotted the two men coming up the ramp. He thought he recognized the shorter one from somewhere, but the Hawaiian shirt threw him, and he figured he must be mistaken.
“What’s going on?” Aaron whispered, trying to follow Jason’s gaze.
Suddenly Jason stepped back a step and took hold of Aaron’s arm. There was no mistake: It was him… the cop that shot him in the leg that night in Sally’s Diner!
“Come with me,” he said, and they ducked behind a portable restroom.
Harness and Holt continued up the ramp and entered the marina office.
* * *
The marina manager looked at Harness expectantly.
“He wasn’t there,” Harness said. “Only some woman named Brandy.”
“He must have stepped out,” the manager said.
Harness laid a crisp $50 on the counter. “If you see him, there’s more where that came from,” he said.
He made a mental note to return to the Cayman Jewel later that evening, and then he and Holt turned to leave.
* * *
“Why did you pay him again?” Holt said as they entered the parking lot. “You know as well as I do he’s a lying sack of shit.”
Harness unlocked their rented Mustang, ignoring Holt. He knew the man was lying, of course, but he also knew that maintaining a healthy dialogue was worth a little cash.
* * *
Jason and Aaron watched the men drive away, and then they returned to the Cayman Jewel.
* * *
Brandy was just finishing her salad. She stood up when Jason and Aaron came on board, anxious to tell Jason about her two visitors.
“We sail tonight,” Jason said gruffly, walking straight past her. He headed downstairs to the galley.
“Why tonight?” Brandy asked Aaron, but Aaron only shrugged.
They followed Jason below.
Jason opened the fridge and then slammed it closed in frustration. “Isn’t there any food on this tub?” he said. It was a ridiculous question, of course, considering they had just stocked the boat for a long trip.
“There were two men here, Jason,” Brandy insisted. “They were asking about you. They had a picture of you and they were packing heat.”
“Was one in his mid-fifties?” Jason asked sarcastically. “The other a handsome black man around six-five? Both dressed like tourists?”
“You saw them?” Brandy said, feeling foolish. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Jason opened the fridge again, grabbed a beer, and slammed the door. Then he went back up on deck.
Brandy looked at Aaron, but again he only shrugged.
Chapter 24
Sailing just before nightfall, Jason found the going easy. It felt good to be out on the open water again, a warm breeze in his face, away from whoever might be looking for him. Sailing was the only thing that brought peace to his soul.
He switched the Cayman Jewel to auto pilot and joined Aaron and Brandy on the aft deck.
“We should make good time tonight,” he said. “There’s no wind to speak of and the sea is as flat as a billiard table.”
Aaron had mapped out the trip to San Diego in his head. “I assume we’re taking the Panama Canal route,” he said. “Do they even allow private yachts through there, with all of the huge cargo ships and cruise ships going in and out?”
“I can’t say it will be easy,” Jason admitted. “We’ll be like a skateboard on a freeway. But private yachtsmen do it every day. We’ll hire an agent to help us with the paperwork and navigation, and we’ll be measured and fees calculated based on our theoretical cargo capacity. As we approach the Canal Zone we’ll be in contact with traffic control at Flemenco, keeping them informed regarding our location and speed. It's a one to three day trip through the canal, depending upon how good our agent is at schmoozing the authorities.”
“The authorities can cause problems for us?” Aaron asked.
“I’m not too concerned,” Jason said. “Canal agents have a reputation for getting things done.”
Brandy was shocked. She had figured that crossing the Panama Canal would take about an hour.
“I’m especially looking forward to crossing Lake Gatun,” Jason said. “It makes up a large portion of the canal, and I should be able to relax for a while with no locks to worry about. Overall it should be a very interesting crossing.”
“How long will the whole trip take?” Brandy asked.
“Two to three weeks,” Jason said. “I’m figuring four or five days from the Caymans to Panama, another one to three days on the canal, maybe five days up to Cabo, followed by two or three days sailing to San Diego.”
“Do we have to worry about ‘The Pirates of the Caribbean’?” Aaron asked, only half kidding.
Brandy looked at him, surprised. That possibility had never occurred to her.
Jason smiled. “I’d be lying if I said we didn’t. But according to the International Maritime Bureau's Piracy Reporting Centre, the two countries to be concerned about in this region are Brazil and Peru. We’re sailing to Panama by way of Honduras, Nicaragua, and Costa Rica, hugging the coastline, and Central Am
erica is not on the bureau's current list.”
Brandy sat back in her seat, dazed. This adventure was turning out to be a lot more than she had bargained for.
Chapter 25
Jason Souther had done an excellent job covering his tracks over the last two years, and for Harness and Holt, sniffing themselves all the way from their tiny East Coast precinct office to Grand Cayman in the Cayman Islands had taken a considerable amount of skill, more than a little luck, and most of their strength and stamina; and although they had come up empty at the marina the first time around, the intrepid duo were confident that, at long last, they were hot on Jason’s trail.
After grabbing a quick bite to eat, they decided to stop by the Cayman Union Bank, figuring that if Jason were living on Grand Cayman he would likely have an account there. But it was no use. The island’s legendary banking system was every bit as secretive as they’d heard it would be.
With their confidence still high, the men dropped back by the marina to pay another visit to the Cayman Jewel.
But her slip was empty.
They scanned the rest of the marina, figuring they’d somehow been confused as to the yacht’s actual location, but to no avail.
They went to the marina office and questioned the manager, and he confirmed that the yacht was indeed gone — out to sea for an indeterminate amount of time, destination unknown.
Harness had lost Jason Souther again.
* * *
Tired and frustrated, Harness sat on a bench, trying to come to grips with the fact that he had failed, and that Jason’s trail and most of Holt’s savings had dried up.
He and his loyal partner would have no choice but to fly home to the States with their tails between their legs and try their best to mend their broken careers.
* * *
But before they did, Harness wanted to make one more stop.
Chapter 26
Two years had passed since Harness helped save a young boy’s life back at Sally’s Diner, and since then, hardly a day had gone by when he hadn’t thought of him.
He had heard that after being released from the hospital, the boy had left the country, leaving a trail when he applied for a work visa in the Cayman Islands. Harness knew that this, too, was an extreme long shot, but after questioning a few Cayman locals he was told that there was a young man that fit the description living up on Cayman Brac, working at a dive shop called Earl’s Reef.
He and Holt drove straight to the airport and boarded the next plane to Cayman Brac, betting on a chance to say hello to Aaron Quinn.
* * *
“You just missed him,” the salty man behind the counter at Earl’s Reef Dive Shop told them. “Won’t be back for a month… that is if he ever does come back. Said something about sailing a motor-yacht through the Panama Canal, and in my experience, those folks, the ones that sail that far, never return. He’ll be sorely missed around here.”
Harness couldn’t believe his luck. They had actually tracked Aaron down. It was a shame that they had missed him.
“Did he say where they were headed?” he asked, figuring he might run into Aaron sometime in the future.
“I can’t recall,” the man said. “But he did mention a flaming redhead who has the hots for him.” He paused, scratching his whiskers. “There was something else… Oh, yeah, I’m pretty sure he said the boat’s captain was some guy named… Jason.”
Harness looked at Holt, unable to believe what he’d just heard. Holt couldn’t believe it either.
“Did he mention the captain’s last name?” Harness asked the man. “Or the name of the yacht?”
“Nope, only Jason.”
Harness had to take a moment. There was no way that the guy Aaron was sailing with was Jason Souther… or that the motor-yacht he and Aaron were on was the Cayman Jewel. That would be way too strange a coincidence. An impossible turn of fate.
He jotted down his number on a scrap of paper and handed it to the man. “If by some chance Aaron should happen to return, would you tell him I stopped by?”
“Yep,” the man said. He dropped the note into a jar full of business cards.
Harness thanked the man, and then he and Holt left Earl’s Reef and boarded a plane bound for Panama City.
Friday
Vladivostok, Russia
Chapter 27
Ekatarina Vtorakevna Pankova lived with her father in their modest home overlooking Vladivostok Harbor, along Russia’s northern coast. She was in her bedroom, seated lightly on a small chair, smiling at her reflection in the vanity mirror, brushing her long black hair with enthusiasm.
She was going to see her boyfriend tonight. They had been dating for two years now, and she had a strong feeling that tonight would be the night he would ask for her hand in marriage.
She set the brush aside and lifted her breasts a little before letting them bounce, thinking, Thank you my twin friends. You’ve served me well.
There was a knock on her door, which she answered after quickly donning her robe.
“Yes, Father?” she said.
“There is something I need to discuss with you,” Vtorak Pankov said.
Ekatarina glanced at the clock on her bedside table. “But I was just getting ready to go see Boris.”
“Please, sit down,” Pankov insisted.
Ekatarina hesitated and then took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Pankov pulled up a chair. “Ekatarina, my dear,” he said. “Now that you are out of high school, you need to see the world.”
She looked at her father. I know that, she thought. She was hoping to be married soon, and seeing the world was her plan.
“You and I are going to America for a while,” Pankov said.
“What?” Ekatarina cried, incredulous. “Where?”
“California,” he said. “San Diego to be precise.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“We leave in three weeks.”
Ekatarina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re just doing this because you don’t like Boris!” she cried. “You know we plan to marry soon, and now you want to break us apart!”
“When my business there is finished we will return,” Pankov said. “If Boris loves you as much as you think he does, he will wait for you.”
Ekatarina grabbed her hair as if to tear it out in frustration. “How long?” she asked quickly. “How long will we be in America?”
Pankov knew he would not be coming back. But as for his daughter, it depended, of course, upon how the U.S. responded to the assassination.
“A few days, maybe a few weeks,” he said. “If things go as planned.”
“You’re lying,” Ekatarina said. “No one from Russia ever just visits the United States. You plan to immigrate and keep me there forever!” She rolled over onto the bed and buried her face in her pillow, sobbing.
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Pankov said calmly. “But this matter is of the utmost importance to our country. Some day you will realize that, and perhaps then you will forgive me. I will give you an exact departure date when I have one.”
Then he went out.
Tuesday
Four Days Later…
10 Miles off the Coast of Costa Rica
Chapter 28
For Jason and his crew, the first few days of the voyage had run like fine clockwork. Refueling and resupply were easy, and the towns, restaurants, and bars they visited along the way were fantastic. Even Brandy had begun to relax, thinking maybe the trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
At around 4:00 a.m., Tuesday, just before sunrise, 10 miles off the coast of Costa Rica, Aaron awoke to a strange, low buzz coming from somewhere on the water. He grabbed a pair of high-powered binoculars out of a cabinet and went to the window.
In the predawn light he could just make out what appeared to be four men in a small outboard approaching the Cayman Jewel at high speed, and as they drew nearer it was clear that they were carrying rifles. Jason had told Aaro
n what to watch out for, and there was little doubt that he was about to encounter his first pirates.
He jumped into some clothes and ran to the master cabin to alert Jason.
“How far out?” Jason said, pulling on his pants.
“About a mile,” Aaron said.
“Go to the midships cabin and get my sniper rifle. There’s an assault rifle as well… in the large drawer under the bed. Hurry!”
Aaron ran to the cabin and retrieved the rifles, along with a box of ammo for each.
He returned with the guns, and Jason took the AWSM. Aaron slid a magazine into the well of the assault rifle and clicked it home. Then he slapped it hard and gave it a tug to make sure it was seated.
“Looks like you know how to handle a rifle,” Jason said, surprised.
“Actually, I do,” Aaron said.
Jason finished assembling his rifle, listening for the approaching boat. “Time to rock, my friend,” he said.
* * *
From up on deck they could clearly see the four men speeding toward them in their small outboard, and Aaron had been correct: they had guns.
“They’re the real thing, all right,” Jason said. “Friendlies would have signaled their intentions by now. These guys would as soon slit your throat as look at you.”
Sweat moistened Aaron’s palms.
* * *
The two positioned themselves and readied their rifles.
“I’ll take out the one on the tiller,” Jason said. “Hopefully that will discourage them. If they keep coming, I may need your help.”
Aaron had sworn to himself that as long as he lived he would never touch a rifle in anger again. “Do we really have to shoot them?” he asked.
Suddenly they saw muzzle flashes and several bullets zinged by followed by the sound of gunfire.
“Holy shit,” Aaron said, ducking. “I guess that answers my question.” Better them than us, he thought miserably.
