Hurricane

by Cherry Adair

  The watertight compartment, two feet wide by about six feet long, ran along the portside wall between this cabin and the owner’s cabin occupied by Addy. It was full of rolled-up charts.

  Ry let out a huff of relief. Not Sophie’s baby blankets and toys. Thank God.

  Even though he was relieved, something about the contents of the storage area pestered him like a buzzing mosquito just out of reach. About to close the cover and get on with his day, Ry pulled out one of the canvas-covered rolled charts, curious as to why Seddeth had them in here and not in the designated area for charts in his small office off the bridge.

  Taking it with him, he rose to sit on the edge of his bed to see what it was. He untied several pieces of what looked like a ripped T-shirt. Odd. Definitely not Seddeth’s usual method for storing charts.

  Dropping the ties to the floor, he eyed the canvas as it automatically unfurled on the mattress beside him.

  Not a rolled chart.

  A painting.

  “Fucking, fucking bastard.” Reaching over, he used the house phone and ordered Seddeth to bring Jax and Oscar down to his cabin in ten minutes.

  In the meantime he needed a shower to cool off so he didn’t break into Darshi’s cabin on the other side of Addy’s and wring his bloody neck. The shower would account for three minutes. Waking Addy would take the other seven.

  * * *

  Wearing a long black-and-white sundress, her hair scooped on top of her head and pinned with a tortoiseshell comb, Addy looked fresh as a daisy.

  The captain’s cabin, with his hastily made bed, was wall-to-wall people. Captain Seddeth, Jax, Oscar, Addy, and fifty-six priceless oils paintings. Jax and Oscar had just finished photographing all of them. Ry knew officials would do a valuation assessment. But he sure as hell was going to record the find and make his own estimate before anyone else got their hands on them.

  “Wait,” Addison inserted, glancing at the monitor showing the empty corridor beyond the cabin as if expecting Darshi to come bursting out looking for them. She looked back at Ry, then glanced at the others one by one before returning troubled dark-green eyes to his once again. “Are you saying Naveen is Procioni?”

  “Isn’t that the cabin he always stays in?”

  “Yes…” She hesitated. “But his men have been in and out of that cabin for the past year. It could be any one of them.”

  “Do you really believe any of them capable of the greatest art heists in recent memory?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But it’s just as hard to wrap my mind around Naveen being a thief.”

  Ry, leaning his hip against the captain’s dresser, crossed his arms over his chest. “Funny, I have absolutely no problem imagining him as such.”

  “Sorry, Addison, but neither do I,” Oscar, propping up a nearby wall, told her.

  “I’m three for three,” Jax said, giving Ry a meaningful glance, because over the last year he’d told Ry exactly that. At the time Ry had thought it was because his security guys knew how he felt about his ex-wife, and they were protecting his interests. “With all due respect, Addison, never liked him, never trusted him.”

  “Wow. Tony? Do you feel the same way?” When the captain nodded, she glanced from man to man again. “Why didn’t any of you say something?”

  “It’s not for us to choose who you associate with, Addison,” Tony Seddeth told her, looking slightly uncomfortable. He’d hastily pulled on shorts and a muscle shirt, his bare feet shoved into sandals. He picked up his watch from his bedside table and fastened it around his wrist as he talked. “Oscar and Jax kept close tabs on him whenever he was on board. You were never in any danger from him. We made sure of that—” He turned to open the door following a brief, discreet knock. “That should be the police officer.”

  Dressed in his uniform despite the early hour, Paras Sharma entered, closing the door behind him. He surveyed the serious faces around him with a small frown. “What has happened?”

  Ry stepped back, and so did Addy, so the layers of paintings uncurled on the captain’s desk were visible.

  Sharma frowned. “What is this?”

  “I just found these in the storage compartments under the floor in my cabin. There are fifty-six of them.”

  Taking a folded white linen handkerchief from his pocket, the officer brushed a corner of the top painting with his covered fingertip. “This looks like a Degas—” He met Ry’s eyes. “It is the Degas stolen recently from a private residence in Prague, yes?”

  “We believe so, yeah. The prince has been staying in the cabin I’m in now. We believe he’s been using Tesoro Mio as a secure hiding place for these. No one would think to look here.”

  Inconsiderate, psycho son of a bitch hadn’t for one fucking second considered how Addy would be perceived, if and when the paintings were discovered on board her ship. Had Darshi given a flying fuck that there was a bloody good chance Addy would be caught in the net if he was ever caught? Hell no. The prince was too inconsiderate, too arrogant to consider himself vulnerable. He thought he was almost home free.

  Another week, and Tesoro Mio would be docking in Sydney, the paintings secure beneath the floorboards and carpet and no one the wiser.

  “Prince Darshi is Procioni?” Sharma got it right away. He sounded just as incredulous as Addy, but he wasn’t disbelieving at all.

  “He brokered a deal for Addy to sell Tesoro Mio in Australia this week. Now we believe he was transporting the paintings there. Probably to sell to a private collector.”

  “Look,” Addy inserted. “I agree with all of you that there’s something … fishy about Naveen. Something I never noticed before. He’s an opportunist, and Ry and I suspect he manipulated circumstances after—” She hesitated briefly as she drew in a breath before forging on. “After Sophia died. But a thief? That just doesn’t make sense. Why would a man of the prince’s vast wealth turn to a life of crime?” she demanded, clearly not buying in to the scenario.

  “Just because a man’s financially well off doesn’t mean he doesn’t get a thrill from ripping people off,” Ry pointed out. “This might not be about the money at all. He might be an adrenaline junky.”

  “Are we sure his vast wealth doesn’t come from selling the stolen paintings?” Jax asked. “May I?” he asked the captain, indicating his computer, which had been taken off his desk and put on the chest of drawers nearby so they could roll out the canvases. At Tony’s nod, Jax said, without turning as his fingers flew across the keyboard, “I have a contact who’ll get me into the prince’s financials. Give me a few minutes here.”

  “This is surreal.” Addy sank into a nearby chair, face pale. “I never suspected for even a second—This is why Azm Kapur was killed? To protect Naveen’s secret?”

  Ry nodded. “Or as a warning of some sort.”

  “Whoever’s waiting for these must be pissed as hell that the ship was diverted and they have to wait for delivery,” Addy pointed out, eye glinting with anger.

  “Pissed enough to kill.”

  “What happens now?” she demanded, fire in her eyes. “Confront him and break his face?”

  “No,” Sharma said quietly as Ry laughed because she sounded so bloodthirsty, vehement, and quite serious, despite standing two feet away from a law enforcement officer. “Clearly he has a buyer or someone who’s been financing him. Possibly the buyer he was to meet in Sydney. Interpol will want that person or persons as well. Don’t say anything at all. Interpol will want to talk to all of you after he’s apprehended in Malé this afternoon.”

  “Fair enough,” Ry agreed. “He’s agreed to leave the ship. But with this discovery my concern is that he’s leaving way too easily. A rough estimate is that these paintings alone are worth a cool billion euros. Why leave them behind?”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say he’s leaving of his own free will.” Addy’s wry tone made Ry smile. “He doesn’t know we found them. They’ve been safely hidden for all this time. He’ll presume they’ll be right where he put them whe
n Tesoro Mio docks in Sydney. I agreed to meet him in Sydney after the dive. To talk.”

  “Last night I offered him a lift to Malé. Our helicopter will be here later this morning. He accepted my offer,” the police officer told Ry. “I’ll have Interpol waiting for him there. Can we pack these up? I’ll take them with me when we leave. In a couple of hours?”

  “I have a large canvas duffel bag,” Oscar offered with a nod. “We’ll pack them up and place it with the luggage before you go. He’ll be none the wiser. I’ll get the bag and be right back.”

  Sharma nodded. “And I must contact Interpol immediately.”

  “I’ll go up and keep the prince company in case he has a problem packing.” Jax followed Sharma and Oscar.

  “I’ll take Addy back to her cabin,” Ry told him grimly. “Check to make sure Darshi is still in his cabin, then stick to her like glue. I don’t want her anywhere near the prince. She can wave him off from the top deck.”

  “That’s not going to work. If I do that he’ll know something is off. I have to be civil, and I have to talk to him before he goes.”

  “Fine. Alleviate any misgivings he might have, and assure him you’ll connect in Sydney in a couple of weeks.” Ry gave Jax a hard look. “Keep her within four feet of you at all times, got it?”

  “Yes, sir. I damn well do.” He closed the door behind them.

  “He’s endangered all of us by using the ship as a hiding place for his stolen goods. I’ll put in my own calls to the authorities,” Tony told them, his voice tight. “He won’t be falling through any cracks.” The captain left through another door, this one leading up to the bridge.

  Ry crossed to Addy. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. “You couldn’t possibly have known.”

  “I hate it when you read my mind.”

  “Don’t take any foolish chances, Addison. Promise me. A high-profile thief like Darshi has a lot to lose. And I’m not just talking about the loss of the paintings he stole. We don’t know who else is involved, what promises he’s made, and how far reaching this is. Whoever the buyer is can’t be legit. We don’t want the paintings to be discovered missing until Sharma and Interpol have Darshi in custody.”

  “I can be cool. Believe me, I’d better be cool because right now I’d like to rip his lips off.” Addy stepped away from him, her back straight. “Let’s get these rolled up again and ready when Oscar brings back that bag. Once they’re off the ship we’ll be able to breathe a little easier.”

  Ry tilted her chin up on his finger. Their eyes met. “I love you, Addison Case.”

  She shifted to pick up a handful of the rags used to tie up each canvas, handing him half. “Hold that thought.”

  His chest felt leaden. That wasn’t the right answer, and they both knew it.

  * * *

  “Holy crap, man, you scared the living shit outta me sitting there!” Carrying a cup of steaming coffee, Lenka climbed down to join Ry, who was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the dive platform. The South African was always as exuberant as a puppy, but more so when he was about to dive. “Thought I’d be the first one up.”

  The sky was still milky pale, the air cool with a promise of later heat. The sun, barely breaching the horizon, shone a thin line, the silver-gilt color of old Spanish eight-real coins. A good omen.

  Ry had reluctantly left Addy in Jax’s care.

  She’d be going for her jog soon. She’d want the endorphins for her confrontation with the prince. Ry was confident that she could handle Darshi with her usual aplomb.

  He wanted her here with him, safe, to share this special moment. But diving wasn’t her thing. She was slightly claustrophobic and didn’t like the mask or the confinement of strapping on a tank, preferring to wait for him on deck.

  For now he could put aside thoughts of Addy’s farewell to the prince. Goodfuckingbye. Right after breakfast. Hopefully for the last time.

  Lenka folded himself down to sit beside Ry, bringing with him the smell of sunblock and French roast coffee. “Been sitting here since we dropped anchor?”

  He’d been making love to Addy when they dropped anchor late last night. Ry wished he’d gone from that to this and skipped the shit that had gone down in between. He was so furious with Darshi, it was hard to focus on the dive. “About half an hour. Beautiful, isn’t it?” The translucent azure water stretched out as far as the eye could see. It would become paler aqua as the light hit it later in the day, but for now the color was intense and magical.

  “Is that guy leaving today?” Lenka splashed his feet on the surface of the water like a little kid. His crew-cut red hair was not as vivid as it would be when the sun hit it.

  Amazing what was revealed in the right light, Ry thought, leaning back on his hands. He wanted a spotlight shone on Darshi. The prince sure as shit wasn’t as oblivious about his bodyguard’s actions as he pretended to be. Fortunately he was oblivious to what was about to happen to him when he reached land. That thought would sustain Ry until Captain Sharma confirmed Darshi’s arrest later this morning.

  Dashi was not his problem. Fuck, he had enough of his own. Let the Indian authorities do their jobs. He needed to do his and get the treasure waiting for him down beneath that azure water up as quickly as possible if he didn’t want to lose everything his family had struggled for. “The prince? Yeah. They all are. After breakfast.”

  “In cuffs?” Lenka asked hopefully as he took a sip of coffee and scanned the water, steam drifting around his freckled face.

  Ry grinned. “Maybe later.”

  Addy, Tesoro Mio, and his dive crew were all Ry needed.

  This was perfection as far as he was concerned. His woman, warm and satiated from their lovemaking, asleep in his bed, and a vast ocean cradling his future in her warm embrace. His best dive team reassembled, and his dream ship. Delete Darshi from the picture?

  Yeah, this was as good as it got.

  He could practically hear the silver calling his name.

  “Are you boys having a private moment?” Kevin dropped lightly onto the dive platform behind them from the deck above. Wearing a black bikini, she looked trim and fit. Her short blond hair was slicked back from a recent shower, and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head. Her bare feet padded across the deck. “Can I join the bromance?”

  Ry shot her a smile. “If that other cup’s for me.”

  She handed him the second steaming mug and sat on his other side. “Stunning.”

  “Just said.” Ry sipped the strong brew. Nothing tasted as good a hot coffee in the cool of early morning. “But bears repeating.”

  Kevin matched Ry’s position, legs swinging over the edge of the platform, large white mug cradled between her hands, eyes narrowed as she, like Lenka, drank in the serenity. “Suits?”

  “Just tanks and masks for the first dive. I want to show you the lay of the land. Give you a feeling of what she has to offer. We’ve all studied the film I shot last time I was here, but she might’ve shifted some, especially with that storm. Hopefully she’s right where I left her.”

  MoMo, Georgeo, and Samuel arrived in a noisy clump of excited male voice with coffee and questions, filling up the dive platform with movement, as they pulled their tanks off the racks and checked their gauges.

  “Who’s right where you left her?” Georgeo asked, lifting his tank. “Addy?”

  “Why do you always have to go straight to sex?” Kevin asked, sounding mildly grumpy.

  “Because beauty such as yours makes all else insignificant, amore mio.” Georgeo’s eyes met Ry’s and the two men shared a small smile. The Italian followed up with a very insincere, “Mi dispiace.” Clearly not sorry at all.

  Ry let the talk wash over him. Heart tripping with expectation, he waited impatiently while the others checked their tanks. Excited, anticipating seeing the wreck for the first time, their voices layered over one another as they chatted around him. There was money below. In the end, everyone would make a tidy penny.
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br />   “We’re not expecting the Cutters to swoop in and trump us, are we?” MoMo asked, looking up from his tank check, eyes scanning the horizon as if expecting to see one of the Cutter ships hovering on their port side.

  “No way in hell. She’s all ours.”

  It was a miracle Ry had seen the portion of a letter from one of the survivors to his grandson in Portugal. That had led to more research. The ship’s log showed the projected route of the Nicolau Coelho as over a hundred miles north of the location where she sank. And there was only that letter to indicate the value of her load.

  Desperate, Ry had been willing to take a chance. It was about to pay off.

  “No one else is aware of the shipwreck, or her treasure. Not yet anyway. Not unless they also dug into thousands of old letters and documents in the archives in an annex of the Biblioteca Nacional’s digital division in Lisbon, and went through thousands of dusty papers not yet digitized. I left registering this dive to the last second. If they follow our course, it would still take them at least a week to get here.” Ry knew exactly where his enemies were located. How fast they were, and what they were capable of. He’d calculated everything out to his advantage, except for this shitstorm with Darshi.

  This dive was too important to leave to chance.

  “Zane’s in the China Sea,” he told the team. “Logan’s diving near Peru, and Nick is off the coast of Ireland. Hopefully we’ll be almost done with the salvage and our claim by the time those bloodsuckers show up. But they will show up.”

  “The Nicolau Coelho has been waiting down there for three hundred years.” His look encompassed them all. The caravel had sunk in the deep waters off one of the numerous reefs surrounding the hundreds of small islands and atolls making up the Maldives.

  He’d found the obscure handwritten letter with the manifest for another ship that had also sunk about the same time. He’d researched Nicolau Coelho for months and come here several weeks ago to register his claim. “Two hundred tons of silver, secretly transported by the Portuguese government to purchase spices. Probably slaves as well. They never made that return trip. The spices were never purchased. All that silver is down there just waiting for us to scoop it up. I’ve already lined up the buyers for it.”