“God, that was awful . . .” Amara blanched, hugging herself with the blanket while still shivering. She glanced at the two rescue personnel waiting awkwardly nearby. “Thanks, Jake. As much as I hate it, we’ve got to go thank the bastard responsible for saving us.”
“The bastard?” Jake echoed. He cocked his head to one side, holding her hand and bracing his free palm on the cockpit’s ceiling to steady their trip toward the bow. “I don’t understand.”
“You will in a minute,” Amara announced. Her chin up and shoulders pulled back, she marched up to the opening in the railing and the stern-faced man waiting beyond it.
“Nicely done, commander,” Haruto Nakamura said. He stood ramrod straight, one hand behind him, the other resting on the nearby railing. “Your man did an amazing job. I can see the incident with the whale shark was no fluke.”
“Thank you, captain.” Watch Commander Iso Hayama’s nod of acknowledgment was more a bow. He swiveled his head to the two hoist crews. “Keep her tight, and lock those gears down, men!”
Haruto glanced at the two winches flanking their position. The hoist crews had their oversized hooks and cables locked onto Amara’s mini-sub like grappling hooks. With their combined pulling power, the opposing winches had hauled Eurypterid II completely out of the water, dragging it up the Oshima’s thick steel flanks and pinning it tightly against her hull. Without hitting the releases, the fancy submersible wasn’t going anywhere.
Haruto nodded his approval and braced himself for what was to come. He watched his emergency personnel make their way out of the mini-sub’s ruptured bow. Its two passengers trailed the Oshima’s crewmen as they made their way toward their captain. As expected, Amara was in the lead. She was accompanied by the man he’d seen on that online news video. He was bedraggled and limping badly, but there was no mistaking him. Judging from their body language and the big American’s obvious attentiveness toward Amara, the two seemed much closer now.
Haruto frowned and stepped forward to meet them. “Amara, it is good to see you again.” He bowed formally, then straightened and extended his hand. “I am sorry we were unable to aid you in your battle, but I am relieved we arrived in time to render assistance.”
“Thank you,” she replied, her internal conflict brewing in plain sight. “You saved both of our lives.” She hesitated, but bowed in turn.
“It was an honor,” Haruto said with an appraising look. His niece’s blouse was stained with blood, and one of her eyes was bruised and swollen. He turned to the equally bloody man standing by her side, sizing up the tall lawman.
“Please forgive me,” Amara cut in hastily. She put an arm around her companion’s waist and drew him closer. “Uncle Haruto, this is Jake Braddock, former U.S. national fencing champion, and the sheriff of Paradise Cove. Jake, this is my uncle Haruto Nakamura, commander of the shark-finning ship Oshima.”
“It is an honor, Sheriff Braddock,” Haruto said. He took Jake’s hand and shook it firmly. Despite being wounded and near exhaustion, the young man had a penetrating stare and a formidable grip. Haruto liked him immediately.
“The honor is mine,” Jake replied. “Thank you for what you did.”
Haruto noticed Iso draw near, then turned back to his guests. “Please excuse me for a moment.”
Accompanied by the watch commander, Haruto moved out of earshot. He accepted Iso’s binoculars and scanned the approaching ships with the electronic range finders. “Are they the same two we’ve been tracking?”
“Yes, captain,” Iso said, nodding. “They kept their distance until we crossed the line, then came at us full-bore. They’re running silent.”
Haruto zoomed in on the two vessels and stifled a curse. They were U.S. Coast Guard cutters, the newest of the Island Class, the Rampart and the Freedom. The sleek warships were approaching at high speed, converging simultaneously on the Oshima from northwest and southeast. He did a quick calculation, scanning his memory banks. Island Class Cutters were small and fast: 110 feet long, crew of 16, maximum speed of 29.5 knots. They were also heavily armed. With the weight of a full belly and Amara’s mini-sub to boot, there was no way the Oshima could top their speed. The Japanese ship was trapped between the Coast Guard and the coastline.
Haruto shook his head. He had nowhere to go. He couldn’t dodge them and he couldn’t outrun them.
Iso touched his earpiece. “Captain, we’re being hailed.” He hesitated, his youthful face paling. “It’s the U.S. Coast Guard, sir. They’re demanding we hold position and prepare to be boarded.”
Haruto’s jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ached. His head started thumping and he combed his fingers through his hair. He had gambled and lost. The risk was clear the moment he’d made his decision to intervene. “Very well, commander. Please be so kind as to inform the crew.”
“But sir, shouldn’t we try to make a run for it?”
Haruto shook his head and spat over the side in an uncharacteristically coarse gesture. “No commander.”
“But cap–”
“I said no!”
Leaving Iso to ramble into his radio, Haruto returned to Amara and Jake. An alarm soon rang out, and panicking crewmen began running around, many abandoning their stations. The two cutters drew closer. They were moving in from both port and starboard, sandwiching their target, their heavy 25 mm machine guns trained on the Oshima’s bridge. They were obviously expecting Haruto to make a break for it.
He grabbed Iso, catching him by the shoulder as he hurried past, and whispered into his ear. The man looked shocked, but bowed and took off running.
“Please accept my apologies,” Haruto said to Jake and Amara. “I wish we had more time,” he indicated the two ships less than five hundred yards away. “Unfortunately, we do not.”
Amara scrutinized the approaching warships. Her lower lip disappeared and her eyebrows scrunched tightly down. “Although I’m relieved to see that you and your crew will no longer be able to strip-mine the oceans of life, I am sorry you will suffer for aiding me.”
“I am not,” Haruto said. He sighed heavily and straightened up. “Truth be told, I am not without regret. But I would do it again if I had to.”
Amara’s eyes narrowed contemplatively. “Tell me something. Did you come because of what you did to Robert? Did you think this would make things right between us?”
Haruto noticed Jake politely averting his gaze and focused on his niece. “We never spoke of your fiancé,” he admitted. “Then again, in many years we haven’t spoken at all. I wish we had.”
Haruto folded his arms across his chest and studied the waves. He watched as the Freedom executed a tight turn, preparing to pull directly alongside the Oshima. He sighed.
“It is not my place to assign blame. But I will not let you leave believing anything other than the truth.”
“No riddles, uncle.”
“As you wish.” His expression turned stony and he held Amara’s gaze. “It was Karl Von Freiling who seized control of the Nagata’s wheel that day,” he said. “He surprised me. I tried to stop him, but failed.”
“What?”
Haruto nodded. “Yes. Your husband made the Nagata’s bow spin out of control and caused the crash that took all those lives.”
Amara’s lips drew back over her teeth. “Do you actually expect me to believe that?”
“I have no control over what you choose to believe. I simply wish for you to know the truth.”
“Prove it.”
Haruto pursed his lips. “I have no recording of the incident, none except the one in my mind. I will replay it for you if you so desire.”
“Go on. I’m all ears.”
His expression turned contemplative. “After Von Freiling grabbed the captain’s wheel and caused the crash, it took seven of us to restrain him. He injured two of my crew during the struggle; at one point he seized me by the throat and hurled me across the bridge, bellowing something about how I had ‘dared to interfere in his plans,’ and that I was about
to discover the ‘penalty for doing so.’”
Jake shook his head ruefully. “Hate to say it, doc, but . . . that sounds kind of familiar.”
Amara’s eyes were unable to focus and her breathing became uneven. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t–”
“I tried to warn you, once word came to me of your pending nuptials,” he said. “Did you not get my letter?”
Amara’s mind raced as she tried to recall a letter. She stiffened suddenly. “I . . . burned it.”
Haruto glanced up as Iso came running, carrying a long, cloth-wrapped bundle. “I wasn’t trying to clear myself of any wrongdoing. I simply desired to warn you about the person you’d involved yourself with. I am sorry I didn’t try again. I felt you wanted me out of your life.”
Amara shook her head. “I don’t blame you.”
“I was in command of the Nagata. Ultimately, anything that went on that day was my fault. I hope one day you will forgive me.”
Amara hesitated. Then, to his astonishment, she walked over and wrapped her arms around him. She hugged him delicately, conscious of the uniform that served as a barrier between them. She waited until he hugged her back, then pulled slowly back beside Jake.
Haruto reached for the bundle Iso carried and weighed it in his hands. His words were interrupted by a blaring megaphone.
“This is the U.S.C.G. Freedom. You are in violation of U.S. territorial waters. Heave to and prepare to be boarded!”
Haruto shrugged. “We are out of time. Amara, I would like you to have this.” He offered the bundle to her, watching attentively as his niece opened one end and gasped in astonishment. “I present to you the ancestral katana and wakisahsi of the Nakamura clan, worn by our ancestors on the field of battle for nearly one thousand years. They have taken many lives.” He relished the astonished look on her face. “I do not want them to fall into strange hands, and I know you will appreciate them.”
“I . . . don’t know what to say,” Amara stammered. She held the swords at arm’s length as if she was grasping a dead snake.
“You do not have to say anything.”
Amara’s eyes wandered to Jake, taking in the hypnotic expression he wore as he studied the ancient blades, then shifted back to her uncle. “Listen, I’m not into weapons.”
“What?” Haruto nearly choked. “You can’t be serious. They’ve been passed down from generation to generation for centuries!”
“I’m sorry,” Amara said. She shook her head vehemently. “I just don’t want them.”
“But, if you don’t take them, they will end up lost or in some military footlocker somewhere!”
Jake chimed in. “I could take them off your hands,” he offered. “At least temporarily . . .”
Haruto shook his head. “Absolutely not. The only way I would hand over the family’s battle swords to an outsider is if they married into our family.”
“That’s no problem.” Jake looked up, grinning from ear to ear as he reached for Amara’s hand. “For those, I’ll marry her in a heartbeat!”
“Oh, will you now?” Amara replied. She pulled her hand away, folding her arms irritably across her chest.
Jake’s face drooped and his cheeks reddened. “Oh, c’mon, I was just kidding, doc. I mean–”
“Put a lid on it, mister.”
Haruto’s expression turned contemplative as he studied Jake.
The discomfited lawman gave a hesitant smile. “Okay . . . how about if I just hold onto them until you can take them back? Unless, of course, Amara and I marry, in which case I get to keep them?”
“Humph. Very well . . . in that case, I accept.”
Jake’s eyes lit up and he rocked back on his heels. “Are you serious?”
Haruto groaned. “Yes.”
Jake smiled. “Excellent.” He added, “And know that I will treat them with the utmost respect and regard for your family.”
Haruto took the swords from Amara and formally handed them to Jake. “See that you do.”
Amara glanced at Jake, catching him shamelessly admiring the newfound additions to his collection. “Thank you, uncle,” she said. “From both of us.”
Haruto’s next words were overpowered by the roar of the Freedom’s straining diesels and the clanging of its metal boarding ramps as they slammed onto the railings of his ship. A group of men came storming aboard, pistols drawn and shouting angrily.
The seizure of the Oshima had begun.
To Jake, the score of armed Guardsmen storming the Oshima’s decks were reminiscent of a horde of African driver ants. Within minutes of boarding the high-tech fishing vessel, her crew was lined up and kneeling against her gunnels, fingers interlaced behind their heads.
As he and Amara watched from the shelter of a secluded doorway, Jake noticed that the shark hunters of the Oshima appeared completely unruffled by the ordeal; they faced their pending arrest and incarceration with stoic calmness.
Keeping Amara behind him, Jake stepped out of the darkened doorway and reached out to a young seaman jogging by. “Hey, kid, who’s in charge here?”
“Right now, I am,” a gravelly voice rang out. “Who the hell are you?”
Jake turned to see a senior officer stomping toward him. He was flanked by two ensigns under the age of twenty. He was big, rawboned, and covered with freckles, his blue eyes bright and brimming with animosity.
The officer pointed a thick finger at Jake’s badge. “I’ll ask again. Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Take it easy,” Jake began, ignoring the obvious hostility. He took a step forward, extending his hand. “I’m–”
“Hey, you guys missed a crewmember!” the officer barked as he spotted Amara. Ignoring Jake, the Coastie’s hand moved to the holster flap of his .40 caliber Sig Sauer. His expression turned nasty. “Line her up with the rest.”
One of the ensigns reached for his sidearm and started forward. He froze as Jake placed himself in front of Amara. “Touch her, and I’ll shove that pistol up your ass,” he warned.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the officer snapped.
Jake tensed, shifting his weight to his good leg and cursing under his breath. He realized the situation was about to get very complicated.
“She’s with me, and she’s not a member of this vessel’s crew,” he said. “Her name is–”
“Dr. Amara Takagi,” someone finished for him. “Sheriff Braddock, it’s a relief and a pleasure to see you again.”
Jake turned toward the speaker. “Captain Dobbs,” he acknowledged. He grinned, extending a hand as the Freedom’s captain drew near. “Your timing is impeccable, as always.”
“Indeed. Well, we do try,” Dobbs chuckled. The weathered-faced captain turned to his subordinates. “At ease, men. Lieutenant O’Malley, these are the people we were hoping we’d find. Sheriff Braddock is a long-time acquaintance, and the law and order back in Paradise Cove.” He drew close to Amara, his expression apprehensive as he spotted her bruised face. He shook her hand gently. “And Dr. Takagi is a respected American scientist, and the commander of the research vessel Harbinger. She’s been doing cetacean studies in this area for years.”
Dobbs turned to O’Malley. “Take your men and find me this ship’s commanding officer. He’s my height, with silver hair – very distinguished looking.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Jesus, Braddock, you guys look like hell,” Dobbs muttered. He leaned closer, peering over his glasses and inspecting Jake’s ill-bandaged wounds. “You’re definitely gonna need some stitches on those gashes. Holy crap . . . are those knife wounds?”
“Stitches sound a little strange right about now,” Jake replied, dismissing the mental image of the dead merc. He put a protective arm around Amara. “Can your guys check out her eye first?”
“Jake, I’m fine,” Amara muttered. “All I need is some ice and a few aspirin.”
Dobbs cleared his throat. “I’ll get my medical officer on it right away.”
> “Thanks,” Jake said. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem. Oh, by the way, Braddock, do you think you can you do me a favor?”
“Sure, if I can.”
“Can you put a call in to your prepubescent deputy, please?”
“My deputy?”
“Yeah.” Dobbs grinned and shook his head. “The kid’s gone all mother hen on us. He’s been calling my superiors every fifteen minutes – from his hospital bed, mind you – trying to make sure you guys are okay, and demanding that we check up on you. He’s a real pain in the ass!”
Jake snickered as he exchanged amused glances with Amara. “Sure, I’ll, uh, see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” Dobbs glanced toward the Oshima’s bridge, watching as O’Malley and his men hit the landing and stormed inside, weapons drawn. “So, which one of you dumped those old whaler beacons?”
“That was the doc’s idea,” Jake said.
“Stroke of genius,” Dobbs chortled. “Ordinarily, we might have missed them. But, since we were scanning nonstop for the creature, we happened to spot your signal buoys and decided to investigate. We didn’t even know what the damned things were, until we fished them out of the water a few miles from here.”
“Is that how you found the Oshima?” Amara asked.
Dobbs shook his head. His eyes swiveled back to the Freedom, and the crew manning her heavy machine gun. He tensed. “No . . . hold on one second.” He reached for his hand radio. “Starkey, this is Dobbs. Tell the men on Ethel to stay alert. That damned thing may still be in the area. I don’t want to miss an opportunity if it surfaces nearby.”
“Roger, captain.”
Dobbs turned back to Jake and Amara. “Sorry, guys. With your beastie still on the loose, Dr. Takagi, we’ve been going at it non-stop for the last few days. I guess my guys are getting tired.”
“It’s not on the loose anymore,” Amara stated.
“What do you mean?”
KRONOS RISING: After 65 million years, the world's greatest predator is back. Page 61
