The Sea Hawk

by Brenda Adcock

  * * *

  The Sea Hawk

  Copyright © 2008 by Brenda Adcock

  Acknowledgements:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

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  The Sea Hawk by Brenda Adcock

  Copyright © 2008 by Brenda Adcock

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-935053-10-1 (eBooks)

  eBook conversion March 2010

  Cover design by Donna Pawlowski

  Published by:

  Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC

  4700 Hwy 365, Suite A, PMB 210

  Port Arthur, Texas 7764

  Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz

  Published in the United States of America

  Acknowledgements:

  Every novel is a collaborative effort and this one is no different. Many others made the final version possible. My eternal thanks to Teresa Cain, Gail Robinson, and Norma who endured the earliest drafts of the story. It takes gutsy women to endure the birth of a novel. Many thanks to those who assisted me with the French translations throughout the story and kept me from looking like a blithering idiot. Although I've thanked my best friend, Ron Whiteis, many times, thanks will never be enough for his contributions to my writing. He knows my mind better than almost anyone and likes me anyway. Donna Pawlowski came through with another memorable cover design. Lori Lake contributed valuable lessons in writing and, thankfully, pointed out some of my rather nasty writing habits. I told my editor to be brutal and she took me seriously. Patty Schramm did a remarkable job of pulling it into its final form and slapping me around about an annoying point of view problem, while still keeping it fun. My publisher took a chance by accepting my books and I can never thank Cathy LeNoir enough for her faith and friendship. Last, but never least in my mind and heart, I have to thank my partner, Cheryl, for her patience while I sat in front of the computer night after night when I could have been spending quality time with her.

  I would be remiss not to thank the fans of lesbian literature for reading my stories. Everything writers produce is nothing without you. I hope you will enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  Dedicated to Cathy LeNoir

  An old proverb says: Opportunity seldom knocks twice. Thank you for opening the door when I knocked.

  Chapter One

  THE MID-MORNING SUNDAY sun promised another hot July day. Dr. Julia Blanchard slipped into her tank top rash guard and minimalist skin shorts, pulled on a buoyancy vest, and clipped an underwater work light onto it. She hoisted an air tank onto her back and fastened it snugly across her chest. She squinted against the sunlight reflecting off the calm water of the Atlantic Ocean and inhaled its salty smell. She knew she had broken the rules by returning to the site unaccompanied, but needed time alone to think. The perfect life she thought she was living was unexpectedly gone. She took a breath through the mouthpiece to check the air flow, then flipped into the water for a final short dive before returning to the Tybee Island Marina.

  The fragile hull of the recently discovered shipwreck, officially known as Project 3213-D, but lovingly referred to as the Georgia Peach by the excavation team, rose to greet her as she made the slow forty-eight foot descent to the site. It was a magnificent sight. A ghostly apparition. Julia almost expected to hear the sound of voices rising from the remains of the vessel. Despite looking well-preserved, she knew it was fragile, held together by an underwater ecosystem of organisms making it their home. Spurred on by her curiosity about a cannon hole she noticed in the bottom of the hull on a previous dive, she swam closer. Collapsed sections of the ship's upper decks obscured a portion of the hole and she drifted into the lower deck area with as little movement as possible. Out of the corner of her eye she saw small fish skittering away and smiled to herself. Her love affair with the ocean began when she was a small child and dreamed of one day marrying Aquaman, growing gills, and living happily ever after in the peaceful calm beneath the tumultuous waves. By the time she was in high school she was no longer interested in Aquaman but wouldn't have minded meeting his sister.

  She maneuvered closer to the gaping hole and flipped on her underwater light. The hole was larger than she originally thought. From the position of the wood surrounding the opening the hull appeared to be splintered outward, exactly as it would have been if the damage originated from within the ship. She was convinced the vessel was scuttled by its crew and wondered if they made it safely to shore.

  Checking the air supply remaining in her tanks, Julia decided it was time to return to the surface and leave the Peach and its secrets for another day. She kicked her powerful legs to begin the ascent to the Atlantic Marine Institute's recovery vessel Discovery, a thirty-five-foot Bayliner cabin cruiser. She watched the Peach grow smaller and eventually disappear in the cloudy water as she rose and gave it a tiny wave. Halfway to the surface she looked up and abruptly stopped her ascent. She saw the bottom of the Discovery with its sonar boom attached. Next to it a slightly smaller second vessel, no more than a twentyfive-footer, rolled lazily in the water. She couldn't imagine who the hell would be so far from shore. The buoy clearly marked the location as a research area. It and the Discovery were both emblazoned with the Institute's logo.

  She rose slowly beneath the cruiser to obscure her air bubbles. Her head broke the water just enough for her to remove her mouthpiece. She pushed short strawberry-blonde hair away from her face and could hear voices through the hull. It sounded as if someone was ransacking the interior cabin. She pressed her body close to the hull and made her way along the waterline to the front of the cruiser. Grasping the mooring ring on the bow, she glanced to her left at the second boat. It was a sleek white vessel, obviously built for speed. A man on the bridge of the smaller boat leaned over the side and scanned the water below.

  "How long we gonna wait around here, man?" he called out to someone. "Just take the fuckin' thing."

  "It didn't float out here by itself, you moron," a deeper voice answered from on board the Discovery. "They can't stay under water forever. Patience is a virtue."

  "Fuck you and your patience. The Coast Guard could cruise by at any time."

  A third voice whooped, "Hot damn! This electronic shit is worth a fuckin' fortune!"

  "Then start the damn engine and let's get it someplace where we can strip it," the first man yelled.

  "What if I told you there was only one person on this tub and it's a woman?" the second voice said. "Think that would be worth waitin' for, you horn
y bastard!"

  Julia peeked around the bow and saw the man on the speed boat laugh as he grabbed his crotch. "I'm up for some of that!" Julia readjusted her mask and mouthpiece, checked the time remaining in her tank and slipped silently below the water. Fifteen minutes maybe. It seemed obvious that no matter what else happened, these modern-day pirates would take the Discovery, as well as her computer and all its precious data. She needed to get as far away from the two boats as possible unseen. But fifteen minutes or less wouldn't get her very far. She knew there were extra tanks secured to the diving platform on the stern. Getting to them was her only option. She would be safe beneath the water. When she didn't answer a hail from the harbor master on Tybee Island, or didn't return that afternoon, they would send a ship out to search for her. She would have to wait. But until the pirates tired of floating around, and left with the Discovery, she needed more air.

  Julia glided under the hull of the Discovery and reemerged on the side away from the second boat. She heard the sound of more items being tossed around inside the cabin and a quick glance revealed the back of the man on the bridge examining the cruiser's equipment. The second boat had drifted slightly forward and she carefully made her way to the dive platform, quickly reached up and flipped open the latch on the cage holding the reserve tanks. She ducked back into the water and waited a moment before bringing her eyes level with the platform again. She cursed silently to herself when she realized the reserve tanks were secured to the sides of the cage by a second strap, just out of reach. She hoped they had been refilled after Friday's dive, but her options were dwindling fast.

  "Hey!" the man on the second boat called out, causing Julia to slip back into the water under the platform.

  "What?" a voice on the Discovery replied.

  "That's it, man. Let's get the hell outta Dodge. I can find some pussy on dry land."

  "Okay, okay. Five more minutes. Then we're outta here. That work for you, Pinkie?"

  "Yep," the man on the bridge answered. "This baby won't be as fast as ours, but she'll move."

  With time running out Julia had to act soon. Placing both hands firmly on the platform deck, she pulled herself out of the water, released the straps holding two tanks, and grabbed them. A small swell caused the Discovery to list unexpectedly. Julia lost her grip on one of the tanks and it fell to the metal platform surface with a deafening clatter. Her eyes darted up to find a man staring at her from the doorway of the cabin.

  "Well, hello there, sweetness," he grinned as he pulled a pistol from the waistband of his wrinkled tan khaki shorts. "Come on up here and let's party." Waving the gun, motioning for her to come on board, he looked away for a second and yelled, "Hey, Carlos! I got a present for you. And it's already good and wet," he laughed.

  Julia glanced at her air indicator. Less than five minutes left. She backed up slightly, keeping her eyes on the man wielding the gun until she felt the back edge of the platform under the heels of her feet. Sucking in a deep breath, she jumped off the back of the Discovery, keeping her body as straight as possible, hoping her position and the additional weight of the reserve tank would take her deep enough, swiftly enough to get away from the men. From the change of pressure she knew she was descending rapidly. Bullets zinged through the water above her as she moved her legs to even out her descent. Saying a prayer of thanks, she slowed significantly and took a shaky breath. She was surprised when her lungs only partially filled. Below her she saw the Peach begin to emerge, beckoning to her. Working as fast as possible she removed the spent air tank and released the hose to her mouthpiece. Her lungs screamed for air as she worked to attach the hose to the new tank. Her hands were shaking and she struggled to control her panic. The lack of oxygen made her light-headed as she looked from the Peach below her to the wakes of two boats above her speeding away from the site.

  Miraculously, her air hose attached and she locked it in place, greedily drawing in air. Suspended in the water she breathed slowly and steadily to regain her sense of time and space. Swinging her flippers in a slow arc, she clung to the air tank as she rose from the depths and watched the Peach disappear once again. I won't be joining you today. Reaching the surface, she removed her mouthpiece and breathed in fresh salty air. Side-stroking, she made her way to the site buoy and grabbed it. When the Coast Guard came to look for her they would know her intended location from the harbor master and could hone in on the signal from the buoy's beacon. It wasn't ideal, but would have to do until help arrived.

  "HEY OSCAR," FRANKIE Alford said as she walked into the harbor master's office Sunday afternoon.

  "Well, hey, yourself, Frankie. Good trip?" Oscar asked, leaning back in his swivel desk chair.

  "What trip?" Frankie asked. Frankie Alford was one of two marine archaeology graduate assistants working with Julia to excavate the new site.

  "Didn't you just get back from the Peach with Doc Blanchard?"

  "I haven't been anywhere. I came in to ask where the Discovery is. I wanted to check the tanks and make sure she's been refueled in case we need her tomorrow."

  "Well, I got a call from the Doc early yesterday morning. Said she was going to the site and had you with her."

  "Have you tried to raise her on ship-to-shore?"

  "Nope. Said she'd be back this afternoon. When I see her she'll be in a heap of trouble. She knows she shouldn't go out there alone."

  Glancing at her wristwatch, Frankie said, "Try to raise her. It's already after five."

  As soon as Oscar disappeared into the radio room, Frankie pulled her cell from its case on her belt and pushed two buttons. Resting her back against the counter, she waited as Julia's home phone rang three times before a woman's voice answered.

  "This is Frankie Alford. Is Dr. Blanchard at home?"

  "No," a woman answered bluntly. "And I don't give a shit if she ever comes back."

  Frankie stared at her cell as the line went dead. "Damn," she muttered. She saw Oscar return and looked at him hopefully. "Anything?"

  "Nothin'," he answered.

  Frankie punched in more numbers on her cell and got a recording telling her the number she called was outside its service area. "Well, shit!" she said. "Call the Coast Guard, Oscar. Give them the last known location for the Discovery and let them know she's MIA. I'll call Damian and we'll take another boat out and head that direction," Frankie said as she brought her cell phone to her ear once again and walked toward the door.

  "Can't let you go out, Frankie," Oscar said.

  "Why the hell not?"

  "There's a storm comin' this way. It's just enterin' the long range radar, but looks like it's movin' pretty fast. You'd never make it out there and back before it overtook you. Coast Guard chopper is our best bet."

  Frankie paced around the small office while Oscar reported the situation and relayed the coordinates for the Georgia Peach site to the Coast Guard.

  "Be sure to tell them the Institute's buoy has a beacon," Frankie said. "And there's a GPS locator on the Discovery."

  Oscar waved a hand at Frankie and relayed the information. A moment later he hung up. "They can't send the chopper up. It's down for maintenance. They're dispatching a cutter. Should be able to handle any rough seas."

  "Well, this is certainly turning into a cluster-fuck. What the hell was she thinking going out alone?" Frankie fumed as she walked to the office window and watched high dark clouds rolling toward the coast.

  JULIA WATCHED THE sky, and didn't like the look of it. If help was going to come for her, she hoped it would be soon. The seas were becoming choppier and the increasing wind was beginning to form large whitecaps. As quickly as she could, she strapped on the air tank, but didn't use it. If the weather deteriorated further she would go under the water and hang onto the buoy line until the storm passed over. Good plan except that as long as she was under water a rescue chopper or ship wouldn't see her. If the storm lasted more than forty-five minutes she would run out of air and be forced to hang onto the buoy topside while the storm
raged around her. Either way, she would be thoroughly screwed without enjoying it one bit. The sky was already darkening prematurely and she watched the water for large waves. Night would fall soon and she wouldn't be able to see a wall of water coming at her until it struck. She didn't think it would help much, but wrapped one arm through a metal strut on the buoy and entwined her fingers for a tighter grip. I hope you've called the Coast Guard, Oscar, she thought as she pulled her mask down to protect her eyes. She was already overdue. Her argument with Amy two days before nagged at the edges of her mind as she tried to remain calm and focus on physical survival. The cutting words between them were indelibly imprinted in her memory and refused to let go...

  Julia was running late, as usual. Amy wasn't home when she arrived. After receiving no answer from Amy's cell she speed-dialed the antique shop where her partner worked.

  "Hello?" a man's soft voice drawled.

  "Les. Is Amy still at the shop?"

  "Uh...no. She left a little early saying she was going out to celebrate her birthday with a few friends," Les answered. Amy had been working with Lester Fields at his antique store since she and Julia moved to Tybee Island four years earlier.

  "Thanks, Les," Julia said. "See you soon." She closed her cell and showered and changed in record time. She was almost out the door when she remembered the birthday present she bought for Amy a few weeks earlier. She ran back into their bedroom and pulled it from its hiding place on the top shelf of their closet.

  Fortunately, there were only so many places in the Savannah area Amy might go with friends for a night on the town. After checking a couple of their favorite restaurants, she entered Xanadu, the local women's club. Looking around over the heads of a lively Friday night crowd, Julia searched for the familiar redhead with green eyes that glittered like emeralds. She spotted a couple of Amy's friends seated at a table near the DJ stand, but Amy wasn't with them. Shifting her eyes to the dance floor, she caught a glimpse of red and smiled. She didn't recognize the attractive brunette her partner was dancing with. Amy loved to dance almost as much as Julia loved holding the petite woman in her arms. It would be the perfect time to surprise Amy by breaking into the dance to apologize for being late for her birthday celebration. The diamond tennis bracelet in her pocket was guaranteed to cushion the hurt of her late arrival.