“Me too. If anything, it allowed me to meet you.”
I was beginning to lose my lunch. Maddie then did the one thing I hadn‘t expected, she reached over and gave Galveston a long hug with a kiss on his cheek. Galveston slightly recoiled from the embrace, not knowing if this fit in with his apathy plan, but after only a second returned the hug.
“Bye,” Maddie said with a wink.
“B-Bye,” Galveston replied with a stutter.
It was at this point that I knew I was going to be dealing with a blithering idiot for the rest of the trip.
We waved at the ladies as they disappeared down the jetway. I looked at Galveston as he continued to keep his hand raised even after they were gone.
“You can put your hand down now,” I said, reaching for Galveston’s arm.
“Did you see that? She hugged me.”
“I was standing right here. You’re not going to go all crazy on me now, are you? This is the time I need you to be focused.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m focused,” he stammered. “She is beautiful, isn’t she.”
“Oh God. Come on, lover boy. Stay with me here.”
“She hugged me, Roger. I think she likes me.”
“We’re not in third grade you know. Look,” I grabbed Galveston by the shoulders and turned him toward me, “you have to stay focused here. We need to find this ship and these pirates. Your love life can wait.”
Galveston flashed out of his stupor. “Right, I hear you. Let’s get this done.”
But I knew Galveston too well. This wasn’t the last I would hear about Maddie.
Fortunately, Galveston‘s phone rang, and it was David May. Galveston answered and nodded his head as he talked. He motioned to me for a pen, I gave him one, and he began to write down information May was giving him. I waited anxiously as he finished up his talk.
“We’re set, Roger. David has delivered us a way toward Gough Island, but it ain’t going to be easy.”
“Do tell.”
“There’s a private research vessel returning from Antarctica to England called the Southern Sea. It has agreed to change its course toward Gough Island.”
“That sounds good. So how do we get on this ship, swim?”
“Well, that’s the tough part. They’ve agreed to stop about four hundred miles off the coast of Argentina. We’re going to pick up a flight on an Argentine Dauphin military helicopter and take it to the ship. That’s at about the end range of this helicopter.”
“How in the hell did David arrange this?” I exclaimed, shocked at the enormity of the operation.
“That is where the interesting part comes in. He called and talked to Elizabeth.”
“Your ex-fiance Elizabeth?”
“Yeah, can you believe that? She pulled some strings in MI-6 and got us permission from the research ship.”
“It sure pays to know a British spy. I guess she felt guilty about dumping you.”
“I dumped her,” Galveston responded emphatically.
“Sure ya did. I can’t believe she and David pulled it off. What are we, spies or something? Is that our cover?”
“Yeah, basically. We’re not supposed to discuss much of our mission, whatever that is. I still can’t believe Elizabeth would help us.”
“She likes us, well most of us. Plus she’s happy now with her new relationship. What’s this going to cost us?”
Galveston paused before he spoke. The sting of my last statement probably cut a little too close to home.
“Not going to cost us anything, if we can find that ship. David said he will give us two days to find the Trusian. After that he’s going all in to launch a full investigation.”
“We better not screw up then.”
Our flight was beginning to board and we readied for a long journey. Sleep would be key, and our full acting skills would be needed. I put on my big parka, it was damn cold where we were going, and settled in my seat. I fell asleep almost immediately as the plane lifted off to Panama City and eventually Buenos Aires.
-Chapter 37-
The Trusian, now the Alterra, sped forward through the growing waves of the sea in the area known as “the roaring forties”; named for the lines of latitude that produce considerably ferocious weather and rough water.
Balboa waited patiently by the satellite phone on the bridge as he peered into the murky blackness outside, and the wind whistled between the containers on the deck of the ship. The phone began to ring, and Balboa picked it up immediately.
“Oui monsieur.”
“Is it secured?” The voice asked succinctly.
“Oui. All iz secure. Ve have zhe package, and it iz intact.”
“Good. Continue with the mission, Balboa. The helicopter will be waiting at seventeen hundred hours at your extraction point. Do not be late,” the voice said emphatically. “The ship can then proceed to the final port.”
“Oui,” Balboa answered with little emotion and hung up the satellite phone.
He settled back in his chair and elevated his feet onto the desk. He was going to have a big payday once he delivered the package. The plan had been flawless. All radio communications about the disappearance of the ship had grown silent, and he had seen nothing about the Trusian in the day’s news. There was no way anyone would be able to find them now. They were too far away from land, and he figured everyone was still looking for the ship in the Pacific. Just as Balboa was beginning to nod off, a figure appeared behind him and jolted him to an upright position.
“Captain Marquette,” Balboa stammered. “Can I help jou?”
“Did you get the call?” The captain asked seriously.
“Jes, just received, sir. Seventeen hundred iz our time for extraction. We are to board zhe ozher ship as planned and fly to Paris. Zhe ship will continue to zhe final port.”
“Excellent.” The captain sat down next to his colleague.
“How much are jou to get paid for zhat disguise?” Balboa asked, pointing at the man’s face.
“Enough for me to retire. I don’t think I need to keep it on, do you?”
“No, I don’t zhink so. The first mate zhinks jou are dead.”
“Good, I don’t want it on anymore.” Captain Marquette then reached to his head and pulled off a gray wig to reveal a bald head. He then removed the long gray beard that covered his face and peeled off the latex that covered his nose and around his eyes. Without the disguise Marquette became a much younger man.
The captain began to use his sleeve to wipe his forehead and brow, revealing a whitened face as a brown hue of makeup stained his shirt.
Balboa smiled. “Ve vill never have to work again. I already have my estate in Italy lined up.”
“Never again, I agree. I will be in the south of France; beautiful women and sun. I don’t care if this creates worldwide havoc. I’ll have my money.”
The men exchanged how else they would spend their money as the ship continued to automatically cruise through the ocean. They were at ease thinking they were off scot-free, and no one was the wiser. Unfortunately for them, two men flying through the sky were closing in.
-Chapter 38-
Panama City came and went after a few hours of waiting to change planes. Finally, we arrived into Buenos Aires the next morning.
We wasted no time after the plane touched down in the South American city and immediately secured a taxi. We raced to an Argentine military base near the coast where our Daulphin helicopter was waiting.
David May had done his homework, and we were eagerly greeted by a sharply dressed army officer that escorted us to the awaiting helicopter. Galveston and I had gotten enough sleep, but no amount of sleep would have prepared us for the dangerous flight out into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
The helicopter was an amazing piece of machinery but didn‘t offer a comfortable ride as the turbulence buffeted us right and left in the cabin. Galveston thought it was just good fun, but my knuckles were turning white. Galveston was an avid pilot and was used to
the bouncing and cavorting of an aircraft; I was not. I kept a bag close just in case my stomach wasn’t up to the task.
The weather was on our side temporarily, but as we closed in on the position of the research ship, Southern Sea, things took a turn for the worse as visibility began to falter and the winds began to pick up. I would have been more at ease if I hadn’t noticed Galveston uncharacteristically lose his bravado-like demeanor and clutch the seat like a frightened girl. He noticed me watching and quickly resumed his macho stance. Either way, I was feeling distinctly less grateful to David May for his role as our travel agent.
The helicopter continued to creep forward as the crew fought with it in the air. Galveston said something to the crew and turned back to me.
“We’re reaching the point of no return,” I heard through my headphones.
“What the hell does that mean?” I yelled back through my headset mic over the sound of the rotating blades.
“If we go farther, we have to find that research ship. We can’t look for long or we won’t have enough gas to get back to land.”
The words filled me with dread. The pilots must have been confident in their skills, or just insane, because we continued to speed forward.
I was beginning to lose hope, until I saw Galveston leap from his chair and point out the front window. It was the ship, the Southern Sea. Now we just needed to land safely.
The stern helipad looked as tiny as a postage stamp, but I could make out the lights on the deck. As we got closer and the ship grew in size, I noticed it was an impressive vessel, brightly lit, and moving into the oncoming swells away from our position.
The pilots maneuvered the aircraft above the pad and gently caressed it downward, ever so slightly. My stomach began to heave and churn like the ocean outside. The pilot extended the landing gear, and we bounced once and then fell like a rock. The helicopter hit the pad with extreme force, sending Galveston and I bouncing up against our seat belts. The pilots cut the engines and the door popped open, letting in the cold ocean air.
Galveston applauded the landing, as I extricated myself from my seat like gum on the bottom of a shoe. A sailor greeted us as our feet touched the deck of the Southern Sea. We were immediately guided into the superstructure and up to the bridge.
The captain of the Southern Sea was none too happy to see us and greeted us with only a grunt. “Put them in the aft stateroom,” he growled.
The sailor led us into a small room with a porthole and two cots. It looked like it had been used as a janitor‘s closet.
“Dinner’s at six. Towels are in the corner. The captain will talk to you soon,” he said in a pleasant English accent. “Welcome aboard.”
Galveston and I collapsed on the cots and removed our shoes to stretch our feet.
“I don’t want to ever go through that again,” I said as Galveston made himself comfortable.
“What? That was good fun.”
We heard the whap of helicopter blades as the aircraft we arrived on headed back to the mainland. The pilots had allowed just enough time to refuel, so I didn’t even get to thank them for the trip.
“They’re leaving so soon?” I asked, surprised that the pilots wouldn’t stick around for some fun.
“They told me they had to get back, there’s a squall coming tonight, and they didn’t want the helicopter secured to the deck.”
I laid down on the cot in the room and began to fall asleep as the engines of the Southern Sea went to full speed.
I awoke a few hours later to a dark room and a pitching ship that almost threw me out of bed. I stumbled to my feet and managed to get my shoes on before the ship threw me violently to one side. We must have hit the squall they were talking about.
Galveston wasn’t in his bunk, so I decided to find out what he was up to. I made my way down the narrow hallways of the ship, until I heard laughter and yells coming from a room farther down the hall. I rounded a corner and found the galley scattered with a multitude of people bantering about as they ate food and drank beer. I spotted Galveston next to the captain, who had been so gruff with us earlier. He slapped the captain on the back as if they were old friends.
“Roger!” Galveston yelled as he saw me stumble through the door. “Get over here and join the fun.”
I was greeted with an onslaught of hellos from the other members of the crew and research staff as I walked toward Galveston.
“Roger, this is Captain Wallace, our glorious leader on this fine journey.”
I reached out my hand nervously toward the captain who grabbed it and shook it hard.
“Nice to meet you, Roger. Welcome aboard the Southern Sea,” the captain exclaimed in a dramatic change of demeanor. “This guy is something else,” he said, pointing at Galveston.
“Yeah, he’s something all right,” I said quietly.
“Roger, sit down and have a beer,” Galveston ordered and pushed out a chair for me.
A beer appeared before me, and I grabbed it before it slid off the table from the shifting of the ship.
“Who’s driving the ship?” I asked nervously.
“He is tightly wound, just like you described, my friend,” the captain yelled, slapping me on the knee. “Don’t worry we have a rope attached to the wheel.”
Everyone had a good laugh at my question. I was dumbfounded at the sight, and I leaned toward Galveston to ask what was going on.
“I told them exactly why we’re here. They think it’s terribly exciting.”
“Really?” I was surprised. We were causing them to veer off their original course by at least a few hundred miles.
“They’ve been around the Ross Sea for months, and they’re bored to tears. This is the most excitement they’ve had on their whole voyage.”
I began to settle down, and after one or two, maybe three beers, began to loosen up. It was a welcome break from dealing with the case, and I loved every minute of it.
Galveston and I shut down the galley that night and finally got a good night’s sleep, even with the rolling seas. By morning the sun was out, and we were getting closer to Gough Island. The Captain informed us we were only a half-day away, and by midday we would be close enough to get onto the island.
Those few hours passed by slowly as the anticipation grew on what we would find, which would hopefully be the Trusian. A sailor came into our room at about eleven A.M. and directed us to the bridge.
We walked to the bridge and noticed the captain perched with a pair of binoculars, looking in the distance. Land was in sight.
“Take a look,” he said as he handed me the binoculars.
I took them in my hand and peered through. I saw a towering island in the distance and then something caught my eye, a slow bobbing motion of the stern of a ship. Most of it was hidden behind some rocks anchored in the shallow bay of the island, but I could make out that it was an enormous container ship. My heart leapt at the sight, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. We had found the Trusian!
-Chapter 39-
Galveston and I were elated that we found the ship that had escaped even our own government’s detection. We were as excited as a child on Christmas morning and exchanged a few high-fives and fist pumps to celebrate. But our jubilation didn’t last long when we remembered the dangers that lay ahead.
Captain Wallace gave the order to move the Southern Sea west, directly on the opposite side of the island. We would debark there and make it over the land to the South African meteorological station, right above where the Trusian was anchored in the bay. The initial plan was to have the research vessel’s small helicopter ferry us to the island, but once we saw the terrain and the unwanted attention helicopter sounds could bring, we decided a shoreline approach would be best.
The Southern Sea stopped offshore, and we located a shallow rock outcropping that would enable us to scurry onto the island. Captain Wallace took Galveston aside and gave him a small leather bag. Inside it were two 9 mm revolvers with extra bullets. Galveston thanked the captain,
and we moved quickly to the skiff that would take us ashore.
The skiff bounced across the rough sea to the rock outcropping. The pilot of the small vessel would have to time it just right between the waves to get us ashore. I pulled my parka up over my ears as we made our initial run toward the rocks. The pilot timed it beautifully, and when we ground on the rocks, Galveston threw his backpack on to the steep shore and leapt out of the boat. I threw my pack as far as I could and made a good leap just as the pilot reversed direction of the boat to get out of the way of the oncoming waves. We scampered to higher ground and gave the pilot a wave as he raced back to the Southern Sea. We would stay in communication with the research vessel with our radios, letting them know what we had ascertained about the situation.
The terrain on the island was rough, and the earth was gouged with holes and rocks that made traversing it difficult. We hiked through a narrow valley for over an hour until we spotted the research station of the South African meteorological team that worked on the island.
Galveston and I approached it cautiously and crouched low to the ground. We hiked our way to a ravine below the entrance.
The building was a boxy structure and situated on a hillside overlooking the bay below. We could barely make out the Trusian just off the coastline. I surveyed the ship with binoculars and saw a few men moving slowly about the deck, but with the distance we were at, and because of a gray haze, I couldn’t see anything else to help us.
Galveston pulled me toward him and laid out our plan. We would move up the hill to the side of the building and check the windows for any movement inside before we tried to enter.
My palms began to sweat through my gloves as Galveston began to climb the small hill. I followed closely behind. The low lying shrubbery around the building hid our movement well, but there were no trees to hide behind. We soon found ourselves crawling through the bushes to the side of the building on our stomachs, over the rocks and dirt.
Galveston made it to the corner and stood up. He kept himself where he couldn’t be seen from the bay. I scrambled toward him and pressed myself against the side of the wall.
Daniel Ganninger - Icarus Investigations 02 - Peeking Duck Page 16
