Butler Did It! (8 page)

Don’t be silly,
she told
herself
, all you really should be thinking about is getting as
far away from here as possible
.

From where she crouched, she could see
two boats cruising back and forth in front of the island. One,
inside the reef, was a fast zodiac bearing three men. She could see
that two of them were holding guns while the third piloted the
boat. There seemed to be an argument going on, she could hear them
shouting and see their adamant gestures. Apparently, they had been
waiting for a diver who, as she watched, emerged from the water
next to the boat. Katharine’s heart pounded when she realized that
he was handing her camera to the men in the boat.

Crap
, she thought, as a black
wave of despair rolled over her,
that camera cost me a bundle
and it has the Coelacanth images on it. I’ll never get it
back.

A large yacht idled just beyond the
reef wall in deep water. The yacht appeared to be a dark green, but
with an odd reflective iridescence that made the color change from
black to silver in the sunlight. It looked to her as if the entire
ship consisted of a narrow, pointed bow. The bridge slanted back
sharply in a way that reminded her of those angular American
stealth fighters.

That’s the most evil-looking thing
I’ve ever seen
. She thought.

After boarding the diver, the zodiac
turned abruptly from its path and returned to the yacht. There it
took on another passenger. Katherine could easily see, by the body
language of the zodiac’s crew, that this man was in charge. His
bearing and stance exuded power. The zodiac then departed from the
yacht and headed straight back to the island. Even knowing that she
would have to get back under cover soon, Katherine stayed and
watched, fascinated. As the boat approached, Katharine could see
that the man in charge was a big, brawny man with blonde hair and a
black patch covering one eye. With a reaction born in childhood,
she thought,
Pirates!
Fear crept along her spine.

She remembered the recent horror
stories featured so prominently in the news. Not those comfortable
stories like Treasure Island or Pirates of the Caribbean, but the
stories of pleasure craft taken by modern day pirates who killed
everyone aboard. She carefully crawled through the shallow pool,
and back down the hole. When she returned to the hidden ledge, she
found Kobi groggy but awake. He seemed surprised to see
her.

“Oh, I thought you had left.” He said.
“I’m glad you came back. I wasn’t looking forward to dying down
here alone.”

“You’re not going to die. We’re going
to find a way out of this,” she said, with far more enthusiasm than
she felt.

“Yes,” he mumbled and closed his
eyes.

Above, she could hear sounds of people
moving around, but there was no more yelling and shouting. The
sound of voices rumbled into the blowhole occasionally, so
distorted that she couldn’t understand any words.

I wonder if we will get out of
this
, she thought, I might,
but I very much doubt if I can
save the both of us.

For a long time, she sat there,
listening and trying to think of anything other than starving to
death or being found. Voices ebbed and flowed around the blowhole
like the sound of a distant radio.

As time dragged on, she suddenly jolted
to the sound of the zodiac’s engines starting up and racing away.
Wild hope surged through her and she scrambled off the ledge and up
the hole without caution. As she began to emerge once more into the
small pool, it occurred to her that just because she heard the
Zodiac leave didn’t mean that everyone was gone.

She eased quietly into the shallow
water under the overhang and listened carefully. Not hearing any
nearby sounds, she moved slowly into the undergrowth from which she
had previously viewed the activity. The zodiac was going back to
the yacht but she could not see how many men were inside. Another
ship had come into view on the near horizon. This ship was large
and white and looked like a working vessel. As soon as the men from
the zodiac were aboard, the yacht started its engines.

They don’t want to be seen here
,
Katherine reflected.

Within minutes, the sinister ship had
sped off, throwing a large wake.

At first, it looked like the big white
ship was going to pass by on the south side of the island, but then
it slowed and dropped anchor. Katharine’s heart swung giddily from
despair to hope and then to fear again.

What if the rescue I’m
hoping for, is just some new danger?

Hysteria clutched at her throat and
tears of frustration jumped to her eyes. She rushed back into the
pool and down the hole while her mind raced in terrible circles.
They were going to die. When hunger, thirst, and the tide forced
her out of the hole, the man would drown and she would be captured
and tortured to death. Panting and crying she pulled herself back
onto the shelf and gathered the limp man into her arms. His
presence focused her thoughts against the terror.

Kobi
, she remembered,
his
name is Kobi, and we’ll find a way out of this.
The words
became a mantra, repeating rhythmically in her mind.

After a while, she couldn’t tell how
long it had been, she heard the engines of several small boats.
This was followed by much shouting and laughter and soon was
accompanied by what sounded like salsa music. She assured herself
that people waiting to catch her and Kobi, and kill them, wouldn’t
announce their presence in this way. Or would they? She remained
where she was, paralyzed with indecision. She told herself she must
move, but could not make it happen. It must have been about half an
hour that she lay there listening to the sounds from
above.

Finally, it was Kobi who roused her out
of panicky paralysis. He tensed in her arms and she thought he was
waking. Suddenly he flung out an arm and yelled, “NO!”

She jumped and started to roll away
from him and then, getting her wits back, rolled back and whispered
in his ear “Shhh, it’ll be OK”
God!
She gasped to herself,
he really scared me
.

The moment was enough to shake her out
of her terror-filled daze. She saw that the tide was threatening
the edge of their shelf now and she really had to move. She climbed
cautiously back up the chimney and out to where she had previously
viewed events. She could see nothing from her hideout, but could
still hear music and laughter.

<<>>

DARK YACHT

“You let the man escape?” Alexander
Levasseur’s voice crackled in both frustration and disbelief over
the marine channel radio. A very expensive scrambler insured that
his conversation with Captain Sven Larsen would be
private.

“I assure you sir, there’s no way for
him to escape from Little Curieuse,” replied Captain Larsen. The
master of the dark yacht had hesitated to make this call to the
boss, but the consequences of not making the call would have been
far worse when Levasseur found out about the screw-up.

“It will not go well for you, Captain
Larsen, if he does.”

“Yes sir. We’re searching the area
now.”

“Put a dive team in the water,
immediately.”

“I have already done so. All they found
was an underwater camera lying on the bottom.”

“Search the island.”

“Yes, Sir. I have men ashore as we
speak. We found a boat with a diver flag posted, floating in the
lagoon. Paperwork aboard indicated that it was from Praslin.
Apparently, a Katherine Annenberg rented it yesterday.”

“I’ll send a team to Praslin to find
out where this Katherine Annenberg is staying and stake out her
room. I want you to insure that the island is contained. We can’t
have anyone rescuing your escaped intruder. If that boat is part of
a regular diving service, there could be dozens of witnesses in the
area

“I don’t believe that’s the case, sir.
It’s a small boat and there is no evidence that more than one
person was aboard.”

“Only a fool dives alone. There has to
be more than one person.”

“We thought of that, too. But, all we
found aboard was a single set of reserve tanks. The boat also has
no facilities to refill tanks, so we estimate they have no more
than thirty minutes of air.”

“Get rid of the boat. Without one, they
can’t get off the island, and it’s over twenty kilometers to the
nearest land.”

“Yes Sir. Rest assured, we will find
the intruder and this Katherine Annenberg very soon.”

“When you find them, have a talk with
them. You know what is at stake, Captain. I trust that you will
handle it appropriately. I want nothing to interfere with our
upcoming transaction.”

“Yes Sir, I will deal with it,
personally.”

Captain Larson smiled to himself.
Although nothing direct had been said, he knew exactly what Xander
meant. Torture the information from the witnesses and then get rid
of them.

“Sir, another ship is approaching the
area, I think we’re going to have to break off the search for
now.”

“What ship is it?”

“It’s called the Pelican, sir. It’s a
large white ship, with a two-tone dark blue and light blue
superstructure. It says Butler Project, on the side of
it.”

“Hmmm, I’m familiar with Butler Marine
International, a big shipping company, lots of influence, but I’ve
never heard of the Butler Project. Better get out of there for
now.”

“Yes sir.”

“And send that underwater camera to me.
Also, Captain, I trust that you will deal with the crewmen who
allowed the intruder to escape in the first place.”

“Aye, aye, Sir. I will take care of
everything.”

“See that you do, Captain. Xander
out.”

Larson stared at the radiophone for a
few seconds in thoughtful contemplation. He knew he had lost favor
with his boss.

Now the murderous bastard
wants a blood sacrifice. Xander expects me to punish two of my men
whose lapse in security allowed the stowaway to escape in the first
place.

Larson reflected on his problems and
then sighed heavily.

Two men sacrificed, leaving
two fewer men to do a job that requires three times as many. At
this rate, I won’t have any crew left inside a week.

Larson grunted and lurched out of his
chair.

Very well then
, he decided,
wiping his hands on his shirt.
There will be two more passengers
onboard when the dive boat plunges to the bottom.

<<>>

LITTLE CURIEUSE ISLE,
SEYCHELLES

Old timers fondly called it 'Magoo', a
nickname that harkened back to a previous generation. The
wet-behind-the-ears young punks called it 'the Rusty Duck', mostly
from its appearance. It didn’t matter much, since it was almost
completely unlike any duck in existence. This particular duck was a
vintage DUKW, the strange-looking amphibious truck invented during
WWII.

It was doing just what it was designed
to do nearly seventy years before. After negotiating the long
rollers and getting a bite into the sand flats at low tide, the 6
wheel drive DUKW climbed out of the water and up onto the dry sand
of the beach of Little Curieuse. Stopping near the trees and
mangroves at the center of the island, it disgorged a motley band
of happy people armed with coolers of beer, hampers of food, and
tubes of sun block. The crew of the Pelican was ready to enjoy
their first official shore leave in nearly three months.

From a distance, the vehicle looked
like an aborted attempt to morph a boat into a 6x6 truck, losing
any grace and functionality, while retaining all the ugliness and
inefficiency.

Up close, its body was a color wheel of
paint. Against the original sheet steel was primer brown followed
by olive drab, fire-engine red, ambulance white, pea green, taxicab
yellow and on top a neutral blue gray, neither sky nor water. The
bow of the beast was painted a bright orange, someone’s idea of a
duckbill. The wrench wizards down in maintenance had long ago given
up trying to make the Rusty Duck look pretty, saying it was akin to
dressing up a wino in a tutu. Here and there, the multiple layers
of paint were chipped and flaked off by accident or design,
revealing hidden layers of color, like a partly sucked jawbreaker.
Of course, every surface was highlighted by random blotches of
rust, advancing mercilessly against the thick bastions of
paint.

While cosmetically the wizards weren’t
doing much, they had made one significant improvement to the
vehicle. The two hundred seventy cubic inch gasoline engine had
been replaced with a heavy-duty diesel that boosted its speed in
the water from a lackluster five and a half knots to an impressive
eighteen knots. Of course, these same boffins also had a running
pool on when the new engine would tear thru the ancient hull of the
DUKW, sending it to the bottom.

As a tribute to the DUKW’s noble
history, the original nose art applied during the war had been
carefully copied with every paint job. Just behind the orange bill,
a large red-rimmed bulls-eye with a rather lecherous cartoon duck
smoking a cigar and toting a fifty-caliber machine gun was
prominently displayed on both the port and starboard sides. From a
distance, the nose art looked a bit like an eyeball, which usually
caused any first timers to stop in their tracks and gawk horribly
as it passed. Those still hypnotized by the sight of the Rusty Duck
passing, couldn’t fail to notice the faded lettering high on the
stern directly over the propeller.