Hurricane (31 page)

“
Don’t head up too much,” T-Bone yelled, “or we’ll be broached.”

“
Broached?” Broxton yelled back.

“
Wave slams into the side and knocks us down. Not good.”

And for another half hour Broxton fought the waves, staying in the groove. Fingers and toes numb, legs like jelly, face and arms raw from the pelting rain, thighs quivering, lungs demanding more air with each breath, arms straining and T-Bone never once offered to take a shift at the wheel and Broxton never asked.

Then the wind dropped back down to forty-five knots, then thirty, then twenty and the sea turned from breaking to rolling. Broxton felt like a high school kid who had just made the game winning touchdown. He was driving the boat up and down long rolling seas that only two hours ago would have terrified him.

He laughed as life came back into his arms and legs. He was getting the air he needed to calm his rocketing heart and each deep breath he took seemed to heighten the wave of sexual satisfaction that blazed through him.

Then as quickly as it was on them, it was over. The seas were calm, the wind was moderate. They were miles from land, though. T-Bone pushed himself off the cockpit seat and stood. He had spent the storm laughing at the weather, trusting his boat to Broxton. He moved behind the wheel, slapped Broxton on the back and said, “You’re a real sailor man now, don’t let no one tell you different.”

“
Thanks,” Broxton said, and he flopped down on the cockpit seat and stretched out. He fell asleep to T-Bone whistling, Popeye the Sailor Man.

Broxton was jerked from his sleep by the crackling radio, “Will the sailing vessel Obsession stand by to be boarded.” T-Bone was asleep on the cockpit seat opposite him. Obsession had been merrily sailing north under automatic pilot.

“
What is it?” T-Bone wiped the sleep from his eyes with curled fingers.

“
The Coast Guard,” Broxton said.

“
Shit,” T-Bone said. The cutter loomed large next to Obsession. The water was calm, the winds slight. The Puerto Rico was close enough to touch.

“
I repeat,” the familiar voice boomed over the radio, “Will the sailing vessel Obsession stand by to be boarded.”

“
Do you remember his name?” T-Bone asked.

“
Andrews,” Broxton said.

“
Yeah, that’s it,” T-Bone said, through clenched lips.

“
Good thing we tossed the drugs.”

“
Hey, yeah, that’s right.” T-Bone’s tight frown turned into a wide smile. “We got no drugs.”

“
What about the guns?”

“
Shit, they don’t care about guns. Every American boat out here is armed to the teeth.”

“
But our guns have killed people.”

“
Aw, shit, that was up north.” He picked up the mike and clicked the talk button. “This is the sailing vessel Obsession standing by to be boarded, and a fine, fine morning to you, Captain Andrews. Will you be coming over for that drink now?”

“
Yes, I believe I will,” Andrews answered.

Broxton and T-Bone watched as the cutter backed off and lowered its launch. Three young sailors and an older man in an officer’s uniform climbed into it and in seconds it was alongside.

“
I’m Andrews,” the captain said, holding out his hand. Broxton shook it. A young sailor followed his captain aboard. The other two waited in the launch.

“
I’m T-Bone Powers.” T-Bone held out his hand. Andrews released Broxton’s hand and took T-Bone’s.

“
Why do I have the feeling I’ve been blind sided?” Andrews said.

“
I don’t know,” T-Bone said. “Cause you were?” Broxton blanched. He’d forgotten that Andrews would naturally associate his face with T-Bone’s voice.

“
What were you carrying that you didn’t want me to find?” Andrews asked.

“
Nothing, not a thing,” T-Bone said. “It was a bad blowing day and if you’d have seen me on deck, you’d been a boarding, admit it.”

“
Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” Andrew said, “because you’re being too damned accommodating.”

“
Danny boy, you wanna pop down and get us some beer,” T-Bone said. Then he turned to Andrews, “Don’t suppose your men can have one.”

“
No, and I won’t either. Another time.” He looked hard at Broxton for a second, then shook his head. He turned to the sailor, “You can wait with the others, Craig.”

“
Yes, sir,” the sailor said, and he grabbed onto the port shroud and climbed over into the launch.

“
You kind of look like a man in a picture I’ve got on board,” Andrews said, looking at Broxton.

“
What kind of picture?” Broxton said.

“
Dead or alive kind.”

Broxton shrugged.

“
What are you, some sort of vigilantes?”

Broxton met the captain’s stare, but stayed silent.

“
The four in Antigua. The German nationals had arrest records that would reach down to Davey Jones’ locker. One of the Colombians was Sierra Salizar, Hector Salizar’s baby brother.”

“
I told you they were Colombians. He thought they were Cuban.”

“
You’re not helping me here, T-Bone,” Broxton said.

“
Oh, relax. If he was gonna take you in, you’d be in irons by now. Me too.”

“
And firing and sinking Snake Eyes and Challenge in Rodney Bay, you get around. That was a DEA man tied to the mast. Do you have a death wish?

“
If you knew he was DEA, why didn’t you board us with guns and haul us away?” Broxton asked.

“
Because I know who the Salizars are what they’re capable of. Now I want to know why and what you know.”

“
Karl Schneidler worked for the DEA, true, but he also worked for the Salizars. He killed a friend of mine. I did him. It was personal. How’d you put it all together?”

“
You don’t check in at Antigua, and several boats report seeing Obsession off the coast the day a speedboat with four dead bodies comes floating in. Then you don’t check into St. Lucia and various yachties report Obsession sailing away as two boats are burning and sinking. You don’t need to be bright to add one and one and get two.”

“
What are you going to do?” Broxton asked.

“
Nothing, not a thing,” Andrews said, mimicking T-Bone’s words and his drawl. “Everybody in the world knows you didn’t kill Chandee, and if it ever got to court you could probably prove it. I’m not going to be the one to bring you in so that you can be murdered in protective custody.”

“
That’s good news,” Broxton said.

“
The bad news is that the whole world is out looking for a boat named Obsession.”

“
Hey, I got stick ’em letters on board. That name comes off. I’m not married to it,” T-Bone said.

“
Why am I not surprised.” Andrews laughed. “I’ll need to know the new name, so I can get that drink you owe me someday.”

“
Voyager,” T-Bone said, eyes twinkling.

Andrews shook his head, laughed again and turned to go, stopped and turned back toward Broxton. “The hair works. I’d never have given you a second look if it wasn’t for the boat. You got a good passport?”

Broxton nodded.

“
Good. Grow a mustache, stay in the Caribbean awhile, people will forget soon enough.”

Captain Andrews was at the port shroud, hanging on, about to jump into the launch when he shouted back to the men in the cockpit.

“
You’re not going to keep heading up north are you?”

“
Sure are,” T-Bone said.

“
You have an SSB?”

“
No sir.”

“
So you don’t know about the hurricane?”

“
Wait a minute,” T-Bone said scurrying over to Andrews. “What hurricane?” Broxton was right behind him.

“
Darlene, headed for the islands. South is the place to go. It’s where I’m heading.”

“
We’ll give it some thought, Captain.” T-Bone said, and the two men watched as Andrews lowered himself into the launch.

“
What’s it all about?” Andrews said.

“
Damsels in distress,” T-Bone said.

“
When we have that drink you’ll have to tell me about it,” Andrews said, laughing. Then he put the launch in gear and headed toward the Puerto Rico. In minutes the cutter was steaming away. Broxton and T-Bone stood at the shrouds and watched as it headed south.

“
I don’t like hurricanes,” T-Bone said.

“
I gotta go north,” Broxton said.

“
I know,” T-Bone said. “We got no choice.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Hey, Danny boy. You’d do it for me.” T-Bone’s smile was radiating, his eyes were glowing. “Besides I want to do one really good thing before I die, and you’ve given me that chance.”

“
I don’t understand,” Broxton said, though he thought he did.

“
Damsels in distress, we’re gonna save ’em, you and me.”

Chapter Seventeen

Hurricane Darlene rode around the southern part of the Bermuda High, gathering ground speed on her curving northwestern path. The thunderstorms swirling around her center lashed each other with lightning and the cracking thunder was loud enough to wake God.

Darlene continued to push bad weather on ahead, smaller storms, water spouts, foaming and confused seas, all dire warnings of what was to come. The winds roaring around her center were approaching a hundred and fifty miles an hour and every ten minutes Darlene spat out enough energy to supply the whole world for day.

“
Hey, Julie!” Darla yelled from the front of the dinghy, waving an arm that looped through the air like loose spaghetti. Her father was driving. His smile matched hers, only larger. There were two duffel bags in the rubber boat. They were coming to stay awhile, and that was fine with Julie.

“
Hey, Darla.” Julie waved back.

“
Wanna buy some tomatoes?” the girl squealed.

“
Anytime, wise guy,” Julie reached out to grab the dinghy painter as Darla handed it off.

“
We’re going up north with you,” the girl said.

“
That’s what I hear,” Julie said.

“
Do I get my own cabin?”

“
No,” Julie said. “You have to share with Meiko.”

“
Will I like her?” Darla climbed on board.

“
You better, you little squirt,” Meiko said, “or I just might throw you off in the middle of the night.”

“
Oh, yeah, I’m gonna like her.” Darla giggled.

Henry handed up Darla’s bag, then his.

“
How long before you’ll have the engine running?” Julie asked.

“
About a minute,” he said. “Then you can haul anchor.”

“
No you can’t,” Meiko said. “Somebody ripped the wires off the windlass motor, remember?”

“
That’s right,” Julie said. “I’d better get a wrench and go down and fix it.” Then she stopped short. She remembered the two dead men in the hot forepeak. She remembered the smell.

“
I’ll do it,” Meiko said. “Just tell me how.”

“
You can do that?”

“
Killing him was a problem for me, because I think life, all life, even his, is sacred. But he’s dead now. I’ll be all right. Don’t forget, I’m around dead people all the time.”

“
All you have to do,” Julie said, “is loosen the two nuts on the bottom of the motor and attach the red wire to the nut that has the large red wire attached to it, and the black wire—”

“
To the nut that has the large black wire attached to it,” Meiko said.

Julie nodded her head and Meiko went below and came back up with a crescent wrench. Then she went forward and down into the forepeak. Julie didn’t know how she could do it. She’d have to stand on top of the bodies to reattach the wires.

“
Okay.” Meiko climbed back out of the hatch as if she’d done nothing more than screw in a light bulb. She bent and closed the hatch. “Want me to bring up the anchor, Mom?” Meiko giggled. She knew Julie didn’t want anything to do with the front of the boat until those bodies were off of it.

“
Yes,” Julie said. “You do that.”

Henry started the engine and took the wheel. Julie couldn’t help but notice the glint in his eyes as he turned on the GPS. Then he ran his hands along the stainless steel. She knew at once that Henry Waller was a sailor and that he was in love with Fallen Angel.

Meiko pointed left and Henry turned the wheel, added a touch of power, then backed off, moving the boat over the anchor. Meiko toed the button and the anchor chain rolled over the bow roller, falling into the chain locker in the forepeak, with the two dead men.

Henry put it back in forward and kept the wheel spinning to port and pointed Fallen Angel toward the open ocean. “We should go out to sea and take care of the dirty business, before we trek up north,” he said. Julie nodded, feeling comfortable with him behind the wheel.

Julie went below and stretched out in the salon. The forward motion of the boat forced a gentle breeze down the overhead hatch and it washed over her body, cooling her and calming her. That, combined with the lullaby rocking of the boat, had her asleep in minutes.