The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1) (17 page)

On Board the
Star of the
Northwest

“Mr. Metcalf.”
Harry held his hand out to the distinguished looking gentleman at the bar.
“It’s good to meet you.”

“Please, my
friends call me Terry, and I hope you’ll be one of my friends.”

Harry sized him
up. He knew from news and TV reports that Terry Metcalf was past seventy, but
would have put his age at anything from his mid-fifties to his early-sixties,
certainly not a septuagenarian. Wavy white locks covered his tanned forehead
over ice blue eyes. His trim body looked rock hard.

“If my research is
correct you’re a Scotch man,” Metcalf said.

“Glenlivet. Thank
you.” Harry answered.

This meeting could
make the whole trip worthwhile. Metcalf was the chairman of the board for
Millennium Systems, the largest computer manufacturer in the world.

“Good lord! Will
you look at that?” Metcalf looked over Harry’s shoulder. “I want Santa to put
one of those in my stocking.”

Harry turned to
see what Metcalf was talking about. A tall, slim young woman with long black
hair in a light blue bikini settled herself in a pool-side lounge chair.

Harry sat back and
admired Candace.
God, she’s beautiful.
 When she first started working
for him, he couldn’t believe that such a pretty girl could be so capable. She
didn’t exploit her looks either. No other paralegal at the Firm worked harder
or longer hours.

When had he first
felt attracted to her? It was hard to remember. Slowly, after Sally’s death,
the fog began to lift. The first thing he noticed was her eyes, deep emerald
green and piercing.

She disagreed with
him. He didn’t remember what the case was now, but he remembered her eyes. The
way they flashed anger as he ignored her ideas. To him, she was just another
pretty face trying to claw her way to the top.

It was Christmas
Eve when he realized that she wasn’t just a cog in his machine. They worked
late. With her family in Idaho, she had nowhere to go for the holiday and he
wasn’t anxious to get home to his empty house. Chris was out with friends and
Sarah would be locked up in her room.

Candace brought a
small gift for Harry. It was only a Starbucks mug and some specialty coffees,
but her consideration touched him. She gave him a hug and said “Merry
Christmas.” He was surprised how small she felt in his arms. Her presence
always filled the room. That she was so physically slight shocked him.

He remembered the
smell of her hair. For the first time in years, he felt a stirring in his
loins. Maybe he wasn’t dead.

For an instant, an
electrical current flashed between them. He never wanted to let go, then she
said “I have to go. . . Good night, Mr. Hardwick. Merry Christmas.” And the
moment was over.

“Harry. . . 
Harry?” Metcalf’s voice raised a notch.

Harry blinked his
eyes.
Oh yes, Metcalf.

“I thought I lost
you there for a moment.” Terry sipped at his drink.

****

William and Mary Island, Canada

The engine fired
as the power of the whirlpool caught the
Defiant.
At first, her bow
pointed skyward as she rode over the wave at the edge of the pool. Then Ted
looked straight down into a hole in the water at least ten feet deep as the
whirlpool sucked them further in.

“Get us out of
here.” Meagan grabbed for the lifelines.

The whirlpool
tossed the
Defiant
on her side like a bath tub toy. Water poured over
the rail into the cockpit and down the open companionway hatch. Ted heard
everything that wasn’t tied down in the cabin crash to the deck. Oscar screamed
in fear.

For an instant,
Ted felt ice water run through his veins.

Chris shoved the
throttle to full speed and held the wheel hard to port. “She’s not answering
the helm. Get your life jackets on.”

The pool sucked
the
Defiant
further and further in. Ted wasn’t about to release his
grips on the lifelines to go below for a life jacket.

“Look out for the
rocks!” Ted shouted.

“I can’t control
her. Hang on!”

The
Defiant
shot towards the white water breaking over the rocks. Then, following the
course of the whirlpool, abruptly changed her heading.

Ted looked back
toward the mega-yacht. It had disappeared. They were so far down in the
whirlpool he couldn’t see out.
 

“Cast off the
sheets!” Chris yelled. The
Defiant
lay over on her side, the sails
filled with water pulling her further down. Water poured down below. Ted
responded instantly to Chris’ order, untying the ropes that held the sails
taught. With the pressure from the sails relieved, the nearly eight thousand
pounds of lead in the
Defiant’s
keel slowly pulled her back upright.

The
Defiant
rode noticeably lower in the water. The weight of all the water below decks
made her motion feel sluggish and drunken.

Have we taken
on enough water to sink her?
Ted didn’t understand this nautical stuff, but
his spider sense was going wild. What could he do to help?

“Chris!” Meagan
shrieked. “Get us out of here!”

“I can’t.”

They circled in
the whirlpool for an eternity moving inexorably closer to the center. Then
something clicked in Ted’s head. A research paper one of his football buddies
was working on. Something about whirlpools and the weight of objects.

“Mierda!”
Ted clawed his way forward along the life lines. His shoulder ached from taking
his full weight. “The anchor.”

“Ted, what the
fuck. . .” Chris voice tailed off behind him.

Anchoring had been
Ted’s job since the beginning of the trip. He could unshackle and drop the
anchor in the dark. He released the clevis pin, dropping the anchor over the
canting bow. The chain rattled over the roller, then the golden nylon line paid
out.

He snubbed off the
line at the ninety foot marker.

Something
wonderful and strange happened. The
Defiant’s
bow jerked towards the
outer edge of the whirlpool. The rest of the boat followed, moving further away
from the funnel in the water with each revolution. Suddenly, the pool spit them
out and the
Defiant
settled down in the still water.

****

“Thank God.” Tears
ran down Meagan’s cheeks. “I’ve never been so scared.” She stood rooted to the
deck with her hands at her side, her whole body trembling.

The whole world
moved in slow motion. Drops of water falling from the rigging took hours to hit
the deck. A strange, slow strangled sound came from Oscar in the cabin. Ted put
his arm around Meagan and pulled her close. Tears formed in her eyes. She threw
her arms around Ted’s neck and held on like her life depended on it.

Poor chica,
she’s scared to death.
“We’re okay.” Ted’s voice sounded like it was coming
from someone else. “We made it.” He shook his head and tried to bring the world
back into focus.

“What the hell was
the deal with the anchor?” Chris stood behind the wheel, his feet spread apart,
his mouth hanging open.

“One of the offensive
linemen on the team was working on a fluid dynamics project. I remembered he
told me about an experiment they did with whirlpools. Light objects tend to get
sucked into the center of the whirlpool. Dense objects get thrown out by
centrifugal force.”

“So the anchor was
a dense object?”

“Yeah. It got
thrown out and pulled us with it.”

“Shit, bro that
was close.” Chris was breathing so hard it was difficult to understand his
words.

Ted suddenly
realized that he was still holding Meagan tight. It felt good to have her in
his arms, then guilt overwhelmed him. He released his grip, but she clung to
his neck.

“Okay, you guys, a
little help here.” Chris seemed to be coming out of his state of shock. “Meg,
take the wheel. I need to survey the boat for damage.”

“Where should I
steer?” Meagan was shaking uncontrollably.

Adrenaline still
pulsed through Ted’s veins. He had a sudden urge to run, just run anywhere.

“Anywhere away
from that goddamned whirlpool. Ted, come with me.”

Ted followed Chris
to the cabin. Several inches of water sloshed around the cabin floor.

“This would break
Mom’s heart.” Chris reached over to the electrical panel and flipped on the
bilge pump.

“Careful, dude,
you’re standing in ten inches of water.” To Ted’s relief, the electric motor
clicked on without shocking Chris.
 

Chris removed the companionway
stairs and lifted the floor boards to check the bilge. There didn’t appear to
be any more water coming in. “The water in the cabin must have sloshed in while
the
Defiant
was on her side,” he said.

Ted began plucking
items from the soggy mess. Huddling in one corner of the quarter berth was one
very wet, very unhappy ship’s cat.

“Poor little guy.”
In a moment of weakness, Ted took Oscar in his arms. “Look at these tissues.”
He held up a soggy box.

“Throw ‘em away.
Throw away anything that won’t dry out. Pick up the other stuff and put it in
the sink. We’ll dry it off later.” Chris was in emergency, command mode. 

While Chris
inspected the below decks for structural damage, Ted found a towel and dried
Oscar off.

“Everything looks okay
down here.” Chris sounded very impatient. “Put the cat down and let’s check the
mast, rigging and topsides.” Chris charged up the companionway stairs.

“We got off
lucky,” Chris said. “It doesn’t look too bad.”

“You call that
lucky?” Ted answered. “If I ever get my hands on the fucker who shoved us in
there, I’ll go medieval on his ass.”

“It all happened
so fast,” Chris said. “Was that who I think it was?”

“Yeah, it was
Pegasus
.”
Meagan relinquished the wheel to Chris and picked Oscar up. “Why would he do
that?” She kissed Oscar’s head. “Poor little fellow.”

“What’s wrong with
the son of a bitch anyway?” Ted asked. “He saw us. He blew his horn at us.”

“I don’t know,”
Chris replied. “We had the right of way. He violated the rules of the road. Why
would he want to force us into the whirlpool?”

“What’s he doing
up here anyway?” Meagan asked. “Yves told us there was nothing to see up here.”

“The anchor,”
Chris seemed startled by the thought. “You need to get the anchor up.”

Ted slowly moved
forward, shouting over his shoulder. “The son of a bitch was waiting for us.”

Cormorant Channel, Canada

Ahmad sped the
rubber inflatable boat through the evening darkness. He had no fear of meeting
other boats at this time of night in the wide channel.

He didn’t like
leaving the
Valkyrie
and its precious cargo anchored in a small cove on
Swanson Island, but Qayyum insisted he and Yasim meet the Frenchman.
What
was so important about the meeting anyway? Was the risk of detection worth
staying in town?

Yasim and the
Frenchman spoke in French. Ahmad understood almost none of it. But, the
Frenchman delivered everything they needed. The boxes and cases stowed in the
Valkyrie’s
hold would change the world.

There wasn’t a
cloud in the sky. The small boat sped through the night under a canopy of
stars. Ahmad marveled at Allah’s hand in shaping such a beautiful universe.
Would he still be able to see the stars from paradise?

“How long until we
get there?” Yasim asked.

“At this speed,
not long. It’s only about twenty-two kilometers. I’d say ten or fifteen
minutes.” Ahmad reveled in the speed of the little boat. Planing over the
surface of the calm sea was much more fun than slogging around in that old cow
of a fishing boat.

“I’ve been
thinking,” Ahmad said. “The power of all those explosives. It’s going to kill a
lot of people.”

“You must not
think of them as people. They are enemy. They are unbelievers. Every one of
them is in hands of Zionist puppets. Every day they support unholy war against
Islam.”

“I know, but
innocent women and children. . . “

“None of them are
innocent. They make war in their own way. By supporting unholy system,
they
make war on
us
. You must think of them as Americans say: collateral
damage. Don’t think of them as people. Think of them only as enemy.”

A dark shaped
loomed ahead of them. Swanson Island. Ahmad slowed down and skirted the north
side of the island. He remembered that rocks littered the entrance to the
little bay.

There was a light.
The
Valkyrie
lay at anchor in this desolate spot. There was no sign of
movement as Ahmad came along side.

“We stay at anchor
all day,” Yasim said. “I want to unload cargo in dark tomorrow night.”

****

Prince William Bay, Canada
 

The
Defiant
glided through the smooth waters of Prince William Bay, a long passage cut into
the south shore of William and Mary Island. Two hundred yards wide at its
mouth, the bay narrowed to a small, sandy beach at its head. Tall firs crowded
all the way down to the shoreline. Halfway up the bay widened, just before the
passage dog-legged to the Northeast.

 “We’re in about
forty feet of water. This ought to be a good spot.” Chris yelled over the soft
rumble of the diesel engine. “I’d say about one hundred sixty feet of rode
should do it.”

“Get out of my
way, stupid cat.” Ted gently nudged Oscar away from his feet.

The Burmese didn’t
get the hint and continued to rub against Ted’s ankle.

Chris took the
Defiant
out of gear and let her drift towards the steep over-hanging cliff. Their
forward progress halted. “Let go.”

The anchor
splashed into the water. Ted danced out of the way of the anchor chain as it
swiftly flowed over the side. The end of the chain, shackled to half-inch nylon
line, disappeared into the clear, green water. The golden braided rope slid
through the chocks and into the water after the chain. Small red ribbons woven
through the line every thirty feet marked the depth. Thirty, sixty, ninety,
one-twenty, one-fifty. Ted snubbed the line around the deck cleat.

“Okay ‘
mano
,”
he shouted back to Chris. “Back her down.”

Chris put the
engine into reverse and backed the sloop through the water.

“I can’t believe
how clear the water is. I can see the anchor on the bottom.”

He felt the
movement of the
Defiant
come to a halt. The anchor line stiffened and
water churned under her stern. The anchor dug in.

“That’s it for
today. I’m starved. Let’s get some dinner going.” Chris shut the diesel down. A
profound peace settled on the bay.

“What’s for
dinner?” Chris asked as Meagan popped her head out of the companionway hatch.
“I’m bushed and I’m starved.”

“Well, I’m not
cooking. I’ve been cleaning up the cabin all afternoon.” Meagan glared at him.

After the
experience in the whirlpool, Ted felt drained. Even Oscar showed more interest
in climbing into his bunk than he did in eating. Ted didn’t have any fight in
him. He threw a pot of chili beans and macaroni together. A few crackers and
several beers later and they hit their bunks too.

****

Ted lay in his
bunk reflecting on the day’s adventures.
What’s wrong with that crazy
Frenchman? Why’d he force us into the whirlpool?

In the forward
cabin, Ted heard the nightly gymnastics.
Jesús, José y
Santa María.
Do they have to do that every night?
Apparently, the
brush with danger had wetted Chris and Meagan’s appetites.

Finally,
disgusted, Ted dragged himself out of his bunk. He pulled on sweats, grabbed a
pillow and blanket and fled to the cockpit. The clouds cleared and a canopy of
stars exploded in the sky, the Big Dipper high over head.
We never get stars
like this in LA
.

He stretched out
in the cockpit with a pillow under his head and a blanket spread over him, an
infinitesimal speck in the grand scheme of the universe. Suspended under the
sea of stars, he drifted off to sleep.

Somewhere in the
night, Ted sat up, aware of the sound of propellers in the water.

Looking at his
wristwatch, he muttered, “Jesus Christ, who’s out cruisin’ at three in the morning?”

At the mouth of
the bay he detected a slight movement in the dark. The steady growl of a big
diesel engine broke the stillness of the night.

What’s that
crazy ‘mano doin’ chuggin’ back in here with his lights out?

“What’s going on?”
Chris’s head poked through the companionway hatch.

“Some crazy fool’s
coming up the bay. He ain’t got his lights on.”

“I hope he sees
our anchor light.” Chris turned back downstairs towards the electrical panel.
“Do you think I should turn on the spreader lights so he’s sure to see us?”

“Turn off the
anchor light,” Ted whispered as he followed Chris below. “I’ve got a bad
feeling about this.”

“What do you
mean?”

“Druggies, man. I’ve
seen enough of ‘em in LA. I know how they roll. This is a buy. We don’t want to
advertise our presence. Kill the anchor light.”

“What should we
do? Call the Mounties?” By this time Meagan was in the main cabin too.

Ted took time to
admire the view, Meagan was dressed only in one of Chris’s T-shirts.

“No, even if I’m
right, there’s no way they could get here in time.” Ted whispered, despite the
distance to the fishing boat. “We just have to lay low. Keep the lights out.
Don’t make any noise.”

As the fishing
boat passed the
Defiant,
Ted made out the white-painted deck house. The
long dark hull blotted out the landscape on the opposite side of the bay. From
the cabin of the
Defiant
, Ted looked up from water level. The fishing
boat with its heavy mast and boom seemed enormous. The muted voices of men on
deck and the movement of the boom and cargo hatch carried across the water.

“What language are
they speaking?” Meagan whispered.

“Hell if I know,”
Ted replied. “It’s not Spanish and I’d know Italian, Portuguese or French.”

“It’s not German,”
Chris added. “It sounds more Middle Eastern to me. Maybe Farsi or Arabic.”

The boat slid past
the anchored
Defiant
and continued up to the head of the bay. Ted heard
the heavy anchor splash as the boat shut off its main engine. 

“What do you think
they’re doing?” Meagan whispered.

Ted felt her presence;
the faint hint of perfume stirred a tingle in his loins as she crowded next to
him at the cabin’s side window to watch the movement a quarter mile up the bay.

“I think they’re
doin’ a drop.” 

The sound of a
small engine broke the stillness of the night. Two men from the fishing boat
climbed down into a big skiff and motored ashore. In a few minutes a barge-like
contraption pulled away from the beach and slid through the darkness out to the
boat.

More voices in
that strange language carried across the water as the men on the barge tossed a
line to the deck crew of the fishing boat. The grumble of an auxiliary engine
added to the quiet confusion. The cargo boom on the boat moved and lifted
crates from out of the depths of the fish hold. The boom swung out over the
barge and lowered the crates onto the deck.

“That ain’t no
drug drop,” Ted said. “Those boxes are too big. No one carries that much drugs
at one time.”

“What do you think
it could be?” Chris asked.

“I don’t have any
idea. But it ain’t legal, I know that much.”

The barge-like
boat made the short run to shore. It ran up on the beach and lowered a ramp.
What’re
they up to?
Ted watched the men unload the crates with a block and tackle
hanging from a make-shift tripod and the barge return to the fishing boat.

This can’t be
good,
Ted thought as the landing craft made several trips back and forth until a
stack of the wooden crates stood on the beach.

After the barge’s
last run to the beach, Ted heard the rumble of the boat’s anchor chain being
hauled in by a large windlass. The heavy anchor broke free and the boat started
back up the bay.

“Stay down,” Ted
whispered. “Keep below the water line.”

“Why, what’s
wrong?” Meagan asked.

“They might not
want to leave any witnesses. If they start shootin’, we want to be down low.”

“If they want to
get rid of us, won’t they come aboard?” Chris asked as he pulled on his jeans
and a T-shirt.

“You never know.
Shit! We don’t have any weapons. We’re sittin’ ducks.” Ted crouched down close
to the deck.

“We’ve got our
rigging knives and the kitchen knives.”

“Well, keep ‘em
handy.”

Chris crawled to
the forepeak to grab the Myerchin rigging knife that his father had given him.

The big green boat
slowly moved down the bay. Still not showing lights, it picked its way over the
dark water. 

“C’mon man, do
something.” Ted whispered under his breath.

Chuga-cha-chuga-cha-chuga.
The fishing boat crept closer and closer.

Meagan popped her
head up to the cabin windows to see what was going on.

“Get down!”

“They’re almost up
to us,” she whispered.

The whine of
propellers in the water grew louder. 

“Any time now,”
Ted said. He held his breath, waiting for the burst of automatic weapon fire.