The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1) (26 page)

“But no one would
sell anti-ship missiles to a bunch of rabid terrorists.” Ted struggled to wrap
his mind around the facts. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Ted!” Meagan
stamped her foot. “Don’t you remember what he said about not caring who he sold
his equipment to? He was talking about the missiles! He doesn’t care what they
do with them as long as they pay for them.”

“These guys have
to get their arms from somewhere.” Chris turned onto the float where they left
the
Defiant
. “Someone is selling them guns and explosives. It’s all
about money. They don’t care who they kill with the stuff as long as they make
a profit.”

“Holy shit!” Ted
shouted. “Where’s the
Defiant?
”

William and Mary Island, Canada

 “To my family I say this:” Ahmad stood
before the white tarp. A cathedral of tall firs surrounded him. He looked
directly into the video camera’s lens. “You must return to the way of Mohammed.
You have allowed the lure of money and possessions to turn you from the true
path. It is not Allah’s course. Follow his will.”

For several minutes Ahmad went on. He
detailed how his body should be handled and how to dispose of his few
possessions. Then he returned his attention to his family. He pleaded with them
to go back to fundamental values. Finally, it was done. He stood silent for a
moment, the camera still running.

“Turn it off. I’m done.”

He put down his rifle and walked away from
the group. He was committed. The die was cast. His stomach crawled within him,
bile rose to his throat. His heart beat quickly, his breathing, fast and
shallow. Had he made the right choices? Was this really Allah’s will?

Mohammed set a different tone. Full of
bravado, Mohammed railed against the West. He told them of the virgins waiting
for them in paradise if they sacrificed themselves for Allah. He called for
true believers to take up the Jihad, to resist the temptations of the West.

How long ago it seemed since Mohammed had
convinced him that it was time to rise up, to join together and form the
perfect caliphate that would soon rule the world.

One by one, each of the men stepped in
front of the camera. Ahmad noticed that they said much the same thing. It was
almost as if they had rehearsed together.
Are we really such sheep?

Mohammed said something to Qayyum in
Arabic.

“What did you say?” Ahmad asked.

“I asked Qayyum if he was going to make a
will.” Mohammed answered. “He said he has long since made his will. That Allah
knows what’s in his heart.”

Qayyum spoke to Mohammed again.

“He says to bring the captives.”

Hani and Kalil went to the tool shed and
returned with the two prisoners.

Ahmad had begun to think of them as
“prisoners” now.
What did that mean?
Had he crossed over to thinking
like a soldier?

Qayyum spoke and Mohammed translated.

“He says to put them in front of the
screen. To tell the dogs to get on their knees.”

“W-w-wait a minute,” the older prisoner
stammered. “We didn’t do anything.”

Ahmad could see the beads of sweat on his
brow. He saw their pale faces, their hands tied behind their backs. Their
shoulders trembled in fear. Kalil shoved them to the ground.

Qayyum spoke again and Yasim answered, then
handed a black hood with eye holes to each of the Jihadists. Yasim put black
hoods without eye holes over the fishermen’s heads.

“Wait, you can’t do this,” the younger one
yelled.

“Put on your hoods, grab your rifles and
stand behind the kaffirs.” Mohammed translated Qayyum’s words for Ahmad and Kalil.

One of the prisoners tried to rise to his
feet. Kalil slammed the butt of his rifle into his back. Ahmad gasped at the
violence. The man stumbled and fell. Kalil reached down and jerked him back to
his knees.

At Qayyum’s command, Yasim started the camera,
then joined the others.

Qayyum stood behind the kneeling fishermen
and began speaking. Every few sentences he paused.

“I am translating the words of Qayyum ali
Adham
.” Mohammad said to the camera. “These
two infidels are Allah’s enemies. They have invaded our camp. They have brought
war to the followers of Mohammed.”

“No!” the younger prisoner shouted. “We
didn’t mean anything. We were just jokin’ around.”

Mohammed slammed the barrel of his rifle
against the man’s head. The prisoner yelled out in pain.

 “Quiet, infidel.”

Ahmad started to speak, then caught
himself. He didn’t know what was happening, but was afraid to object.

“Now, with this statement,” Mohammed began
translating for Qayyum once again, “we are declaring a right and just war, a
holy Jihad, against the unbelieving state of Canada. We will no longer stand by
and allow the American’s puppets to help in the war against Islam. This country
has blindly followed all orders from the Great Satan Bush. They must be made to
pay for their sins. They must realize the long reach of the arm of God.”

Ahmad saw Qayyum draw a curved scimitar
from the scabbard at his side. He caught his breath as Qayyum raised the sword
over his head.

****

Port
McNeil, Canada

Ted looked up and
down the docks. His spider sense went wild.

“The
Defiant’s
gone.” Chris’s voice went up two octaves.  

All three tried to
shake off the effects of the alcohol.

“Look. There.” Meagan
pointed beyond the breakwater. “Is that her?”

Ted’s gaze
followed her pointing finger. A dim shape floated with the tide, moving rapidly
towards the reef off Lodge Point. There was enough ambient light from the town for
Ted to make out the sharp bow, bulging beam and reverse transom that
characterized the C&C 40. 

“What’s she doing
there?” Chris stammered. “How did she get out of the marina?”

“Who gives a
shit?” Ted shouted. “That’s our ticket home.”

He glanced around
at the marina. “Here, that big boat. They have what we need.” Ted ran up the
dock a few boats. “WOOHOO!” He leapt across the water into a grey inflatable
dinghy. “Indiana Teddy and the Dinghy of Doom!”

“But, that’s not
our boat,” Meagan said.

Ted ignored her, pulled
out the choke knob on the outboard and jerked the starter chord. The motor caught
on the first pull.

“You guys comin’?”
He untied the painter from the cleat on the yacht’s deck.

Chris and Meagan
dropped from the dock into the inflatable as Ted put the outboard into reverse
and backed away from the cruiser.

He opened the outboard
to full throttle as soon as they were clear of the slip. The dinghy flew across
the water throwing a bow wave and wake that rocked the other boats in the
marina. Ted raced past the breakwater towards the dark shape of the
Defiant.

It only took a few
minutes to cross the black water and close with the sloop. Chris grabbed the
stern pulpit and climbed aboard, painter in hand. Ted looked over his shoulder.
The
Defiant
drifted relentlessly towards the reef.

Chris pushed the
starter button as Meagan and Ted clambered over the rail. Nothing happened.

“What the hell?”
Chris jumped down the companionway stairs in one step.

“Wait for me, ‘
mano
.”
Ted followed him down.

In the cabin,
Chris flipped the switch on the light over the chart table. It didn’t come on.
He reached back to the light over Ted’s berth. It wouldn’t turn on either.

Ted watched him
fumble with the battery selector switch next to Ted’s bed.

“God damn it. I
can’t see a thing.”

“Here,” Ted
reached for the flash light on the shelf over his bunk. “This’ll help.”

“The battery
switch is on ‘All.’ The main power switch is on. The bastards must have cut the
battery cable.”

“Guys!” Meagan
screamed from the cockpit. “Those rocks are getting really close!”

Ted felt an almost
imperceptible bump, then the
Defiant’s
motion stopped.

“SHIT!” Chris
yelled. “We’ve gone aground!”

He and Ted flew up
the stairs to the cockpit.

Meagan stood at
the wheel with a helpless look on her face. “Chris! We’ve got to get away from
those rocks!”

The
Defiant
wasn’t drifting any closer to the rocks.

“Thank God!” Chris
breathed a sigh of relief. “We must have grounded in the mud before we got to
the rocks. We’re on a rising tide. Let’s get the sails up.”

Chris took the
wheel. Ted went to his post on the cabin roof and watched Meagan slip the
handle into the halyard winch. He untied the stoppers on the sail and Meagan
began cranking. The head of the main sail rose as Ted channeled each slide into
the groove on the mast. As the sail made its way up the mast, the
Defiant
pivoted into the wind.

“Get the jib
unfurled,” Chris barked. “I think I felt her move.”

Ted flipped the
lever on the jam cleat and dropped back into the cockpit. Meagan was already
putting the handle into the sheet winch. Ted grabbed the jib sheet and began
hauling it in. The big jib unfurled into the steady breeze.

With the wind in
the sails, the
Defiant
showed life, but she was still hard aground.

“Meagan, stand by
the wheel.” Chris ran to the foredeck. “Ted, get the dinghy started. I’m going
to pass you the anchor.”

Ted bounced down
the swim steps and dropped into the dinghy. He stood and grabbed the
Defiant’s
lifelines and pulled himself forward to Chris.

“Okay,” Chris
lowered the anchor into the dinghy. “Take the anchor as far out in the channel
as the rode will go, drop it over, then get back here pronto.”

Ted followed
Chris’s instructions. In a matter of minutes he was climbing back up the swim
steps into the cockpit.

“What now, dude?”

“I’m going to
attach the end of the anchor line to a halyard. We’ll winch in on the anchor
from the top of the mast. That should make her heel over enough to free the
keel.”

“Christ!” Ted
stubbed his toe on a jam cleat in the dark.

Chris ignored him
and made the anchor line fast to the spinnaker halyard; Ted inserted the handle
in the port halyard winch.

“Okay, haul her
in,” Chris shouted.

Ted put both hands
on the winch handle and cranked. At first, it turned easily. Then the anchor
line went taunt and he couldn’t turn it anymore.

“Let
me help.” Chris dropped into the cockpit and put his hands over Ted’s on the
handle. With the extra hands, the handle moved. Slowly at first, then a little
faster.

Click by click the
Defiant
began to heel over. The anchor line attached to the top of the
mast pulled tighter and tighter.

There was a bump,
then the
Defiant
came free. Suddenly she was a living thing again.

“Keep her close to
the wind,” Chris shouted at Meagan. “We’ve got to get the anchor up,” he yelled
at Ted.

Ted slacked off on
the halyard as the boat moved towards the anchor. Chris grabbed the line and
started hauling it aboard. Within minutes they completed the maneuver, the
anchor was in its chocks, the dinghy made fast and the
Defiant
sailing
away from the rocks.

“Meagan, stay on
the wheel. Ted and I need to find out what’s wrong with the electrical system.

Ted headed down
the companionway stairs.

“Hand me a
flashlight, bro.” Chris lifted the lid to the lazarette and dropped down the
deep hatch.

Ted flipped on his
own flashlight and began to take the cover off of the electrical panel.

“Here it is!”
Chris shouted from behind him. “The bastards cut the electric cable from the
battery.”

“They sure as hell
didn’t want to take a chance on us saving the boat.” Ted screwed the electrical
panel back in place.

“Hand me a knife
and some electrician’s tape.” Chris’s voice came up from the bowels of the
boat.

Ted pawed through
the tool box and found a Barlow pocket knife and a roll of black tape. “Here.”
He leaned into the lazarette to hand the tools to Chris.

“This’ll only be a
temporary fix. I’m going to splice the line back together. Youch!” Chris jumped
back from the battery box and slammed his head into the hatch cover as a shower
of sparks flew from the cable. “Shit. Get me a crescent wrench. I have to take
the cable off of the battery.”

Ted handed the
wrench down to Chris and held the flashlight for him.

The lights
suddenly came on in the cabin.

“If I ever get my
hands on that son-of-a-bitch, I’m gonna kill him.”  Chris crawled out of the
lazarette rubbing the back of his head. “Shooting at us is one thing, but
trying to destroy a man’s boat. That’s something else altogether.”

“You’re gonna have
to take a number, dude.”

Chris took the
wheel back from Meagan. “Let’s get out of here.” He tacked the
Defiant
towards
the marina.

“How did she get
out here?” Meagan asked.

“Yves musta done
this.” Ted’s mind raced. “He doesn’t want us on the water. He wants us to go
home. It had to be that John-Paul dude.”

 “Now I understand
why he was so anxious to invite us to dinner,” Chris said. “He wanted to get us
away from our boat. First he tries to keep us from going into Nelson Inlet, then he runs us into the whirlpool. Now this. He has to be in business with the
Arabs.”

“Jack’s right,” Meagan
said. “Port McNeil isn’t safe. Let’s get out of here. Go to Double Bay like he suggested and wait to hear from him.”

“We need to return
the dinghy first,” Ted said. “I don’t want grand theft – dinghy on my record.”

****

William
and Mary Island, Canada

“This is the sword of God,” Mohammed
translated for the video camera. “It has been blessed by the Imams in Mecca. It has been ordered into battle by the great leaders of our cause. It will be wielded
by the right arm of God himself.”