Making Waves (14 page)

There was a sudden knock at the door. Before either of them could grab for their clothes, Phyllis burst through the entrance. Alex threw himself in front of Juli in a vain attempt to cover her up. He grabbed for his T-shirt and started to protest the intrusion.

But one look at Phyllis’s face stopped him short. He froze, shirt in hand, and stared at her.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with his lack of clothing. “What’s wrong?”

“We have a problem,” Phyllis said, her knuckles white as she clutched the doorknob. “A big, big problem.”

“Okay, Phyllis, explain it again slowly,” Alex said.

They were all fully dressed now, and everyone was clustered around the table in the pilothouse looking faintly green. Jake was steering the boat, but his eyes were on the group, and his expression was grim.

Juli folded her hands in her lap, uncertain what was happening but certain she didn’t want to miss a word of it.

“I started getting some funny readings on the GPS tracker,” Phyllis said, taking a swallow of the water Cody handed her. “I thought it was a glitch at first, but then the alert went off for the ShipSafe system.”

“Jesus,” Jake hissed.

“Is something wrong with our boat?” Juli asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Are we sinking?”

Alex shook his head. “Our boat is just fine.”

Juli stared, trying to understand. “The boat you’re hijacking?” she guessed, still lost in the conversation.

Cody set a tray of cookies down beside a milk pitcher on the table. “Isn’t ShipSafe designed to alert the authorities?”

“Normally, yes,” Alex said, glancing warily at Juli. “That’s what the system is supposed to do. But obviously they would have disarmed that part of the software for an off-the-books operation like this.”

“I don’t understand,” Juli said. “What’s ShipSafe? What are you talking about?”

Jake sighed and broke a cookie in half, then ignored the two pieces. “It’s an alert system used in the shipping industry,” he said. “It uses a hidden computer to monitor the ship’s position. If anyone breaches a fiber-optic network around the perimeter of the vessel, it sends a signal to the ship’s crew and to the authorities on shore.”

Juli stared at the faces around the table, each more grim than the other. She frowned, trying to put the pieces together. “So something’s wrong on the ship you’re planning to rob. How do you know about it?”

Alex took a piece of cookie from Jake and began breaking it into smaller bits. “Let’s just say we’ve got a connection to the company operating the ship. We know the systems, the technology.”

“So you’re monitoring the ship,” Juli said. “And now something happened.”

“Which way is it headed, Phyllis?” Alex said, moving around her to check the controls.

“Southwest, last I checked,” she said.

“It’ll go right past us at that rate,” Jake said.

“It’s heading back the way we’ve just come?” Cody asked, clearly confused.

“Someone else must be controlling the ship,” Alex said. “Not our guys anymore. That has to be it.”

“Maybe that’s not it,” Jake argued. “Maybe the system malfunctioned or something.”

Phyllis folded her arms over her chest and glared at Jake. “I designed that system. It didn’t malfunction. No way.”

Cody frowned. “Maybe they’re rerouting for some reason? Bad weather? Just a change of plans?”

“We’ve been monitoring all their communication,” Alex pointed out. “We’d know about any foul weather or changes in plans.”

“Well, they’re sure as hell not going to be at the refueling station tomorrow afternoon,” Phyllis said. “That much we know.”

Alex stared at the controls, a frown etched on his face.

“So let me get this straight,” Juli said, grabbing a small stack of cookies and biting into one. “You’re out here on your pirate mission to rob this ship. Only now, it looks like, for some reason, the boat isn’t going to be where you thought it was.”

Jake scowled. “Fuck.”

“Who else knew what was on that boat?” Phyllis asked. “Really, could it just be a random hijacking, or is something else going on?”

Juli frowned. “So if the boat is headed our way, can’t you just attack when it comes by?”

She couldn’t believe she was sitting here calmly suggesting a pirate attack the same way she might suggest a trip to the mall, but no one blinked.

Alex rubbed his eyes, all traces of playful lust gone for now. “You can’t board a moving cargo ship at sea from a fifty-three-foot powerboat. Even if it were physically possible, we’re not equipped to do that.”

“What was the plan originally?”

Everyone frowned, clearly uncertain how much to reveal.

Phyllis glanced at the men, then sighed. “We knew the ship was stopping to refuel at a private island that belongs to the owner. We planned to sneak aboard and take what we needed while the ship was docked for the night.”

“No violence,” Cody said.

“A good plan,” Jake growled. “An easy plan.”

Juli shoved a cookie in her mouth and chewed. “So you need a new plan.”

“It’s not that simple,” Alex muttered.

“You know which direction the boat is headed, right?”

“We don’t know who’s on it,” Alex said. “We don’t know where they’re going, how heavily armed they are, whether they’ve killed anyone on board, or whether they even know the particulars of the cargo onboard. We didn’t come out here prepared for a heist like this. It was supposed to be peaceful.”

“Mostly,” Jake added.

“It could be a random thing,” Phyllis said. “Maybe they’re ransoming the crew or something.”

“It could even be a mutiny,” Jake said. “Maybe a few members of the crew overthrew the others and now they’re headed to some pre-planned rendezvous or something.”

“But why wouldn’t they still stop for fuel like they planned?” Cody asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Alex was fiddling with the radio, a scowl etched on his handsome features. Juli watched him, wondering what she could do to help.

“You’ve had the VHF on channel 16?” he asked Phyllis.

“I started listening for distress calls right away,” she said, looking pale. “Nothing.”

“More milk, anyone?” Cody asked, obviously feeling the same desperation to be useful.

No one answered, so Juli smiled at him and raised her glass. “The cookies are really good.”

“Amaretto and chocolate pecan,” Cody said. “My mother’s recipe.”

Alex continued fiddling with the radio. A hiss of static came over the airwaves, followed by a string of voices. Someone was chattering about weather conditions. Another voice with a German accent rattled on about his difficulty obtaining a Marine Identification Number. A third voice came crackling through, reporting something about floating debris.

“Try channel 68,” Phyllis said. “They were using that frequency earlier.”

Alex glanced at the radio. “Yeah, but if the ship really is being controlled by someone else now, they probably wouldn’t use the same channel.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” Phyllis shot back, not bothering to hide the agitation in her voice. “Maybe they forgot and just left it switched on or something.”

Alex shrugged and began fiddling with the controls. Another clatter of static sounded in the small cabin and Cody winced at the burst of noise. More voices, these ones raised in anger.

Everyone was silent, listening. Juli reached for another cookie and began to nibble.

“What the hell is that?” Alex muttered. “Spanish?”

“Sounds like it,” Jake said, standing up to listen.

“They sound angry,” Cody said.

“Try another channel,” Phyllis said. “Maybe 72.”

“It’s not Spanish,” Juli said, taking another bite of cookie. “It’s Bajan.”

Four pairs of eyes swung toward her. Alex’s hand froze on the radio dial, his stare boring into her.

Juli picked up her milk glass and took a swallow before biting into another cookie. She chewed quietly, listening to the voices over the radio as all four of her shipmates stared at her. Alex was the first to speak, in a voice that was anything but pleasant.

“What did you say?”

Juli finished chewing and swallowed. “That language. It’s Bajan. It’s an English-based Creole that uses a combination of British dialect with African syntax.”

They all gaped at her, no one speaking. No one except the voices on the radio, raised in angry urgency. Juli scrunched up her forehead and listened.

Alex glanced at the radio, his brows knitted together in concentration. He looked back at Juli.

“What is Bajan, Juli?” he said slowly. “Where do they speak it?”

“Barbados.”

Alex stared at her. “Would it be unreasonable to ask if this is one of the four million languages you just happen to speak?”

“No.”

Alex frowned.

“No, it wouldn’t be unreasonable,” she said, grabbing another cookie. “And yes, I speak Bajan.”

Alex gripped the edge of the counter. The voices began chattering again, this time more urgent. Alex gritted his teeth. “Any chance you can translate what they’re saying?”

Juli stood up and grabbed her milk glass, along with another stack of cookies. She walked over to stand beside Alex, setting her glass on the counter and leaning in close to the radio so she could hear better. She listened, cocking her head to one side as the others watched her with rapt expressions.

Another crackle of static, more voices. Juli turned toward Alex.

“I might be able to translate,” she said, taking a drink of milk. “You still planning to leave me out of your pirate mission?”

Jake threw his arms up in the air, exasperated. “Jesus, Juli, tell us what they’re saying,” he barked.

Phyllis waved a hand at him and scowled. “We don’t even know this has anything to do with the cargo boat,” Phyllis pointed out. “It could be anyone on the radio.”

Juli ignored them both and looked at Alex. She said nothing, waiting for his response. He closed his eyes and muttered a curse.

“Whatever you want,” he growled. “Just tell us what they’re saying. If it’s even relevant.”

“Well, earlier, that first guy—the one with the raspy voice? He was saying they got it. Whatever that means. And then the other guy asked how big, and the first guy just laughed. Then they made a bunch of penis jokes.”

More voices, more static. Juli listened, picking out words.

“The raspy-voiced guy is on a boat at sea, but the second guy is talking as though he’s on land somewhere. At a harbor, maybe? Is that possible?”

“Boat to shore,” Alex answered. “Sure, very common.”

Juli nodded and went back to listening to the voices. “The second guy says the space at the Arawak Cement plant is too small—that they should try coming in somewhere else. Something about Oistins Bay?”

“It could be anyone,” Jake pointed out.

Juli held up a hand to silence him, listening hard. “He’s giving a bunch of numbers. Eight-seven-four-eight-one-two-five-nine-seven-nine.”

Jake scribbled the digits on a piece of paper as she said them. He looked up, his face white. “Oh, shit. It’s their MIN number. That’s the boat.”

“It
is
them,” Phyllis groaned, dropping into a chair.

“Phyllis, quick—look up ports in Barbados,” Alex said. “Look for Oistins, Arawak, any of those things Juli just said. Anything that sounds close.”

Jake grabbed a chart off the table, frantically scanning the configuration of islands and water.

“The first guy—the one on the boat—his accent isn’t native,” Juli said, cocking her head again. “He speaks Bajan well, but I don’t think he’s from Barbados.”

“What does that mean?” Jake asked.

Juli shrugged. “Just an observation. The guy on the boat may be headed to Barbados, but I don’t think it’s where he’s from. The guy he’s talking to—the one on land? He sounds native.”

Jake was frowning, trailing a finger over the map. “Son of a bitch.”

“If they’re headed to Barbados, they’re going to pass right by us,” Cody said, staring over his shoulder.

“Not if we beat them there,” Alex said.

Jake and Cody stared at him. Phyllis kept clicking keys on her laptop.

“Oistins and Arawak Cement plant are both places to dock large boats in Barbados,” she said, nodding at the screen.

“Phyllis, can you find out all the specs on docking there—visas, entrance requirements, permits, that sort of thing?” Alex asked.

She pulled the laptop closer and punched a few more keys. “Sure, no problem. What are you thinking, Alex?”

“We’d planned to ambush the ship on land. Maybe we can still pull it off.”

Jake stared dubiously at the controls. “Do we have enough fuel to make it there?”

“We’d planned to haul ass coming back anyway,” Alex said. “Twenty knots, remember? We planned on burning some fuel. Let’s crunch the numbers.”

“You want to take the helm for a minute?” Jake asked. “I’ve got the charts right here; Phyllis and I can plot it out.”

Alex took the controls, and Jake grabbed a fistful of charts out of a cupboard. Striding over to the table, he dropped into the chair beside Phyllis with a notebook in his hand and a determined expression on his face.

“Cookie, would you mind checking into the weather and the currents along that course?” Alex asked. “And Juli?”

“Hmmm?” she said, biting into another cookie as she watched them all work.

“Keep an ear on that radio,” Alex said. “You’re now the official translator of this pirate mission.”

Juli grinned, wiping at her milk moustache as she surveyed the rest of the crew. “Cool. I’m the medic
and
the translator.”

Jake shook his head as he stared down at a chart. “Unfuckingbelievable.”

Juli just smiled and dragged a stool over to the controls. Perching on the seat, she took a bite of cookie and got to work.

She was officially part of the team. It felt damn good.

***

Jake scowled at the numbers in front of him, pencil poised in one hand as he anchored the chart with the other.

“So we can do this,” Phyllis said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself.

“Maybe,” Jake said. “There are a lot of
ifs
here. And no offense, Juli—I mean, we all like you and everything, but it’s pretty fishy that this is all happening while you’re stowed away on our boat.”

Juli grinned at him. “No offense taken. I’m flattered you think I could figure out how to hijack a ship that’s several hundred miles away.”

“Let’s stay focused on the
ifs
here, guys,” Alex interjected from his spot at the helm. “
If
we’re right about where they’re headed.
If
whoever’s driving the ship isn’t armed to the teeth.
If
we’re not completely wrong about what just happened out there.
If
we can even figure out where to dock once we hit Barbados.”