The Emissary (14 page)

And then, in walked Jimbo.

If ever a solitary word could epitomize someone’s essence, then “presence” was surely that word for Captain Jim. His was such a big energy, he filled the room before he even entered it. When the door swung open and Jimbo walked through, his huge personality was five steps ahead of him, projecting itself through the space like a floodlight in darkness. Here was a proud African American, the ship’s master, with a style all his own. He wore a faded brown leather hat crushed down low over his left eye, faded jeans, and a sky-blue plush parka, unzipped halfway down his chest to reveal one really big shark’s tooth, hanging from a leather cord around his neck. His skin was weathered from the sea, his gray hair peeked out over his ears, and you could see, just reading the road map of the wrinkles in his face, that this was a man who had definitely lived a big life. His eyes told her so much of his story—eyes that had seen way more than they had ever wanted to.

He was surprised when Fin did not run to greet him. That was a first. “Well, well, Miss Jamie Hastings.” Speaking to her from just inside the entrance, he said, “I see you have met my staff.”

Fin got up and walked over to his master, and sat by him, obediently.

“And my main man, Fin, here. It looks like we’re all here.”

Jamie felt the edge in Jimbo’s voice, and she realized that demanding a staff meeting before even meeting the ship’s captain was overstepping her bounds … she regretted it now. She had reacted—to Sam, and in the end she had come across like a bulldozer. And, of course, the captain was going to have to put her in her place, with a little cold-shoulder overture.

Jimbo walked to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and crossed the room to his armchair: the captain’s official armchair. Fin followed, and lay down in front of him. He twisted off the bottle cap, threw his legs over the coffee table, and took a nice long swig from the bottle. “I would have liked to introduce you properly, but you have beat me to it.”

Jamie looked around at the eclectic cast of characters before her, feeling unusually uneasy, as if the curtain had just gone up, she was on stage all alone, and she had forgotten her lines. “Okay, well … I’ll be very brief. Mat Anderson told me you’ve all been instructed as to why I’m here for these next few weeks, and I can understand that you may not be comfortable with the whole idea of a psychic oil hunter, but nonetheless, here I am.”

Fin got up, unexpectedly, and walked across the room to be near Jamie. It came as a surprise to everyone that he would do that. He was attached to his master like iron to a magnet, and he was rarely more than a few steps out of reach.

Jamie scratched him behind the ears, as she spoke. “I work with subtle energy. That means that how we all interact energetically is so very important. A lot depends on how things flow on every level,
and I need a positive exchange with each of you from the start, like I’ve had with Sam, for example.”

Liz lowered her head, rubbing her fingers over her forehead as if she had a headache, when in reality she was shielding her reaction to Jamie’s barb at Sam.

“I know it’s not easy to find yourselves in this situation, not that it is easy for me either, I assure you. You’ve got to be wondering what it is I do and why I’m here. I do get that.”

Philippe appeared to be genuinely interested in what Jamie had to say, while the others merely accommodated her, because they knew they had to.

“In fact, before I located those three drill sites in Pakistan … I’m sure you know about that?” she said, pointedly, “… I wondered if the locals were going to grab me from my bed some night and drag me into the public square, to burn me at the stake, like some sorceress infidel Western whore.”

Philippe and Liz laughed out loud. They hadn’t expected that one.

“But they came around when all that sweet crude started bubbling up out of the deep sand.”

One by one, the attitudes in the room seemed to shift, with the exception of Sam’s, and Jamie knew she had their attention. “I guess what I’m saying is, even if you don’t understand what I do—even if you think it’s ridiculous—your boss does not. I had no intention to ever do this again, I assure you—but he sought me out. He has given me a huge assignment. It’s immense. Probably the most difficult test I’ve ever been presented with, and I am going to have to have your cooperation to pull it off.”

Liz’s phone rang in that moment. She crossed in front of Jamie and took it outside on deck.

“My mandate is to locate one or more oil pockets, three miles below, deep down under. That’s a tall order, as well you know. For all your ‘state-of-the-art’ equipment—and this space-age ship
here—you’ve come up empty to date. Mat Anderson is asking me to work a miracle and find it, and to do that I have to close out all distraction. That is the only way that I can focus the only tool available to me, my psychic sight, to find the exact coordinates USOIL needs to drill out here. It’s an outrageous expectation, and of course you’re all skeptical—who wouldn’t be? But I’m going to do my damnedest to realize it.”

Jamie looked right into Jimbo’s eyes, her words intended for him alone. “But you do need to know that if I don’t get the support and cooperation Mat promised, I’m out of here. I have no intention of trying to win a popularity contest, or convince you of anything at all, while I’m attempting to tap into the substrata layer of the ocean floor.”

Jimbo looked straight back at Jamie, acknowledging her message. She wasn’t going to put up with attitude, and the buck stopped with him. The woman had personality. He liked that.

“The main reason I asked to speak to you all before we sail tomorrow: I made it very clear when I signed on for this that we steer clear of the Orca sanctuaries. I want to be sure that you all got that briefing.”

Sam interrupted. “We have carte blanche from the Canadians to navigate in their boundaries. We pass through the sanctuary on our way out into our target zone, right, Philippe?”

Philippe nodded, reluctantly. It was clear he didn’t approve.

Jamie answered Sam sharply. “Wrong. I don’t give a damn about government approval. I’m talking about what I need in order to do what I need to do. Period. You’ll have to navigate around the sanctuary. Whales before oil; life over money. These were my terms before signing on: the whales have to be protected. No disturbance to those sanctuaries: no radar, no sonar, no interference.” Again, she looked directly at Jimbo, speaking to him as the authority, completely dismissing Sam. “Captain, are we good?”

“We’re good,” Jimbo said. What he was thinking, but not saying, was,
“Right, I’m supposed to navigate this big baby through the wild Pacific with no radar? Dream on.”

“One last thing. Give me a chance. You’ll see I’m not as weird as you think, and maybe you will learn something.” She sat back down and gave a hug to Fin. “There is so much more than what you see and hear, and what you believe is real. There is so much more I can show you, if you will just relax and let me in.”

There was an awkward silence. The team just sat there for a moment, obviously impacted by her words. In the end, whether or not they understood her, they had to get her on some level. Who could not be at least curious about the paranormal realms and dimensions that Jamie Hastings was reportedly able to enter and exit at will?

“… and with that,” Jamie said, closing, “I thank you for your time.”

Liz, who stood by the doorway, gave her the thumbs-up sign when no one was looking. Jamie had made her mark once again: she had put Sam in his place, and gained a little respect from the others. Most of all, she had set the boundaries, which most definitely needed to be established from the get-go.

From the looks of Jimbo’s toothy grin, Jamie knew she had broken through the bad first impression she had made with him, which was her fault for usurping his authority. But that was already behind them. Jimbo was impressed. Jamie was nothing like he had set her up to be in his mind. She was clear, she had a job to do, and she wasn’t going to waste anybody’s time telling ghost stories from the land of the “woo woo.”

He stood up, addressing everyone in the room, but his attention was on Sam. “You heard it, people. Every one of us here needs to help Miss Jamie do what she has come to do. Like she said, even if we don’t understand what it is she do …” he said, chuckling,
“we’re gonna help her do it anyway.” He raised his beer bottle, as if to call for a toast. “Now, let’s get this Lady ready to sail! Berto, run your stock checks, and Bobby, are Mike and the crew on board?”

Bobby nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay then, excuse us, Miss Jamie, I’ve got to run a final inspection. I’ll see you at dinner.” He walked over to the bar with his empty beer bottle and set it in the tray. Fin got up and quietly joined Jimbo as he was walking out the door, looking back at Jamie, undecided whether to leave with Jimbo or follow his heart and go with her.

He barked twice and Jamie smiled. She got the message.

Jimbo turned to Liz, who was still standing at the doorway. “How about you give Miss Jamie the captain’s tour of the ship?”

“Absolutely!” she replied.

As she stood to leave, Jamie could feel Sam’s eyes burning a hole in her back. What had begun as a healthy dislike for each other seemed to be escalating into a full-blown war. She followed Liz, who chattered her way through the halls and the staterooms, all the public spaces—even the bridge. Jamie managed to tune out the drone of Liz’s mindless banter enough to get a sense of where she was, and what she had to work with.

Liz accompanied her back to her suite, where she had just enough time to grab a quick shower and freshen up before dinner, which she would have much preferred to eat in her cabin, room service style, but she knew she had to attempt to be social and take her place in the team.

She grabbed her purse and headed down to the dining room, where they had gathered. She was pleased to find they were respectfully waiting for her before sitting down to dinner. Jimbo motioned to her to take her seat at the head of the table, opposite him, and then the others took their seats as well. Jamie felt more comfortable—she was encouraged to see that the mood had lifted, and there was a sort of festive buzz in the air. And there was her
new friend, Fin, who greeted her the minute she entered the room, before returning to Jimbo’s side.

Alberto came through the swinging doors of the galley bearing an enormous platter of steamed shrimp, fried calamari, and fries—a real New Orleans–style spicy seafood dinner. The beer was flowing and they all dove in, filling their plates to the brim—especially Jimbo. Alberto disappeared back into the galley, returning with a mountain of cracked crab, piled high on the tray. Sam made sure the beers kept on coming. Jamie could eat nothing but the fries, which she served herself—but her plate was noticeably empty.

Jimbo feasted like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. “Berto,” he said, groaning with pleasure, “you have outdone yourself.” He looked across the table, realizing Jamie was barely eating. “Hey now, Miss Jamie. We don’t stand on formality around here—dig in!”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Good? Girl, don’t tell me you don’t eat seafood!”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“Oh man, you’re a ‘vegetarian’?” he said, like she was diseased.

Jamie knew her being a vegetarian in this group would only make her more of an oddity. “It’s not a problem. I can always manage.”

Jimbo asked Alberto, “Did we not get the memo?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, hell! We sail in the morning, Chef!” He was annoyed, after Mat Anderson had made it very clear Jamie was to be given top VIP treatment aboard.

“Not a problem, Captain. I’ll have Domenico stop at the market on his way tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t know what you’re missin’!” Jimbo told Jamie.

“Sorry, I just don’t eat anything with eyes.”

Jimbo washed down a mouthful of fries with a big swig of beer. “Berto, you got anything ‘without eyes’ in the larder?”

“I’m already on it!” He disappeared into the galley and quickly returned with a beautiful mixed green salad in one hand, and an oil and vinegar cruet in the other. “Pasta is on the way,” he said, reassuringly.

“No, thanks—this is more than enough,” Jamie replied.

“Are you kidding? I can whip up a beautiful
pasta al pomodoro
in five minutes.” Alberto walked away, back to his galley, not even giving Jamie time to refuse.

Jimbo peeled a few shrimp and leaned over to feed Fin, who was sitting there, patiently, knowing Jimbo never ate without sharing with him. He devoured the shrimp just as fast as Jimbo could peel them. “Ya hear that, boy? ‘No eyes’!”

Everyone around the table was so busy eating, no one else spoke.

Jimbo served himself a second helping of shrimp. “Mmmm, mmm. Way to go, Chef!”

Amazing scents came wafting out from the galley: Italian cooking, the unmistakable aroma of garlic browning in olive oil. Within a very few minutes, Alberto returned with a fabulous plate of spaghetti with sautéed cherry tomatoes for Jamie, and for the others, more shrimp, smoked salmon, and fresh sourdough bread, right from the oven.

“So grateful,” was all Jamie said. She really wanted to get the attention off herself, and to have the issue of her vegetarianism fade into the background, so that it didn’t become another factor separating her from the group.

Alberto grabbed two goblets and a beautiful bottle of Chianti from the wine rack. He removed the cork from the bottle and then served her, sensing she would enjoy a fine wine. Having served everyone, he finally sat down, in the seat next to her, and then poured himself a glass as well. None of the others were wine drinkers, so he made no pretense to serve anybody but Jamie and himself. He raised his glass to Jamie, “To you, Miss Jamie.”

She raised her glass as well and then Jimbo piped in. “Hear, hear!” he said, toasting Jamie with his bottle of beer, with the others joining in.

Alberto leaned close to Jamie and whispered, “Actually, I would much prefer a bowl of pasta myself, too, so don’t you worry—I know how to cook for you, and these guys could stand a little more greens in their diets.”