Terrors of the High Seas

Chapter

Eleven

THE NEXT MORNING, Kerry woke up first for a change. She let her eyes drift open as the sunlight poured in the slatted windows and made stripes across the bed. For a few minutes, she just lay there in a lazy half doze, watching Dar’s chest move rhythmically. The sun made the soft, fine hairs on Dar’s torso glisten, and Kerry rubbed her thumb over a few of them as she pondered the information they’d obtained the night before.

She’d expected…well, to be honest, she hadn’t really had any idea what to expect. Maybe that the big black boat and the little white wiener following it were international jewel thieves, or something. Instead, what they’d discovered was that the boat was owned by a wealthy broker of art and collectables who was known for his aggressive acquisition and auction of just about anything he could get his hands on that was worth good money. Nothing illegal about that.

Kerry nuzzled Dar’s shoulder, and her nostrils picked up faint traces of coconut from the tanning oil she’d spread all over Dar the day before. But they’d read some clips about how the man had forced his way into excavations and bought up rights for salvage, often taking valuable goods out from under the eyes of the original, and sometimes rightful, owners.

John DeSalliers. Not a nice guy. But that wasn’t illegal, either.

What Kerry couldn’t figure out was why they’d been so set on chasing after her and Dar. After all, if they could get this information on who was registered to that boat, it was just as easy for the black boat to get the same information about Dar.

“I just don’t get it.” Kerry sighed. All they’d done was dive on a decrepit wreck. Surely they didn’t think there was anything valuable on an old fishing vessel, did they? Why bother? It didn’t make sense.

Their friends Christen and Juan turned out to be registered private detectives, apparently on a hefty retainer from DeSalliers.

They were both very well off, and Christen was purportedly quite the wild woman of the world, if you believed the society gossip clips Mark had pulled off of God-only-knew-where.

110 Melissa Good But… Kerry kept coming back to the same question: why bother her and Dar? If they were looking for something, why take the time out to tangle with a pair of IT execs out on vacation? It just didn’t make sense.

Dar’s voice interrupted her musing. “Whatcha frowning about?”

Kerry tilted her chin up and looked at her newly awakened partner. “Trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Ahhh.” Dar nodded solemnly. “How about we figure out breakfast first?” She arched her back and stretched. “For one thing, thinking requires my brain to boot up, and for another, I’m not sure I want to waste the synapse firing on them.”

“Even after what happened the other night?” Kerry asked.

Dar shrugged. “They ended up grounding their boat,” she reminded Kerry. “We won. Why push it?”

Kerry eased up onto an elbow and studied Dar. “You’re not curious as to why they did it?” Her voice rose in surprise. “Or what they’re after?”

Another shrug indicated Dar’s ambivalence. “Yes, I’m curious, but I don’t know that I’m curious enough to waste part of our vacation on tracking it all down and sorting it out,” Dar answered honestly. “If I really wanna know, I can find out when we get home and make their lives miserable retroactively.”

Kerry ran her fingers through her hair as she considered that.

“Well, yeah,” she said. “I can see your point, but what if they do something else?”

Dar half turned on her side to face Kerry, and perched on an elbow, mimicking her posture. “I’d say they’d be stupider than I thought they were, but if they do, then we’ll have to deal with whatever happens,” she said. “But I’d rather forget about them until then.”

Kerry’s brow puckered. “I don’t like it,” she admitted, thinking about the angles as Dar waited for her with commendable patience.

“I want to know what they were up to, and why they were chasing us, and what’s so important about that patch of water.”

Dar relaxed onto her back and put her hands behind her head.

“Okay,” she said. “How?”

“Hm?”

“Aside from chasing them down and demanding they tell us what they’re up to, how do you figure on finding out what’s going on?”

Kerry sat up cross-legged and rested her elbows on her bare knees. “Well…” she began, then stopped.

“We planning on following them around?” Dar inquired, with the barest hint of a twinkle in her eyes.

“No.” Kerry shook her head. “I guess you’re right. Unless they Terrors of the High Seas 111

approach us again, there’s really no way to do this.” She looked up at Dar, who was gazing back at her. “You already figured all that out, didn’t you?”

Dar pointed a finger at herself. “Me?”

Kerry poked her in the ribs. “Yes, you, little Ms. Ice-Cream-won’t-melt-in-my-mouth.” She sprawled across Dar’s middle, pinning her to the bed. “It just bites my shorts to let those scurvies mess with us and walk away.”

“They didn’t,” Dar reminded her. “They’re probably laying out ten grand for patched fiberglass right now, remember?”

“Mm,” Kerry grunted. “But won’t that make them want to get back at us?”

“Maybe,” Dar conceded. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Kerry gracefully bowed to the logic of it. Dar’s points were good ones. Unless they were willing to get the local authorities involved and press charges—of what nature she didn’t know—there really was no investigating they could do outside of direct confrontation or some back alley skulking. She didn’t feel like skulking, and while she had every confidence that they could present a very effective direct confrontation, she understood Dar’s reluctance to engage in conflict. “Okay,” she agreed. “Now, weren’t we discussing breakfast?”

Dar grinned.

“How about we toss on some clothes and go foraging?” Kerry suggested. “I think I saw a little place out by the beach we could try,” she said. “Right next to the windsurfing area.”

“Ah ha.” Dar chuckled good-naturedly. “I sense an ulterior motive.” She took hold of Kerry’s hand and held it, for no particular reason other than wanting the contact. “I don’t want to hear you complaining tonight about getting bounced off the ocean the whole day.”

Kerry smiled. “Yeah, but if I whine enough, you’ll give me a massage,” she countered. “Besides, maybe I’ll have better luck than I did last time. I’ve been doing some upper body work at the gym.”

Dar’s eyes wandered over Kerry’s upper body and a cheeky grin appeared. “I’ve never had a problem with that part of you,”

she drawled. “To hell with windsurfing.”

“Wench.” Kerry laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

She sat up and flexed both arms, showing off her biceps. “See?”

An even bigger grin creased Dar’s face at the view. Kerry’s arms and shoulders had gotten more defined, but the expression of uninhibited pride on her face was what really made Dar smile. “I surely do see,” she agreed, giving Kerry’s leg a pat. “Maybe you’ll be pulling my butt out of the water this time. C’mon.”

They rolled off the bed together in a tangle, only barely getting 112 Melissa Good their balance before they ended up crashing into the wall. Taking advantage of their positioning by the windows, they peered out.

“Gorgeous day,” Kerry observed, seeing the bright sunlight and the breeze blowing the branches nearby. “But we’re gonna need sunscreen.”

“Waterproof,” Dar agreed, picking up the bottle from the dresser. “I slather you, you slather me?”

“You’re on,” Kerry replied. “Then let’s go find some biscuits.

I’m starving.”

“With or without clothing?”

“Dar.”

“Heh heh.”

KERRY FOLLOWED DAR out onto the beach, feeling her stride change as they moved from the wooden boardwalk into the sand.

“Ah, nothing like coming out to the islands to get some really exotic cuisine,” she commented.

Dar chuckled. “I thought the bagels were pretty good.”

“They were,” Kerry agreed. “I just never figured on coming to St. Johns, AVI for bagel and lox.”

“Playing to the marketplace.” Dar guided her down toward where the windsurfing boards were stacked. “You want to stretch out for a few minutes, or start the torture now?”

“Tch.” Kerry bumped her. “Hey, if you really don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

Dar’s lips quirked into a smile. “Nah,” she said. “I just like spending time under the water more than skating on top of it. I’ll live.”

Kerry eased in front of her as they reached the kiosk, meeting the friendly grin of the man behind it with one of her own. “Two.”

She indicated herself, then Dar, then handed him her credit card.

“We’ve done this before.”

He took them through the safety drill anyway, Kerry noted.

Possibly because he’d heard tourists claim bogus experience before.

She listened attentively, checking out the rig to make sure there wasn’t anything new or unusual on it. They’d windsurfed several times before—at the island, and the last time they’d gone to Key West. Kerry had really enjoyed it, though it had only been the last time that she’d been able to truly master the mast without getting pulled butt over teakettle by the wind. “Thanks.” She acknowledged the end of the instructions and took hold of the crossbar. “Ready?”

Dar finished inspecting her board, then nodded. “Ready.” Side by side, they moved into the shallow, crystal clear water and headed for the deeper sections. “Not that much wind today,” Dar Terrors of the High Seas 113

observed.

“Enough.” Kerry felt the breeze flutter her hair. They were both dressed in shortie wetsuits, and she was looking forward to getting into deeper water because the neoprene was getting pretty warm in the sun. It had taken her time to get used to wearing the substance, and to the smell of it. The wetsuits fit snugly, zipped up the back, and after she’d taken the time to break hers in, it had gotten pretty comfortable. They did tend to squeak a bit when dry, though, and unless you were in the water, they were capable of sweating pounds off you if you weren’t careful.

Their suits were mostly black, but Kerry’s had purple shoulders and arms, and a flash of bright orange down each side.

Dar’s, in addition to being older and more broken in, had a soberly gray yoke with dark blue piping around her neck.

They reached deeper water and Kerry took the opportunity to duck under the waves, letting the ocean’s cool penetrate her suit and cool her off. She stayed like that for a moment, then emerged, shaking her hair out of her eyes and spraying water across the crystal green, shimmering surface.

“Be careful.” Dar gave her a pat on the behind, as she moved away a little and prepared to get on her board.

“Yes, Mom.” Kerry splashed her. “You be careful, too. Don’t fall on a jellyfish like last time.”

Dar stuck out her tongue, then boosted herself up onto her windboard and got her feet set into the pockets, before she reached down and raised the sail. The wind caught the nylon at once and filled it with a fluttering rustle. “Last one down the beach has to buy the beer,” she yelled back.

“You skunk!” Kerry scrambled up onto her board, catching her balance carefully before she attempted to pull up the hinged sail.

That was the toughest part, really. Once it was up, you could use your weight to keep it up, but pulling it against the drag of the sea and the wind made Kerry really glad she’d spent the extra time in the gym recently. “When I catch you, you’re sunk! Hear me!!”

Dar’s laughter floated back.

“You laugh now, Dixiecup.” Kerry felt the wind fill her sail, and the water started to slide by under her. “If I win, you’re gonna owe me a lot more than beer!”

THE BEACH BAR was an open, tiki type structure, with a bar top made of a slice of wood taken right out of the heart of some native tree. Dar and Kerry entered from the beach side and settled on stools next to each other in the moderately busy place.

The bartender leaned on the other side of the bar from them.

“Can I get something for you?”

114 Melissa Good Dar paused in the midst of unzipping her wetsuit. “Get the lady a nice, cold beer.” She indicated her companion. “Pina colada for me,” she added. “Since I’m buying.”

“Heh.” Kerry smirked. She pulled down the zipper on her wetsuit and peeled off the upper part, letting it drape down over her lower body. They were both wind and sunburned, and lightly dusted with sand collected on the walk up from the beach. Kerry rested her arms on the bar and reveled in the sensation of being a true beach rat, if only for a moment. “If you have anything amber on draft, that would be great,” she told the bartender.

“Gotcha.” The boy grinned at her and turned back to the taps.

Dar pulled down her wetsuit and adjusted the strap on the swimsuit she was wearing underneath. “I shoulda known I didn’t have a chance if there was beer in the deal.” She ran both hands through her damp hair and grinned. “What was that hopping about, anyway?”

Kerry stretched out her arms, feeling a pleasant ache in her shoulders. “I thought I saw a dolphin,” she confessed with a chuckle. “I didn’t want to hit it. Felt like I was on a bucking horse for a minute there, though.”

“Ahh.” Dar glanced up at the menu. “You up for a burger?”

Kerry heard her stomach growl at the mere suggestion. It was late afternoon, and breakfast seemed a very long time ago. “Sure.”

She grinned at the frosty mug the bartender plunked down in front of her and tugged it closer, then took a sip. It was nutty and very cold, and she sighed happily as Dar ordered them both lunch.

“What a great day.”

Dar was busy chewing the pineapple from her drink. She swallowed and turned toward Kerry. “That was a lot of fun,” she admitted. “I can see why you want one of the motorized ones.”

“Oh, yeah!” Kerry sat up and mimed holding the control rod.

“Vroom! Vroom!”

“Wild woman.” Dar offered her the cherry from her drink.

“Here.”

Kerry took the fruit neatly between her teeth and plucked it from its stem. “No fair.” She sucked the cherry and rolled it around in her mouth. “I don’t have one to give you.”

Dar’s eyes twinkled wickedly, and Kerry realized what she’d just said. She chewed and swallowed the cherry, then stuck her now reddish-colored tongue out at Dar. “Of course, you’ve always had mine anyway.”

“Ahem.” Dar cleared her throat slightly, glancing around as her skin turned a fraction of a shade darker.

Kerry lowered her voice, smothered a chuckle. “Oh, Lord.

Don’t tell me I just made you blush.”

“I’m not blushing.” Dar reassembled her dignity. “It’s Terrors of the High Seas 115

sunburn.”

“Uh huh.” Kerry snickered. “I see that blush.”

“It’s not a blush.”

“Heh.”

Dar rested her elbow on the bar and half turned on her stool, assuming a seductive look as her eyes slowly, lazily made their way from the tips of Kerry’s toes up to her top of her blonde head. By the time she hit Kerry’s chest, it was bright pink.

“Now that,” Dar met her eyes, lengthening the words out to a Southern drawl, “is a blush.” She reached over and put her finger on Kerry’s nose, which wrinkled as her lover couldn’t prevent herself from smiling.

“You’re such a troublemaker,” Kerry sighed.

“You started it.” Dar turned around and took another sip of her drink as they watched their pasteurized, processed milk product and half pound of chopped animal protein become a pair of nicely cooked cheeseburgers, accompanied by something called island fries. Dar inspected one and found it to be a French fry with a coating of spices and coconut. “Mm.”

Kerry centered a slice of tomato on the top of her burger and placed lettuce over that, then dabbed some ketchup and mayonnaise on the bun before she replaced it. She was about to pick it up and take a bite when motion caught her attention from the corner of her eye. “Uh oh.” She nudged Dar in the ribs.

Dar looked up, pausing in mid-munch as she spotted the small group of people walking across from the docks. Three women and two men, their clothing in some disarray, were being escorted by two policemen. They seemed very agitated, and one of the men had his arm around one of the women in a protective attitude. “Huh.

Wonder what that’s all about?”

The bartender nudged one of the waitresses, who had just come to pick up a bar order. “Another one?”

“Yeah.” The girl shook her head. “Crazy pirates. Devils, I think.” She picked up her tray and walked off.

Kerry leaned forward, projecting her voice. “Pirates?”

The bartender jumped a little, then turned. “Oh, it’s nothing, ma’am. We were just—”

“Just not wanting to scare us, yes, but what about the pirates?”

Kerry interrupted.

He looked like he’d been caught in headlights that rarely appeared on St. Johns. “Ma’am…” His eyes shifted around, but most of the patrons were eating at tables; Dar and Kerry were the only ones on that side of the bar. With a second careful look, he sidled over. “We’re not supposed to talk about it,” he explained.

“Sure,” Dar said. “You don’t want to scare off the tourists.”

“Yeah.” The boy grinned. “Glad you understand.”

116 Melissa Good

“We’re not tourists,” Kerry smiled at him, “so don’t worry about it. Tell us about the pirates.”

Reassured, the bartender leaned on his elbow near them. “Been six hijackings this month,” he told them. “Boats comin’ in, they get pulled over by these guys, and whap. No more boat, no credit cards, no cash; you name it.”

Dar and Kerry exchanged glances. “Wow,” Kerry said finally.

“No wonder you don’t want it to get out.”

“Big money, you know?” The boy shrugged. “They just been lucky. Nobody’s got hurt so far.” He looked up as his name was called. “S’cuse me.”

Kerry let her wrists rest on the bar. “Good grief, Dar!”

Dar watched the group cross into the resort building, a concerned look on her face. “How in the hell can they not tell people?” she said in outrage. “There should have been a goddamned travel advisory at least!”

“Six hijackings in one month?” Kerry shook her head in disbelief. “I know it’s tough on the economy, but…Jesus!”

Dar interlaced her fingers and leaned her chin against them.

Her eyes flickered rapidly over the interior of the bar, a sudden intensity to her demeanor that had been absent moments before, yet very familiar to Kerry. “Those people could have been us.” She frowned.

“Well,” Kerry took a bite of her burger, “it almost was, Dar, except it was you they were chasing, and you don’t put up with pirates, right?”

“Mmph,” Dar muttered. “Doesn’t make sense. That guy’s too public to be a pirate, and Charlie said…” She stopped speaking for a moment. “What was he trying to say?” she continued softly.

“Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this guy’s really running the pirates.”

Kerry nibbled a fry. “Why?” she asked. “Dar, if that data is right, this guy’s worth millions. Why run a bunch of boat hijackers in the Caribbean? I mean, yeah, okay—the boats are worth a lot, but can you imagine what it takes to do one over so you could sell it?

And how much cash or jewelry could these guys be carrying anyway? It doesn’t add up.”

Dar scowled.

“Well, it doesn’t,” Kerry murmured.

“I know, I know,” Dar said. “But what are the odds that we get chased down by someone who isn’t part of the lowlife scum chasing down other expensive boats in the area?”

“Hm.” Kerry sighed. “Yeah, that is kind of a coincidence.” She lifted her mug and took a few swallows. “Do you think we should tell the police about what happened, though? Especially since we know who did it?”

Terrors of the High Seas 117

Dar took a few minutes to finish off her cheeseburger before she answered, which also gave her time to consider the question. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “If the word’s out not to tell anyone, how reliable are the police?”

“Maybe they’re not the ones who are putting the lid on.”

“Maybe,” Dar murmured. “If we do tell them, then what? We’re not going to press charges, not out here at any rate.”

“He could buy them off anyway,” Kerry replied with a hard-earned skepticism. “But at least if the police know, and if they are really trying to find these guys, they’ll have the information.”

“Would it make you feel better?” Dar queried. “Telling them?”

Kerry nodded, then her lips quirked a bit. “Besides, while we’re telling them what happened to us, maybe we can get them to tell us what’s going on.”

Dar’s eyebrows lifted and she gave Kerry an approving look.

“Good point,” she conceded.

Kerry blew on her nails, then buffed them on her bare shoulder.

“Besides, they have something else in common,” she added seriously, “those guys and the pirates. According to our friend the bartender, no one got hurt in the hijackings.”

“Just like with us,” Dar mused. “Once they had the boats, they could have just killed the owners.”

Kerry nodded. “Not left any witnesses alive,” she said. “Who knows, Dar, maybe this guy’s got some angle on all this. Maybe he…” Her imagination kicked in. “Maybe he’s taking these boats, revamping them, and selling them for twice what they’re worth to the same guys buying that art stuff from him.”

“Hm.” Dar sucked on her straw as she considered the possibility. “It would be the right market,” she said. “More money than brains.”

Kerry chuckled. “You know, I’ve got relatives like that,” she said. “In fact, you’ve met most of them.” A ripple traveled through her at the words, as she recognized a certain sense of distance on hearing them. She realized that the rawness she’d felt over her father’s death and the ugliness she’d faced with her family afterward were easing.

“S’okay.” Dar gazed at her quietly. “You’ve met my contributions to the four-bit gene pool, too.”

True. Impulsively, Kerry reached across the top of the bar and clasped Dar’s hand, squeezing it briefly then letting it go. “Our family doesn’t have that problem. Even our dog is a genius.”

Dar chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that the next time she steals your socks.” She glanced around the bar. “You done?”

Kerry nodded. “Let’s go find some trouble.” She slid off the stool and followed Dar out of the tiki bar, toward the main resort building.

118 Melissa Good DAR UNLOCKED THE door to their room and pushed it open.

“Might as well get changed first,” she commented. “I hate talking to cops in a sandy wetsuit.”

Kerry slipped past her and walked right out onto the porch, stripped completely out of her wetsuit, and left it on one of the chairs, inside out. “Give me yours and I’ll rinse it,” she called back over her shoulder.

“Sure.” Dar pulled off the neoprene suit and slung it over her shoulder, then she stopped and looked around, warned by a faint prickling of her senses. The room was neat, as they’d left it, only the freshly made bed an indication that the maids had been in to tidy up. Neither she nor Kerry tended to leave things laying out, and before they’d left, they’d both tucked things away either in the drawer or in their bags. So, nothing was out of place. And yet…

Dar frowned, then looked up as Kerry stuck her head back inside.

“Here.” She walked over and handed her the wetsuit. “Something’s bugging me about this place.”

Kerry ducked outside, then eased her entire body back in the room, standing inside and watching Dar curiously. “What is it?”

Dar turned in a circle. “I’m not sure.” Her eyes swept the room, searching for whatever it was that was bothering her. Nothing was missing; everything was right where she’d left it, including her laptop sitting on the table, its theft warning label bold on the outside.

Curious, she walked over and flipped up the top, breaking the log-in sequence and rattling off a series of commands to the operating system. No, the machine hadn’t been touched since they’d left. It wasn’t the computer; it wasn’t their things… Then she realized that it wasn’t something visual at all. Her nose twitched, and the alien scent she’d detected came back to her as her mind tried to identify it. “You smell that?”

Kerry stepped inside and shut the outside door. “Smell what, hon?”

Dar waved her hand vaguely. “In the room. Something that isn’t us.”

Resisting the urge to walk over and check Dar for fever, Kerry dutifully sniffed at the air. “Well, I can smell salt water, neoprene, and sunscreen. I guess that’s us, right?”

Dar nodded.

Kerry walked around near the bed. “Sorry, Dar. I don’t…” She paused. “Wait, you mean that sort of roseish, alcoholy kind of smell?” It seemed vaguely familiar, but nothing immediately popped into her mind as to why.

“Yeah.” Dar circled near the dresser. “It’s strongest here,” she stated positively.

“What is it?” Kerry asked. “It’s not cleaning solution; I know Terrors of the High Seas 119

what that smells like. All hotels use the same kind.”

“Perfume,” Dar replied quietly. “Our little friend Christen’s perfume.”

Kerry stared at her. One blond eyebrow lifted slightly. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I didn’t even notice she was wearing any.”

“I noticed,” Dar replied. “Because I hate the brand. It’s the same one Eleanor uses.”

“Ah!” Bingo. Kerry slapped her head. “No wonder it seemed familiar.” She paused. “Are you saying she was here in our room?”

Dar sat down on the bed, letting her elbows rest on her knees.

“Can’t think of any way for her perfume to get here without her, so yeah.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah.” Dar frowned. “I’m going to go check the boat.” She got up and headed for the door.

“Dar.” Kerry unzipped Dar’s overnight bag. “Here. Not that I mind you storming around like an escapee from the swimsuit competition of the Ms. Aggressive America, but…” She tossed her lover a long black T-shirt with a snarling tiger on it.

“Thanks.” Dar pulled the shirt on over her bathing suit and picked up the pouch in which she’d carried their keys. “Be right back.”

“Be careful,” Kerry called after her, watching as the door shut behind Dar. For a moment she just stood there, then she put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Boy, this sucks.” She opened her own bag and riffled through its contents, wondering what the creepy woman had been looking for. They’d only packed a few shirts, their swimsuits, and some other casual wear, and even the most avid of detectives probably couldn’t have gotten much information from their choice of bathroom toiletries, other than the fact that they had a preference for mint toothpaste and apricot body scrub.

Of course, the laptop was a mine of information, but it might as well have been in Fort Knox for all the good its presence could have done anyone. The security on the machine that held the keys to the company was so anally extensive, even Mark couldn’t break into it.

Even removing the hard drive wouldn’t do a thing for the potential hacker. Without Dar’s encryption algorithms, the data was scrambled past recovery, and she never kept much locally anyway.

So, if not information, what were they looking for?

Another thought occurred to her. What if they weren’t looking for anything? What if they planted a bug? “Son of a bitch.” Kerry sat down and flipped open the laptop, and waited for the log-in to come up. When it did, she logged in, waited for it to validate her, then started up the broad spectrum data analyzer program Dar kept on the drive.

120 Melissa Good Bugs weren’t really that complex, and one of the first things Dar had taught her was how to find them. She’d felt a little funny knowing how frequent their use was in their particular trade, but competition was fierce, and salesmen were not above using them to get any advantage they could.

Dar, she’d been told, never bothered with them. Sometimes when she knew a bug was there, she’d have fun with the planter by passing along the most outlandish information, then waiting for it to come back in a bid meeting—which it sometimes did.

The program started up and she configured it, setting it to scan using two specialized ports for all frequencies across the bandwidth used for radio transmission. She started it running and propped her chin on her fist, waiting. You could do that with cell phones, too, and anything else that used electronic signals that went through the air—like wireless networks, which was what the program had really been designed to analyze.

It showed nothing until she started reciting the pledge of allegiance. Then the program picked up scans on two frequencies, and Kerry shook her head in irritation. She left the program running and slowly walked around, continuing her oration and watching the screen. Near the ornate lamp, the signal peaked.

Kerry regarded the lamp, then she simply unplugged it, picked it up, and carried it outside. She set it in the far corner of the porch and went back inside.

Now the program showed a clean scan again. Kerry gave it the acid test—she started singing. Even at her top volume, the scan remained quiet. With a nod of satisfaction, she went back outside and picked up the small hose attached to the spigot, turned the water on, and rinsed off their wetsuits with careful thoroughness.

There is nothing, Kerry sprayed the inside of the suits, nothing on earth that smells worse than a dirty wetsuit.

After a moment, she glanced over, then sprayed the lamp for good measure. Except scuzzy, rose water wearing, obnoxious detectives, that is.

DAR HEADED FOR the docks, conscious of a growing anger.

She hadn’t been asking for trouble out there; in fact, she’d gone out of her way to avoid it, but damn it, the bastards kept coming after them and now she was starting to get really pissed off about it. She made her way down toward the slip in which they’d docked and used the key she’d been given to unlock the steel gate that blocked off the slip. It appeared undisturbed, but so had their hotel room door, and Dar wasn’t stupid enough to think whoever got paid off to let the slimebags in there hadn’t also done the same for the gate at the marina.

Terrors of the High Seas 121

The boat was floating quietly, tied to its pylons—the umbilicals plugged into dockside power to run the few things they’d left on, like the refrigerator. Dar stepped onto the deck and dropped down onto the stern, looking around carefully before she went to the cabin door.

It was a small brass lock, not really intended for serious security, and Dar fitted her key in and turned it without encountering any resistance. She peered at the brass plate, then pushed the cabin door open and slipped inside, quickly closing the door after her.

She relaxed at once. Just as the faintest hints of strange perfume had triggered her senses in the hotel room, the absence of anything she hadn’t expected reassured her here. Dar inspected the interior anyway, moving into the very front of the bow, then checking the master bedroom where the scent, since the hatches were closed, was definitely very familiar to her. “Well,” she spoke into the silence, “as long as I’m here, might as well shower and change.”

She went to the dresser and took out a pair of stone-washed shorts overalls and a dark blue shirt, leaving them on the bed as she went into the bathroom and flipped on the water. She slid out of her swimsuit, ducked under the water, and quickly scrubbed the salt off her skin. A moment more, and she’d rinsed the soap out of her hair and was stepping out of the shower, turning off the water, and grabbing one of the towels draped over the holder in the small space. She dried herself off and wrapped the towel around her, then emerged and headed back to the bedroom.

Now that she was sure the boat was secure, she started considering both what had happened, and her options. She dressed as she thought, tucking the shirt into her overalls and buckling the shoulder straps. When she finished, she reviewed the results in the mirror. “Cute and conservative. You’re starting to look like Kerry.”

Dar sighed, then unsnapped one of the shoulder straps and let the front of the garment rakishly hang half down. “That’s better.” She added her wraparound sunglasses, then grunted, satisfied with her changes.

As she passed back out through the living area, she paused, then sidetracked to the equipment locker. She opened the top, moving Kerry’s shotgun aside to get to a blue milk crate underneath. Inside there was a thick piece of hardened steel chain and a padlock. She pulled out the chain and looped it around her neck, then picked up the padlock, hefting it as she left the cabin and locked the door behind her.

On the deck, she paused, acknowledging her territorial reaction over the boat. It wasn’t as if they had anything truly valuable on board—or even that personal, but she regarded this vessel as part of 122 Melissa Good their private space and the thought of anyone invading it made her hackles stand right up.

With a slight snort, she stepped up onto the side of the boat, then leaped to the dock, landing lightly and padding barefoot back up to the gate. Hearing voices on the other side, she slowed as she approached it, then stopped when she recognized one of the speakers as Juan Carlos. He was standing with a security guard on the other side of the gate, and they both stopped speaking when they looked through the bars and spotted Dar.

Dar leaned on the gate and stared steadily at them from behind her sunglasses. “Something I can do for you?” she asked in a tone usually reserved for budget meetings.

The security guard looked, if anything, relieved. “Ma’am, this gentleman was asking to be let into your slip.”

Dar kept her stare on Juan Carlos, who was stone faced.

“Why?”

The security guard turned to him questioningly. “Sir?”

“I have reason to believe some of my property is there,” Juan Carlos said smoothly. “I wish to look.”

“Then call the cops,” Dar replied calmly. “File charges, and let them get a search warrant instead of trying to bully the staff into doing something you, and they…” she gave the guard a look,

“know is illegal.”

“This does not have to get nasty,” the detective said.

“It already is,” Dar said. “And it’s going to get a lot nastier when I get over to this resort’s corporate offices and file a complaint, not only for this, but because they let your little partner into our hotel room.”

Imperceptibly, the security guard edged closer to Dar and farther away from Juan Carlos.

“Ms. Roberts, I do not think you know who you are dealing with.”

Dar smiled, then she pulled off her glasses and pinned him with a stare. “No,” her voice dropped to a low rumble, “I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.” She pulled the gate open and emerged onto the dock. “So take your slimy boss, your stinky partner, and whatever idiotic business you’re involved with, and get all of it out of my sight unless you want more trouble than you know what to do with landing right on your ass.” She pointed at Juan Carlos’ chest. “Now move it.”

“If you force us to take this to the authorities, you will regret it,” he said, apparently not intimidated. “I can get a search warrant, and I will.” He turned and walked away slowly, assuming an air of casual disinterest.

Dar shook her head. “What a moron.” She turned and wrapped the chain around the gate. “How much was he offering you to let Terrors of the High Seas 123

him in?” she asked suddenly, turning to the guard who was still standing there watching her.

The guard had the grace to look embarrassed.

“C’mon.” Dar leaned on the gate. “Pencil neck like him wouldn’t scare someone like you.”

The guard shifted his brawny shoulders, responding to the compliment with a sheepish grin. “Twenty dollars,” he admitted.

“He was about to go to fifty when you walked up.”

“Cheapskate.” Dar finished putting the lock on the gate, closing it with a distinct click. She opened the pouch she was carrying and removed two bills, reached over, and slid them into the guard’s khaki shirt pocket. His eyes widened at the amount. “I can buy his boss for petty cash,” Dar said. “So you tell everyone if they get an offer from them, look me up first. I’ll do better.”

“Yes, ma’am!” the guard responded enthusiastically. “I’ll make sure everyone knows!” He gave her a little wave, then trotted off down the dock, taking a moment to examine the contents of his pocket as he ran.

Dar dusted off her hands, then followed him. “When you care enough to buy the very best,” she muttered, shaking her head. Now things were getting to the point where she knew she had to do something about them. The question was, what?

Well. Dar considered as she walked. Usually she solved problems by cutting to the chase and going to the very top. She didn’t know where John DeSalliers was, but she bet if she went high enough at this resort, someone did. And she bet she could make them tell her.