“Hey,” Dar breathed into her ear, “while you’re there, do a search in the public archives for smuggling busts during that time period.”
Kerry turned her head slightly and looked into Dar’s eyes at very, very close range. “Smuggling?”
“Smuggling?” Bob asked.
“And do a public records search on him in Maine,” Dar said.
“We’re assuming he was here for a reason. Nothing says it had to be a legal one.”
“Hey!” Bob protested. “He was a good guy.”
Terrors of the High Seas 271
Kerry nodded slightly as she typed.
Charlie came back in, his face visibly red. He limped over and sat down, juggling the cell phone as though he wanted to chuck it against the cabin wall. “Waste of a phone call.”
Dar looked up from a conversation on her own cell and shook her head.
Kerry motioned him over to the galley where she was standing.
“Want a beer?” she offered sympathetically.
Charlie sat down on the stool bolted to the deck and rested his arms on the galley counter. He played with the phone, still visibly upset. “All we done for them, and they tell me to get lost.” He rested his fist against his jaw. “Thought after all this time, things’d changed. Guess I was wrong. Wait ’til the next time those bastards show up with a busted head, wanting Bud…” He stopped suddenly and his eyes blinked a few times. “Damn, I hope he’s all right.”
Kerry set an opened bottle of beer in front of him and leaned on the counter. “I’m sure he will be, Charlie. We’ll do our best to make sure of that,” she assured him in a gentle tone.
Charlie looked at her. “I feel like a first-rate fool. Thinking them people’d gotten to be our friends.”
Dar walked over and leaned next to him. “All right. I arranged for a draft for tomorrow. When I talk to DeSalliers tonight, I’ll have to work a deal with him. I can’t get it any sooner. There isn’t a big enough supply of cash on the damn island. The nearest place I could get it from was one of the cruise ships, and the closest one isn’t due in until tomorrow night.”
Charlie looked at her. “DeSalliers ain’t gonna buy that. He wants to get the hell out of here.”
“I know,” Dar agreed. “So I have to make what I’m gonna give him good enough for him to forget about the cash.”
Kerry tapped her on the arm. “Dar, we don’t have anything.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“You can’t risk it,” Kerry protested quietly.
“Kerry, what choice do we have?” Dar asked, just as quietly.
“The searches came up with zilch. We’ve got no clue as to why Wharton was here. We have no proof he was nuts, no proof he wasn’t. What we have is a damn wooden cigar box and my ability to lie through my teeth.”
Kerry closed her eyes. “Christ.” She exhaled, staring at the counter. Then she looked up. “DeSalliers is probably going to head around St. Thomas and then around the east part of the island to the meet point, right?”
“Probably. Why?”
“Why don’t we go dive the site? What do we have to lose? Maybe we can find something,” Kerry said. “We’ve got a couple of hours.”
“Hey, that’s a great idea!” Bob had joined them. “He won’t 272 Melissa Good even be paying attention to the site now.” He sounded excited for the first time since he’d joined them. “Let’s do it!”
Dar calculated the times, then turned and headed for the door without a word. Maybe they would find something, maybe they wouldn’t, but it was something physical she could do and that sure as hell beat the crap out of sitting around the boat for four hours pulling her hair out. And sometimes, she acknowledged, she got lucky. Dar hoped this was one of those times.
Chapter
Twenty-three
IT WAS VERY quiet at the wreck site. The sun was gliding seaward, and there was just a very light chop on the water. The air was cool and dry, and Kerry tipped her head back to see a cloudless sky above her. “Nice.” She was dressed in her shortie wetsuit for the evening dive, the neoprene compressing her body with a slightly annoying snugness that would relax once she was underwater.
Dar, also in her wetsuit, was standing by their gear. She put a bootied foot up on the bench and strapped a dive knife to her leg, then turned and sat down, getting into her BC and strapping it across her chest.
“Are you sure I can’t go down too?” Bob asked for the fourth time. “Honest, I think I’d have a better idea of what to look for.”
“No.” Dar stood up and cinched her straps tighter. She tied an extra dive light to her belt. “You said you didn’t have any clue what you were looking for; don’t change your story now.” She motioned Kerry over to get her tank. “We don’t have that much time.”
Kerry didn’t deny the feeling of half-excitement, half-nervousness that tickled her guts. She walked over and sat down, put her arms through her BC, and stood up. The tank felt heavy, and she had to take a breath before she shrugged it into place and fastened the inner belly strap. She wasn’t really used to wearing the wetsuit and she flexed her arms, then ran a finger inside the sleeve constricting her biceps. It seemed snugger than she remembered, but then, the last time she’d worn it had been the previous year, and all those curls at the gym probably had something to do with that.
Dar stepped over to her and tightened the front clasp, then patted her on the side. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Kerry checked the fastenings holding her various hoses and tapped the inflation valve on her BC. She picked up her mask and followed Dar to the stern gate, already pulled back to give them access to the sea.
“Charlie, if anything’s going on up here, use this.” Dar handed him a ball peen hammer. “Smack it on the ladder, not the hull, huh?”
274 Melissa Good The ex-sailor took the hammer and nodded tensely. “If that phone rings, I’ll answer it,” he said. “See if I can get that asshole to let me talk to Bud.”
Dar patted him on the shoulder.
“Good luck.” Bob stuck his hands in his pockets, looking spectacularly useless. “Anything I can do while you’re down there?”
Dar paused, adjusting her mask. “You any good at heating up soup? There’s some in the cabinet. Give us forty-five minutes and we’ll be back up here, whether we find something or not.”
“Okay, sure,” Bob agreed readily. “It’s kinda chilly up here.
Good idea.”
“Thank you, honey,” Kerry murmured under her breath.
Dar smiled, then stepped off the stern and dropped into the water with a light splash, disappearing under the surface almost immediately.
Kerry made a last minute adjustment to her dive knife and then followed, committing herself to the sea.
THIS DIVE WAS different. Kerry felt it as soon as she entered the water and traded the warm sunset for the dim cool of the water.
She could see Dar waiting for her, one hand resting lightly on the anchor line, and she headed toward her as her body adjusted to the change in temperature. The wetsuit really did help ward off the chill. It was only a shortie, but it kept the core part of her body a lot warmer than it would have been in just a swimsuit, and once the neoprene got wet and loosened up, it became fairly comfortable.
She caught up to Dar, and they started downward at a rate faster than they usually went. Kerry had to equalize the pressure in her ears a few times as it built up during her descent. She could dimly see the wreck below, Dar having anchored the boat a lot closer this time than on their previous dive. The sunlight above was already fading, and as they got closer to the wreck, Dar turned on her dive light. Kerry did likewise.