The Heist (25 page)

“That’s the wrong attitude. What we’re doing is more like a heist, only with a person instead of an object. A successful heist is one that nobody notices until it’s over and the thieves are long gone. But I understand your concerns. I have them, too, which is why I picked this particular yacht. The Phelan SevenSeas 550LR is no ordinary trawler. It can reach a top speed of twenty-two knots and cruise at sixteen. It can plane and plow,” Nick said. It was a
phrase he stole from the brochure that he understood the gist of, if not the actual meaning.

“We’ll see,” Kate said. “I’d still rather punch him in the face and spirit him away in a jetboat.”

“And I’d rather be driving the jetboat, but I’ll settle for this,” Willie said, gathering together the literature on the yacht. “I’m going back to my room and study up on this boat so we don’t end up like the
Titanic
.”

Benoa Harbor had a seedy, industrial feel despite the presence of dozens of sleek yachts stuck in between all of the fishing trawlers, longboats, rusted tankers, thatch-roofed houseboats, ferries, motorboats, huge cruise ships, and the colorful two-masted Bugis schooners with their long, curved bows that resembled a leprechaun’s shoes. Fruit vendors in longboats puttered among the tightly packed boats, selling bananas and oranges to people who reached out of open portholes or leaned perilously over their boat decks to pay for their purchases.

There were two Javanese men sitting on a wooden crate, about the size of a bag of golf clubs, on the dock beside the gleaming new Phelan SevenSeas 550LR when Kate, Nick, and Willie arrived. Kate approached the men, and looked down at the crate. As expected, it was the bon voyage gift from her dad.

“You can put that in the master stateroom,” she said to the men, gesturing to the boat.

Nick repeated her orders in rough Indonesian and the two men lugged the crate up the gangway onto the yacht. Willie followed them on board, tossed her bag into her cabin, and climbed up the stairs to the secondary helm atop the flybridge.

“Play the role,” Nick whispered to Kate. “People are watching.”

Kate’s only point of reference to Eunice Huffnagle was Goldie Hawn in the movie
Overboard
, so she channeled Goldie and did some improvising. She walked up and down the dock in her strappy gold high-heeled sandals, expensive little black halter top, and skinny white linen slacks that sat low on her hips. She walked and frowned and pouted as she examined the yacht, aware of the attention she was getting from the Indonesians aboard the nearby fishing boats and even some of the tourists lined up for the ferry.

“It’s so tiny,” she said. “It doesn’t even have a helipad.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Huffnagle,” Nick said. “It’s the best we could do on short notice.”

“I’d hate to see your worst.” She shook her head and got on board, Nick following after her.

The two Javanese men emerged from the master cabin and stood waiting for payment.

“Give them fifty thousand rupiah for their troubles,” Kate said to Nick, “and let’s get out of this dreary place.”

Kate had seen
Overboard
a couple years ago and couldn’t totally remember it all, but she was pretty sure Goldie would be proud of her performance.

“Yes, right away, ma’am,” Nick said.

Kate marched past the men into the cabin. The floors were bleached oak, the leather settees were tan, and there was decape oak cabinetry throughout. The pinpoint halogen lighting, silver accents and hardware, and the curvy lines of every counter and
design element gave the entire salon a smooth, contemporary style that evoked forward motion.

Two steps up, and on the port side, was a chef’s galley with top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, German fixtures, and granite countertops. On the starboard side was an impressive lower helm station that continued the curvy theme, presenting the array of screens, keypads, joysticks, and controls in an elegant dashboard arrangement of leather, oak, and brushed aluminum that was Bentley elegance married to Apple sleek.

Kate was dying to take the helm, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to pry it out of Willie’s hands without punching her unconscious first. And probably Goldie wouldn’t take the helm anyway. Have patience, she thought. The journey to Griffin’s island would take about twenty-four hours, if they kept at constant cruising speed. So she could take a shift at the helm once they were out in open sea.

She went down the curving staircase to the lower deck, where there were three staterooms and two heads. The master stateroom, by far the largest and most comfortable, was amidships, where the hull was widest and deepest, and was filled with natural light from two large windows port and starboard. There was a queen-size berth that had plenty of room on either side of it, even with the crate on the floor. There was a roomy C-shaped settee and collapsible dinette under the starboard window, a thirty-two-inch flat-screen television in front of the bed, a port-side cabinet with a minibar and safe, a full-height closet, and a private head with a full-size shower.

Nick followed her into the master stateroom. “Who sent you the crate?”

“I did. I couldn’t pack everything I needed into my bag.”

“Like what?”

“Handcuffs,” she said.

“I like it,” Nick said. He gave her a salute, and left.

Kate changed into her bikini because it seemed like something Goldie would do, and while she was putting on suntan lotion the yacht started with a lurch that nearly knocked her to the floor. Willie getting the feel of the controls, she thought. Kate hoped that Willie was a fast learner. She grabbed a hat and sunglasses and went topside.

The ride out of the harbor and into the busy Lombok Strait was uneventful. Willie was at the helm on the flybridge, steering the boat through the gauntlet of ferries, tankers, longboats, and pleasure craft. A rusting wreck in the center of the bay bore testament to the dangers of navigating in and out of the harbor.

They reached open water and Willie rammed the throttle to full speed, anxious to see what the yacht could do. Kate braced herself when the boat lifted and jolted forward. She turned to look at Willie, and Willie gave her two thumbs up. Willie slowed down to cruising speed after a few minutes, and Kate made her way to the stern and climbed the stairs to the flybridge.

Nick was barbecuing shrimp and chicken on the built-in grill that sat beside a fully stocked minibar and a sink, all within serving reach of the aft dinette area. Willie stood at the starboard-side pilot station, looking ahead to the cluster of islands on the horizon, the wind whipping her hair into a frenzy of overprocessed yellow snarls, her barely contained nipples saluting the bow.

The communications and radar array were located at the top of
the mast, and toward the bottom was an outdoor shower. Kate bypassed the shower and went to Willie.

“How is it going?” Kate asked.

“It would be going better if I had a cold beer,” Willie said. “Other than that it’s fantastic.”

Nick brought Willie a plate of rice, chicken, and shrimp. “I can take the helm if you’d like a break.”

“No way. I never want a break. I could drive this mother forever. This thing’s better than a Zamboni.”

“Yeah, and we don’t have to freeze the water,” Nick said, moving Kate away from the pilot station and toward the dinette, where he had their lunch set out.

“I didn’t know cooking was among your talents,” Kate said, sliding onto the C-shaped settee, spearing a grilled shrimp with her fork.

“I have a lot of talents you don’t know about.”

Kate paused with the shrimp halfway to her mouth. “Such as?”

“I’m a good chess player.”

No surprise there, she thought. “And?”

“I can iron a shirt, but I’d rather not. I can play the piano halfway okay. I can touch my nose with my tongue.”

Kate lost her grip on her fork, and the fork clattered onto her plate.

Nick smiled. “I knew you’d like that last one.”

After lunch, Kate went to her stateroom, opened the crate, and sorted through the care package from her dad, amused by his thoughtfulness and impressed by his resources. He’d clearly amassed a huge network of contacts and plenty of favors during
his years of covert military service. And it was paying off for her now. She locked a few items in the safe, then slipped her filmy red sarong over her bikini and went abovedeck, where Willie was now piloting the yacht from the helm console in the cabin.

“What’s our ETA?” Kate asked.

“At this speed, we should arrive at Dajmaboutu by early morning.”

Nick was at the table, reviewing the charts. “Or we could anchor off any of a dozen islands along the way for the night, get an early start tomorrow, and show up midafternoon.”

“We aren’t on vacation,” Kate said. “We have a mission to complete.”

“Hard to remember the mission with you in that red silk thing,” Nick said.

Kate flapped her arms. “I don’t have anything else! We only bought mantrap clothes.” She looked down at herself. “Actually it’s really comfy. It lets a lot of air in.”

“So?” Willie asked. “What’s the plan?”

“We’re pushing on,” Kate said. “We’ll pilot in shifts. I’ll take the next one.”

Kate chose to do her time on the flybridge station, where she could feel the night air and see the stars. It was nice to have the GPS, but she felt more secure having the solar system up there as backup and her father’s trusty sextant, which he’d kindly included in his care package. Nick left her alone, only intruding on her solitude to bring her sandwiches and coffee. Shortly after midnight, he tapped her shoulder and told her it was time for her to hand over the helm to him.

“Do you know how to pilot a yacht?” she asked.

“No, I don’t, but I thought it would be fun to try it in pitch-darkness in the middle of the Flores Sea,” Nick said, smiling. “They light up the islands, right?”

“You’re such a smart-ass.”

“I know, but I’m a charming smart-ass.”

This was true, Kate thought. He was a charming smart-ass.

Kate awoke after dawn, jolted out of sleep by a sudden surge in the yacht’s speed. She got out of bed and nearly lost her footing when the yacht banked sharply to one side and then the other. She opened her door and saw Nick coming out of the other stateroom. “What’s going on?” Kate asked.

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “Willie took over for me an hour ago.”

They rushed up the stairs to the flybridge, where Willie had the boat at top speed passing what appeared to be a small, uninhabited islet with a jagged shore and a thick forest of trees. Two old, beaten-down speedboats were about fifty yards behind them and closing fast. Kate guessed there were half a dozen men in each boat.

“They came out of nowhere as I was passing that little island,” Willie said. “I saw guns, and I hit full throttle.”

“Guns? What kind of guns?”

“The kind with bullets,” Willie said. “I’ve been swerving side to side to create a bigger wake, but they’re still gaining.”

Kate grabbed binoculars from a shelf beneath the console and took a closer look. The boats were full of men carrying grappling hooks and automatic weapons. Kate lowered her binoculars as one
of the speedboats surged forward and closed in on their starboard side.

“They’re pirates. We aren’t going to be able to outrun them. They’re twice as fast,” Kate said.

Willie looked over at her. “Are you suggesting we give up?”

“No. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“No problem,” Willie said. “This is the kind of cruising I’m used to.”

Kate and Nick ran aft to the stairs and were on their way down when the speedboat opened fire. Kate hit the stern deck hard, taking Nick down with her. Bullets raked the port side, shattering windows and punching holes in the cabin.

It was a warning, but Willie took it as a challenge. She veered hard toward the pirates, like she was playing bumper boats at the county fair, and they steered away to avoid a collision.

“She’s good,” Kate said, getting to her feet.

“Yeah, but it’s pointless,” Nick said. “We’ll have to stop, and when we do, just play the frightened heiress. I’ll do the talking.”

Willie swerved back around and headed straight at the boat that had been following them. The other pilot easily steered clear, but not before opening a volley of shots at the flybridge as he passed. Everyone hit the deck as bullets tore up the dinette and shattered the minibar, spilling drinks on the floor, a tiny waterfall of alcohol splashing down the stairs to the stern.

“That was another warning,” Nick said. “The next time they shoot, they could kill one of us.”

“Good thing we didn’t get a faster boat,” Kate said. “Do what you have to do. I’m screaming in terror and going below.”

“Make a show of it,” he said.

Kate screamed, waved her arms in the air for good measure, and ran below.

Nick yelled to Willie, “Stop the boat!”

“Are you kidding?” Willie yelled back. “They’ll be all over us.”

“Just do it,” Nick said.

He took a white towel from a cabinet at the stern and waved it above his head as a flag of surrender. The speedboats were behind them now, almost side by side. One boat hung back while the other one approached. Nick could see two men stepping forward with their grappling hooks to secure the yacht.