The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1) (12 page)

William and Mary Island, Canada

We couldn’t be
more secluded,
Ahmad thought as he trudged up the rough logging road from
the beach to the old logging camp.
The bunk house and cook house are
worthless.
They’ve been reclaimed by the wilderness
. The store house
and workshop fared better. Built of corrugated iron, the storehouse withstood
nature’s onslaught. The workshop stood alone in the center of the clearing,
isolated from the encroaching blackberry vines. How far this primeval forest
seemed from the open desert of his ancestors.

With crude wooden
plank floors and open studs, the shop offered little protection against winter
weather, but was welcome shade against the warm July sun. Ahmad surveyed his
new domain. Sturdy work benches lined the walls and aluminum conduit covered
electric cables. Once they got the generator running, there would be adequate
electricity for his needs.

“I can’t believe
what ancient technology this uses.” Ahmad spread a set of blue-prints on the
bench, holding down the edges with rusted wrenches he found hanging on the
wall.

“It is over thirty-years
old, my friend.” Yasim placed a hand on Ahmad’s shoulder. “It has been in
warehouse for years, we have no idea how long was at sea, if at all.”

“We’ll be lucky if
all the wiring isn’t corroded.” Ahmad traced the white lines on the blue paper.
“This thing was built before I was born. When’ll we be picking it up?”

“We have about
week.” Yasim looked out the door towards the bay beneath them. “We rendezvous
with freighter far out to sea, well beyond range of patrol aircraft. We meet
them at night. Hopefully there will be cloud cover to protect us from spy
satellites.”

“How far out will
we have to go?” Ahmad turned from the blue prints.

“Four hundred miles.
Can boat make trip, do you think? It is old, but I believe is strong.”

Four hundred
miles!
Sailing the boat through the Inside Passage was one thing, but to
take it the open ocean was something else entirely.

“Kalil will have
to answer for the engine and the machinery.” Ahmad drew a breath. “We have the
electronic gear to find our rendezvous.” He sounded more confident that he
felt. “If Hani can get us there, I can find that freighter.”

“Well, boat only
has to hold together for one mission, if is Allah’s will.”

****

South Pender Island, Canada

By the time Chris
cleared customs on South Pender Island, Ted was awake. He pulled on dry clothes
and climbed up to the cockpit as Chris raised the main sail.

“The wind’s kinda
heavy, isn’t it, dude?”

“The
Defiant
can handle it.” Chris gave him the once over. “You feel up to being on deck?”

“Don’t worry about
me, dude. I felt worse than this on Sunday mornin’s after a football game.”

 Chris wore his
yellow rain gear, including a pansy looking sou’wester on his head.

“What are you, the
Gorton’s fisherman?”

“You better get
your rain gear on, bro. It’s going to blow.”

 Ted eased himself
back down the companionway steps, favoring his right shoulder, and struggled
into his rain pants. He eased his right arm into his rain jacket, then had to
flip it awkwardly over his shoulder to get his left arm in. Back on deck,
despite the rain and cool wind, he sweat heavily inside his foul weather gear.

Rain pounded down
and the wind increased to an unseasonable gale as the day progressed. While
Chris and Ted ran the boat, Meagan spent most of the afternoon in the cabin,
staying dry. 

“We’ve got to
shorten sail,” Chris shouted over the roar of the wind. “Get Meagan to come up
and take the helm. Then you can help me reef the main.”

“I hope there’s no
paparazzi around.” Meagan emerged on deck in her slickers and sou’wester.

Ted noticed that
this time she paid close attention as she took over the wheel.

“Put her into the
wind,” Chris shouted.

The sails
shuddered as the
Defiant
eased more and more into the wind’s eye.
Finally, she was pointing straight into the wind, sails fluttering wildly.

“Shit, this is
like trying to hold onto a buckin’ bronco,” Ted yelled. His right shoulder hurt
like a son of a bitch.

“I think you
better put on a life line,” Chris shouted at him. They climbed back into the
cockpit where Chris dug a harness out of the lazarette. “Here, clip this onto
the shrouds. I don’t want to have to fish you out of the drink again. Remember:
‘One hand for yourself, one hand for the ship.’” Chris yelled at him. “Hang on
tight while we work.”

Chris lowered the
main while Ted gathered it in. Trying to gather in the flapping sail with one
hand was like trying to catch the wind. Passing nylon lines through stainless
steel grommets in the Dacron, they secured the foot of the sail to the boom. Chris
checked and re-tied several of Ted’s knots. With the foot secure, Chris hoisted
the partial sail back up the mast, leaving about three quarters of it flying.

The boat’s motion
eased somewhat.
That wasn’t so bad.
Ted beamed with an inner pride at
accomplishing the difficult sail handling task with his friend.

“Thanks, guys.
Good job, Ted.” Chris took the helm again. “You can go back below if you want,
Meg.”

Megan removed her
sou’wester with a flourish and shook out her hair, then gave him a little
salute. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

For the next half
hour, the
Defiant
continued to take a pounding. The boat staggered as
seas came over the bow.

“We’re going
slower as the wind gets stronger.” Chris shouted to Ted. “We’re still
overpowered. We’ll have to shorten the jib. I’ll handle the jib sheets so you
don’t have to use your shoulder.”

With a roller
furling jib, this was a one-man operation. Ted took the wheel and Chris tried
to roll in the jib but the wind’s pressure on the sail was too much to
overcome.

“Bring her into
the wind,” he shouted at Ted.

As the
Defiant
came closer to the wind she heeled over hard to starboard. Water swirled over
her side deck. Ted heard a loud crash as everything that wasn’t fastened down
smashed to the cabin floor. 

A loud shriek came
up from below.

****

William and Mary Island, Canada

Ahmad unpacked as
Mohammed and Kalil brought boxes up from the beach in the heavy rain. He
meticulously arranged his tools on the shelves and walls. Ahmad surveyed his
new domain.
Now they’ll pay.
This was his chance to strike back at the
accursed infidels and the unbelieving Zionists. When he was done, they’d be
sorry for every slight, every time he was discriminated against, every
humiliation. With a grim smile, he turned to join his comrades outside.

“The living
quarters are uninhabitable.” Mohammed kicked a rotting plank loose from the
bunkhouse. His wet hair hung down into his eyes. “We’ll pitch tents. We brought
a mobile kitchen unit that runs on propane. It’s rough, but it’s much better
than our brothers and sisters in the refugee camps in Palestine have.”

“Where did you get
all this equipment?” Ahmad picked through a pile of sleeping bags, propane
lanterns, flash lights and cooking gear.

“We have friends
in Germany.” A huge smile crossed Mohammed’s face. “Yasim told me that they
steal credit card numbers from the kafirs, then use them to buy our equipment.
They paid for our plane tickets too.”

Yasim spread a
large tarpaulin between trees like a movie screen.

“When we are
ready,” he said, “we film our videos here,”

A chill ran down
Ahmad’s spine. He was well aware that all shaheeds filmed a last will and
testament before going into their final battle these days. The videos were
powerful tools used in recruiting new jihadists. He thought back on those days
spent surfing jihadist Web sites with Mohammed. A dread and fear spread over
him at the memory. Would this mission be his final act on this earth?

“We are now ready,
my brothers,” Yasim said. “Soon we meet new leader.”

The Straits of Georgia

Ted didn’t have
time to respond to the cry from below.

It only took an
instant, then the
Defiant
passed into the wind’s eye and Chris hauled in
the jib halfway.

“Okay, payoff.”
Chris coiled down the jib in-haul.

The violent motion
of the
Defiant
eased somewhat. Ted peered down the companionway hatch.

“Fuck,” Meagan
shouted up. “What was that?” Meagan held on to the companionway rails, her
pants dripping wet

 “We were reefing
the jib.” Chris took over the wheel and braced himself against the roll of the
boat as Meagan glared angrily at him.

“Well, you could
have warned me. I was in the head. You tossed me off the toilet and slopped pee
all over me.”

“Oh, jeeze, Meg.
I’m sorry.” Chris stammered.

Ted failed to
stifle his laugh.

“I’d like to see
it happen to you.” Meagan shot an icy glare at Ted. “When I sailed with my Dad,
we never were out in winds this strong.”

The look in her
eyes sent a chill down Ted’s spine. That was the look that Mama gave him when
he was in trouble.

 “Are you sure
we’re safe?” Fire flashed in Meagan’s eyes as she shifted her focus back to
Chris. “Shouldn’t we be heading back to South Pender Island?”

“We’ll be fine.”
Chris shouted over the roar of the wind in the rigging. “My Dad used to race
the
Defiant
in tougher conditions than this. The boat can handle worse
weather than we can. It should only take us another hour or so to reach Galliano Island.”

“Chris, I don’t
see any other boats out here,” Meagan said. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah, it tells me
they’re all panty waists.”

“If you kill me
because you have to be macho, I’ll never forgive you. I’m going to change, but
you have to clean up the head.” She retreated back down the companionway
stairs.

“Whoo-Hoo!” Ted
stood on the side deck, with his left arm wrapped around the stainless steel
shrouds to keep the pressure off of his right shoulder. Each time the
Defiant
topped a wave, she crashed down with a violent motion, sending a sheet of white
water flying.

Ted enjoyed the
wild ride. Meagan clearly did not.
There’s going to be hell to pay for this
tonight, dude,
Ted thought.

Ted was soaked
from head to foot, despite his bright yellow rain suit. A wide grin spread
across his face.
Mama wouldn’t be too happy if she could see her precious
hijo now.

“This is what it’s
all about, dude,” Ted, water swirling around his sea boots, yelled back to
Chris.

The
Defiant
charged
along, rail down, through the raging sea. By early evening they threaded their
way up the channel to Montague Harbor. Covering the sixteen miles from South Pender Island took them three hours.

Entering the
harbor proved another sailing challenge. They fought their way into the
gale-force winds to make the entrance, then sailed into the harbor with the
wind on their beam. Once in the lee of Parker Island, the winds dropped.

“We better get
ready,” Chris said, now using a conversational tone. “Clear away the anchor.
We’re going to do this under sail.”

“Why can’t we fire
up the engine for long enough to get anchored?” Meagan asked from the companionway
hatch.

“Because we’ve
sailed all the way here without the engine. I want to finish the day without
using it.” It was obviously a matter of pride with Chris.

They entered the
inner harbor under the reefed jib. Tacking to a spot just north of the ferry
dock, Chris rounded up into the wind.

“Let go,” he
yelled.

Ted reached for
the anchor with his right hand. Pain shot up his shoulder. “Uhhh.” He used his
left hand to drop the anchor into the clear green water. The anchor chain
rattled over the roller, then came the nylon line secured to the end of the
chain.

“That’s bottom,”
Ted shouted back to the cockpit. “How much rope should we let out?”

“I’d say a hundred
and twenty feet should do it. By the way, that’s rode bro,” Chris corrected,
“not rope. We don’t have rope on a boat.”

“Whatever. . . Hey
dude, I didn’t sign up for sailing 101.” Ted waved his good arm in the air.
“That’s it.”

“Okay, let’s see
if we can back this thing down.”

Pointing directly
into the wind, the jib filled on the front side and started backing the
Defiant
up. Ted held onto the tied-off line with one hand to feel for when the
anchor bit into the bottom.

“We’re in. She’s
holding fast, ‘
mano
.”

Chris furled the
jib and climbed down to the cabin with Ted in his wake.

“What’s for dinner
tonight?” Chris asked Meagan.

“How would I know?
Whatever Ted’s making I guess.”

Montague Harbor, Galliano
Island, Canada

Ted didn’t sleep
well that night. The rain pelting down on the deck forced him to remain in his
bunk listening to the gymnastics in the forepeak.
What are those two anyway,
rabbits?
He pulled his pillow over his head.

The morning dawned
too wet and windy to take the dinghy ashore. Ted spent much of the day in his
bunk reading computer manuals.

To his relief,
Meagan whiled away her time in the forward cabin. How many times could she file
and paint her fingernails? Once she emerged with a green face mask.

“My God, what’s
that?” Chris looked up from his book.

“Oh lay off, big
boy. It’s just an avocado face mask.”

“It’s the creature
from the deep,” Ted waved his fingers in the air. “It’s alive! Somebody call
Fish and Game.”

After the face
mask came a general body waxing. Ted didn’t mind the eye brows and legs, but
didn’t want to know what else she was up to in her cabin.

“Meagan, you
shouldn’t use the wax pot,” Chris said. “I don’t want to run the batteries
dead.”

“You can run the
engine to charge them if you need to,” Meagan snapped at him.

Uh-oh, a little
trouble in paradise
Ted thought. “With all the engine trouble that we’ve
had, chica, we might not be able to.”

She turned and
glowered at him. Oscar leapt from the pilot berth to the galley table and put
his front paws against Meagan’s chest. She picked him up and cradled him in her
arms. “At least someone still loves me.”

****

Bonner’s Ferry, Idaho

“Mom, Johnny
knocked over the flowers!” The shrill voice screeched from the living room.

“Grandpa, will you
take the kids outside while we do some planning?” Candace’s mother turned
towards her husband. “We’ve got some girl-talk to do here.”

Candace’s father
got up from the kitchen table without a word, put his breakfast dishes on the
drain board and left the room.

“OK, sweetie, tell
us about the wedding.”

“We’ve already
booked a room for you and Dad. This ship is like the fanciest floating hotel
you can imagine.”

“What about us?”
Jenn broke in. “Did you book rooms for us yet?”

“Evan’s mom can
take the kids,” Trish added. “I’m sure she’ll take Johnny and Amy too.”

“I’m sorry.”
Candace dreaded this moment. “You all can’t come. We could only get one extra
room.” Silence fell on her sisters. Trish stared at her open-mouthed.

“What’s a matter,”
Jenn snapped. “Are you ashamed of us?”

“No, it’s nothing
like that. This cruise was really a big deal. Harry could only swing two
state-rooms.”

“Right. Someone as
important as he is could only get two rooms. What is he, a cheap-O?”

“Trish! Hush up.
We’re lucky that any of us can be there. I’m sure there’ll be other times for
you.” Mom always came to Candace’s aid against her sisters. After all, Candace
was her baby.

“What about maid
of honor?” Trish asked. “Who’s going to be the maid of honor if
we
aren’t there?”

Candace gulped.
This was the biggest bomb of all. “I . . . ah . . . Well, actually, I asked
Sarah?”

“Sarah?” Jenn put
down her coffee cup and stared at Candace.                  

“Harry’s daughter.
He’s taking her on the trip too.”

“I thought you
said he could only get
two
rooms.” Jenn got up from the table and
noisily slammed her dishes down on the drain board. “What? Is little Sarah
going to share the honeymoon suite?”

“Three, I meant
three. I forgot about Sarah for a minute.”

“So, he can get a
room for her but not for us? You’re taking a stranger for a bridesmaid over
your sisters?” Trish tapped a spoon against the rim of her coffee cup.

“I’m really sorry
you guys, but I had to. I’ve got to try to win Sarah over. I thought that if I
included her in the wedding, she’d accept me more. I have to have an ally in
that family. Harry’s son can’t stand to be in the same room as me.”

“Let’s see a
picture of your dress, sweetie.” Mom always had a way of turning away from
unpleasant topics.

Candace spread
five photos on the kitchen table. “Here are the one’s I’m considering.”

“I don’t like this
one,” Jenn said. “I don’t like anything strapless.”

“That’s because
you don’t have anything to hold it up.” Trish was still in a pissy mood.
“Candace isn’t built like me, but at least she’s got enough up top to keep it
from falling down.”

Jenn glared at her
older sister, but didn’t respond.

Good
,
Candace thought,
maybe she’s learned not to take the bait.

“With Candy’s
figure, she can wear anything,” Mom cut into the argument. “I like this one the
best.”

“Me too, Mom. I’ve
been really leaning that way.”