Tuna Tango (13 page)

He had almost forgotten about the girl when she emerged from the cabin. With a look of disgust cast his way, she went to the leeward bench, which was closer to the water, with the boat heeled over, and leaned over the side. He could tell she was in a bad way as her back convulsed with each heave. She stayed there for a long minute before she turned and wiped her mouth on her blouse.

“What the fuck did you give me, and where are we? You didn’t say anything about a fucking sail.” The rant continued for a minute before she took a breath, went back to the gunwale, and leaned over again. 

I guess the honeymoon is over,
he thought as he watched her empty what was left in her stomach. Without a word, she turned and glared at him before stumbling down the steps to the cabin and disappearing. He almost laughed to himself about the difference a night and some weather could make. Last night, he couldn’t take his eyes off her; today he didn’t want to look. 

And then his thoughts turned to Sheryl. Maybe it had taken last night to appreciate her. He lashed the tiller and went into the cabin, casting a quick look at the bundle of misery curled up on the bench, thankfully facing away from him. That was the price he would have to endure for his infatuation. 

Quickly grabbing the cell phone from the chart table, hoping she wouldn’t turn and confront him again, he went back on deck.

He stared at the phone, feeling a connection as the screen showed Sheryl’s number as a missed call. Reluctant, or maybe plain scared to call back, he stared at the phone, hoping it would ring and be her to break the ice. Better if she called first. A large wave jarred the boat, breaking him from his thoughts. 

A glance over the rail and he estimated the seas had risen another foot since he had last checked. The GPS showed they were making almost 10 knots now. Just thirty miles from the group of waypoints; well past the halfway mark, he thought as he adjusted the sails and reviewed his options. The weather had called for 15- to 20-knot winds, and from the look of it, they were every bit of 20 now. 

Hoping for the best, and with only a few hours to sail before he reached his destination, he decided to hold course. 

***

“What do you mean you lost the fish?” the voice yelled.

The boat was rocking on its anchor in 120 feet of water. “We got one in the box already, and I’m planning to stay out until we get another. Just settle down,” George screamed into the phone over the wind. 

“You fool. The one in the freezer. There are at least three people that know about it now. What are you going to do about them?”

George looked over at Kyle. “I’ve got one handled. I’ll deal with the other two when I get back in. I know where to find them.”

“This isn’t good. Maybe you should come back in now.” 

George looked at the seas. They had built over the last few hours, but the NOAA report said this was the peak. Although it was uncomfortable to be anchored and fishing in these conditions, he knew from experience that you got the biggest fish in the biggest seas. He would wait it out and run back when the wind calmed. 

“Give me a few more hours.”

“I’ll cut you out of this deal so quick—” The voice was halted by the line ripping off the reel. 

“Big fish, gotta go.” George ended the call and went for the anchor ball. One of the deckhands had instantly gone for the rod and was working it furiously. George watched him as he clipped the hook on the anchor line and released it from the cleat. From the looks of it, the fish was big enough they would have to chase it and retrieve the anchor later. He went to the helm and started the engine, turning around to see which way the fishing line was going out before setting the two levers to forward. Turning to port, he swung the boat in a wide circle, keeping an eye on both the line and the deckhand frantically reeling in the slack as he closed on the fish. This kind of fishing was all about teamwork, not individual glory. It mattered that they brought back fish, not who reeled it in. 

The fish must have sensed the boat as it closed, and it started to peel off line at a furious pace. It crossed behind the boat, and George had to abandon the wheel and help the angler switch the rod to the holder on the other side. They had to keep the line away from the propellers at all costs. Just as they were about to set the rod in the holder, the fish reversed again. They struggled to take the rod back to the original position when one engine suddenly stalled. 

“It’s in the prop. We’re screwed!” George yelled as he furiously tugged on the line. He felt the tension ease as the friction of the line against both itself and the steel of the propeller weakened the monofilament. Then it parted and the fish was gone.

Chapter 14

Sheryl could hear the yelling from the waiting area, and wondered about this side of Lance, which she’d never seen. Or maybe it was just business. The smell of fish permeated the air-conditioned office, which was located in an older section of St. Petersburg, next to the railroad tracks. Through a plate glass window, she could see the fish processing and warehouse facility filled with stainless steel sinks and tables and giant walk-in coolers and freezers. She sat next to Dick, who was fidgeting in the old vinyl chair. His constant anxiety was starting to wear on her. They had gone by the fish house first, to see if Will knew anything, but he was gone. The building was locked up, and although his truck was there, the boat was not. 

This lowered him another notch in her eyes. He should be working. And to think, she had been kind of excited to see him. 

Lance was the only other person she knew that had any ties to this. He owned the building and the freezer where everything seemed to be happening, and although Dick had said that he leased the freezer to some guy named George, he was still the logical place to start. Maybe he had contacts with the Department of Fish and Game, or knew someone else that could help without running Dick’s name through the computer and landing him in jail. 

The office was quiet now, the phone call over, and a minute later, Lance emerged from the office and came toward them. She stood to shake his hand, kicking Dick in the leg to do the same. 

“You’re Sheryl, Will’s girlfriend,” he stated. 

She nodded, deciding not to contest the latter statement. It would not do anyone any good to muddy the waters with drama. “And this is Dick. He was working for Will on the project.” She noticed his brow furrow. 

“Good to meet you.” He placed a hand on Dick’s back to lead them into his office. She watched him as he squirmed under the man’s touch, wondering who had raised him to be such a mess. 

They took the chairs on the visitor’s side of the desk while Lance went around to the business side and sat. She looked around the office, unable to avoid noticing the civic awards mounted on every wall. Pictures of Little League teams and Girl Scout troops covered every surface. 

“I don’t want to trouble you with this, but seeing that it’s your building, you’re kind of involved, anyway.”

His gaze moved to Dick and his brow furrowed again. She realized that he might be thinking this was some kind of worker complaint, and started right in on their story to diffuse his concern. He relaxed as she spoke, then sat upright at the mention of the tuna and Kyle’s abduction.

“Now wait a minute. Just because I own the property, don’t think I have any involvement in this,” he cut her off.

“No. No. No,” she stammered, not wanting him on the defensive. “I just thought since you knew the area and George, that you might be able to point us in the right direction.

“And you don’t want to go to the police?”

Dick shook his head violently and started to tremble. 

“No, there’s too much that would be misconstrued and it would probably shut the job down as a crime scene. They might try and arrest Will for working without a permit and insurance. What about Fish and Game?”

He leaned back. “I could make a call, but they’re so undermanned I don’t know what they would do. I hear you about the police. This is messy. If we can just get the boy back without trouble, I can handle George. I can look the other way about the black market fish if he moves off my property.”

She was glad he saw it in such simple terms. Stopping the poaching was high on her list, right after getting Kyle back, but she knew better than to push too hard. Dick seemed to be better as well. He was still fidgeting, but the red color on his neck that had been building through the conversation was a light pink, now, and fading.

Lance picked his cell phone up off the desk, scrolled through a few screens, and put it to his ear. A minute later, someone must have answered, and she listened to the one-sided conversation. 

“You still out there?” he asked. 

She could hear what sounded like muffled yelling on the other end, but could not make out the words. 

Lance held the phone away from his ear as the voice continued. Finally he asked, “Who’s with you?” He waited for the answer. “That’s all? Give me your coordinates.” He wrote some numbers on a pad and hung up. 

“So what should we do?” she asked as he sat there staring at the phone. The call had clearly upset him, but he wasn’t sharing details.

“Give me a minute and let me think this out.” He leaned back. “Where’s Will?

 She looked at Dick, who was rocking in the chair. He looked better than before, but better for him was relative. They would have to get out of here soon, before he lost control. “He took that stupid boat he bought out for a sail. He’d have to have a reason to skip work and do that.” She realized that she was defending him.

Lance looked at her harshly. “You mean he’s not working?”

“That’s right. His truck’s at the fish house, but the boat is gone,” she said, wondering why he seemed more upset about the job than Kyle. “We need to do something.”

“You’re right. Why don’t we take a ride to the beach, try and find George. Maybe Will’ll be back by then. If they’re both gone, I have a good idea where George might be.”

She was grateful enough for someone to take charge that she didn’t question him. Dick was already on his feet when Lance rose and went to the door. They followed him into the waiting area. 

“Hold on. I’ll be right back.” He turned and went back to the office.

They stood waiting and after a moment he returned, jingling his keys as if he had forgotten them.

***

Spindrift was streaming perpendicular to the white-capped waves now—a sure sign the wind had picked up past 20 knots. Not that he needed a reference. He had added another reef to the main sail and furled the jib to a third of its normal size. The boat maintained course, although he needed to constantly adjust the main sheet to compensate for the weather helm pulling the boat hard to windward when the gusts came up. Will guessed the wind was close to 25 knots now, with gusts to 30. 

They were making headway, but as he glanced at the GPS he saw that their speed was down to 5 knots. The lack of sail area and heavy seas breaking over the bow slowed their progress. 

The girl had stuck her head out of the cabin an hour ago, given him a disgusted look, and gone back to bed. Now he could see movement below, and waited for her inevitable appearance. 

“You should drink some water,” he called into the cabin. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Why? So you can watch me puke my guts out some more? Are you the kind of guy that enjoys this?” She came onto deck and sat across from him. These were the first words she had spoken in hours. “Turn us around and go back. I will make it worth your while.”

The thought of touching her repulsed him, now. He had realized hours ago that he had made a huge mistake breaking up with Sheryl. “Relax. We’re almost there.”

“Where?” She looked around. “The middle of fucking nowhere. Zadrota.” Her accent was harsh when she cursed. She leaned back against the gunwale and swallowed hard, then quickly turned and stuck her head over the side. 

“Please, drink some water. You really will feel better.” He tried to soothe her as she turned back around, but her blue eyes pierced his flesh as she glared at him. Then she got up to go back to the cabin, but just as she took her first step, a large wave caught the boat. The hull turned toward the wind and rolled in the trough. The girl was caught on her feet and quickly lost balance, skidding across the deck to the leeward bench. Will was too slow in correcting the boat and it spun, causing her momentum to increase. 

Her ankle caught the jib sheet and she was over the side. 

He had no control of the boat now. The sequence of events had happened too quickly for him to react. The PFD on the rail was already in the water, thrown as soon as he saw her go over, its line trailing behind it. He was standing trying to spot her, but with white caps breaking everywhere, it was impossible to see her. To make matters worse, the wind was blowing in the same direction of where he suspected she was, moving her away from the boat and making it impossible to hear her if she screamed.