Chapter 25

The yacht wasn’t two hundred feet, it was actually two hundred and sixty-one. That was like one and a half E-Keys tacked on to a two-hundred-foot boat. So ... yeah, big! We flew into Miami and then boarded a helicopter that would take us down to the docks where she was moored. I spent the time in the air reading what I could find about our new floating transportation.

It was a 1990 Blohm & Voss boat with some amazing amenities. A formal dining room that would seat eighteen, a pool deck with a powered lap pool that could be covered, or not, depending on how you felt. There was a soaking infinity style pool as well, large enough for a dozen to sit comfortably, and a hot tub on the top deck under the stars.

With seven guest cabins, each one very spacious when compared to the cabins on the E², a crew of twenty-nine, we would have thirty-six people on the boat! Even as large as she was, I couldn’t imagine having that many people aboard without running in to each other or stepping over someone every few feet.

When I voiced this concern to Jake, he nodded his head. “I thought that too, the first time I chartered one of these big boats, but the crew is amazingly facile at remaining unseen and unheard. They give you exactly as much privacy as you need while still providing the kind of service you might expect. I did ask for a minimum crew though, so we’ll see what happens.”

I raised one eyebrow but wasn’t going to nay say him. He has more experience than I did with high dollar stuff like this. Besides, we were almost to the boat now and I could see out the helicopter side door that we even had our own helicopter pad on the boat! That was awesome.

What cracked me up about this ship was the powerplant. The primary propulsion was from two, twenty-eight hundred horsepower motors. That was not all that much for a two-hundred-and-sixty-foot yacht and the numbers meant that my one-hundred and twenty-five-foot trimaran would run circles around her! I had two, twenty-four hundred horsepower motors in mine!

Sure, the combine rating beat me by eight hundred, but this tub weighed in at almost four times what my boat weighed, sat three meters lower in the water and, unless she had some physics-defying coating on the hull giving it an unheard of, lower than normal drag coefficient, she was going to be much, much slower.

On the other hand, they had four times the generator capacity and a desalinization plant that made my mouth water. Then there was the laundry, the dry cleaning, the unbelievable kitchen. The brochure I was reading made me anxious for us to land so I could start exploring! I especially wanted to see the controls so I could see what electronic goodies they had.

The helicopter set down exactly in the middle of the small landing pad on the forward portion of the upper deck. Two crewmen came out and tied it down to the deck, even as the blades were still spinning down. The pilot turned and gave us a thumbs-up and a grin.

“Nice landing,” I told him, “and thanks for the lift!”

“All part of the service and besides, this is more fun and a lot less stressful than landing on an aircraft carrier!” The pilot and copilot slide from the helicopter, opening the rear doors for Liz, Jake, Dave and I. Dean, Deb and Steph were standing out on the deck, waiting for us to climb down from the small, raised landing pad.

“Everything okay, Dean?” I asked as we hit the deck. I couldn’t shake hands, my right arm was still in a sling, though it was more for safety when moving around than anything else. I still had stitches in my chest and back, but the suppuration had stopped so there was a lot less crap to deal with. I could even get it wet as long as I didn’t submerge it for long.

Another week, maybe two until the stitches could come out, assuming the onboard doc, an amenity that Jake demanded, said I was healed enough to remove them. Then, finally, after six freakin’ weeks, I could swim again! I probably would have been sooner if that machete hadn’t had bits of rotting flesh caught in the serrations. The infection meant I had to be opened up again, the wound debrided and left open for a while so that they could monitor it.

Makes me wish I could dig Salazar up and shoot him again.

After we greeted our friends, they escorted us to the main salon where the Captain and the rest of the crew awaited us.

“Welcome aboard! I am Bruce Barclay, your captain for this voyage and here, next to me is Denise Martin, your first officer.” The Captain was a tall, ramrod straight man who looked every inch the sea-going mariner. He would look at home on the deck of a destroyer or at the helm of one of those racing yachts. His first officer, Denise Martin, looked more like she would prefer to be at the helm of a fishing vessel. She had a no-nonsense, hyper-competent look about her that told you she would be one to ride out a storm with!

“Also here is Frederick Kohl, our engineer and his lead mechanic, ship and helicopter, is Tran Nguyen.” Kohl was a bit rounder than the rest of the crew, with a magnificent handlebar mustache and rosy cheeks. I smiled when I nodded to him, thinking he would not look out of place in a pair of lederhosen, the leather shorts traditionally associated with Bavaria. Tran, on the other hand, looked like he was just glad to be there. His hands were stained and the grease under his fingernails looked like it was a permanent fixture. He was the smallest of the crew, shorter than Liz even, but he looked wiry, with corded muscles evident on his forearms.

The captain continued, “Next, we have Marcelle Montaine, the Doctor your requested and Nigel Standish, our chef. You already met your flight crew, Parker Lewis and William Foster.” The Doctor had been watching me, ignoring the introductions for the most part. When he heard his name, he made quick eye contact with the others and turned back to me. “I would like to do an evaluation before we launch, in case there are any equipment or medications I might like to have on hand.”

I nodded to him, but didn’t speak, turning instead to the Chef. Nigel Standish was the antithesis of what you would expect of a chef. He was tall, six four or six five, and almost skeletally thin. He had a prominent Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down his long, slender neck when he spoke and his nose, a proboscis of gargantuan size, seemed more like a bird beak! He clicked his heels together and bowed abruptly from the waist but didn’t speak.

“Last, but certainly not least, we have Michelle LeConte who is in charge of the above deck crew like the wait staff, kitchen help and so on; and Rochelle Stevens, who is the supervisor of the below decks staff that do cleaning, laundry, monitor the staterooms and the like. If you ever need anything at all, they are the persons who would know where it is on this ship!”

The two ladies were both in their forties, both dressed similarly and seemed to be in good spirits. That was the only thing they seemed to have in common because Michelle was a round redhead with a warm, welcoming smile that didn’t reach her eyes while Rochelle was as dark as midnight and her expression didn’t show any real emotion even as her eyes sparkled at some inner amusement.

“Mister Reilly, the charter company said that you were mostly self-sufficient and that you wanted minimal looking after so, as you requested, we simply mustered the smallest crew our insurance would allow us to field. Not to worry though! Assuming nothing mechanical went wrong, this ship could actually be run by three people” The captain chipped in, obviously proud of his vessel.

We took a walking tour of the boat and I had to admit, it was very fancy. It was much more so than either of mine, but it lacked that homey feeling my boats had. Here, everything was all ... um, hotel-y? It lacked any personal touches, that was it. Beautiful, but sterile.

I didn’t see anything out of order on our tour, even though I got a look of surprise when I asked to tour the mechanical spaces and, especially, the bridge.

“Captain, young Jack here has his Master’s ticket, up through fifty tons.” Jake said proudly, laying his hand on my shoulder. I could see Dean rolling his eyes at me, but grinning and Liz was smiling too, but at Jake’s gesture.

“Really? Then in an emergency, we will have another knowledgeable hand to call on.” The captain said with a grin. Dean and Dave wanted to see the bridge as well, though I think that was more in their security capacity, but the rest didn’t care to follow us.

The captain turned out to be an avid boating enthusiast in his off time as well and he was very curious when I mentioned the boats that I owned. He had spent a month in the waters in and around New England in a Leopard several years ago and thoroughly enjoyed himself.

The bridge looked like something you would see in a starship on television, complete to the Captain’s chair with built in communications controls in the arms. They even had a big, wooden ship’s wheel with which to steer but the Captain told me that it was mostly for show. It could be used but the real steering was done with a joystick! Though well put together and impressively displayed, the yacht didn’t have anything that I lacked on the E² so I ended the tour feeling pretty smug.

The last question I asked as we left the bridge was about defenses. The Captain tried to play it off as if we had nothing to worry about, that the news was being sensationalist and that actual piracy was rare and relegated to the backwaters of third world countries.

“Captain, we are getting along great right now, but that won’t last if you start bullshitting me. I have taken fire three times and that is never moving further east than the Bahamas. I sank two of the bastards, captured the third and ended up selling it for a tidy profit. I checked with the state department and the warnings about piracy are not inflated and not over sensationalized.”

He looked surprised but nodded. “You are correct, but we are required by the company to play it down. I am truly surprised you have faced pirates three times in local waters though, I haven’t heard about any attacks this close to the mainland. Still, if it will assuage your minds, we are an armed vessel. Small arms only, but every able-bodied male, and several of the females, have at least a familiarity with small arms and shipboard tactics. We have a small but potent armory that can be opened if needed.” He said smugly.

Dave and Dean simply rolled their eyes and looked at each other. Chances are that we were better armed than the crew was!

Dean pulled out his ID folio and Dave, surprising both Dean and I, did the same! He had gone and gotten sworn in as well!

“We are deputy United States marshals and we are sufficiently armed to ward of all but the most dedicated attacks. We will be the first line of defense when our principals are on board, Captain.”

The man looked shocked and distinctly uncomfortable. I was certain that he would be contacting the charter company as soon as he was free of us. We were not actually sailing until the morning, so he had time to do something, even if that something was to find a replacement.

None of us felt like going into Miami for the evening, we were perfectly happy with staying on the boat and just getting settled. We ended up having a light dinner and sat around just chatting until the mosquitoes drove us into the air-conditioned salon for nightcaps.

We cast off at eight the next morning, Captain Barclay still in charge though he looked as if he had spent the night sucking on lemons. Denise Martin, the first officer, looked happy enough, even stopping by to ask us to identify where our ‘gear’ would be stored in the stateroom so she could mark those areas off limits to the cleaning staff. When we told her that our cases had biometric locks, she was pleased and thanked us for our common sense.

“You would not believe some of the things that guests have brought aboard, and most without a thought to safety, theirs or that of our staff. A month ago, I had one of my people get stuck with a used hypodermic!” She sounded pissed and her expression showed how disgusted she was that it could have happened on her boat.

“If you should find that we are doing something you consider dangerous or that bothers your staff, please let us know. I can’t promise that we will never disturb you, but we can try to be good clients.” Liz said with a smile, getting a nod in return.

We had fantastic weather on the trip from Miami to Ireland. The two-week voyage was long enough that we were getting a bit stir crazy, but also long enough that I could, just the day before we arrived, do my first slow lap in the swimming pool without stitches! HUZZAH!

The downside of that is realizing exactly how much damage was done and how much rehabilitation I would need before I was anywhere near my old swim regime. Dean taunting me as he easily swam laps was going to be an inspiration, if for no other reason than to shut him up. Knowing Dean, it’s why he did it in the first place, but it didn’t make it any less irritating!

We skipped the western shore, choosing instead to slip between Ireland and England to stop in to Dublin first. Jake had his sights set on the Guinness and Jameson distillery tours and tasting events, including a stop in to the world famous, or maybe infamous, Temple Bar.

Reading over the brochures, I was more interested in the Trinity College Library. I also wanted to hit some of the more historical landmarks like Christchurch Cathedral, the Little Museum of Dublin, which got higher marks that the official museums and, of course, Dublin Castle. Mostly I wanted off this floating hotel for a day or two and see if I could get my land legs back!

Dean and Dave were more interested in what I was calling the Wino Tour, much to Jake’s disgust and Liz’s delight. Steph and Deb wanted to see the castle and cathedral, so Liz and I swapped for the occasionally lovers for a while now. Me, I was happy to see Ireland with two lovely ladies on my arms.

We were all awed by Christchurch Cathedral. The second of Dublin’s medieval cathedrals, it was initially built on that very spot in 1030AD! The building lasted in its earlier form until part of the roof collapsed in 1562, five hundred and thirty years. The building was in poor shape and an emergency set of repairs, meant to be temporary, were done.

Those ‘temporary repairs’ lasted more than three hundred years until the 1870’s! More work and rebuilding was done between 1871 and 1878, paid for by a whiskey distiller, Henry Roe. A two-year restoration of the roof and stonework in the 1980’s left the church in much the same condition as we saw it that day.

Europeans have history dating back a thousand, two thousand and even more years. We, in the US, are happy to slap a historical label on a building that lasts more than a hundred years, with our oldest and most cherished relics being an intimidating two hundred and fifty years old!

Yeah, not so impressive.

What I found impressive was stepping foot in a building that was built a thousand years ago, and is still being used for its original purpose to this day. You can feel it, the age, the years, the sense of history. People looked at me funny when I said that, some of the locals grinned and shook their heads, but I think they have become inured to how amazing their history really is.

We might have been born and achieved greatness in a mere two hundred years, but we were a flash in the pan when you looked back and saw what humanity had achieved in the last two thousand.

That feeling continued when we hit Dublin castle. Though not as old and with a much bloodier history, it was one of the most important historical sites in Ireland. Built under the orders of King John of England, it had been erected on the site of an earlier Viking settlement. The castle was the seat of power for the English, and later British, rule in Ireland. The crowns representative, the Viceroy of Ireland, was the ceremonial and administrative leader.

The castle lasted until 1684 when a massive fire-gutted parts of it. A campaign of rebuilding in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries saw that castle being transformed from a battle-hardened, medieval redoubt into the Georgian palace it resembled today. In the early nineteenth century, the addition to the lower courtyard of the Chapel Royale, a magnificent Gothic revival style structure, ensured that the castle would remain one of the architectural highlights of Georgian Dublin even today.

Our first day ended with sore feet and sore necks from looking up so much, but it was totally worth it to us! We met up with Jake, Liz, Dave and Dean at the Temple Bar, a landmark in Dublin, for a cold pint and to make plans for supper. We were going to be in Dublin for at least three days and wanted to sample several restaurants while we were here.

Throughout the day I had noticed a couple of men, two for certain, two others that were a maybe, and one woman, who appeared in several places during our journey around the city. I didn’t get a bad vibe from them but it was still a bit worrying and I had intended to bring it up this evening when we all got together.

Before I could even bring it up, a familiar face drew up a seat at our table without so much as a by your leave!

“What is it that you yanks say? Howdy you all?” Dale Clarkson, the man who had led our security team when I was in London to meet with the girls after the attempt on Cam two years ago, was grinning at us and wagging his bushy eyebrows.

“It’s pronounced ya’ll, but you did okay on the howdy part,” I said, grinning and reaching out to shake his hand. “How many of those following us around today were your men? Can I assume that Dean contacted you about our trip?”

“Oh, laddie, this was planned since Mister Reilly over there first contacted the charter company. Dave there called me up to put me on standby. As to your question, how many did you see? I have a bet with those two grinning jackanapes over there about how well they have you trained.”

I looked over at Dean and Dave, both of whom were trying their best to look innocent. Steph was giggling and even Deb looked like she was going to break out in a laugh.

I just shook my finger at the both of them and turned back to Dale.

“First man was at the docks, then again outside the Cathedral. Tallest of the bunch but shorter than me, so I guess about six foot one or so, maybe a hundred and ninety pounds. Brown hair, clean shaven, walks a bit duck footed and on the outside of his left heel.” Dale was nodding as if he expected me to catch that one.

“The next was also outside of the Cathedral, then again inside of Dublin castle and a third time in the gift shop. He was shorter, about five six, and wiry. His hair was red, a bit longer than the first and this man had a goatee. The mustache looked off though, not matching the goatee and I got the idea that it might be fake.” Dale nodded, obviously not quite as happy about me identifying this one. He looked as if he was going to say something but I went on, not giving him a chance.

“The two in suits were obvious misdirection, I thought. They were bumbling about, one actually hiding behind a newspaper when he saw me look his way. The best part was that they never looked in the direction of the other man, even if it meant turning their heads and walking while looking left or right. Not sure what that was all about, but it was fun to watch. Both were built about the same at just under six feet and a bit soft around the middle. Both were balding, though one had just the monk’s halo while the other was a combover.”

Dale’s face wasn’t showing any expression at all now, his eyes intent. I had a feeling those last two were not something he was happy about.

“Last, but certainly not least, was a very pretty redhead in some painted on American jeans and a leather jacket. She was somewhere in between the first two and second two when it came to being obvious. She was using reflections in windows and storefronts, even had a pair of hats and a scarf she switched around to change her profile.” That had been all of them so, when I finished, I sat back and spread my hands to let him know I was done.

When I glanced over at Steph and Deb, they both looked angry and more than a little embarrassed.

“I saw the first two and the suits, but I knew about Dale so I wasn’t worried. I never saw the redhead or, more accurately, I saw her but didn’t know she was tailing us.” Steph admitted, shrugging her shoulders but I could see she was beating herself up inside.

“You are probably out of practice. If you have anyone following Liz, it is probably to steal her cookie recipe, not to punish her for interrupting your drug shipments.” I joked, getting a small smile in return.

“I saw the same as Steph. I may have seen the redhead, but I honestly don’t recall and I never twigged that she was following us. Are you certain, Jack? Maybe you are just horny and she was cute?” Deb made it clear she was joking. She knew perfectly well that Dean was a stickler about stuff like that and, as his student, I was unlikely to identify her if I wasn’t certain.

“The first two were mine. We saw the suits as well and identified them as, supposedly, Diplomatic Protection officers from the Foreign and Commonwealth office. Among other pursuits, the Foreign office is much like your state department and has, as a department, Her Majesty’s Diplomatic Service.”

“They were either set on you by your friend Lord Hadley-Nelson, in his office as the Chancellor of the Exchequer, or there is some other governmental git interested in you. The Foreign office is about on par with the Exchequer and the Prime Minister as far as power and prestige goes, so it would be someone fairly high up.” Dale finished, pausing to take a sip of his pint.

“The woman worries me. Not only was she following you, but only one of my guys even got a glimpse of her and put her down in his report as simply a contact, not a person of interest to your security. That means he saw that person taking an interest in you, but never saw her again. If he were to see her again tomorrow, for instance, and remembered her, he would write it up differently. That he missed the obvious tradecraft she was using is troubling. Would you be willing to work with an artist, come up with a sketch of the lass?”

While Dale had been explaining what the Foreign office was, I was watching that same redheaded woman walk into the place and begin to work her way through the scrum at bar. Dale had, evidently, been watching me because when he got to the question about the artist, his voice trailed off for a moment.

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Dale asked in a calm voice, but his body was rigid and his eyes flashed with anger. He didn’t turn his head but he was searching with his peripheral vision.

“Yes, she is. She is lovelier up close. Why don’t I ask her to join us?” I asked, standing and catching everyone by surprise.

The woman had gotten her pint of beer and was heading towards a likely clear spot near the door. There were two tables between our group and hers but I had no problem wading through the crowd. The look on her face when she figured out that I was heading for her was interesting.

First, there was a flash of anger, then a little head shake and a shoulder lift as though shrugging it off. She slowed then, and turned towards me, meeting me instead of turning to run.

“Would you care to join us? It would be easier than following us all evening” I asked, not quite shouting over the crowd, but making sure she could hear me.

She smiled and her cheeks pinked, her gaze flashing over towards our table where everyone, every single person, was watching our exchange.

“I suppose I should. I wouldn’t want those two near the door to insist, nor those others behind you.” she said, leaning forward so she could speak in my ear without raising her voice. She had a faint, but delightful, Irish brogue. After listening to some truly horrendous accents today, it was refreshing.

I offered my arm to her, as though to escort her into a ballroom and she grinned, slipping her arm through mine like she did it every day. Her head held high, we made our way back to the table. Dean, being Dean, had already secured a chair and wedged it in between my seat and Dale’s.

It didn’t take us long to figure out that this was not going to work. We had arrived before the evening rush and the bar was rapidly filling up and getting louder and louder. None of us wanted to talk above the noise, where we would be overheard, so Jake got our attention and suggested dinner.

As a group, we made our way outside and it was almost a physical relief to be out of the crowd inside, the noise level dropping quickly and the cool night air making us all shiver a bit after the warm bar.

At Dale’s suggestion, we walked the long block south and ended at Toscana City, an Italian restaurant that allowed us, for an exorbitant fee, to use one of their private rooms for our meal.

Once we had been seated and drink orders placed, we all seemed to turn to the young woman.

“So, at the risk of sounding like an idiot, I did invite you to our table and then to dinner already, could I have your name? I am Jack McCoy.” I said with a smile, holding out my hand.

She rolled her eyes but grinned. “I am Eimear Byrne and I know who you are, Mister McCoy, and Mister Miller. I also know who Mister Reilly is and Mister Foster, but the rest are unknown. I know who you are because of what you did and that’s why I have followed you.” Her smile disappeared and she was deadly serious now.

“I know what you did for Amelia Palmer and Rosa De La Lune and Estrellita Iglesias and even for that ... for Camille Raimond.”

That got everyone’s attention!

“And you know this how, lassie?” Dale asked softly, watching her like a hawk.

“Because I met with Amelia and befriended her. Because my sister Siobhán disappeared the same day that Amelia did, from the same place. Because Amelia is the daughter of someone important, there was a great hue and cry, but my sister was just another Irish girl and no one cared but me and my mum.”

“How did you know that I was coming? How did you track me to Dublin?” I asked quietly.

“Amelia again. Her father works for the Chancellor and found out you were injured and were taking a long cruise to recover. The proposed itinerary was Ireland, England, France and then south. There are two main ports for yachts and cruise ships, here and Belfast. I waited every day for a week out at the docks, hoping you would stop here. If not, Amelia would tell me when you were in England and I would have taken a ferry, then the train.”

The others at the table were talking among themselves but I didn’t hear a word of it. I was thinking about how easy it had been for this girl to track our movements and how much easier it would have been had she had money to spread around. Okay, sure, Amelia wouldn’t, probably wouldn’t sell me out, but those around her?

“I am afraid I don’t understand what you think I can do for you, for Siobhán.” I said, shrugging my shoulders. My grimace must have startled her, but she probably didn’t know how much that still hurt when I forgot about my chest wound!

“Sorry, injury to my chest and I forget not to do stupid things like shrug!” I explained, patting her hand where it lay on the table. When she blushed and looked down to where I was still touching her, I snatched my hand back. “Sorry again!”

She just shook her head and then shook it again, faster this time, as if clearing her mind.

“I don’t know that you can do anything at all, Mister McCoy. Through Amelia and through some friends of mine with contacts in the United States, I have heard a lot of stories about you. Well, stories I think that you are connected to, anyway. Even if you are not mentioned, so many incidents were similar that there must be some truth to the rumors.” she looked up at me, her eyes pleading.

“I just wanted to tell you about my baby sister. To give you a photograph, to give you a face so that if you find her, if you see her ... well, maybe you can save her.”

“Ms. Byrne...” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“You saved four girls from an Arab slaver in the Bahamas. That much I know is certain because I have spoken to all four girls. All of them say that it was not the first time you had gotten involved in freeing slaves but refused to say more and they refused to say what they thought motivated you. From my friends in the United States, I heard that a young man was somehow involved in breaking up the biggest slavery ring since the American Civil War.”

“My friends also say that the whispers are that the same boy, now a man, was involved recently in another case, this time dealing with drug cartels from Mexico who were kidnapping girls, and that the same man had helped make the biggest drug bust in the City of Austin’s history! In this latest episode, he was stabbed in the chest by a machete wielding drug lord who had kidnapped the sister of a friend of his. How is your chest?” she asked, looking triumphant as she reached out and, if I hadn’t stopped her, would have poked me right where it hurt the most.