Chapter 9

I believe I will commit the ultimate sin ... come dark ... if they’re not back ... they won’t be back. I am leaving when the music’s over. I’ll turn out the lights and motor home. This party looks dangerous. Not my cuppa tea. Momma told me not to come ... well ... maybe not ... but she was right.

AllGood Orange is tasty ... it’s not Orange Crush. But, then again, nothing is. I used to die for Grape Crush. Until I almost did. That was an eye opener.

“Melody, you are not immortal.”

“Get out of the way, Surprise. I needa puke.” And I did.

“Miss Two.”

<Yes.>

“Whyoncha materialize and keep me company?”

<I’d rather go to the party.>

“Am I stopping you?”

<Seven is.>

“Seven is at the party.”

<Ooh ... tricky tricky wench.>

“Go wow ‘em with that impossible red hair.”

“You’ll be OK?”

“I have my bo.”

There was a shimmer and that red violet haired wench hailed a passing dinghy.

Hair magnet!

And those gravity defying tits. I wish mine ... Oh ... wait! They already are!

I have mom’s treasure chest.

When the sun began to settle behind the hills I lost interest in the foibles of teens and their mating dance. I got a comforter from the salon and curled up.

I have my favorite book ... well ... construction plans ... Farr 3.7. I have my ruler and conversion tables ... Farr drew in feet and inches. New Zealand uses that perfidious French system ... METRIC ... O dark thirty came, the music was louder and more frenzied ... almost African ... disturbing.

I was fairly deep into the plans when I felt the deck bobble. Instantly my attention switched. I turned the cockpit lighting from reading to shining out.

That bobble came from the bow and a legitimate guest would have knocked on the hull and used the stern swim ladder. A swimmer would have dripped and there was no drip. Someone boarded from a dinghy or other mode of dry transportation. I had heard no motor. Someone aboard had evil intent. Cyn has set me up.

Forty- eight feet is a long way to go when you are trying to creep.

I slipped over the stern and swam to the bow. Sure enough ... an inflatable ... but black. Most dinghies are variations of white and they have registration numbers. This one had a huge outboard ... far and away from the typical going ashore boat. And no numbers. Hmm.

Ah well ... I unscrewed the stern drain plugs ... three of them. I took the plugs with me. Should I feel bad about it? Probably. But not after I looked inside. Two bundles ... If I was a betting person I’ll bet anything ... yup...”Cynthiamae Flintkote ... have you been stupid?” I said quietly. I started stripping her duct tapped hands.

“Mmmmmhh.”

“Shhh.”

“JW?” I motioned at the other bundle.

Cyn nodded

“Get him loose.”

Powers that Be. I need you.

<What?>

There are persons of evil intent on the boat.

<Shit. We can’t find your sibs.>

We’re all in the water at the boat.

And so were they.

Then we heard several sets of feet. Evidently, they couldn’t find me.

“She must have gone ashore.”

“She wasn’t with the others.”

“Looking?”

That drew a chuckle. “She won’t find them.”

“What I’d like to know is why three 14 going on 15 year old kids are a clear and present danger to the constitution. They’re just kids.”

“Don’t ask.”

“You know better than that.”

“The kiwis are going to grant them asylum ... there has to be more to this.”

“If Immigration had just given them to us months ago we wouldn’t be here.”

“Did you plant the charges?”

“Wired ‘em to the engine meter. Two hundred more hours and BOOM“

“How about the Cat?”

“We’ve had no luck there. Damn kiwis ... can’t be bought. They DO NOT like the American military.”

“Time to call in.”

We could see one shadow step away from the other two.

“NO joy.”

“We got two but the other one isn’t aboard.”

“Yes sir ... take ‘em out and dump ‘em. Yes sir. Sir. Jones is asking questions. Yes sir ... him too.”

“OK ... let’s keep looking. Jones ... check the boat. Thwap No ... don’t let him over the side. Get him in the boat.”

I whispered, “I’ve heard enough to suit me ... how about you?”

<You bet. Take ‘em out.>