Текст книги "Circle of Bones"

Автор книги: Christine Kling

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

EPILOGUE

Six months later

Cherbourg, France

November 19, 2008

“You look like you’re a couple of thousand miles away.”

Riley spun around at the sound of his voice. “Theo!” She wrapped her hands around his high narrow shoulders and held him tight to her. So he’d surprised her after all. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, her face pressed against the wool of his sweater.

The hug he gave her was short but fierce. Then he grasped her shoulders and stepped back, straightening his arms.

“You look great, Riley.” The eyes behind the wire-rimmed spectacles twinkled with genuine pleasure.

She knew he was being kind, but she expected nothing less of him. That was Theo through and through. While she was back to work and living her life, she was neither eating nor sleeping enough to ‘look great.’

“I was surprised when I got your email,” she said.

He took her elbow and led her to the bulkhead that ran along the seaward side of the jetty. He gestured for her to sit. Like her, he wore a yellow foul weather jacket. His was open at the front, and he tucked it under him as he settled his long frame on the stonework next to her. He slid the backpack off his shoulder and rested it on the stones at his feet. “Surprised?” he said. “Why?”

She scooted over closer to him until their arms touched. She felt something dig into her hip, and she remembered the bag of chestnuts she’d stuffed in her pocket earlier. She readjusted her rain jacket, then rested her head against his shoulder. “I owe you an apology. I ran out on you in Guadeloupe. I wouldn’t blame you if you’re mad at me. I should have stuck around longer.”

She had neglected him in the weeks following the eruption and earthquake. She’d neglected everyone, living and dead, including herself. Dozens had died on Montserrat, and though the casualty list was not great on Guadeloupe, the damage from the earthquake there had been significant. They’d had to shut down the power plants, and the whole island had been under a boil water order for over a week.

Theo slid his arm around her shoulders. “Those were tough days for all of us. I heard you went back to your boat and sailed down to Martinique.”

After several days of answering questions and watching from St. Francois as the French authorities sent boats and divers out to the site, she’d returned to her boat at Marie Gallant, pulled up her anchor and left, without even a good bye to Theo.

“Yeah. I had to get away. I sailed south until I found this little bay. It was called Case-Pilote. Nobody knew me there, and I wanted to stay on the boat and wallow in my misery.”

Theo rested his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you.”

“I’m sure you had your hands full.”

“You’re right there.”

 “I stayed in my bunk at first. For days. Didn’t even go to my father’s funeral. But after several weeks of twisting in my sheets, one of the local fishermen knocked on my hull. I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t go away. When I finally went topsides, he said the people in the village were worried about me. They wanted to know if I was okay.”

She had wanted to tell the man no, that she never would be okay, that the ash was still clogging her eyes and ears and mouth and lungs.

“Island people are like that,” Theo said.

Riley nodded. “He gave me a gift of some fresh grouper,” she said. “And I was surprised to discover I was hungry.” She remembered grilling the fish on the little barbecue on her stern rail that night. She ate the entire filet and for the first time in days, she threw no food overboard. Soon after, she contacted her employers at Mercury, and they offered her work on a project in Fort de France.

Theo smiled. “I understood why you left. But I still should have checked up on you.”

Riley half-turned to face him. “Tell me about you. What happened to you afterwards?”

“I managed all right. It took a while, though. At first, the French government made a stab at seizing Shadow Chaser, but I turned to my uncle for help. Cole had set me up as a partner of Full Fathom Five Maritime Exploration, and eventually, I was able to get away with the boat. I took her home to Dominica. I was based out of Portsmouth doing some local salvage work for most of the summer hurricane season. Went down and visited Henri Michaut several times. And I built the Enigma II. It’s a new design for deep water work.”

“And how is Henri?”

Theo smiled. “He’s doing much better now.”

“So where’s Shadow Chaser?”

“Hauled out down in Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela. We’re doing quite a bit of work on her –repairs, new paint, new electronics. You know.”

She wondered where he was getting the money for all these repairs, but it wasn’t any of her business anymore. “You’ve really grown up these past months, Theo. You were a boy when I first met you and now, look at you. You’re the captain of Shadow Chaser and head of Full Fathom Five.”

Theo didn’t say anything for over a minute. She felt him stiffen as he watched a tall, slender man in a green jogging outfit who strolled past them. The man wore sunglasses on this cloudy day and black wires snaked from his ears down inside the collar of his jacket. When the man saw them watching, he began to sing and rock his head back and forth.

Theo patted her hand after the man had passed. They sat there next to the Surcouf memorial, both of them staring off to the southwest, lost in their thoughts.

“God, I miss him,” she said.

Theo nodded, his lips pressed together in a half smile.

She sighed. “Cole Thatcher and his crazy theories. He sure had a way of getting to you, didn’t he?”

Theo nodded.

“I mean, sometimes, I swear I’m suspicious of everything now. I get the feeling I’m being followed, but then the person I suspected of following me just passes on by. I never have proof, but the feeling won’t go away.”

Theo turned his head to look at the man in the green jogging suit. “I know what you mean.”

She took a deep breath and slapped her hands down on her thighs. “So, what does the future hold for Theo? What are your plans?”

“For one thing, I’ve been invited to your new president’s inauguration.”

“Theo! You’re kidding! How marvelous for you. Are you going with your uncle? Part of some official delegation from Dominica?”

“Something like that. We worked a little magic.”

“I guess. Those invitations aren’t easy to come by.”

Theo smiled at her but said nothing.

“I wish Cole had lived to see this,” she said. “Maybe the world isn’t as bleak a place as Cole thought. Maybe the Patriarchs,” Riley paused, then took a deep breath. “And my dad – weren’t as bad as they seemed. Maybe it was just one crazy, evil man, Diggory Priest who was responsible for all the killing.”

She wanted to believe that.

Theo removed his arm from her shoulder and folded his hands in his lap. She looked at him and saw him suck his lips in over his teeth. Then he looked up at the sky and said, “Yeah.”

“But Cole was so sure that the Patriarchs were going to take over the country and steal the election if he didn’t get his hands on Operation Magic – and then look what happened. Maybe it was Priest’s death. Maybe it was my father’s. Or maybe, those Bonesmen weren’t as powerful as Cole’s theories made them out to be. In the end, there were no Swift Boat politics, no hanging chads or dirty rumors that swayed the country, and the people’s candidate won. God, I’d love to see Cole’s face now.”

Theo chuckled. Then he reached down and lifted his backpack. Setting it on his knees, he unzipped the top. He removed a tattered brown padded envelope. “Cole told me to give this to you.”

He placed the envelope in her hands. She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to cry.

“What’s in it?” she asked.

“Just a couple of things he’d want you to have.”

 Theo stood and walked to the front of the monument. His eyes followed the list of names down the stones, then he looked away. “I have some research to do in the Maritime Museum here, so I’d better go. Investors want a constant feed of news, you know. We’ve got a new fellow from down in Venezuela pouring money our way. He’s all hot about searching for another wreck, in the Pacific somewhere off Thailand, so when we get out of the yard, it’ll be business as usual for Shadow Chaser.” He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. “You take care, Riley. Be careful.”

He turned then and strode off back down the jetty.

Her first impulse was to follow him. Why was he leaving so soon? What did he mean, be careful? She wanted to talk, take him out to dinner, hear more about what had happened after she left Guadeloupe.

She looked down at the envelope in her lap. The flap was not sealed. She lifted the folded edge and peered inside.

Riley recognized the book at once. It was the last volume of James Thatcher’s journals, the one that ended with the poem. She went to pull it out of the bag, but it was tangled up with some sort of white cord. She yanked harder and the book slid out along with a small metal square. It was one of those clip-on aluminum iPods. Attached to it, was a set of ear buds.

She looked back down the pier and searched the waterfront for Theo’s yellow jacket. He was gone.

Riley left the player and ear buds in her lap and raised the book to her face. She inhaled the familiar leather smell. She remained like that, sitting on the seawall, the wind whipping her skirt around her calves, the book pressed to her forehead and nose. If she lowered it, she was afraid someone would see her crying, and she had been so certain she wouldn’t let that happen.

A couple of seagulls flew overhead and the laughing caws startled her. She lowered the book and watched them riding the wind aloft. They were big birds. One of the two had a bit of carrion in his mouth, and the other bird was trying his darnedest to steal it away.

Riley untangled the cord and fit the buds into her ears. She pushed the button to play.

“Hey Magee,” he said, and she pressed the button to stop the player. It was him. She bent forward at the waist hugging herself. She squeezed her eyes shut against the mounting pressure in her head.

How could she listen to his voice? But then again, how could she not.

She sat up, opened her eyes and pushed the button again.

“So, you know, if you are listening to this that things did not go according to plan. I’m sorry about that. Hurting you was the last thing I wanted to do. But I know you are one tough Marine – uh, scratch that, one tough former Marine. You’ll survive this. Besides, a man’s got to do – as the saying goes – and often he has to do it alone. Sometimes duty takes you far from your loved ones, but it’s necessary to keep them safe.

“Speaking of which, did I ever tell you about the time that Theo and I took the Shadow Chaser down to a Venezuelan boatyard for a haul-out? Yeah, we had loads of work to get done, and they have great skilled workers down there. And you know me, what I like best is the fact that their government is not friendly with ours. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe walking down the street. No bad guys hanging in the shadows. I knew that the fatherly American types wouldn’t be able to get into the country to find me. So I slept soundly, and I even learned a Spanish lullaby.

“I love traveling abroad. Someday, I hope to visit Southeast Asia. They’ve got this place over there they call the Dragon’s Triangle. It swallows up ships and makes them vanish just like the Bermuda Triangle swallowed up Surcouf.

“Listen, even if you believe I have left you alone, I know you will find some small kernel, some chestnut of wisdom that will point you on your way to finding future happiness.

“Good luck, Magee. And by the way, this iPod will self-destruct in five seconds.”

The buds in her ears went silent, but Riley could still hear the gulls laughing in the distance. She was smiling, too.

She wiped under her eyes with the sides of her fingers. That last bit was so Cole. She laughed out loud. A shaft of sunlight broke though the dark clouds and bathed the wet stones in a golden glow.

It hurt, but it was a good hurt to hear his voice again. But what in the world was he talking about? Venezuela? He never mentioned that he’d been to Venezuela before. The Dragon’s Triangle? Chestnut of wisdom?

“Oh my God,” she said aloud. Riley yanked the earbuds out of her ears and clawed at the side of her foul weather jacket trying to find the pocket. The Velcro had sealed the opening and she fought to pull it apart. She heard the ripping noise as the Velcro separated. She shoved her hand inside and pulled out the bag of chestnuts.

“Southeast Asia,” she said. La guerre l’Indochine.

Riley tore through the brown paper and the chestnuts spilled onto the top of the leather journal, though several clattered to the pavement. Amongst the nuts, a gold coin shone bright in the momentary sunlight. Riley held up the coin and smiled at the familiar angel with his tablet and the word Constitution. Beneath it, there were no minuscule numbers engraved. This was a different coin. A new one. But there weren’t supposed to be any new ones. Henri Michaut had melted down the only remaining coins he had.

Clutching the French Angel, Riley swept the nuts and the paper off the book. She turned the journal over and started from the back. She found the last entry.

Only this time, the lullaby was in Spanish.

Dear son,

You’ve won a battle, not the war. Stay ever vigilant. Jamais fais do do.

Arroz con leche me quiero casar

con una señorita de la capital,

que sepa coser,

que sepa contar,

que sepa abrir la puerta

para ir a jugar.

 She pictured the beggar with the black baseball cap and slicker. He had only been two to three inches taller than her. That was Cole’s height. The big mirrored shades had covered most of his face, but when he’d touched her, she’d felt something she couldn’t describe. It had frightened her, and she’d thought she was going crazy at the time. She’d only ever felt that kind of physical reaction once before.

She clutched the book and stood searching the docks, the waterfront, the faces of all who were near.

No, this was crazy. But so was he. It wasn’t possible, was it? Why go through all this cloak and dagger stuff? Why not just come up to her and tell her if he was alive? Was someone playing a cruel trick on her? Or was there still some kind of real danger out there?

She swiveled her head around and looked at the few people out and about. Could one of them be watching her hoping to find Cole?

Riley thought back to that day six months ago. She saw Dig pull the box out of the cargo net, saw the crushed hasp on the box. That must have been Cole’s work. He had taken the diplomatic pouch out of the lock box already.

She remembered Theo’s invitation to the Inauguration. What had he said when she’d asked if it was his uncle’s work? We worked a little magic?

Operation Magic. Had Cole had found it?

She looked at the coin in her hand. Theo said he’d been doing salvage work all summer, that he had visited Henri Michaut. He said he’d built a new Enigma that could go deeper. Like into that trench? She remembered that Cole had promised to visit Michaut after he’d found the wreck.

Riley flipped the coin over. The familiar words, Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité were inscribed around the edge of the coin. In the center it read 50 Francs and between the number and the word, Riley saw something that looked liked etchings. A Spanish lullaby this time. Etchings on the coin. A new puzzle.

She would find him.

Riley took a deep breath and the rain-washed air tasted fresh and clean. The ashy taste was gone. She started laughing and though tears wet her cheeks, she didn’t mind this time. The librairie in town might carry a magnifying glass. And maps. She’d need maps.

She stuffed the iPod into her jacket pocket and started walking back down the quay toward the centreville. Her pace quickened until she was almost skipping.

Theo had told her to be careful, so she kept glancing back over her shoulder.

Cole was crazy. 

 But the next time she looked, the tall man in the green jogging suit had fallen in behind her.

The end

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The true story of the French submarine Surcouf is a fascinating and tragic chapter from World War II. When she was commissioned in 1934, she was the largest submarine in the world. In February of 1942, while serving under the Free French flag, she left Bermuda bound for Panama and disappeared. One hundred and thirty-one men died with her making the Surcouf one of the deadliest submarine disasters on record. Though the wreck has never been found, many theories about her demise have been proposed by authors, archeologists, military specialists and conspiracy buffs.

This book is a work of fiction, and I have taken a great many liberties with what is known and what is surmised about the fate of Surcouf. The characters in this book are not based on any of the real crew members of the Surcouf, and this imaginary tale does not reflect the great respect and admiration I have for the French and British naval men who sacrificed their lives for the Allies’ cause.

It is my hope that my readers will become intrigued with Surcouf and spend a little time on the Internet reading about this marvelous chapter in naval history.

–Christine Kling

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the following people for their help, ideas, support and encouragement: Kevin Foster for bringing me the idea of SURCOUF, James Rusbridger, author of Who Killed Surcouf, my editors Ramona DeFelice Long and Mary Jastrzebski, my mentors Jim Hall and Lynne Barrett, friends Bruce Amlicke, Kathleen Ginestra, Barbara Lichter, my Britishisms reader Judith Reiss, my brother and fight expert Stephen Gray, explosives expert Paul Laska, Intelligence community critics Michael John Smith and Ed Magno, readers M. Diane Vogt, Joyce Li, Kerry Fisher, Linda Lowe, Rochelle Stabb, Emily Adams, Hawkeye Sheene, PJ Arnn, Lynn Hightower, the muddlers from Writers in Paradise, members of the Bluewater writers group Mike Jastrzebski, Neil Plakcy, Sharon Potts, and Miriam Auerbach, my fellow contributors at writeonethewater dot com, and Akinoluna of afemalemarine dot com.

 The cover art for this book was done by Robin Ludwig Design, Inc.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Christine Kling has spent more than thirty years messing about with boats. Her articles and stories have appeared in many boating publications including Sailing, Cruising World, and Motor Boating & Sailing and her short stories have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. It was her sailing experience that led her to set her first nautical suspense novel, SURFACE TENSION (2002), on the New River in Fort Lauderdale.  Featuring Florida female tug and salvage captain, Seychelle Sullivan, the first book was followed by CROSS CURRENT (2004), BITTER END (2005), and WRECKERS’ KEY (2007).  Her latest book CIRCLE OF BONES (2011) is Christine’s first stand-alone sailing thriller. Having retired from her job as an English professor at Broward College in Fort Lauderdale, Christine lives aboard her 33-foot boat Talespinner and goes wherever the wind and free wifi may take her.

Visit Christine at http://www.christinekling.com

Christine’s eBooks Available on Kindle

Surface Tension

Cross Current

Bitter End

Wreckers’ Key

Sea Bitch: Four Tales of Nautical Noir

Circle of Bones

Table of Contents

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

Inscription

Map

Prologue

1-Royal Naval Dockyard

2-The island of Guadeloupe

3-At sea off Guadeloupe

4-New Haven

5-At sea off Guadeloupe

6-The Atlantic south of Bermuda

7-Aboard the Bonefish

8–The harbor at Point-a-Pitre

9– Washington, DC

10–Pointe-à-Pitre

11-Marigot Bay, Guadeloupe

12-Pointe-à-Pitre

13-The Atlantic south of Bermuda

14-Pointe-à-Pitre

15–Pointe-à-Pitre

16–Pointe-à-Pitre

17-Aboard the Bonefish

18-Aboard the Shadow Chaser

19-Le Mambo Cafe

20-The Atlantic south of Bermuda

21-Le Gosier

22-Aboard the Bonefish

23-Grand Terre, Guadeloupe

24-Fort Napoleon

25-Bourges des Saintes

26-Îles des Saintes

27-The Atlantic south of Bermuda

28-Îles des Saintes

29-Îles des Saintes

30-Aboard Bonefish

31-Aboard Bonefish

32-The Atlantic south of Bermuda

33-Aboard the Fish n’ Chicks

34-Aboard the Bonefish

35-Aboard the Shadow Chaser

36-Bourges des Saintes

37-Aboard Shadow Chaser

38-Aboard the Shadow Chaser

39-The Atlantic south of Bermuda

40-Aboard the Shadow Chaser

41-From Bonefish to Shadow Chaser

42-Portsmouth, Dominica

43-Aboard Fish n’ Chicks

44-Portsmouth, Dominica

45-Indian River, Dominica

46-Indian River, Dominica

47–The Atlantic south of Bermuda

48-Indian River, Dominica

49-Indian River, Dominica

50-In the air

51-The Atlantic Ocean

52-Îles des Saintes

53– Washington, DC

54-McLean, Virginia

55-Foggy Bottom

56-McLean, Virginia

57-Foggy Bottom

58-The Atlantic Ocean

59-Foggy Bottom

60-The Library of Congress

61-Washington, DC

62-Washington, DC

63-Washington, DC

64-Georgetown

65-At sea off Guadeloupe

66-Georgetown

67-Georgetown

68-Leesburg, Virginia

69-Leesburg, Virginia

70-Fort Napoleon

71-Aboard the Savannah Jane

72-Aboard the Savannah Jane

73-The Caribbean Sea off Guadeloupe

74-Scott’s Head Bay, Dominica

75-Scott’s Head Bay, Dominica

76-Îles des Saintes

77-Scot’s Head Bay, Dominica

78-Aboard the Bonefish

79-Aboard Fast Eddie

80-Aboard the Bonefish

81-Aboard Shadow Chaser

82-Aboard the Bonefish

83-Aboard the Shadow Chaser

84-From Bonefish to Fast Eddie

85-Off Îles de la Petite Terre

86-Aboard Fast Eddie

87-Aboard Shadow Chaser

Epilogue – Cherbourg, France

Author's Note

Acknowledgments

About the author

Books by Christine Kling