SLINGSHOT, page 11
part #1 of The Starchild Saga Series
“After ribbon-rise, you’ll be dropped off—oh, I dunno, Guam, New Guinea, somewhere you can’t get into trouble.”
Watson stood, speechless in his anger, fists balled in frustration. “You haven’t heard the last of me,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Oh—I think I have,” Alex said as he walked out the room.
CHAPTER TEN
EASTERN COMPLEX 300 KM EAST OF JARVIS ISLAND
M
argo was frustrated and irritated by the sabotaged tensioner. She and Klaus had discussed the problem at length, and finally decided to drop another anchor. They had not yet worked out all the details of repairing a cut cable, and now was not the time. It was more efficient, both in time and logistics, to expend another anchor than to solve the repair problem and then make a dive. Besides, she had work to do out west, and didn’t need the delay in getting back.
Margo, Klaus, and Lori, along with her cameraman Lao, had spent a pleasant two hours together reviewing the day’s events over a drawn-out meal. The food was basic, but somehow Klaus had conjured up several bottles of a good Oregon microbrew. Alex had given her the okay to brief Lori superficially about the sabotage. She spent part of the meal outlining what had been happening over the past few weeks, culminating in the damaged tensioner today. She told Lori about capturing the culprits, but gave her no details.
It turned out that Lori was a pleasant, very bright dinner companion. Margo had been amused at the effect she had had on Alex, and noted that Klaus seemed unaffected by her obvious charms. Then again, she admitted, the reporter’s charms had not been focused on him. She, herself, was glad for the distraction. It allowed her to step back, take a breath, and get her personal emotions under better control. Margo remembered the underwater “kiss” and its effect on her. She flushed slightly with the memory.
Lori, who was sitting next to Margo, reached over and squeezed her hand. “My goodness Margo, what was that all about?” she asked softly, leaning closer to her. As she leaned over, Margo had a full view of her nearly perfect breasts.
“Just a private thought,” Margo said.
“I know,” Lori said. “I have those too.” She squeezed Margo’s hand again.
Margo glanced over at Klaus, who was having an animated technical discussion with Dex, and seemed oblivious to her exchange with Lori.
“It’s been a very long day, Lori.” This time she squeezed Lori’s hand. “Morning will arrive way too soon. May I show you your quarters, and then we can retire?” Lori squeezed back. Margo stood and said, “We’re going to turn in, Klaus. See you fellows in the morning.” She led Lori through the hatch and down the passageway to the two-bedroom suite they would share.
They entered the suite, and Margo showed Lori how to operate the pressure-sealed hatch.
“Would you share a glass of wine with me before we turn in?” Lori asked.
“Happy to—Let me get it. I know the layout here.” Margo smiled warmly at Lori, wondering why she felt the tingling warmth in her stomach she usually felt with Alex or Klaus.
Margo handed Lori a stemmed glass half-filled with a deep red Merlot. Taking one herself, she touched glasses with Lori and said, “Two girls making their way in a man’s world.”
“You got that right,” Lori answered.
They finished their wine and then stood. Lori walked up to the very much taller Margo, stood on her tiptoes, and then kissed Margo’s cheeks—first the right and then the left. In the process, her lips brushed across Margo’s. “G’night, Margo,” she said softly. “I really like you.”
And she stepped into her room and closed the door.
With a slightly unsteady step, Margo entered her own room, a bit unsure about what she was feeling. She undressed in the dark and stepped into the shower for a minute. While rubbing herself dry, she observed that her nipples were much more sensitive than usual. With a sigh, she lay down on the bed, pulled a cool sheet to her chin, and drifted off.
Margo dreamt that she was with Alex. He was kissing her, fondling her…it was wonderful… She drifted into slow wakefulness, to feel soft lips on her lips, on her breasts…it was sleepily delicious, and she abandoned herself to her pent-up passion…
JARVIS ISLAND COMPOUND
“M
r. Montague?” It was 6:00 AM on Jarvis, and Alex had linked up with Carleton Montague in his Park Avenue office suite in Manhattan. Montague’s silver-haired regal image looked at Alex as the hologram image stabilized before him. “This is Alex Regent.”
“The Alex Regent from LLI? “
“That’s right. I’m calling you from Jarvis Island in the South Pacific.”
There was a brief pause, and then Montague said, “What time is it there. Must be fairly early.”
Alex smiled at the image. “I’m on Hawaii time, Mr. Montague. It’s six AM.” Alex paused for a moment. “Have you heard of an organization called Green Force, Mr. Montague?”
“Can’t say that I have. Why?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to know more than you ever wanted to before the day is over.” Alex described Green Force to Montague, and detailed Tiffany’s role in sabotaging Slingshot. “I’m not looking for compensation or vengeance or anything else like that,” Alex continued. “Tiffany’s a nice kid. She needs to be back home with you and Mrs. Montague, and in school. What she doesn’t need is to be running after this ecoterrorist, getting people hurt, or—God forbid—even killed, and maybe even coming up pregnant in the process.”
“And so…” Montague sounded very cautious.
Alex looked at him quietly, waiting.
“You’ve let her go, right?”
Alex just waited.
“You will let her go then. How soon?”
Alex remained silent.
“Well, what then?” Montague’s voice exhibited some strain.
“What are you doing with my daughter?”
Alex continued to wait.
“What have you done with my little girl?”
That was the clue Alex was awaiting. “Nothing, Mr. Montague, yet…”
“What do you mean? That’s my little girl you’ve got…” A hard edge crept into Montague’s voice. “I’ll send down my personal jet for her.”
“No!” Alex punctuated the word.
“What do you mean? No. I’ll get a court order…I’ll send my security force…I’ll…”
“No you won’t, Mr. Montague, because by the time you can muster your resources, Tiffany will be moved to an undisclosed location under an undisclosed jurisdiction, facing international terrorism charges.” Alex paused for effect again. “In this post-Jihad world, you know what that means.”
Montague choked off an answer.
“On the other hand,” Alex continued, “if you want to come down here yourself, by yourself, you can meet me personally. I’ll show you what’s going on down here, and I’ll introduce you to the louse who seduced your little girl.”
Montague appeared to be doing something on his desk. “I’m about nine hours away in my Gulfstream. Will that work for you?”
“Don’t push it, Mr. Montague. I’ll give you twenty-four hours.” Alex disconnected his Link.
Fifteen minutes later, Mabel overrode his Link. “What in hell did you say to Montague?” she wanted to know.
Alex briefed her on his conversation with Montague. Mabel looked thoughtful, and then said, “I like that. Don’t worry about any repercussions. John Boyles will handle it at this end.” With a twinkle in her eye, she asked, “What do you think about letting Montague take Watson back with him?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Alex said. “I think it’s a great idea.”
∞
An hour later, Margo called to tell Alex about their decision to drop another anchor.
“Great,” Alex said. “Let’s get it done as soon as possible. Do you and Klaus need to be there for the drop?”
“Nope. We both need to get back.”
“Okay, then. Here’s what we’ll do.” Alex briefed Margo on the Montague matter. They arranged for Tex to fly both Margo and Klaus back to Baker, and then Tex would bring Montague to Jarvis as soon as he arrived.
“What about Lori and Dex?” Margo asked.
“Let them cool their heels until we have this Montague situation behind us. Then they can come here for a photo op with the Green Avenger. After that, we’ll take them to the Western Complex to record the activity there.”
JARVIS ISLAND WHARF
“J
onesy, what’s your status?” Alex had been following the schooner’s progress, but wanted to let Jones know he was not forgotten.
“‘bout an hour out, Boss. The kids are behavin’, and I should have them under control when we get there. We could use a shower and some real food, and I could use a nap.”
“We’ll meet you at the Wharf. Watch the reef coming in.”
An hour later, Alex, Carver, and Gofort waited on the Wharf as the Green Avenger pulled up to the floating dock. The tropical sun beat down remorselessly, unhindered by clouds. A squall that had passed earlier just to the north was already over the horizon. From where they stood, the horizon to the north, east, and south was unclouded but hazy. The ever-present easterly wind was partially blocked by the berm, so that the heat was more oppressive than it would have been on the other side.
Jones supervised as a motley crew of two girls and two boys slid the gangway across the narrow gap to the dock. They seemed to be in good spirits, and Alex could detect no animosity. He made a mental note to commend Jones for a difficult job well done.
“Boss, I want you to meet my crew,” Jones said as he stepped off the schooner.
“My first Mate, Bruce Yoon.” Bruce was medium height, 18 years old, not much muscle, but seemed quite bright.
“My Bos’n Francesca Woodward.” Francesca was petit with brightly colored boyish cut hair. She was a cute 17-year-old with a couple of piercings.
“My second mate, Carmina Pebsworth.” This 19-year-old stood 165 centimeters, and wore clothing that exposed strategic parts of her anatomy. Her long dirty blond hair parted to expose a nipple peeking through a hole in her top. She grabbed her crotch as she stepped off the schooner.
“And my third mate, Bobby Pfaff. His daddy built this schooner.” Bobby was a tattooed, pierced 18-year-old skinhead. He stood 168 centimeters. His eyes appeared dull and lifeless.
“Kids,” Jones addressed the motley group, “this is Alex Regent. He’s God around here.”
Bruce nodded politely, Francesca giggled with her legs spread apart and hands on hips, Carmina grabbed her crotch again, and Bobby gazed vacantly, looking right through Alex.
“Gofer and Jeff, you guys take these kids to the chamber complex and clean them up. Then take them to the galley for some food. I’ll meet you there.”
Alex grabbed Jones by the elbow and turned him toward the shore. “What do you know about these kids, Jonesy?”
“You’re not gonna believe this, Boss, but that little blond chick, Francesca Woodward, is the debutant daughter of the Delaware Woodward banking family.” Alex glanced at him. “No shit, Boss. For real.” Jones laughed. “She’s alright, though. Just a bit weird.” Jones laughed again. “The Yoon kid is sharp as a tack. Dad’s a millionaire Chinese clothing importer in Los Angeles.” Jones lowered his voice a bit. “That Carmina chick—she’s sex crazy. Spent most of the trip naked on deck getting a suntan. Got it on right there with Bobby and Francesca—together! Tried to make me, but since I was Skipper, I thought no way!” Jones sighed. “Maybe next time someone else can be skipper.” He laughed. “My luck though, they’ll all be like Bobby. His elevator don’t go all the way to the top. I think he fried his brains on sompin’. Dad’s got a shipyard in Connecticut. Builds big ships and little ones—at least that’s what I got from the little skinhead. Only time he came alive was when Carmina humped him.”
“Thanks, Jonesy. I got it,” Alex said. “You did good.”
Alex headed for the Main Jarvis Compound atop the berm, where he intended to search out the details of his new charges and find a way to get them home.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JARVIS ISLAND COMPOUND
O
ver the next three hours, Alex chased down the families of all four of Jones’ “crewmembers.”
The Woodwards readily agreed that Francesca’s father, Delmer Woodward, would make arrangements to pick her up. Alex suggested that Woodward contact Carleton Montague immediately, since there might still be time to hitch a ride on his Gulfstream. Otherwise, Alex told the Woodwards, the LLI corporate jet would be leaving Seattle the next morning. LLI would transport Mr. Woodward to Jarvis and back with Francesca for $10,000.
The Yoons were equally concerned, but Bruce’s father, George Yoon, was on an international flight to Hong Kong. Alex was able to reach him in the First Class section of his Hong Kong Airways flight. He had an unavoidable meeting with the Chinese government trade representative the following morning. In the meantime, he would attempt to make arrangements to get to Howland, but his firm did not have a corporate jet, and he would be unable to get to Honolulu to catch the LLI jet during its fueling stop. It wasn’t the money; it was the time factor. Alex would not allow Yoon to speak with his son, and insisted that he personally had to pick up Bruce. Yoon agreed to get there as soon as possible, but opined that it might take several days. Alex was left with the impression that George Yoon had more immediate and important things on his mind than his son.
Alex’s conversation with Reyes Pebsworth was a failure. At first, Pebsworth called Carmina a “fucking slut,” and terminated the Link. Alex initiated an executive override on the second call. Once Pebsworth stopped sputtering and accepted his inability to terminate the Link or continue with what he had been doing before the call, he listened to Alex. The bottom line of their conversation was that Pebsworth would not raise a finger to help his “slut of a daughter.” If this is what it took to get her attention, then so-be-it, he told Alex.
About twenty minutes later, Alex received a call from Mindi Pebsworth, Carmina’s mother. She was a dazzling forty-five-year-old replica of Carmina. She obviously had taken a few minutes to “freshen up” herself before placing the call. Her simulacrum in Alex’s holodisplay oozed charm and motherly concern. She apologized for Reyes’ behavior, and pleaded with Alex to let her pick up her daughter. It would be, she explained, her first real opportunity to be with her daughter for an extended period. Perhaps, Mindi pleaded, she could get through to her. Alex found himself unable to resist her pleas and agreed that Mindi would make the pickup. She would meet the LLI corporate jet the next morning in Seattle.
Alex’s outreach to the Pfaffs was a complete disaster. He never got through to any immediate family member. He did speak with a senior aid who told him that Bobby was disowned and completely on his own. The Green Avenger had been purchased at a huge discount by Lars Watson through a dummy charity front. Watson had so arranged it that the Pfaffs thought they were helping Bobby get his feet wet in a major charity. When his father, Johnathan Pfaff, discovered what Green Avenger was really being used for, and the apparent role Bobby had played in getting the vessel, he washed his hands of Bobby, and cut him off totally. Apparently, this was the beginning of Bobby’s downward spiral into drugs and skinhead rebellion. There was no chance, the aid told Alex, that anybody would come for Bobby. In fact, he said, the Pfaffs would not even be told of Alex’s call.
It took several minutes for Alex to think his way through this development. He found it difficult to imagine parents so cold and calculating, so unwilling to yield, even in the face of their son’s possible destruction. The more he thought about it, the increasingly angry he became at their callousness. He called Mabel, catching her at her desk in the Smith Tower Penthouse
He briefed her on the developments with the four families. “Mabel, Bruce is a pleasant enough fellow. I don’t mind having him around for a few days. Bobby is another matter. With your permission, I would like to dry him out and see if I can reach him. The kid was sufficiently resourceful to pull that stunt with Watson and the Green Avenger. If any of that is left, maybe I can reeducate him. You have any problems with that, Mabel?”
Mabel smiled warmly at Alex. “Don’t you have enough to do?” she asked.
“Mabel…”
“Okay, Alex, you soft-headed SOB. I’ll give you a month. Give me weekly reports. If you make no real progress, I’ll send the Federal Marshals for him.” She smiled warmly again. “That okay with you?”
Alex just grinned at her. “Any further progress at your end?” he asked.
“Getting close,” Mabel answered, “but you have to be patient a bit longer.”
JARVIS ISLAND TARMAC
E
arly the following morning, Alex received an SSRS call. “Floater Two to Alex. This is Tex. I’m about a half-hour out with two passengers, a Carleton Montague and a Delmer Woodward. I need a nap, but these guys are hot to trot, especially Montague.”
“I’ll meet you on the tarmac, Tex.” Alex ran down his mental checklist. “You hungry, Tex? Want some breakfast?”
“Naw—I jest want some shut-eye.”
Alex had already arranged for a private breakfast for five in the executive dining room. Normally, the executive dining room was closed. Alex and the entire management staff on the project ate with the crew whenever they visited outlying areas. It was part of Alex’s management style that clearly communicated to each person on the project that every job was vital, and no one was more privileged than anyone else.
Alex wanted the fathers to be with their daughters for a while, supervised by himself, but otherwise free to follow whatever developed. He was looking forward to the meeting—sort of.
A fierce tropical sun beat down from an azure sky. Fluffy white clouds dotted the northern sky, and the western horizon was hidden by a line of squalls. A light tropical breeze blew from the southeast, crossing a swell that pounded the southern beach from the southwest. Floater Two rolled to a stop a few meters from where Alex stood with Tiffany and Francesca. Somehow, Tiffany had managed to make herself appear cool and sophisticated, a beautiful, aloof young woman of the world. Francesca was her typical bubbly tom-boy self, cleaned up, but without make-up, happy and excited to see her daddy.
