She turned and looked up at the house. All was quiet. She glanced back at the stairs. Nothing moved. Some great guard birds you are.
As she approached the harbor’s outlet to the sea, waves splashed through the opening and rolled up the cliff on the boat’s starboard side. She could see a riptide where the rushing sea met the slack harbor water. But beyond that, only blackness.
She’d have to steer to the port side to avoid being smashed against the rocks. She throttled up and motored through the opening. But immediately she lost steerage, and the boat stern whirled into the cliff. She was caught in an eddy and being dragged along the rock face. The sound of grinding wood echoed off the walls. She flipped the wheel around, powered all the way up and plunged out into the darkness.
When her night vision finally kicked in, she scanned her surroundings until she spotted the dome of light on the horizon. Relieved, she turned the boat toward Aruba. She was committed.
What’s next? Diane thought with dread. Then she remembered the gap between the islands that funneled the open sea southward. Her old friend the wind waited there to throw more trials in her path. She hoped one of them wouldn’t be another boat. She was running without lights and would be until she was well past the island.
Ignoring Gabriel’s house on the cliff, Diane planted her feet for stability and cleared the eastern end of Carrera Island. But she had underestimated the wrath of the storm-churned sea.
The first wave crashed across the port bow and rolled the launch onto its side. Diane was thrown from the helm and smashed against the opposite seat. The boat wallowed, then tracked off to the southeast, taking its cues from the sea.
Ignoring the crushing pain in her shoulder and jaw, Diane scrambled back to the controls. She watched the compass and fought the wheel around until the bow headed northeast. She looked through the windshield for the reassuring dome of light. But only blackness lay ahead. Then she realized she was staring into the side of a wave.
“Please God, help me,” she screamed and steeled herself for the onslaught. But it didn’t come. The launch climbed to the crest, and the wave swept underneath it. She had gotten into the rhythm of the sea.
Diane whispered a breathless stream of thank you’s and switched on the running lights.
As the boat moved farther and farther away from Carrera Island, the waves broke less frequently and the lights ahead became better defined. Then slowly, blessedly, the launch moved into the lee of the big island.
Diane adjusted her course, turning slightly away from Aruba. No matter if it did offer safety and shelter, she didn’t want to cozy up to a landmass composed largely of rocks. She needed a chart. She clicked on the autopilot and rifled through the helm storage and cockpit lockers. No charts. No life jacket either.
Then, with a start, she wondered if she had enough fuel. She slapped her forehead. “Good planning, Rose.” But, actually, if she had gone over every detail earlier, she might have thought twice about setting out on the lone voyage. Some journeys were better taken one peril at a time.
Now, however, some planning was in order. Her immediate future loomed large. And she desperately wanted to survive it. She pulled back the throttle, settling the boat into a comfortable ten-knot speed. She needed time to think.
What happens when she gets back to land? She had an uneasy sense that she shouldn’t involve Olimpia in her plight. But if not Olimpia, who? Or what?
Should she go to the airport, hoping for an early morning flight? Not a good idea; the Carreras would miss the launch by then and come looking for her. She found herself already out of options, unless she tried booking passage on a cruise ship. But, “Oh shit!” she’d need her passport to go anywhere. And it was in her luggage at Olimpia’s house.
She had to phone Olimpia. She grabbed for the overnight bag.
Olimpia’s voice was sleepy. Good, Diane thought. No one had been looking for her.
“You say you are coming in? It is the middle of the night.” Olimpia sounded incredulous.
Diane fought to keep her voice steady. “Something has happened, Olimpia. I need you to trust me. I must get out of Aruba. Now.”
“Who is bringing you in?”
“I’m alone… I stole the launch. Please, I need your help.”
Silence. Then, “How far out are you?” Her tone had become businesslike.
“Fifteen minutes to the dock, maybe.”
“I will meet you at the marina.” The phone went dead.
Bright resort lights backlit the harbor. Diane squinted, frantically trying to pick out the red blinking light marking the channel entrance. It should be there. It was an international maritime law, she thought. She hoped.
Then, with profound relief, she recited the sailor’s mantra, “red, right, returning,” as the red flashing marker passed her starboard side, and she entered the channel.
But her celebration was short lived. She knew other perils awaited. For starters, who would greet her at the dock? Olimpia or the police?
Frank Chen sat at a breakfast table at the J.W. Marriott overlooking three stories of curved glass that presented an IMAX view of Hong Kong.
He pulled his gaze away from the panorama as the hostess led a gentleman to his table. Mr. Chen stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Lee, I presume.”
Harry Lee’s Uncle Hu bowed slightly. “Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chen.”
“Thank you for coming,” Frank Chen said and gestured toward the seat opposite him with a sweep of his hand. “Won’t you join me for breakfast?”
Hu Lee bowed once more and allowed the hostess to seat him. He looked at Mr. Chen with a questioning glance, wondering why he had been invited there.
“I understand you are also in banking, Mr. Lee.”
Hu Lee knew of Frank Chen’s financial empire. Everyone did. Now it pleased him that Mr. Chen spoke to him as a peer. “Yes, I am. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Do you know of an American scientist, Dr. Diane Rose?” Chen asked.
Hu Lee was taken back. He nodded tentatively.
Frank Chen sat forward with a twinkle in his eye. “I initiated this meeting at the request of my eldest son, Tung. Dr. Diane Rose was his biology professor in the States; he had a secret crush on her for several years. But she also kindled in him a passion for science, which is responsible for the success he enjoys today. She is an honorable woman.” Mr. Chen held his hand over his heart. “You would be doing my son a great favor if you could find the time to talk with Dr. Rose.”
Hu Lee relaxed. “Of course,” he said. He would be glad to do such a favor for Mr. Chen and son.
μ CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE μ
Diane awoke to the rhythm of her head bouncing on Olimpia’s shoulder during a rumbling twenty kilometer taxi ride from the airport into Santa Marta. She sat up, worked her neck and jaw into place and looked over at Olimpia who seemed to be dozing. She squinted at her watch; her nap hadn’t lasted long enough. But it was amazing that she’d slept at all.
Glancing outside, she couldn’t make out any land or building features. Everything was obscured by a dense morning fog. Not that she had any interest in sight-seeing. At that moment, her overriding concern was: What the hell are we doing here? Olimpia’s pilot friend could have taken them to Curacao or Bonaire or Venezuela, all nearby. But Olimpia had brought her to the place where the Carreras wielded the most power: Colombia.
Diane let her head collapse against the smoke-infused upholstery behind her and prayed for sleep to return; wakefulness was far too painful. But her mind kept replaying the past several hours.