Danger Zone (3 page)

They were at the harbor, and another time Karen would have been able to appreciate the beauty of the warm tropical evening. The stars were out, glittering against the blue velvet expanse of sky. A full moon hung above Sangre de Cristo Bay, illuminating the sea below with the iridescent light of a Chinese lantern. All the little boats bobbed at anchor, the water slapping against their hulls with the rhythmic motion of the waves. A salt wind blew in from the ocean, stirring Karen’s hair. It was a soft, lovely night.

Colter and his men hustled the hostages onto the boat as quickly as they could move. Karen noticed Colter turning from side to side as she went up the gangway, and she realized he was on the lookout for the harbor police. She saw two men with stretchers come down from the boat to pick up the injured, and she was glad she had made it through unscathed.

But it wasn’t finished yet. They could still be stopped on the way out, and she tried not to think about their tenuous situation as she went below deck with the others. They were gathered in the dining room by the medical staff, who handed out tea and sandwiches with unflappable British calm. She couldn’t see the boat depart from the dock, but she felt its motion as it left the slip and sailed out into the bay. She knew that Colter and the other mercenaries had remained on deck, and she guessed they had stayed above to deal with any trouble that might arise.

Karen was reunited with Linda, and the two women spent the next several hours working with the medical personnel, a doctor and two nurses, performing any service that didn’t require professional training. They unwrapped bandages and washed utensils, fetched and carried as the wounded were tended. Three of the mercenaries had been shot, and one of the government workers had suffered a heart attack. In addition, several of the male hostages had sustained injuries during their confinement, so there was plenty to do.

And when Karen wasn’t with the nurses, she was talking to the shock victims: the mail clerk who couldn’t stop crying and the security guard with the bad arm who kept insisting that they were all going to die, despite repeated assurances to the contrary.

By the time she took a break it was close to midnight and their vessel was far out to sea. She sat down on a cot next to Linda and accepted a cup of tea from the younger of the nurses, an English rose with vivid red hair who called everybody “sweeting.”

“You’d better not let your handsome friend catch sight of ‘sweeting’ there, or he might just emigrate to Britain,” Linda said dryly as Karen took off one of her shoes and rubbed her foot.

“What friend?” Karen asked confusedly. She was so tired she could hardly follow the conversation.

“Our savior, dearie, the big blond with the big gun. By the way, where is he?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any of them since we boarded.”

“You don’t suppose they’ve jumped ship and left us to fend for ourselves?” Linda asked in a stage whisper.

“Don’t be silly. They’re being paid to take us to Venezuela, and I don’t think they can collect unless they deliver us in person.” Karen took a sip of tea and glanced at Linda. “Do you think you’ll go back to England now?”

“I suppose I shall have to,” Linda replied, sighing, “though I can’t say I’m looking forward to facing my stepmother over the breakfast table every morning. Father got me the job on Almeria to take me away from her, but he might be in difficulties now with all of this, so I should think everything will be rather uncertain for a while. What will you do?”

“Stay with my sister in New Jersey, I guess.”

“Isn’t that near New York?”

“Yes, right across the river, on the east coast.”

“I would love to see New York. I hear it’s unforgettable.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Is it true that everyone gets mugged there?”

Karen laughed. “Where did you get that idea?”

“I read the American newspapers,” Linda replied airily.

The older nurse stopped in front of them and said, “Ladies, you may take a shower if you like. We’ve rigged a hand-held job in the head just down the hall, and there are fresh clothes on a stand outside the door.”

“Ooh, lovely,” Linda said, standing up. “I could certainly do with a good wash. Do you mind if I go first?”

“Fine with me,” Karen replied. She could hardly move. She took a ten minute nap while Linda was gone, and then revived enough to stumble down to the tiny metal appointed bathroom. The soap was some fragrant, hand-milled British variety, and there didn’t appear to be any shampoo, so she washed her hair with it too. After she dried off, she dropped her ruined outfit into the steel wastebasket provided and dressed in the proffered clothes, which turned out to be a pair of seaman’s baggies and a loose cotton blouse. She didn’t want to consider the picture she made as she emerged with a wet head, wearing the borrowed togs which fit her like a pair of boxing gloves.

Karen made her way back to the dining room and asked the nurse who had suggested her shower if she could go up on deck.

“I still have cabin fever from that basement,” she explained. “I would love to get a breath of fresh air.”

“I don’t see why not—we’re too far out now for any trouble,” the nurse said. “But I’d better check.”

She returned shortly and told Karen that she could go up if she felt like it. Most of the other passengers were sleeping on the cots and air mattresses the crew had provided. Karen felt rejuvenated in her clean skin and clean clothes and walked past them briskly, eager to escape the confines of the lower level.

Out on deck the air was chilly, and a stiff breeze whipped her oversized shirt around her body. The boat was old. The warped floorboards beneath her feet creaked as she walked, and through the dated glass screen she could see the pilot leaning on his wheel and checking his instruments. She seemed to be alone. Everybody was probably too exhausted from the ordeal to feel like taking a stroll. Above her was the tower where the lookout scouted for frolicking porpoise, indicating a school of tuna below them. Karen went to the polished wooden railing and leaned over it, letting the fresh wind blow her hair back from her face. She stood there for a long time. She was out of Almeria. She was safe and on her way to freedom. She had never felt so good.

“Cigarette?” said a masculine voice behind her.

She turned to find Colter with his back to the water, his elbows propped against the railing, offering her a pack of Camels.

She shook her head.

He lit up and said, “Great outfit. You look like Nellie Forbush in
South Pacific
.”

Karen glanced down at herself. “Anything would have been an improvement over what I was wearing.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, exhaling a stream of smoke. “I kind of thought that little beige skirt you had on was cute.”

“It was no longer beige by the time I took it off,” Karen said dryly.

“You did very well in there,” he told her seriously, tilting his head as he examined her. “I know you were as tired and drained as anybody else, but you pitched right in and worked side by side with the nurses.”

Karen looked at him. His deep voice seemed almost disembodied. In the faint light all she could see was the pale eyes and the flash of teeth in his tanned face. “How do you know?” she asked.

“I was watching you.”

“You were? I didn’t see you.”

“But I saw you. You must be beat; you didn’t sit down once. Why did you work so hard?”

“You asked me to,” she answered simply.

There was a silence, during which the only sound they could hear was the froth of waves breaking against the bow of the ship. Finally Colter said, “So why aren’t you passed out below deck with the others?”

“I did take a short nap, but now I feel keyed up, alert. I don’t think I could sleep.”

He nodded. “It affects some people that way.”

“What does?”

“Danger. The adrenaline will keep pumping for a while. You’ll need a few days to settle down.”

Karen shivered suddenly as a salty gust flattened her shirt against her and Colter said, “You’re cold. Do you want to go below?”

“Oh, no,” she replied. “That cellar was so hot and stuffy and it seemed like we were trapped in there for a year. This is wonderful, really.”

“Then let me get you something,” he said, straightening up from the railing.

“Don’t go to any trouble,” Karen began, but he held up his hand.

“No trouble,” he said. “Just stay right where you are.”

Karen did as he said, closing her eyes, content to wait for his return. He was back in no time. He handed her a light denim jacket that, judging from its size and the tobacco scent clinging to it, had to be his. She put it on and the sleeves cascaded to her hips.

“You’d better grow if you want to fit the clothes around here,” he observed. “That looks almost as good as the sailor suit you’re wearing.”

“It’s warm,” she said, rolling up the sleeves. “Where did you get it?”

“I brought a pack with me,” he explained.

“I shouldn’t keep you up,” Karen said apologetically. “Don’t you want to get some sleep yourself?”

“Oh, I don’t sleep much,” he said vaguely. “Don’t seem to need it.” He drew on the cigarette he held until the tip glowed. “And I’d always rather talk to a pretty girl.”

“Will you go home for a rest now?” Karen asked him.

“I’ll go home until they call me,” he replied flatly.

“Where is home?”

“Anastasia Island. It’s right off the coast of Saint Augustine, Florida,” he said. He finished his cigarette and threw the butt overboard.

“Do you have family there?” she asked.

“No,” he said shortly. “I have no family anywhere.”

He was answering her questions directly, but with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. Karen surmised that she was moving into a sensitive area and dropped the subject.

“Did those guys mistreat you?” he suddenly asked in a hard tone.

It was a moment before she realized that he was talking about the Almerian revolutionaries.

“No,” she answered truthfully. “We barely saw them. The guards stayed outside the door.”

“Some of the men weren’t so lucky,” he said bluntly.

“I saw that they were injured. The doctor didn’t seem to be too worried, though. I don’t think they were hurt badly.”

“Not as bad as some I’ve seen,” he said grimly. “They’re all alive.”

“Three of your team were shot too,” Karen said.

“That’s different—it’s part of the job, part of the chance you take. You people at the Government House were helpless victims.”

Karen didn’t know how to respond to that. She burrowed deeper into his jacket as he leaned forward to close the lapels over her neck. He bent his head abruptly and then started to chuckle.

“What is it?” she asked uncomfortably.

“What did you do to your hair? It smells like after shave lotion,” he said, still chuckling.

“All they had to wash with was some lavender shaving soap, and they didn’t have any shampoo, so ..

“I see,” he said, grinning. “I’m just relieved to hear that you don’t shave.”

“I’m glad you think it’s so funny,” she retorted, offended.

“Come and sit down,” he said, extending his hand. “There are some deck chairs over here and a blanket.”

Karen’s fingers were swallowed up in his large callused palm as he led her to a seat and dropped into the ancient wooden lounge next to it. He unfolded a striped woolen blanket from the back of his chair and spread it over both of them.

“Better?” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, snuggling into the well worn softness of the lap robe and stretching out her legs.

“I was surprised to see this stuff here,” he said. “This isn’t exactly a cruise ship.”

“I imagine even Portuguese fishermen like to take a little nap on deck now and then.”

“I guess.” He leaned back and folded his arms on his chest, turning his head to look at her. “So,” he said. “What the hell was a nice New Jersey girl doing on that sun blasted rock in the middle of the West Indies? You look like you should be teaching kindergarten in Bergen County.” He dug in his pocket for another cigarette and lit it.

“I came to Almeria with my husband five years ago, for his job,” Karen explained.

Colter froze in the act of lifting his cigarette to his lips. His eyes traveled to her bare left hand, dimly visible in the light from the deck lantern behind them.

“You’re married?” he said.

“Divorced.”

His hand resumed its motion. “So why were you still in Ascension?”

“I stayed on after my ex-husband was transferred. I liked my job and saw no reason to give it up, and I had my apartment and my friends.”

“Your parents are dead?”

He asked the question as though he already knew the answer.

“Yes. I have a sister, but she’s married and has her own family. I didn’t want to intrude.”

“So you stuck it out on your own, huh?” he said. “You must be a loner.”

“Like you?” Karen suggested.

He didn’t answer. She saw the bright arc his cigarette made as he tossed it away.

“Steven?”

She saw his profile move in her direction.

“Steven?” he said.

“Isn’t that your name?” she asked, confused.

He shrugged. “Everybody calls me Colter, sometimes Steve. No one has called me Steven since—” He stopped abruptly.

“Since?” she prompted.

“I was a kid,” he finished gruffly. “A long time ago.”

“Do you mind if I do?”

“Why?”

“Well, you look like a Steven to me. And I don’t want to call you what everyone else does. I want to be different.”

“You already are,” he said huskily.

“Steven,” she said firmly.

“Yes?” he said brightly, like a contestant on a quiz show.

She giggled. “I want to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

Karen hesitated. She was intensely curious about how he’d gotten into his line of work but she’d already seen how he resisted personal questions. So she attacked the problem philosophically by saying, “Isn’t it difficult to risk your life all the time?”

“Not if you haven’t much to lose,” he replied promptly.

His answer, stated in that flat, matter-of-fact tone, chilled her. She could tell that his fatalism wasn’t a pose, but a reflection of deep inner conviction. She had never heard such resignation in anyone’s voice.