Just Needs Killin (21 page)

As I stared dumbly at the gathering of goons, goon
Numero Uno
spoke. "So, we meet again, Miss Coffey," Lujàn said. He sounded, to my shocked self, like the villain in a grade-B movie.

"Much to my dismay. You practice that line a lot, Dickless?"

His face colored, but Kazoo and Moto seemed confused by our comments, for they looked at each other.

Moto, always the one to break silence, asked, "You are acquainted?"

"Why, we're old buds. Matter of fact, last time I saw Dickless here, he was carting away Ishikawa-san's headless body."

"Shut up!" Lujàn shouted, and pointed his gun—looked like a Glock—directly at me. Then, as an afterthought, he changed the barrel's direction, toward Po Thang.

I shut up.

Kazoo and Moto marched Jan, Po Thang, and me to my cabin, and jammed the door shut from the outside with something sturdy. I know because I put my considerable weight against it and it wouldn't budge.

I ran for the computer to get out an email or two before someone thought to shut down the system. Too late. I was rummaging through the desk drawer for my
banda ancha
thumbdrive as Jan plopped down into one of my two chairs and declared, "Well, shit."

"I couldn't have said it better, except I gave up the "s" word. By the way, you owe the cuss jar ten dollars."

"Make it a hundred. Shit, shit, shit—"

"Less cussin' and more doin'." I tossed her my cellphone. "Here, turn this on and see if we have any bars at all."

I found my
banda ancha
thumbdrive and plugged it into the computer.

"Is that broad band thingy gonna work out here?"

"If you get any bars on that phone, it will. Thank the stars I paid for six months service right before I decided to come here."

We were both quiet for a few minutes. I had my fingers on both hands crossed as I watched my hard drive light blinking. I willed it to bring up the Internet, and my Yahoo account.

"Hetta! I got two bars."

"Move over by the porthole, and open it."

"Okey-dokey." She struggled with the stubborn porthole and it finally creaked open. Holding the phone near the opening, she watched the screen. "Three...four! I got four bars."

I picked up the computer and moved next to her. "Bingo!"

I started furiously composing a message to Jenks, Craig in Arizona, and Nacho—who was going to be royally pissed that I didn't have time to bcc his—when I heard a noise outside and just managed to push the computer under a pillow before the door swung open. Jan, who was trying to call Chino, stuffed the cell into her shorts pocket.

The door swung open and Fabio stood there, his hands tied in front of him. Lujàn was behind him with his gun barrel nudging Fabio's neck.

With a savage snarl he must have picked up from Animal Planet, Po Thang propelled himself from the top bunk, sailing over Jan's head and almost making it to Lujàn, who slammed the door. Poor Po Thang caromed backward with a yelp, but when I checked him for injuries, it seemed only his pride was hurt.

Jan and I cuddled him while he continued to growl at the door.

"Get control of your dog or I will shoot him," lily-livered Dickless squalled from the safety of the other side.

"Uh, him, who? Fabio, or Po Thang?"

"I believe he means both of us, Hetta," Fabio said. He always makes my name sound like Aayy-eee-tah.

"Hold on a moment, I'll put on his collar and leash."

"Make it fast," Lujàn warned.

"Get the harness and his doggie cam," I whispered to Jan. She helped me strap Po Thang in. The minicam, to the uninitiated, looks like a large dog tag.

"Okay, he's on a leash now," I yelled.

The door opened and, as instructed by Dickless, Fabio grabbed Po Thang's collar with both tied hands. He looked down, gave me a look of surprise and a small lip twitch. Lujàn, still standing behind him, missed both.

Dickless motioned Fabio out the door and when I tried to follow, Lujàn stopped me with a harsh, "Stay!"

I jumped back just as the heavy door took a swing at my nose. I was a little luckier than Po Thang had been, but it was close. "Well, Sh—"

"Double that. What do you think they're up to?"

"I dunno, but it can't be good."

"When Lujàn is involved, it never is. Why the hell didn't we off him? What were we waiting for?"'

"An opportunity that didn't send us to a Mexican jail forever?"

"Oh, yeah, that. I—"

"Jan? Jan? Is that you?" Chino called from Jan's pocket.

I decided to forget the email for the moment and zeroed in on Po Thang's doggie cam. "Keep Chino on the phone. Maybe I can learn something from the camera."

Jan talked softly with Chino in the background while I tried to see and hear everything the camera picked up. At first I saw nothing but furniture legs, stair treads, and then the bottom of the refrigerator as Po Thang strained towards it, only to be jerked back.

"Not now," I heard Fabio say. "We have to go see
all
of those men on the deck."

"Jan, Fabio says there are more men on deck."

She nodded and relayed the information to Chino.

"
¡Cállate!
" Lujàn ordered.

"Lujàn told Fabio to shut up."

They went out on deck, and now I saw more legs. Lots more legs.

"Sit, Po Thang, sit," I whispered the commands, sending ESP in his direction. Then I saw Fabio reach his hands down in the best sit signal he could muster with both hands tied together. Po Thang sat, and I could now see as far up as the men's hands. No one said anything for a minute, as though waiting for someone. Po Thang, never long on patience, must have raised his head to glare at Fabio, for the camera swung up and captured three faces. Kazoo, Moto, and Lava Lava.

"Jan, Lava Lava is up there!"

Jan started to tell Chino, but then stopped and look flustered. "Uh, how is it we know Lava Lava?" she whispered.

She had a point. How did we explain knowing him without some serious 'splainin' to do? I shook my head and shrugged.

"Uh," she said into the phone, "there's a large mean looking dude with missing fingers on deck."

Po Thang broke all his "down!" training and put his paws on Fabio's side, giving me a great view of the gathering of goons.

Near the edge of the screen, I watched as our old buddy from the resort, Tadassan Fujikawa, walked to the group and bowed, then singled out Kazoo, executed a deeper bow, then pulled him in for a hug, and a fond pat on the cheek, saying, "
Ichiban no mago.
"

He then gave Moto a similar greeting. 

I signaled Jan to muffle the phone into a pillow. "Uh-oh, the plot sickens. Tadassan is here."

"Who? Oh, yeah, the old man. We don't know him either, remember? What's he saying?" Jan demanded.

"I don't know, exactly, but he seems to know both Kazoo and Moto. Not just know them, but
really
know them. I heard him call Kazoo
ichinban
something or other. I know for sure that means number one. Remember those Ichiban Kirin beer tee shirts I brought back from Japan?"

Into the phone she said, "And, Chino, there's also this old Japanese dude that we've never seen before in our lives, but he called Kazoo number one somethin' or other."

I threw out my arms and looked to heaven for help. She pulled her shoulders up around her ears and raised her palms in a
What do you want from me
? gesture.

The camera began going in circles as Po Thang, what with no food in the offing, and getting no attention either, settled down for a nap. He finally curled up, and all I could see was deck and fur, but at least I could hear what was going on, even if it was a little muffled. For all the good it did me, as the three Japanese spoke among themselves for a few minutes, until Lujàn interrupted them. "We must go."

Po Thang heard "go" and woke up. He looked up at Fabio and I could clearly see Lujàn was talking quietly with one of his goons. Louder, he said, "Put the captain and the dog into the panga with Mr. Fujikawa and Dojo."

"Jan, Lava Lava's real name is Dojo."

Into the phone she said, "Lava Lava's real name is Dojo," then realized her mistake. "Scratch that."

I needed a new Watson.

To Fujikawa, Dickless was saying, "My man will drop the captain at the town wharf so he can take our message to Doctor Yee, then ferry you to your car. You may keep the dog as further insurance."

Fujikawa gave Lujàn a slight bow. "Yes, you are right, you must meet with the ship." He walked toward Po Thang, who sprang to attention, but didn't growl.

I soon saw why. The old man bent over and offered him what looked to be one of Jan's brownies. Po Thang took it, and over his crunching, I heard Mr. Fujikawa tell Fabio, "Here is the message you will deliver. The dog and women will be released upon my orders. For now, however, I shall retain this dog, and the women will remain on board the ship. You will be told later where you can collect them. If any one of you tell anyone, call anyone, or alert anyone at all, they will die. Am I clear?"

"Yes," Fabio said in a soft voice that belied an underlying anger I knew from experience was there.

Then Fujikawa added, "And,
Señor
Lujàn, I am entrusting you to not only do what you were told, but also to protect my grandsons with your life.
Your life
. Do I make myself clear?"

"Kazoo and Moto are Fujikawa's grandsons," I told Jan, and she relayed that information to Chino, even though she professed not to know who Fujikawa was. Chino had to be getting thoroughly confused by now.

I closely watched Lujan's reaction to that menacing warning from the old man. A throat spasm gave away the gulp he tried to cover up as he registered the threat. He managed to choke out, "You have my word of honor, Mr. Fujikawa."

I laughed out loud. Lujàn's word of honor? Dickless wouldn't know Honor if it came alive and bit him on the ass.

Po Thang jumped easily into the panga, looked up at Fabio, then back at
Nao de Chino
, and whined. Fabio gave him a reassuring pat and my dog buried his nose under Fabio's arm. Not great for recording happenings, but it melted my heart that he felt safe with our captain. 

Just before the outboard motor noise drowned out the sound, I heard Lujàn order someone to, "Check on those women. You have no idea how treacherous they are."

"Oh, you have no idea, you rotten skunk," I yelled.

We barely had time to turn off the cellphone and shut down the computer before I heard a scuffling sound at the door.

"Jan, look scared."

"I
am
scared."

"Well, look it."

The door flew open and Kazoo suspiciously surveyed the cabin, gave us a lookover, and zeroed in on the open porthole. Glancing at the two of us, then back to the porthole, I guess he decided we were too big to get through, then grabbed my computer, and left without a word.

"Dammit all to hell! At least we still have the cellphone."

Nao de Chino's
big diesels roared to life, and a couple of minutes later anchor chain clunked over the bow roller, link by link, around the windlass gypsy, and then dropped loudly into its chain locker.

Jan held up the cellphone. "We won't have a signal for long, I'd bet. Two to one we're headed out to sea, and we'll be losing bars in a hurry."

"Call Chino back while we still can. Tell him we're weighing anchor, so ask him to hide near the pier and wait for Fabio, then try to see where those creeps are taking my dog."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Sorry. I get bossy when I'm upset."

"Hetta, you're always bossy. But it's okay, cuz you sound like you're in charge, and right now, you are. Aren't you? So, boss, what's next?"

"Danged if I know. One thing for sure, though—we need to get the hell off this tub."

Jan looked at the porthole, then pointedly at my rear end. "I could probably do it. You? Not so much."

"Wanna bet?" I showed her my can of olive oil. Jan started giggling. "Oh, man, please tell me we still have the minicam."

"I'm glad to amuse." I rummaged around in my closet, brought out a pair of sweats, pulled out the drawstring, and stretched it across the opening. "Eighteen inches or so. I think I can do it."

"Well, then, I'm going first, cuz when you get stuck in there I can't get out either." She put her head out the porthole and looked down. "About a ten foot drop. Also dooable. There is one itsy bitsy problem, though."

"What?"

"You can't swim worth a damn."

She was right. The boat was doing a good ten knots, which, in a half-hour would put us five miles off shore, and I could probably, on a good day with the assist of a strong in-coming tide in my favor, swim a quarter of a mile. For all the time I've spent in the water, I've just never mastered the swimming thing. In fresh water I sink like a rock. In the Sea of Cortez, I float easily, but the salinity in the Pacific is much less. And then there is the water temperature.

Mulling over our lousy options, I came up with one that was somewhat less iffy.

"Standby. I'll be right back." I opened a hatch hidden behind my clothes in the hanging locker, went down a wobbly spiral staircase and came back with two canvas bags. Another trip down, and I had snagged two rebreather canisters.

While Jan continued talking with Chino—Fabio had still not arrived at the dock in Lopez Mateos—I unpacked our drysuits, goggles, rebreathers, and swim fins. "They don't know about my secret passage. This gear is our key to getting the hell off this boat."

Jan frowned. "Are you sure? Hold on. Chino wants to know if we think he and some cousins should overpower those goons when they arrive, and rescue Po Thang and Fabio?"

"I don't think so. If he doesn't hear from the old man, Dickless might just go ahead and toss us overboard, which I'm sure he's gonna do later anyhow."

"Chino? No, just try to figure out where they go after they drop Fabio. They might be driving a black Lincoln Navigator. Uh, just a guess." She listened for a minute, nodded and then said, "Hello? Hello? Crap, we've lost him."

"Just a guess? You just
guessed
they might be driving a black Lincoln Navigator? If we live through this mess, you're gonna have some 'splainin' to do. But for now, let's prepare to abandon ship."

"It's getting dark, Hetta. If I go out first, do you think we'll find each other? And in the movies don't people get pulled under the ship by the churning propwash or something?"

"Not if the boat is barely moving."

"How are we gonna slow it down? And even if we can, won't they see us when we jump off?"

"Oh, me thinks I'll make sure they're going to be
way
too busy."

I told her what I had in mind and she clapped her hands like a little girl. "Brilliant. Uh, I think. You won't be in danger down there, will you?

"Nope. Piece of cake," I said with a whole lot more confidence than I felt. I was lucky if I didn't end up boiled like a lobster at Fisherman's wharf.

"And we have to swim all that way back to shore. You think you can make it, even with the suit and fins?"

"I'm sure of it.  I've discovered over the last few weeks that panic is what tries to drown me. If I get really tired I'll float, using my floatation vest to keep me above water, and if I start to freak, I'll activate my rebreather. One thing for sure, if we stay on this ship and it keeps going, they're gonna toss us to the sharks somewhere along the line. I'd rather we toss ourselves to the sharks. Uh, that didn't come out quite right. You know what I mean."

"Okay, then, let's get 'er done."

"As soon as I'm suited up, I'll fetch rope from below, so once we do get clear of the ship, we'll be able to tether ourselves together. I'm also gonna need you to help me play one length out behind me as I go down into the engine room, just in case I need a guide line to find my way back."

I shimmied into my lightweight Lycra suit, which made it much easier to wiggle into the drysuit, slipped into the closet and through the hatch onto the landing of those tiny spiral stairs, which were obviously designed with a tiny Japanese Chief Engineer in mind. I'd been through the Japanese size thing before, in Tokyo; I was politely directed to the GIANT section in a department store when I was looking for clothing.

My dive booties were perfect for keeping traction on the metal stair treads, but with such tiny passages, I hoped I didn't snag on a bolt or something and tear a hole in either them, or my suit. The stairway led to another metal door, and another loud creak as I opened it. I stood stock still, straining to hear human sounds above the now louder engine noises coming from outside a third hatch.

My headlamp illuminated a small, pitch-black storage room packed with all manner of gear, including rope of various lengths and diameters. The climb back up those stairs trailing two fifty foot lengths of one inch line, which I estimated weighed at least fifty pounds, once again had me vowing to work out more, but weeks of both diving and working on the ship had made me much stronger.

Rambette!

Back in our cabin, I saw Jan was suited up and had our ditching gear stacked by the porthole.

"Bless Captain Bligh's little heart for insisting each cabin be equipped with emergency lighting sources in case the ship lost power during the night. I've only got this one headlamp, and I'll need it right now. Strap on the arm strobe, and stick the flashlight into your waterproof bag. I see you've packed the gear, so the minute I get back, we're going to be the first rats off this ship, okay?"

"I'll be waiting. I added our cellphone into my watertight pouch, so with any luck we'll get a signal when we get closer to shore, and we can call for help. "

"I'll have to use my rebreather gear here onboard, so just tie my fins with yours, and we'll put then on in the water." I tied the two ropes I'd found below together and handed an end to Jan. "Tie this off on the bunk and feed it out as I go, okay? Oh, and lock our cabin door from inside. If anyone tries to come in, stall them, then bop 'em one if they get in somehow. If all else fails we'll go for plan P."

"Plan P?"

"The one where we panic and leap off a moving ship, get sucked into the props and ground into pink slime."

"I think I like Plan A better."

"Then so it shall be."

I looped one end of the safety line around my waist, then Jan helped me put on my rebreather. Its bulk was going to make my trip back down those narrow stairs, and through passages built for small people, much more difficult, but I couldn't do what I had to do without it.

Because I had to use the headlamp until I got through that third hatch, I slid my facemask up my arm and cinched it tight. Some light made it down the stairs from my cabin, but with the outdoor light fading fast, I asked Jan to turn on my desk lamp and shine it into my closet.

Jan played out the line as I retraced my way through the storage locker. Now came the big test.

Before dousing my headlamp, I cranked the handle over and tried prying the hatch open enough to let a tad of engine room light shine through. Doing combat with yet another cranky metal hatch that surrendered inch by stubborn inch, I managed to snake my head out for a peek. Next time I'm First Mate on a ship, I'll dole out WD40 by the case.

The airtight hatch was smaller than the other two had been, but when I didn't see anyone in the engine room, I squeezed out and made tracks for the chain locker, where I knew a large, and I do mean giant, pair of bolt cutters lived in case we ever needed to cut the anchor chain. I could barely lift them, but struggled my way to the huge generator and left them there.

The electrician's tool box was right where I left it when I helped install and rewire the bilge pump. I took out some wire cutters and scuttled around the engine room, snipping all the wires leading to all the bilge pumps, especially the alarm connection.

The next task was one I wasn't so sure about. Making my way to the automated Halon fire extinguishing system, I traced what I thought was the wire to the bridge alarm. It was too big to snip with my wire cutters, so I lugged the getting-heavier-by-the minute bolt cutters over.

By now, I was sweating sheets both inside and outside my suit in that hot engine room. Constantly wiping salty sweat from my eyes, I regretted not bringing a bandana or something for a headband.

Now came the fun part. I mentally reversed the kind of check and safety list all savvy boaters live by in order to prevent major damage their boat. 

Every boat generator has an overheat alarm, so I disabled this one by severing its wiring, and also removed a thermostat which automatically shuts down a genset when it overheats. I then worked at loosening the stainless steel hose clamps securing the exhaust hose. They were (
Gee, thanks, Fabio, for running such a tight ship
) so secure I couldn't do anything with my sweat-slicked hands. Once again, I hauled those bolt cutters over, and sliced, with a great deal of difficulty, a hole in the exhaust hose.

Immediately, boiling hot water shot into the air, barely missing me. I knew there was nothing more I could do to the generator without ending up like an overcooked spaghetti noodle so I moved on to the next task at hand.

Backing away, I inserted and clamped down on my mouthpiece and took a couple of breaths of refreshingly cool air, before slipping on my mask. Which fogged immediately. Unzipping an arm pocket, I took out a small bottle of defogger solution, rubbed it onto the glass, and put it back on. I could see!

Unfortunately, the heat, and now steam, had me sweating to the point where salty perspiration filled the mask. I pinched my mask's purge valve and dumped it as I made my way to the big honking engines.

With great trepidation, I approached them, looked them over and found the thermostat sensor. Not really knowing what I was doing, I just started cutting any wire I saw, then jammed the blades of the bolt cutter into the exhaust hose. A satisfying geyser shot out, so I once again jumped out of the way, scurried to the other engine and repeated the same operation.

The bilge was rapidly filling with water, and just as I reached the storage room door, engine exhaust number one blew an even larger geyser that reached the overhead piping. As an afterthought, I found what I thought was a pipe leading from our eight-hundred gallon fresh water tank, and cut it.

It was time to boogie.  I considered closing the door to the storage room, then decided to leave it open, just in case Jan and I had to come back down into the engine room and try to escape via another route.

Unfortunately that route entailed hand-to-hand combat with a bunch of goons, but on the upside, maybe I'd get to whack Dickless.

That didn't quite sound right.