Yaquina White

A Thomas Martindale Mystery

by Ron Lovell

Chapter 13

Monk and five other boarding team members emerged from the door in fifteen minutes. All of them were wearing Mustang suits, the heavily insulated coveralls that keep out cold and water. They walked toward the rear where a portion of the railing had been lifted to enable them to climb down metal ladders to a waiting Zodiak inflatable boat below. We all ran to the rail to watch as the six men quickly descended the swaying ladders.

“The captain has slowed down the Healy just a bit,” said Admiral Potter, “to allow an easier transfer.”

“Why not stop the engines entirely,” asked Levine, forever the second-guesser, no matter what the situation or topic.

“It will be easier for them to get into the Zodiak if both vessels are moving,” said the admiral. “As near as we can calculate, the Oden is still maintaining its speed of one knot. As soon as the team is safely away, we will get back up to that speed or slightly faster to keep pace. I am not sure if any of you are familiar with Zodiaks, but they are fast when their throttles are opened up full-bore.”

By this time, Monk and his men had safely dropped into the smaller craft. Luckily for them, the seas were fairly calm, although the ocean swells still tossed the small boat around like a toy.

Once all his crew were safely onboard, Monk gave a thumbs-up sign to those of us above, then signaled one of the men to open the throttle, and they sped away. As they did, a cheer went up from both the media contingent and the crew members who were fanned out along the railing. At that point, I could hear the engines of the Healy reverberate through the deck as the ship picked up speed.

“This thing can really move when it wants to,” said Cummings, who was standing beside me.

“You sure found someone to keep you warm in a hurry.”

I turned to find Maxine next to me on the other side.

“I don’t have any excuses,” I replied. “You’re lost to me, so I took the path of least resistance. I guess I’m weaker than I thought.”

“You gave in so easily,” she whispered. “Once you were so uptight that you hesitated even to kiss me.”

She was right. I used to be more circumspect when it came to involvements of any kind. I guess my arrest and ruined reputation had liberated me, for better or worse.

Maxine walked away before I could say any more. I didn’t try to follow her.

“What did she want with you?” hissed Anita, as she stepped into the space Maxine had just vacated.

“Look, Anita, I like you a lot, but I don’t want to get into the position of answering to you every time I talk to someone.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, shrugging. “I guess I can give you some leeway. I know I’d like to get you into other positions as soon

as possible.”

At that moment, I knew I had made a big mistake by letting Anita into my life, even the temporary one I was leading on this ship. “I think we’ve got more important things to think about now—at least I do. Monk Beasley is my friend, and I’m worried about him.”

“Whatever.”

By this time, the Zodiak had reached the Oden, and Monk was hurling a line with a grappling hook on the end up to the railing. Several of his crew members did the same. Their first attempts failed and the lines fell into the water, so they scrambled to pull them in for another try.

Unfortunately, the waves began to pick up, as if the sea had decided to interfere in this dangerous process. The small boat moved up and down constantly, while staying alongside the speeding ship. Monk and his men made another attempt, and this time only one of the three lines fell into the water.

Monk tested the line to make sure it was securely hooked over the railing and then began climbing up the side of the by now lurching ship. As someone who has tended toward motion sickness all his life, I felt bilious just watching the scene.

Monk scrambled up the line followed by two of his men, while another Coastie did the same on the adjacent one. When he was on deck, he flashed a thumbs-up sign and then said something into the microphone on his shoulder. Instantly, the remaining men abandoned their attempts to secure the third line and clambered their way upward to the deck. Within seconds, all six men were standing on deck.

With the radio transmission going to the captain on the bridge, none of us knew what Monk was saying. But our vantage point allowed us to make educated guesses.

The men drew their weapons, and Monk led them to the bridge. As they took up positions outside, he disappeared into the wheelhouse. After a few minutes, an explosion blew out the windows of the wheelhouse and knocked over several of the men outside.

“MONK!” I shouted, as much in anguish as with any thought that he could hear me. “God, no! Monk!” How would I face his wife? He was in this mess because of me.

At that point, two men raced into the wheelhouse, while the others stood guard outside. No one on our ship said a word—our eyes were glued to the door.

Another minute passed before the men emerged, supporting a slumping Monk between them. He looked bloody, but alive, as they carried him away from the bridge.

Admiral Potter’s radio crackled, and he listened to it for

a second.

“HE’S WOUNDED, BUT ALIVE,” he shouted to the rest of us.

“How can that be?” said Levine, forever the skeptic. “We saw the explosion ourselves. Are you just trying to make us feel better?”

The group let out a collective sigh and began muttering, as these people always seem to do whenever Levine said anything.

The admiral was listening to his radio again. “It was a concussion grenade, set to go off when anyone entered the bridge, but not designed to kill anyone. Whoever did this is playing with us.”

On the Oden, the men standing guard entered the wheelhouse. Soon, that ship seemed to be slowing down. Before long, it stopped. The Healy also reduced speed, as the captain maneuvered it closer to the Swedish ship. Then its engines stopped as well.

The crew members who had been watching alongside us went through the doorway, I presumed to be part of a boarding party. Before long, three more Zodiaks had been put in the water. Soon, men were going down ladders and dropping into the small boats farther back along the railing, as well as from the other side.

Despite the potential danger for everyone, the scene was fascinating to watch. These people knew their jobs, and they did them without hesitation or argument. Their years of training showed.

The small boats bobbing in the vast sea looked like pieces of meat in a bubbling pot of soup as they made their way through the menacing waves. The distance was not all that great, but the rough water caused them to take a circuitous route. Even though they wanted to head due north, they headed northwest, hoping the fast current would get them where they wanted to go.

Except for occasional shouts of encouragement and amazement, we watched this tableau in silence. Even Levine kept quiet. Before long, though, people couldn’t keep from yelling things.

“Careful! You’ll hit too hard!”

“Ooooo. Watch that big wave!”

“I can’t watch!”

In about fifteen minutes, the boats had tied up to the Oden and more crew members had shimmied up the ropes and were standing on the main deck. They were standing around the officer in charge, who was gesturing in different directions as he talked.

I walked over to the admiral. “When will you be bringing Monk Beasley back onboard?”

He pointed behind me, and I turned to see a stretcher being lowered over the side of the Oden. Down it went, at first smoothly. About halfway, however, one of the ropes caught on a winch, temporarily upending the stretcher and leaving Monk dangling upside down.

“God, no! He’s going to fall into the water!”

“I can’t watch!”

“Do something!”

As we held our collective breaths, the stretcher swayed from side to side. The tethers on its passenger held, however, and Monk did not fall. In a few seconds, I could see both of his arms reaching for a nearby line. Back and forth he went, like a trapeze artist working his most dangerous trick high above the circus without a net.

By this time, two men had dropped to his level and taken hold of the swinging stretcher. Once they stopped it, they were able to stabilize it and make sure Monk was securely tied down. Soon, all three of them were descending the ropes smoothly. The ocean was rougher now, so they paused in order to get in synch with the swells.

“I am getting seasick just watching.”

“Do it, for God’s sake!”

“Get that man some medical attention!”

As one big wave broke against the side of the ship, the men took advantage of the upswing to maneuver the stretcher safely into the bobbing boat below. The boat got underway and headed back toward the Healy.

Within a few minutes, lines were being lowered from a winch on a deck below us and connected to the stretcher. Monk was raised without incident and disappeared through a large opening in the side of the ship that was used for loading oversized cargo.

“I’ve got to see him!” I said to the admiral. “He’s my friend, and I’ve got to see if he’s okay. I need to tell his wife. I have to make sure. . . .”

“Mister . . . a . . .”

“Martindale. Tom Martindale.”

“I’ll take you to see your friend.”

“What about the rest of us?” shouted Levine, who was, as usual, eavesdropping and making an ass of himself. “This guy’s not even a journalist!”

“Put a sock in it!” said Anita, who smiled at me. “They’re friends. This has nothing to do with scoops or exclusives.”

I nodded my thanks and followed the admiral inside the doorway. No one else objected, so Levine muttered and, with the others, resumed his observations of the events on the Oden.

We walked quickly down two flights of stairs and into a passageway that led to a port in the side of the ship.

“We use this to bring big cargo items into a large bay on the other side of these doors,” said the admiral. “The doctor’s going to take a look at Monk here before we move him up to sick bay.”

As we reached the opening, the entire Zodiak was being lifted onto the deck. Only when it was safely onboard did the medics lift Monk and put him on a gurney. As I walked up to him, Monk smiled and raised one arm. His face and neck were bright red and covered with soot.

“Hey, buddy. Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“You gave us quite a scare. How are you doing?”

“Anything for attention, as I told you before.” As he moved, he grimaced and dropped his arm.

“You can talk to your friend later,” said an authoritative man in a long, white coat. “He needs treatment now.”

“Sorry, doctor. I’m a friend and I was concerned. What’s wrong . . . ”

“Later. You can see him later.”

• • •

Two hours later, I was still sitting outside the door of the infirmary, my head resting against the wall. For the first time in a long time, my thoughts were not about me and the mess I was in, but Monk and how badly he was hurt. The admiral had gone back up on deck as soon as Monk had been moved up one deck to an area where he could be properly treated.

“Mr. Martindale.”

I opened my eyes to see the doctor standing in front of me. I stood up.

“You can see your friend now. Sorry if I was a bit abrupt earlier. Admiral Potter filled me in about your close ties to Mr. Beasley.”

“No apology necessary, doctor. How is he?”

“He had some pretty severe burns to his neck and one arm. He’s also got a concussion. He’s lucky to be alive. If that had been a real bomb, he’d be dead.”

“When will he be okay? When will he be back on du . . .?” I was sounding selfish. Monk was my lifeline to the outside world, the only person who knew why I was here and the danger I was facing. It was understandable that I was concerned, but very selfish.

“On duty, you mean?”

I nodded my head.

“We can’t treat those burns adequately on the ship. I’m arranging for him to be medevaced out of here later today.”

“He’s got to leave?” I gulped.

“No other choice. I’m getting him down to a hospital in Anchorage. Those burns have got to be taken care of or he’s going to be in serious trouble.”

“He could die?”

“Probably not, but it could mean permanent scarring and possible amputation.”

I gulped again. “Can I see him?”

“Yes—he’s been asking for you—but only for a few minutes.”

He gestured toward the passageway and I followed him down to a closed door. He opened it, and I stepped into what seemed to be an emergency room. Monk was in the center of it, two medics tending to his wounds.

“Let’s give these two gentlemen some space,” the doctor suggested.

“Yes sir,” the two men said in unison. They and the doctor walked out, leaving me alone with my friend whose eyes were closed. His arm, head, and neck were swathed in gauze.

“Monk.”

He opened his eyes. “Tom. Hey, buddy. I’m a bit groggy. I think I’m doped up. I can’t feel much of anything. I guess I’ve got some pretty bad burns. It hurt like hell before, but it’s not so bad now. How are you?”

“Don’t worry about me. It’s you we’ve got to concentrate on. What can I do for you?”

“Try to call Linda and tell her I’ve been injured. I think they’re sending me to Anchorage. Once she hears that, she’ll know what to do. She’s been married to me long enough to know what channels to go through to get up here. I just want her to hear this from you, I mean about what happened to me.” He shifted his head on the pillow and grimaced from the pain.

“What did happen?”

“As I went onto the bridge, I could see that no one was at the wheel. All of a sudden, a blast went off and I was knocked back on my butt. The room was spinning, and I blacked out. I think I was only out for a few minutes. When I came to, my guys were leaning over me, calling my name. I told them to get me out of there and to secure this area of the ship until we could get some reinforcements. When they picked me up, my neck and arm hurt like hell.”

“The burns.”

“It could have been a lot worse. I could have been blown into a thousand pieces. Whoever did this wanted to make a statement without killing anyone. At least, just yet.”

“But who? And what happened to the crew of that ship?”

“I wish I knew. The ship was on some kind of an automatic pilot. No one was on the bridge. We didn’t have time to go below. I presume my guys are checking that out as we speak.”

The door opened. “Time’s up, gentlemen.” The doctor had returned.

“Be sure and call Linda right away. I’m sorry I’m letting you down. I said I’d protect you and here I am bailing out on you. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t give it a second thought. I’m going to be fine. How are any of the guys after me going to find me here?”

The medics returned and covered Monk with wool blankets. Then they wheeled him out into the passageway. The doctor and I walked behind them. When they got to the stairs, they lifted the stretcher up off the gurney and passed it up from man to man along the crew members lining the route. As they handed him off, I could hear words of encouragement from each of them.

“Way to go, sir.”

“Nice job on the Oden, sir.”

“We’re proud of you, sir.”

“Get well soon, sir.”

We climbed up behind him and up two more flights. As we emerged onto the landing deck at the rear of the Healy, I heard the clatter of a helicopter in the distance. Soon, a small dot grew larger and the aircraft began to descend. Monk’s stretcher had been placed on another gurney. The men around Monk shielded him from the strong winds created by the rotor blades. The doctor and I dodged dust and even sea foam as the helicopter came to rest softly on the deck without even a bump.

The commotion did not end because the pilot kept the rotors turning. The men rolled Monk’s gurney to the open door of the helicopter, ducking to avoid the certain death that would come if they got near the steel blades. Helping hands lifted him through the door, and it slammed shut. In seconds, the craft ascended and banked to the right. Before long, it was once again a dot and then it was gone.

Below, standing with the doctor, I kept looking at that space in the sky, where the dot had been, but it was empty. Seldom in my life had I felt so alone.