Page 54 of Wreck My Mind

I finished prepping for tomorrow’s dive then went up to the bridge to double-check on the radar for any other boats in the area. As Zaki had briefed, Island I&A was keeping a close eye on all ships in the area, not only for our job but because of the music video shoot for DV8 and Lil’ BayBay. Still, I wanted to see for myself as well as touch base with the captain.

The vacant bridge stretched the width of the yacht with large, full windows to allow for maximum visibility. The whole room was illuminated with nightclub-worthy undermount lighting, and the controls were backlit in red for easy night visibility. A wall of high-tech instrumentation panels ran along the rear wall. In the middle of the room a curved, plush seating area and table that sat on a raised platform beckoned one to have coffee, lunch, or even a cocktail. In the front, sophisticated instrumentation panels and touch displays as well as black box electronics promised a most exquisite driving experience. In short, the bridge was a cross between a NASA-esque control center, a swank club lounge, and a very large cockpit.

I ran my fingers over the dual chrome throttles and smirked, recalling a time two years or so ago when Captain Tom had let me take the controls and open her up to her top speed of nineteen knots in the Arabian Sea. Too bad we were at anchor now. I checked the radar for nearby vessels and followed with a manual scan with the binos. No pirates on the horizon, which was a good thing.

Heading out, I bumped into the captain and Jim in the hallway outside the captain’s quarters.

“Just coming to find you. Good to see you again,” I said as I shot my hand out toward Magnussen.

The meaty captain shook it. His strawberry-blond hair kicked out in waves just like the seas he sailed on as he said in a deep Norske timbre, “You as well.”

“Jim,” I said, nodding toward the Midwestern American. He was rather vanilla-looking with his medium brown hair and basic blue eyes, average build, and borderline shorter stature. Had that Boy Scout quality about him, like he’d gotten his badge in gentle lovemaking.

I returned my attention to Magnussen. “Cait told me you all had an issue in the engine room. Everything okay?”

“Nothing major. We were just slipping a note under Tom’s door so he’d be aware.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at dinner?” Jim asked. He liked a strict regimen and in Monaco he’d been squirrelly anytime I went off schedule.

Clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince, I said, “Headed to the crew mess now. Want to join me?”

“Nonsense,” Magnussen practically bellowed. “Have dinner with me on the bridge. Jim, tell Cait to bring it up. Then be sure to clean up our mess in the engine room.”

“Of course, sir,” Jim said and quickly headed off.

Magnussen turned back to usher me toward the bridge. “Kid’s a hard worker, but I swear he’d wipe my ass if I’d let him. I have to make things up for him to do just to get some privacy.”

I laughed as Lars poured us each a Scotch on the rocks. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Speaking of people who are up my ass, Scott Hayes just called again. He’s hyper-concerned about pirating activity on this charter. Wants me to post someone round the clock to watch the radar for ships approaching.”

As far as I knew, the crew had not been privy to the details of the job. They knew we were diving and bringing something up, but they had no idea of its value and certainly not that it was worth a half-billion dollars. “Interesting. Has there been an uptick in pirating in the Caribbean?”

“Not that I’ve heard. He’s saying the Alvarez Cartel has been making threats. Know anything about that?”

I dropped down into one of the captain’s chairs and took a sip of my drink. “About as much as you, I assume.”

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