Chapter 24
The beauty of the Invisios the Team used was that they were so small, no one could tell they were being worn. Trace had put his so far inside his ear canal he was beginning to wonder if he’d be able to get it out afterwards. That happened occasionally to guys. The little microphone worked off the bone structures in the inner ear, so the quality of the sound was nearly as good as the quality of hearing the owner had.
This meant just about everything going on around him, being said to him face-to-face, could be picked up by the Team, unless he were more than a thousand yards away. He wasn’t quite sure if the metal hull of the ship would block a signal, but guessed it would interfere. So he whispered, as if talking to himself, making like he was drunk and perhaps a bit crazy, which might lessen the guard’s attention. He had no idea what he was going to tell them.
The guards nudged him over to the tiny terminal about the size of an outhouse at the end of the gangway. He was frisked and cuffed, chained to a metal awning pole.
“So, mon, you no can go here without permission.” He held up Trace’s wallet and pulled out all his cash, a whopping forty US. “Dis,” he said as he waved the cash in the air, “is not permission.” The dark-skinned man was missing every other tooth. His face was leathery and wrinkled like a prune. His eyes looked mean and extremely nasty.
“I apologize,” Trace started to say.
“Where you from?”
“C-California. Look, fellas, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Oh, mon, trouble is what you got big time.”
One of the other guards, who fit the description of a muffin top if there ever was one, chuckled, his belly rippling over his belt. He chewed on a toothpick calmly while Trace squirmed.
It wasn’t hard to act scared. He’d fucked up and gotten himself caught.
“What’s a California man doing here on God’s Island?”
“I was drinking last night downtown—”
“What town is that?” The guard turned to his two buddies. “You know a place called downtown?”
They both shrugged, and Mr. Pruneface aimed his beady eyes back on Trace.
“Fredricksburg or something like that.”
“Ah, he was in Fred’s town. Dat town.”
The other two guards nodded wisely and said, “Ah,” in unison.
Trace waited for further instructions. Finally, the guard poked him with his forefinger. “Talk. You were drinking, and—?”
“I overheard a conversation about this ship, the Emily, or Amily or something. They told me it would be coming in at midnight. Said it was tons of fun.”
“Except it’s for club members only, Mr. California. You got to pay the dues first. Not for free.”
“Well, that’s why I climbed the pier. I was hoping to bypass that ticket taker down there. Thought my forty bucks would get me in.”
“No, my man. Your forty bucks makes sure you stay out. You go to jail, mon. This is breaking and entering. Ever heard of dat?”
Trace knew he was just messing with him.
“I get paid on Friday. I’ll have more cash then. Can I get a temporary loan?”
That brought down the house in raucous laughter. He saw passengers on board turn and look in his direction.
“Dis guy. Dis guy is a funny man. What do you do, Mr. California?”
“I’m in the Navy. I’m a Seabee.”
“A what?”
“A Seabee. We build things for the Navy. Like a contractor.”
“And what are you building on our God’s island?”
“It’s a campground.”
“Nobody goes camping on our island. This isn’t California.”
“I realize that. It’s a US government facility. We’re building toilets and little cabins, restoring the old church.”
“Sounds like the Peace Corps. You in the Peace Corps, Mr. California?”
“No, sir, I told you. I’m employed by the Navy.”
The head guard considered his options. Trace thought perhaps he could confuse him a bit before he made up his mind. Either way it went, whatever he would decide wouldn’t be good for Trace, so he tried to take a little control.
“Look, man. I’ll come back tomorrow night. I’ll even bring some buddies. How’s that? And we’ll bring more money this time. We’re just here to have a good time. Meet some girls. You know, get a little, you know. We’re not here to hurt anyone. But if I wind up missing, the Navy will come looking for me.”
“You wouldn’t be the first sailor who got lost on our island. What you don’t want is to get yourself disappeared.”
The guard walked around Trace, studying his clothes, his shoes, looking for a watch or ring, something obviously worth something he could steal. Trace’s bladder almost gave out when the guard examined his earlobes for evidence of an earring. He missed the Invisio.
“Well, I’m afraid, son, you’ve got bad luck, and we don’t let anyone on the ship with bad luck. We are leaving before the sun comes up and headed to another island. So I’m afraid your buddies won’t be able to visit this place. But we’ll be back. How long will you be here?”
“I think several months. Until the job is finished, I imagine.”
“Well then, it’s a date. You come back in about thirty days. We’ll be right here. We always arrive at the witching hour, midnight!” he said with his eyes wide and his hands splayed over his head. “You remember old Jonny here, okay?”
“Sure. Sure. I promise.”
“And just for your information, it will be two hundred US per person. That’s the ticket price.”
“Just for one evening?”
“No, sir. We take you someplace else, and we drop you. You have to find the way home! That’s the way it works.” All three of the guards cackled.
Trace looked up at the ship, so close and yet so far away. But he remembered what their mission was. It wasn’t the ship. It was King George. He smiled back to the guard as the handcuffs were removed.
“Thirty days, it is. Does anyone have the schedule? We have to ask permission to leave ahead of time. Any idea what date?”
The guard squinted briefly. Trace wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.
“The pink mermaid bar in Fred’s town always knows. You can inquire there and tell Ida you’re a friend of Jonny’s. I’m always on guard when the ship comes in for the King. You know the King?”
“No, I don’t. I heard that some rich guy owns this. He’s a king?”
“He is da king of our island. You got a king in Washington, D.C. Next time, I’ll introduce you. Be prepared to pay. Nothing is free.”
Trace decided Jonny had become an ally. So he asked a burning question, “How many times have you sailed on her?”
“Queen Amalie? That bitch is a hard one. Never.”
Jonny even shook Trace’s hand. When he started to climb over the pier, the guard stopped him.
“No, no! Not that way. You walk out like a guest. Dat way.” He pointed down the long pier, which meant it would take him at least thirty minutes before he could meet up with the rest of the Team.
“Trace, you’re a fuckin’ genius,” Kyle said in his ear.
“Well, I was hoping for a look inside that ship. Next time.”
“Because of you, there will be a next time, and you got a personal invitation to meet the King himself. I’d say job well done.”
The photos and intel was transmitted. The Headshed were thrilled with what they’d obtained. A combined expedition would be set up after several of the SEALs had been on board to scope out the environment. Kyle told the group that SEAL Team 3 would be leading a boarding party next deployment after the task force was created. Until then, their job had been deemed complete one hundred percent.
“Best news is, we get to go home early, gents. Thanks to the new guy, Frogman Trace Bennett.”
He was toasted several times over the next two days as they prepared to store and lock up equipment and supplies they’d brought. They took inventory of what to bring next time. An advance team would set up the clearance, and then they’d drop in at night when the port remained empty.
Trace could hardly wait to get to talk to Gretchen again. Whether it was California or Portland, he was going home.