The Double-Cross In Paradise, Episode 47, Solved

This is episode forty-seven in the sixth novel of The Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Solved

Trace could have sailed The Tramp Islander over Niagara Falls and never noticed, because of all the thought and attention he was giving to his suspicions. His head suddenly jerked. A thought pressed against his mind like a hot poker. His hand lazily lay on the wheel. The index finger lifted and moved side to side—one thought and then another, a missing letter to a crossword puzzle, or like a melody needing one more note to leave the world with a masterpiece.

He checked the heading and confirmed he was true. He slid from his chair and sat in the chair at the chart desk. He slid a drawer open, pulled out a thick folder. He perused them one by one, running his finger down each line. Occasionally, he stopped and mentally collected the information. Another file was removed, and he compared one with the other.

Trace slid the files forward on the desk and leaned back in the seat. He laced his fingers behind his head. His head shook from side to side. “Of all people,” he murmured. 

He returned to the wheel. At times, he thought his heart would stop beating. He had heard about heavy hearts, but now he knew what it really meant. “Now, what to do?” He whispered.

“The sea is calm,” he thought. “It’s trying to remind me of something: be calm. There are seven deadly sins: pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. They can all be beautifully hidden by deception.”

Trace picked up the ship’s phone. He punched the number to Kelsey’s room and waited for him to answer.

“Yeah,” Kelsey said.

“I want to see you in the pilothouse right away,” Trace said.

“Let me get my pants on.”

It didn’t take long for Kelsey to come up the companionway steps.

“What’s crackin’?” Kelsey said. “Sounds important.”

“It is,” Trace confirmed. 

“I’ve been very cautious with you,” Trace began.

“As you should be,” Kelsey said. “I understand. I live in a world of deception and double-crosses.”

“And apparently so do I,” Trace said. 

“You look like a man who has found the secret to life,” Kelsey said. “You know something, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you do, you’re a step ahead of me. I’ve been puzzled,” Kelsey confessed.

“Puzzled over what?”

“How did that trawler find us?” Kelsey said. “It was incredible logistics or tactics, dumb luck, or they traced us. And my money is on number two. And yours?”

“Number two,” Trace answered. 

“Who, right?” Kelsey said curiously.

“Indeed.”

“And you brought me up here to question me?” Kelsey said. “How am I doing so far?”

“Ehhh, not really,” Trace said. 

“Then it’s to pronounce my guilt,” Kelsey grinned.

Trace chuckled. “Please, give me some credit. However, I did run you through my thoughts. You’re a genuine cop. And I recalled that, although I could not hear the code, you did change an E to an I, which is a common mistake. If you were trying to fool me, you would have done it perfectly.”

“How long are we going to dance to this tune?” Kelsey asked.

“We’re done dancing.”

“So, I’m in the clear?” Kelsey asked.

“Yep.”

“Why am I here?” Kelsey asked. 

“I have to have you look me square in the eye,” Trace said resolutely, “and tell me that you don’t have proof or that you even suspect I’m involved in drug trafficking.” 

“After all we’ve been through?” Kelsey said. “I’ve put my life in your hands.”

There was a pause, and only the swishing of the sea could be heard.

“Let’s have it, mate,” Kelsey said.

“I think there are drugs on this boat,” Trace said. 

“And you want me to assure you that you are not mixed up in it?” Kelsey asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I can do that,” Kelsey assured. “Because I believe it.”

“Thanks,” Trace said and shook Kelsey’s hand.

“What’s next?” Kelsey asked.

“Watch the wheel and heading,” Trace said. “I’m going below for a few minutes.”

“You trust me at the wheel?” Kelsey asked, grinning.

“I’m trusting you with a lot more than that,” Trace grinned. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.” 

Trace tiptoed down the companionway steps.

The Double-Cross In Paradise; Episode 46, Suspicious Mind

This is episode forty-six in the sixth novel of The Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Suspicious Mind

Franks and Paul were chained to the mast in the forward hold. Little attention was given to their comfort. Sage manned the wheel while Trace, Makani, Tom, and Kelsey slept in their cabins. 

Early morning squawking seagulls woke Trace. He slipped his clothing on and climbed up to the pilothouse. 

“Mornin’!” Sage said, cheerfully.

“It’s still dark, but back at ya,” Trace replied. He nodded toward the clock hanging on the pilothouse wall. “According to Kelsey, the Australian Navy should be meeting up with us in a couple of hours.”

Trace breathed deeply through his nostrils. He stepped out of the pilothouse and stood aft. He watched the dark seas wash away in the wake of The Tramp Islander. After a few minutes, he returned to the pilothouse.

“You want to get some sleep?” Trace asked Sage.

“Tom came up a few hours ago and relieved me,” Sage said. “I’m fine.”

Trace bobbed his head. Although answering the question, his mind was elsewhere. 

“Texas?” Sage asked.

“Yeah,” Trace said, “how did you guess?”

“I didn’t,” Sage said, “I could have said, Pea Pod, Kentucky, and you’d have said, how did you guess. So what’s rubbin’ your backside raw?”

“It’s best I keep it to myself for now.”

“Well, don’t let it rub ya raw and get infected,” Sage said. He stood, and just before stepping below, he said. “I’m getting some shuteye. Wake me when the Navy gets here.”

Trace gave him an informal two-finger salute.

Trace tossed around in his mind some troubling thoughts. ‘Someone on this boat, and close to me, has been deceiving me. It leaves me empty, like a hollow barrel. The Tin Man—nothing inside, only an echo. It lessens your value in yourself. You question who you really are. You feel you must have done something to deserve deception. Jesus expected someone, Judas. Who is my Judas?’

“Think, Trace, think!” He murmured. 

‘How did the trawler find us? And it felt strange to me that Franks was so sure I would be accepted in his operation. It takes months and even years to be trusted with what they wanted me to do. I was promised almost immediate contact with kingpins. And I fell for it. The only way I could get access that quickly is if I were being set up. Franks is obvious, but how was he able to let the trawler find us?’  

‘What about Tom? He and Paul may have been holding out on me. Maybe he’s mixed up with them and is waiting for an opportune time to act. He and Paul worked together and had a bond of courage and trust from their time on Flint Island. Is he somehow mixed up in this whole thing? For what? Money, of course.’

‘Kelsey, how could he figure into deceiving me? Maybe he’s not who I think he is. I never heard the transmissions over his headset. Maybe the whole thing is made up. Maybe he’s a thug, and we’re really meeting his thugs. Maybe this whole thing is to discredit and ruin Franks. Perhaps he and Franks were in on it to begin with, and now Kelsey is double-crossing Franks. That’s crazy.’ 

‘And then there is Makani. He’s been with me from the start. He’s been loyal beyond question. He could have left me long ago. He stayed with me even though he had enough money to leave me long ago, risking his life. He’s helped with problems. Beyond Sage, he’s been my closest confidant.’

‘Sage, no, never. He knows me better than anyone. He’s had my back, and I’ve had his all our lives. He lied for me to keep me out of trouble in the first grade, because I lied for him the week before. Our fathers are best friends. He would never allow anything to come between us.’

‘Let’s review. What would each one gain? With Franks, it’s revenge. That is a powerful motive. And men will go to incredible lengths to exact it. If Kelsey is a crook, it’s control and power of drug operations. If he’s a cop, for sure, there’s nothing to worry about unless he wants to round up as many convictions as possible, and he’d frame me along with his grandmother. Makani, I’ve treated him fair. Why could he possibly betray me? He has a lot of money, but maybe he wants more. And Sage is out of the question, but if it is him, why? Maybe it’s jealousy. His family does alright, and he’s done alright, but our family has always done better. He’s never even hinted at anything like that. And that may be it—jealousy.’

‘There is one thing I’m certain of: there is a clue to who it is. I’ve overlooked it. It did not appear as a clue then. Think, Trace, think. It’s there. Think, Trace, think.’

A Brilliant Idea, Mr. Bellwether

It was the showdown at the plant.  

Gilbert Vanderslack had it. His brilliant production manager, Harvey Bellwether, had stepped over the line. He sent suggestions to corporate without first running them by him. And now corporate wants to know why those suggestions haven’t been implemented, or at least passed on through the normal channels. 

Bellwether entered Vanderslack’s office. 

“No need to sit, Mr. Bellwether,” Vanderslack said. “This will be as brief as a puff of air.”

“Very well, sir,” Bellwether said. “I am a bit swamped, and I’d like to get back to work. We are really running behind on domestic orders.”

“You sent a half dozen suggestions into corporate behind my back,” Vanderslack said. “In clear violation of protocol. You should be demoted under most circumstances, but corporate said to allow you to implement any one of the six you think would be best received, most cost-effective, and easiest to implement.” 

“You meant it’s my choice?” Bellwether said.

“Yes,” Vanderslack said. “So tell me which one and we will implement it immediately.”

“Have you looked at them yourself?” Mr. Vanderslack. 

“Don’t need to,” Vanderslack said. “Corporate says they’re all brilliant and needed.”

“Are you sure?” Bellwether said. “Any one of the six.”

“Yes,” Vanderslack said. “What is it?”

“You’re fired,” Bellwether said.

The Double-Cross In Paradise,vEpisode 45, Kaboom!

This is episode forty-five in the sixth novel of The Troy Adventure Series. It is titled The Double-Cross in Paradise. Here are the links to  The Double-Cross In Paradise: paperback, Kindle. 

Kaboom!

Trace turned to Sage. “Go below and get Kelsey and have Makani guard Franks and Paul.”

Trace flashed his spotlight on the trawler. He grabbed the mic. “Who are you?”

“We’re here for Franks and our cargo.”

“We have Franks. But he’ll tell you we don’t have the cargo. It’s back in Port Vila.”

“Drop your sails!”

“My crew is below. Give us time.” Trace replied

“Hurry it up. You don’t want us to bring your boat to a stop our way, do you?”

“Understood.”

“We’re cooperating,” Trace said.

Sage and Trace hurried out of the forward companionway and lowered the sails. 

Sage returned to the pilothouse and slipped into the captain’s seat. Trace grabbed the explosive device. He hustled down the companionway, through the quarters, and forward to where the scuba gear was stored. He quickly and methodically climbed into the gear. He checked the device to make sure everything was there.

Sage sat in the captain’s chair. His eyes were forward, watching for Trace to lift the forward hatch and slip overboard on The Tramp Islander’s starboard side. He grabbed the mic. “Okay, what do we do now?”

“Lower a life raft over the side and send Franks over.”

“What about his son?” Sage said.

“Whose son?”

“Franks’s,” Trace said. “His son is below with him.”

There was a pause, and during it, Sage caught sight of Trace lowering himself over the starboard side of The Tramp Islander.

Trace swam beneath the hull of The Tramp Island, clutching the peculiar-looking explosive device and the wires that went with it. And then he swam toward the light from the trawler that danced against the surface of the water above him. 

“Hey,” Sage called threw the mic, “you don’t suppose you could hurry it up over there.” He smiled and said to himself. “I love messin’ with folks who think they’re in control and have it all figured out. Little do they know.”

Sage tapped his finger on the top of the control panel.

“This ain’t much of a decision,” Sage said into the mic. “It’s either yes or no. Or come to think of it, just go on, it’s all been a big mistake.”

Trace reached the boat from underwater. He flicked his flashlight on. He moved along the bottom of the trawler until he located the propeller shaft. The hull was wooden. He pressed the legs of the device into the haul. The grenade was pulled from a pouch around his waist. The wire was tugged to make sure it was secure. He slipped the grenade halfway into the can with the arm inside. He removed the pin and slid the grenade all the way into the can. He tested the device to make sure it was sturdy enough to hold when he yanked on the wire.

He took one stroke away. He turned. He thought, ‘Do I really want to do this. I only want a hole in the boat. I don’t want anyone to die. I want them to make it to a lifeboat.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, and he kicked and pushed away hard, taking strong strokes.

He swam hard and fast, letting out the wire. He reached the end of the wire. The Tramp Islander waved in the water above. Makani stood at the rail. 

Trace erupted from the water. Makani quickly tossed a line. Trace pulled on the wire. He drew tight and slacked. Trace grabbed the line, and Makani began reeling him toward The Tramp Islander. 

“What’s going on!” Came a voice from the trawler’s bullhorn.

Then there was the sound of a huge belch coming from beneath the trawler. The trawler lifted. Scraps of lumber, phosphorus sparks, and rolling flames heaved from the aft of the trawler. The dark sea lit.

Makani pulled Trace on board. Sage started the engine and let it settle. Then he moved the throttle forward.

Trace removed his gear and rushed to the pilothouse. 

“Circle around,” Trace said, “keep a comfortable distance. I’m not picking any of them out of the water, but if there aren’t enough rafts, we can let one down for them.”

“They wouldn’t do that for us,” Sage said, “but that’s not the point.”

“Kelsey!” Trace ordered. “Send a distress signal, a sinking boat. Give the location.”

Kelsey tapped out a signal that a boat was in distress and sank. 

Sage circled The Tramp Islander around the burning and smoldering wreckage. 

Trace looked for survivors. There were eight men in two life rafts.

Trace grabbed the mic. “We sent a distress signal and gave your position.”

They cursed.

“They’re not very grateful,” Trace said. “Get back on course. They’ll be fine.”

Sage returned The Tramp Islander to their original course. 

Trace slipped into the captain’s chair. Sage and Kelsey hoisted the sails.

Maybe It's Just Me, But Aren't Napkins Getting Thinner?

 Maybe it's just me, and usually it is, but aren't the restaurant napkins getting thinner? 

I remember the day when you used to be able to pull one out of a napkin holder, clean off your silverware, blow your nose, fold it, put it in your back pocket, use it for a week, leave it in your pants, run it through the wash, and it was clean and ready to go for a while. Yeah, for sure, those days are gone.

I used to let 'em collect in the glove compartment. When the gas station ran out of paper towels for cleaning off the window and the dipstick after checking the oil, they worked fine.

Those ole greasy hamburger joints used stick 'em in the bottom of the bag. They'd not only soak up all the grease, but they could still be used to wipe the ketchup off your best shirt.

You'd think with all the paper that's being saved on account of nobody reading newspapers and glossy magazines anymore, that there'd be enough trees to go around, so they make the napkins just a little thicker.

Next thing ya know, they'll be complaining about overforestation and wonder why.