Fox Bay, British Columbia, Canada
you. May I suggest a sip of water? You are behind the hydration curve because of the wine last night. Sixteen ounces of water over the next two hours will place you in balance again.” Ava said in a calm, apologetic tone. “It is not an ideal time for you to awake, but Mr. Ou requires your help on the foredeck. We are weighing anchor.”
Hank ignored Ava’s water recommendation and hurried up the companionway steps. He waved to Olin, who was standing in the darkness on the far right side of the starboard wheel and made his way forward across the expansive deck and took his place at the bow. The anchor chain sagged into the calm water. This boat was long, and the streamline equivalent of a deckhouse blocked his view aft, while the morning darkness added to the impaired line of sight back to Olin. He didn’t need to be on the foredeck. Ava was more than capable of doing every sailing task on the GalaxSea. But Hank felt it proper starting the morning in the traditional way and since they had called him up, it showed Olin shared this opinion.
“Good morning, Hank.”
Olin’s words bypassed his ear and went right into Hank’s head. Ava facilitated communications throughout the yacht whenever needed. Olin spoke at any volume he wanted, and Hank would hear it with perfect clarity regardless of noise or conditions. No headsets or boom mics required and no yelling. He scratched his head, smirked, and realized how much he wanted coffee. But said, “Good morning, Olin. And Ava, thanks for waking me up. It will be a beautiful day.”
The two coordinated, pulling up the hook, and the boat motored in a large circular path through placid water. Hank walked back, glancing at the large hatch where he assumed Willy was parked. Or maybe Jen came back aboard. If anybody was in there at all, they were probably monitoring security or planning the next ninja attack. He wanted to knock but forced himself to walk past and save his curiosity for another time.
The two men stood at a comfortable distance and neither said a word. Hank’s vision had adapted to the predawn light as he scanned the area around the bay. For the first time, he paid attention to the half dozen unattended boats moored. They were all pointing toward shore, tugging their anchor chains against the outgoing tide. Many large houses lined up on the other side of the road that ran along the rocky shore. A work van and a dark-colored sedan faced each other at opposite ends of the roadway. A couple was walking, and a few joggers made their way along a bulkhead path.
Olin turned the boat south toward the pink mountains on Washington’s Olympic Peninsula, then wheeled to the left as soon as he cleared the inlet. Soon Hank would walk on foreign soil and be free of the program and free of debt. He should be lighthearted, but his mind buzzed with confused emotions. The sting of grief came at him, then frustration. In his mind, he swatted them away and pushed down his feelings. The kiss of air against his face helped his quiet distraction, and as the yacht gained speed, he studied the horizon and forced an uneasy smile.
A wave from an unseen ship passed under them. It distracted him from his melancholy thoughts and turned them into panic. The pistol? Hank stowed it under his mattress next to his tactical knife. Canadian firearm laws are brutal. Could he have come so close to freedom, only to have Olin’s gesture ruin everything? There were no private handguns in Canada. The final confiscations had been severe, and the world took notes. Ten years in prison for each gun not surrendered raised the stakes, and some rebels ended up serving life sentences while others took a stand. They got their wish and had their weapons pried from their cold, dead hands. Hank was sentimental about his gun, but in the end it was just a hunk of metal, not even loaded. What a stupid way to end his dream, deported back to the US, prosecuted as a gunrunner, or worse. “My pistol?” Hank challenged Olin with the news.
Olin’s efficient grip on the steering wheel relaxed even more. “Laws are for poor people.”
Hank studied Olin’s face, but there was nothing. He didn’t smile or frown. There was no expression tied to his statement. His eyes gazed across the water, looking a few yards across the bow or staring at the snow-covered mountains miles away. Hank could not tell.
Ava’s voice broke Hank’s bewilderment. “Mr. Ou, the documents for Henry James Gunn are in order. Would you like me to expedite customs while en route or would you like to report to the customs dock?”
“Come on, Ava! I pay you to think. Please, just settle the matter and confirm our slip.”
“Certainly,” Ava said. Then offered, “Would you like me to pilot the GalaxSea through the outer and inner harbors.”
“No, thanks,” said Olin as he raised a cup of coffee to his mouth. He gestured to the stainless steel carafe, wedged into the tiny basket attached to the side of the helm station. “It’s bulletproof. Perfect for today, don’t you agree?”
Hank grasped the carafe and gave it a shake. He released the pressure, opened the lid, and offered to top off Olin’s cup.
“It’s all yours. I’ve been up since three. There’s so much I want to tell you, but first we have a birthday. Irina’s turning eighteen today. I can’t believe it. My little girl…”
“Sounds like she’s having a big party?”
“You’ll love my wife, Maria. She’s neurotic about birthday parties. Last year, Irina’s party was just an intimate family affair. We went to Cafe Juanita and got home before nine thirty. This year…well, you’ll see for yourself. You can expect the festivities to be in full swing the minute we make landfall.” He pointed to the coffee and said, “Today, you’ll need more than one cup.”
Ava interrupted, “Mr. Ou, the Greater Victoria Harbour Authority confirms berthing opposite the Fairmont Empress Hotel. I’ll plot the course. They remind us to keep yellow buoys close to port at all times. The outer harbor speed limit is seven knots, while the middle and inner harbor speed limit is five knots. ETA is thirty-three minutes.” She paused and concluded. “Mrs. Ou has already left her suite and expects you to—find her.”
Olin pressed his thin lips together until a single thin line represented his mouth. He sighed, looked up at the tall mast and said, “Here we go.” Then he held out his coffee mug and said, “Maybe I should have more of that.”