“No.” The tall, dark-haired woman exhaled. “Well, yes, there are some places that’ll pay for exhibit animals, sure, but mostly the market is for…ah…”

“Parts,” Kerry murmured. “Skin, fur…”

“Even more for traditional folk medicine,” Dar confirmed quietly. “It’s big money. Alastair did an analysis of emerging markets two years ago, and I think even he was shocked. One of our far eastern offices was contacted to provide database services and processing for a company that acts as a clearing house for the legal stuff.”

Kerry stared at Dar.

“He rejected the contract.” Dar gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “He told me his mother would spank him raw if she ever heard he’d helped poachers.” She pulled the wood over and studied it. “Okay, now we’ve got something to go on. Ker, do a search on these letters, only hit veterinary databases instead of marine.”

“Right you are, boss.” Kerry assumed the laptop and commenced typing. “They’re gonna faint at the cell bill this month,” she commented. “You’ll get another set of tickets to the Super Bowl from Bell South. Maybe this year we can go.”

Dar turned the wood over in her fingers, examining it carefully.

It seemed likely it was from a supply crate. She could see the faint indentations where metal strapping might have held it in place.

“So I guess he wasn’t really nuts, huh?” Bob said suddenly.

“Crazy like a fox,” Dar murmured, tipping the wood to the light.


Terrors of the High Seas 285

“Holy Jesus. That means we’ve won. I’ve gotta call Tanya.” He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “We really did it.”

“We?” Kerry said under her breath. “Not so fast. We haven’t proven anything. All we’ve got is a reasonable theory,” she added in a more audible tone. “Oh. Dar, look.” Kerry pointed at the screen, which showed a list of responses to her request.

“Carter International.” Dar exhaled. “Zoological supplies.

What’s the odds?” She tapped the wood on her knee. “All right. It’s a theory. We’ve got the M16, this bit of wood, our memories of the hold full of cages, and a fishing boat without any fishing gear on it.” “And the cigar box,” Kerry reminded her. “Not that it’s relevant, or even able to be opened.” She pushed the laptop aside and got up, heading for the gear room. The boat rolled and she put her hand on the wall for balance, then continued.

Charlie’s voice crackled through the radio. “Hey, Dar?”

Dar set the wood down and headed over to the console. She keyed the mic and answered. “Yeah? What’s up? I think we’ve got something here, Charlie.”

“Waal, I think we’ve got something here. You might want to come up a minute,” Charlie said. “We might have company.”

Crap. Dar leaned her head against the doorjamb. “Okay. I’ll be right up,” she answered, tossing the mic down in a mild fit of frustration. “Damn it! Can’t anything ever go like it’s supposed to?”

“What’s that?” Kerry returned, carrying her box. “What’s going on?”

Dar turned and faced her. “Charlie thinks someone’s following us. I’m gonna go check it out.” She waited while Kerry continued walking towards her, tilting her head as her partner ended up at her side. “Maybe it’s just someone out late doing some night fishing.”

“Maybe cats put on jackets and do the tango.” Kerry set the box down on the console and dusted off her hands. “I’ll go with you.”

“Me too,” Bob agreed.

Dar sighed. She picked up the box and examined it. “This’ll take time to pry open, Ker. It’s completely encrusted.” She glanced at Bob, who was peering curiously over her shoulder.

“It’s just an old cigar box,” he said, sounding disappointed.

Dar put the box down. “Yeah.” She opened the door, jerking a little as a gust of fitful wind puffed against her and blew her hair back off her forehead. “Time for that later.” She edged outside, shading her eyes against the boat’s running lights and spotting the whitecaps riffling around them. “Damn.”

“Got nasty fast,” Kerry observed. “Is it that storm system?”

Dar pulled herself along the cabinet over to the ladder. “I don’t 286 Melissa Good think it was moving that fast. Maybe this is just a thunderstorm.”

She reached up and caught an upper rung, and started her upward climb. The pitching of the boat threw her slightly from side to side, but she got to the top and caught her balance. “Charlie.”

The big ex-sailor turned from his seat at the controls.

“Weather’s up,” he said. “Looks like a squall.”

“No kidding.” Dar grabbed the edge of the bridge railing and got behind the wheel. She felt Kerry thump against the back of her seat, and then the pressure of a hand on the back of her neck.

“Where’s the signal?”

“Here.” Charlie pointed to the radar. Amid the clutter of the storm, a small, pulsing green blip emerged some distance away from them. “Could just be a false. Not getting much closer in the last bit.”

“Not with our luck.” Dar studied the dot. It didn’t seem to be moving quickly, just meandering after them, keeping about an even distance from the Dixie. “You think it’s DeSalliers?”

Charlie shook his head. “Too little.”

“Pirates?” Kerry suggested

“Not in this weather. They ain’t that stupid.”

Kerry leaned in next to Dar. “Maybe they changed their minds about helping you out.”

Charlie snorted. “Anyhoo, we got three more hours of this before we get to the meet point. Weather’s getting worse. You want to pull in somewhere ’til it clears a little?”

Dar lifted her eyes and peered off into the darkness. The wind whipped her hair back, and a crack of far off lightning illuminated a bank of heavy clouds ahead of them. “You think it’ll clear?”

The big man shrugged. “Depends. Might just be a squall,” he said.

“Or an outer band,” Dar replied dryly. “How far are we from the spot?”

“Hour,” Charlie said. “Got a small atoll five, ten minutes from here we could anchor by. Give our snoopy friend a chance to get out of our hair.”

“All right,” Dar said. “Once we’re anchored, you can go take a look at what we found out. See if it makes any sense to you.”

Charlie nodded and turned the boat into the wind, nudging the throttles forward as the waves rocked them from side to side.

KERRY WASN’T A happy person. She leaned her elbows on the counter and studied her hands, regarding the tiny lines on the back of her thumbs as she tried not to chuck up her guts. It isn’t fair, she moaned silently. What is it about the Caribbean that brings on seasickness in me? She’d sailed in the Great Lakes in waves higher Terrors of the High Seas 287

than these and it hadn’t bothered her a bit.

“You okay?”

Kerry turned her head to find Dar standing next to her. “Um.”

She held her breath as the boat rolled in the surf. “Sorta.”

“Sweetheart,” Dar affectionately ran her fingers through Kerry’s hair, “you’re greener than your eyes. Want something for that?”

“Do you have something?” Kerry asked hopefully. “It wasn’t so bad when we were moving.” They’d been at anchor for twenty minutes. Charlie was studying the clues they’d found, and Bob had retreated to the chair near the door.

“No, it wouldn’t be.” Dar fished up in the cabinet over the refrigerator. She retrieved a small box, then leaned against the wall for balance as she ripped it open. “It’s the wallowing.”

Kerry closed her eyes. “Don’t say that word again.”

Dar popped open the foil on two of the tablets and set the box down, turning to retrieve a cup and fill it with water. “Here.” She handed Kerry the pills. “Dramamine.”

Kerry took the pills and the water and made quick work of swallowing them. She set down the cup and sighed. “Got anything else? Any old folk remedies you want to try?”

Dar cocked her head to one side, then with a tiny smirk, she leaned over and captured Kerry’s earlobe between her teeth and nibbled at it gently.

“Orf…bu...Dar!” Kerry squeaked very softly, her eyes widening as she lurched up toward their guests. The attention was causing tiny, interesting jolts to travel down her body, however, warring effectively against the panic.

“Yeees?” Dar murmured.

Kerry wondered if it was the Dramamine working that fast. Her nausea eased and she felt her shoulders relax, despite the continued roll of the boat. “Wow. That works,” she whispered.

“Mmhm,” Dar agreed. “A little tough to do to yourself, though.” She put her arms around Kerry and pulled her back against her body. Kerry clasped her hands around Dar’s and exhaled, seemingly very content.

As the meeting time got closer, Dar was getting more and more worried about it. The knowledge that Bud’s safety was resting on her shoulders weighed on her, and she knew they only had the slimmest number of facts on their side.

“Dar?”

Dar rested her chin against Kerry’s hair. “Hm?”

“I’m going in there with you, to meet with DeSalliers,” Kerry stated. “Just in case you were thinking about asking me not to.”

Was I thinking that? Dar could feel Kerry’s breathing under her hands, a slow and steady motion. “To be honest, I hadn’t really 288 Melissa Good thought about it, Ker. Does it make sense to risk both of us, though?”

Kerry didn’t answer for a few minutes. Her hands stroked Dar’s, a gently comforting sensation. “I just want to be with you,”

she finally said. “I want to be there.”

It seemed right, somehow, if not logical. “Okay,” Dar said. “I’m gonna need all the help I can get, and you’re the best help I could hope for.” She couldn’t see the grin on Kerry’s face, but she knew it was there from the change in her voice.

“Thanks.” Kerry rested her head against Dar’s collarbone. “So, what’s the plan?”

Very good question. “I figure we’ll meet with him,” Dar said.

“Try to set some ground rules. I want to get the money straight first, because if he doesn’t go for that, we’ve got a real problem.”

She kept her voice down, out of Charlie’s hearing range.

“Mm.”

“Get him to show us Bud, to make sure he’s on the boat,” Dar went on. “Then, I guess we let out what we know a bit at a time, see what happens.”

“We don’t know much.”

“I know,” Dar said. “Hey, let’s see if we can get that box open.”

They walked across to the console and leaned over the box as Bob watched them curiously. Dar picked up a pocketknife and opened it, starting to pry gently at the barnacles covering the box as Kerry held it.

“You think anything’s in there?” Bob asked.

“Probably not,” Kerry admitted. “I think Dar and I are just antsy and bored, and we want the time to pass faster.”

Dar glanced at her, a trifle startled at having her inner thoughts expressed with such clarity. “Hey,” she pried off a bit of sea life,

“that’s pretty good, Madame Fifi.”

Kerry smiled and fiddled with a clump of the discarded shells.

“How’s your stomach?” Dar asked.

“Fine,” Kerry answered absently. “See if you can get that part off, Dar.”

Bob got up and wandered over to them, peering over their shoulders. Charlie remained poring over the pages of data on the table.

Dar paused to listen to the radio as a weather bulletin crackled to life.

“This is the National Weather Service special advisory number six, for the Eastern Caribbean islands and surrounding waters. A tropical depression has formed just south of the island of St. Croix. Minimum central pressure has been detected at 1008 millibars, and there is some indication of a developing circulation.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dar cursed with feeling.


Terrors of the High Seas 289

“Marine interests in the area are advised to take precautions.

Highest detected winds are 30 knots, with gusts to 35 knots. The storm is moving west northwest at approximately ten knots.”

Charlie got up and limped over to them, his brow creasing with concern as he heard the radio. “Damn.” He looked worried. “We left everything open at home.”

“Tell you what, we’ll get Bud and just head over there,” Dar told him with quiet confidence. “You’ll both be home tonight to take care of things.”

Charlie gave her a speculative look and sighed.

A soft crack made them all jump, then everyone looked at Dar.

She blinked at her hands, which had of their own volition continued to work on opening the box. The coral around the lid had broken off under her knife and fallen to the counter. She put down the knife and fit her fingers around the edge of the box, lifting it up and easing it past the last obstructing coral. Everyone clustered around and peered inside.