The Guardian's Wildchild (16 page)

“I’m sorry, Captain. I shouldn’t take out my anger on you. You’ve been a gentleman. It’s Captain Butchart with whom I have a bone to pick.” She began to tremble and leaned forward over her knees, resting her head in her hands.

“You do?”

She immediately regretted revealing that there was more to her story. She had to be more careful. She laid her head down on the pillow.

“I’m sorry. Just too dizzy to sit up. I guess I haven’t got the right to ask if we can continue with this interrogation tomorrow.”

“You do have rights. I thought by now you’d realize that I’ll protect your rights as well as I protect the rights of my staff and superiors. Tomorrow we’ll both have clearer heads on our shoulders.”

“Captain, I remember something odd about the first night I arrived on the ship. There was someone sitting here beside me on the bed. He was holding my hand. No one else was in here. Just one officer. Do you know who that was?”

“You were in a coma. You must be mixed up from a dream or a hallucination.”

“No, Captain. I’m certain. I remember it very clearly. I wish I knew who that was.”

Sam looked away and fidgeted with his hat. “Why?”

“Because he’s probably the reason I survived. He should know that his simple act of compassion perhaps performed a miracle. All these medical gadgets here in this room will sustain the body for a while. But they won’t keep body and soul together. Only something deeper can do that.”

“I’ll check into who was here and pass along your gratitude to him. Will that be sufficient? People in the military get rather uncomfortable with receiving overt affection. You understand?”

Sidney understood. She also noticed the hat Sam had in his hands — just like the one from her memory of that night.

“Yes, thank you, Captain. Just let him know that perhaps I can return the favor one day.”

Sidney pulled the bed covers up to her chin. Staring off into the distance, she spoke almost as if to herself.

“It’s seems a little strange. Why would he take the time to sit with me, a prisoner?”

Sam cleared his throat. “In my experience, when one is faced with death, those kinds of issues have little significance. When faced with death, people, even military men, do things they normally wouldn’t do.”

Sidney didn’t respond. He put his hat on and headed for the door, but stopped.

“Miss, do you know Captain Butchart?”

She appeared to have already dozed off, but he saw her head briefly nod and utter a barely audible, “Uh huh.”

Sam considered it odd for any civilian to know Butchart. For a short while, he stepped out of his captain’s mindset. He became just Sam. His expression softened, and his voice was caring.

“I’ll open the porthole. The fresh air will help.”

After he opened the porthole, he stood at the foot of the bed for a few minutes, studying his prisoner. He hit the comlink on his shirt and gave the command for the recording to end. Quietly, he left her room.

10. Sidney’s Escape

Early Morning, Sunday, July 7

The sound of voices outside Sidney’s porthole woke her. The loud banter was in Spanish. Except for small indicator lights blinking on equipment in the main room, the entire infirmary was dark. Quietly, Sidney slid out of her bed and listened more carefully at her porthole. The voices gradually disappeared into the night, and all was quiet again. Something else caught her attention — the ship was still anchored at a dock.

The lights of the port shone into the water and traced the shoreline with their shimmering eyes. They winked at Sidney.
Do I dare?
she thought. Without taking any time to plan, she began her escape. She realized she was wearing pajamas and had no currency.
Small matter.
Getting off this boat will be half the battle. I’ll deal with the rest later.

Peeking through the windows of her room into the infirmary, she saw no one. She figured someone must be nearby; there always was at least one medical assistant around. She slowly opened her door and checked to see if anyone was resting on the beds — all three were vacant. Her heart beat rapidly.
Surely someone’s just outside the infirmary
.

Ever so silently, she opened the infirmary’s door and looked down the corridor. It was completely void of any people, and the lights had been dimmed, inviting her to slip through the doorway. She heard muffled footsteps. This was no time to hesitate. She sprang down the hallway.

She quickly but silently trotted through passages and up stairways. She had to use her intuition to find the deck with the gangplank leading down to the dock. She wondered if anyone had spotted her on the security videos and dared to stop momentarily to listen for footsteps of guards in pursuit. She heard only the sound of her pounding heartbeat. The thought of soon being free was exhilarating. Her weak body received a massive surge of adrenaline, and she sprinted to a doorway through which she could see the harbor lights.

Opening the door just a fraction, she felt a rush of the cool night air. Again she heard no sound of people. The ship was almost motionless, as if waiting for her to make her move. Just beyond the door, she saw the wide expanse of the ship’s main deck. She passed through the door and clung to a wall as she scanned for a ramp, inching her way toward the bow until she saw it. She heard voices, the same Spanish speaking ones that had woken her. The men were amusing themselves in some game — perhaps cards, she thought. Between her current position and the ramp, there was no cover to conceal her movement. Still, she had to chance it.

But first, if she were to fool the men, she had to look like she belonged — give them the impression she’d been a “visitor” and was leaving before the sun rose. She rolled up her pajama sleeves and legs in an attempt to make it look like a funky kind of sun outfit. She tied the shirttails of the top into a knot and undid most of the snaps, hoping the men might simply admire her body and not notice the navy insignia on the material. It was her only chance. Finally, she raced to the ramp.

She could see that the men at the bottom weren’t concerned with watch duty. They were seated at a card table several feet away from the ramp, and their cheerful banter went on as poker chips were scooped up by the winner. She could have waved at them and she doubted they’d have noticed.

The ramp was long and sturdy. As she stepped onto it, she stood up straight and took in a deep breath. Slowly, she descended. In her mind, she rehearsed the Spanish she’d learned. She casually played with her hair as if she was relaxed and simply attempting to tame it in the breeze.

Then, to her surprise, Seamus appeared before her. Sidney was shocked. Never had he ever shown himself to her in this dimension.

Seamus, is something wrong?
she mentally asked.

Her spirit guide remained several feet away from her. His blue tartan cloak and dark hair waved in the night air with the breeze’s taunting.

“My precious, there is only the higher good. Your struggle to survive has turned your focus inward to the self. The higher good is beyond the self. Reach for the higher good, Sidney.”

Sidney reached for him. The closer she came, the more his form evaporated into the night until she could no longer see him.

Seamus, I want to go home.

“You may go home, Sidney. But you may never be free of this ship and its people. Do you remember how the admiral’s secrets followed you?”

Yes. I’d become a part of those secrets. Knowledge of the admiral’s plans tormented me at times, like a song that keeps playing in my head.

“So, can you go home and not wonder if your disappearance created hardship, perhaps even death?”

Seamus, I’d never …
Sidney suddenly saw the consequences of her escape.
You mean, the admiral would blame, maybe even accuse the ship’s officers of … oh no. I couldn’t live with that. But, Seamus, oh, please. I want to go home!

Seamus appeared again briefly and winked. “You were home just the other day, Sidney — with me. Forget not your true home, my precious. Listen to your heart. Know with every beat
that’s
where you’ll find me … and your home. Your heart will guide you to see choices which lead to the higher good.”

As he vanished again, he swept over her body, touching her heart with his love. Sidney stood silent in the night, a statue on the ramp. Unable to move in either direction, up or down, she felt frozen in her mind. Either way, she’d experience pain and regret.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the ship’s deck brought her out of her trance. She crouched down against the walls and braced herself for an attack. She glanced up to the top of the ramp. It was Sam.

He was wearing his jogging clothes and was focused only on the deck in front of him. When he neared the ramp, he stopped and grabbed onto the ship’s railing. Seeing the guards at the bottom, he called to them greeting them and asking how they’d been.

“
Buenos días, caballeros. ¿Cómo están ustedes?”

“
Somos bien. ¿Y tus hijos, Capitán Waterhouse
?” called back one of the guards.

“Ah,
es usted, Señor Ben. Ellos son bien, gracias, ¿Y Ricardo, estar mejor?”
said Sam.

Sidney remained crouched in the darkness as low as she could. Sam was only a few yards away from her, off to the side of the ramp, leaning against the railing. She was able to pick up the odd Spanish word or phrase. It was apparent that Sam and the guards knew each other fairly well. Sam had even known the name of one of the guard’s children and they asked after his sons.

“
La medicina que dio ha hecho maravillas. Estamos muy agradecidos, señor Capitán. ¿Tiene tiempo de jugar un poker pequeño?”
said the guard, motioning Sam to come down the ramp.

Sidney froze. The guard was inviting Sam to join them. If he moved to the top of the ramp, she’d be caught.

“
Ah, desafortunadamente, no. Debo permanecer en la forma. Mis hijos crecen y pronto no escucharán a su papá
.” Sam laughed.

Sidney understood enough to know that Sam had declined the invitation to join their card game. Something to do with being a good example for his sons. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“
Buen viaje, Capitán Waterhouse
.”

“
Buenos días, caballeros,”
called out Sam, waving as he resumed jogging.

Running on past the ramp, the captain disappeared, and Sidney relaxed. She could still make her way down and begin the charade with the Mexican guards. But she now had serious doubts that they could be easily fooled. They were good friends with Sam and probably knew how he kept to the rule book’s written word.

Sidney sat there for several more minutes weighing the risks. Her imminent execution was enough incentive for her to get up and put on the best call girl performance anyone could dream of. She walked down the ramp.

Acapulco’s wharf glowed in the brilliant sunrise. Church bells called the devoted to Sunday morning mass. Sailboats tied to piers waved their tall wooden masts in greeting to the morning sky. As Sam began his fifteenth lap, the ship’s alarm sounded. Within seconds, his comlink alarm sounded.

Striking its sensor, he responded, “Captain Waterhouse.”

Commander Moon replied. “Sir, the prisoner is missing. I’ll be giving orders to the search teams on the ship’s main deck in five minutes.” Sam’s momentary euphoria twisted into a cold knot. Thirty seamen ran to the main deck and stood at attention. Moon directed team leaders to search the ship and the harbor.

Sam called out. “Commander, she’s not to be killed. Understood?”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Sam ran down to the infirmary. Dr. Duncan was pacing nervously and interrogating his medical staff. As Sam entered the room, all the staff snapped to attention.

“Dr. Duncan, I want a report.”

The two men moved into Dr. Duncan’s office.

“Sir, from what I’ve gathered so far, the prisoner slept through the night. Early this morning, medical personnel decided it was safe to go get coffee and a bite to eat. Since the prisoner was sleeping and presumably weak they didn’t get someone to watch her. When they got back ten minutes ago, she was gone.”