Cliff Ryder - The Powers That Be

He stood on the sundeck of the Deep Water, sipping a weak whisky and water—he had to stay in character, after all—and enjoyed the magnificent sunset. Above the placid water, the sky was aflame in hues of red, orange, gold and pink as the sun slowly sank. The faint cries of circling seagulls and the tang of salt in the air added to the relaxed atmosphere.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Karen appeared behind him, clad in a stunning one-piece white swimsuit that revealed enough of her slender body to start any man’s thoughts drifting. She held another highball glass, which she clinked against his.

“An ill-gotten penny for your thoughts.”

Jonas was dressed for his role, too, wearing a cream linen shirt, beige linen slacks and hand-woven Italian loafers. His sunglasses were the same Christian Diors and around his wrist was a sleek NOMOS Glashütte watch. “I was just thinking if this is what the criminals are enjoying, I may have chosen the wrong profession.”

“Are you suggesting that saving a nation, or the world, doesn’t have its perks?” Karen asked with a sly grin.

“So far, I think working with you has been the best thing about this mission.” Jonas’s grin faded as he saw a white dot appear on the horizon. It quickly grew into the same Tiara yacht he’d used to drop Marcus off near Cuba two days earlier.

He saw three men and one woman on board. “Almost show time.”

Karen pressed one side of her pair of designer sunglasses.

“Target is approaching. Everyone assume their positions.”

The entire nine-person crew of the Deep Water was composed of Room 59 trainees in their final weeks of course work. Jonas and Karen had pulled a few strings and got them on board as part of their training to handle undercover situa-tions. For the most part, they were to carry out whatever their assigned crew duties were, and nothing more unless either Jonas or Karen ordered otherwise.

The pleasure boat approached the rear of the larger vessel, and was met by two crew members in white shirts and navy shorts. In the cockpit was Rafael Castilo, his bodyguard and two more members of the crew, a young man and woman.

Jonas had requested that this particular pair pick up the businessman to set his mind more at ease. He was sure that either of them could have handled the bodyguard, if it had come to that.

The massive man exited the boat first, inspecting, checking everywhere, one hand near his holstered side arm without being too obvious about it. Jonas raised his appraisal of the man another notch. “I’m surprised he allowed Castilo to come here at all. They’re outnumbered five to one, with limited escape or evasion avenues,” he said quietly.

“Maybe he’s just that confident,” Karen said.

“Maybe. Would you do me a favor and see about dinner?

I should greet our guest.”

“You just want me to make a suitably distracting entrance later, don’t you? On the upper deck?”

Jonas smiled. “Right. That’s why men will never win the gender wars—women are too adept at reading our simple minds.”

Jonas walked down the narrow set of stairs to the aft deck. “Rafael, so good to see you.” He nodded at Castilo’s protector, as well. “I trust the ride over was pleasant.”

Castilo sighed, glowering at his bodyguard. “Once we got aboard, things were very comfortable, but nothing like this.”

The businessman looked around with the nonchalance of the very rich. “This is a magnificent vessel.” His comment was more of a formality than anything else.

“I’m sure she must pale in comparison to others in the area, and in the Mediterranean she’s practically a rowboat,”

Jonas said.

“I’m sure she holds her own. What’s her speed, twenty knots?”

“Twenty-one is the standard. Perhaps you’d like to enjoy a short cruise after our meal. It’s a bit late for the sunset, but I’ve had a light supper prepared.”

“We’ll see. I noticed that your boat hasn’t docked in the harbor over the past few days.” His tone made the statement more of a question.

“I find the harbor a bit claustrophobic when I’m here.

Also, I don’t wish to draw too much attention to my comings and goings, which is why I prefer to stay out here and com-mute in when necessary.”

“Of course—the better to discuss business, yes?” Castilo said.

Jonas allowed himself a small, satisfied nod. “Quite.

Shall we?”

He followed Castilo and his bodyguard to the upper aft deck, where service for four had been laid out on a round, cloth-covered table. As they approached, the sliding-glass doors opened and Karen stepped out. She had wrapped a colorful flower-printed sarong around her waist, offering tantalizing glimpses of her tanned legs. “You remember Joanne?”

“Impossible to forget.” Castilo lifted her hand to his lips, gazing at her all the while.

Karen returned his direct look without blinking. “Thank you, Rafael. It is a pleasure to be appreciated once in a while.” She shot Jonas a half kidding, half serious look.

“Dinner is almost ready, gentlemen.”

“Thank you, my dear.” Jonas turned back to Castilo and gestured to his guardian. “Are you— I’m sorry, I don’t believe we were ever properly introduced.” He held out his hand to the bodyguard, who looked down at it for a second before taking it and shaking, his grip firm but not crushing.

“You can call me Theodore.”

“And I am Ferdinand. Please, join us. There’s no need to be on the clock out here. I wouldn’t be much of a businessman if my potential clients kept meeting with accidents,” he said with a genuine smile. “Besides, I always enjoy the company of someone who may have used some of my wares at one time.”

Theodore’s eyes flicked to his boss, who nodded almost imperceptibly. The quartet sat down, with Castilo seated to the right of Karen, who sat next to Jonas. Theodore took the fourth chair. Jonas glanced just for a second at the tropical floral arrangement in the middle of the table and the tiny camera that was recording everything Castilo said, along with every move he made.

Two crew members came out, bearing bowls of spicy conch chowder that they set in front of each person. The soup was followed by a light salad, then medallions of beef in a port-wine reduction, accompanied by lobster tails and drawn butter.

When he saw the main course, Castilo chuckled. “Let me get this straight. You consider surf and turf to be a light supper?”

Jonas raised his glass of wine. “What can I say—I’m German. To us, this is a light supper.” His tone was light, but it was Karen’s enthusiastic nod that made everyone laugh, even eliciting a brief smile from Theodore.

Throughout the meal, Castilo was charming and gregari-ous, whether he was flirting with Karen or holding his own on every topic, domestic or otherwise, brought up at the table. The strange thing was that Jonas could almost see himself liking this man. He was intelligent, quick-witted and showed a streak of ruthlessness that a successful businessman had to have to survive in today’s harsh economic world.

Although his tone was light, Jonas sensed he was impatient to get to the real reason they were there. However, Jonas continued his role of expansive, relaxed host, knowing that the longer Rafael had to wait, the more eager he would be to move the deal forward.

And besides, it’s not like this delay is all bad for him, either, he thought, glancing at his fellow operative. Karen was her usual radiant self, playing Jonas’s slightly bored mistress of the ship. She bloomed under Castilo’s compliments and did her best to wrap him around her finger.

She also sulked just a bit when Jonas gently admonished her for being too forward with their guest, but all was quickly forgiven by dessert, a flourless chocolate cake that resembled a dense mousse, accompanied by Gua-temalan coffee.