SEABIRD: A Romantic Fantasy Read online

  "I’ll wake him when I need him," the pilot grunted and turned his attention to his instruments.

  In spite of her misgivings the plane taxied and took off without incident. The co-pilot continued to sleep throughout the flight, but the pilot evidently had no real need for him. For a time he placed the craft on automatic pilot and opened himself a can of cola from a small chest behind him. He offered her one and she accepted, wishing it was something a bit stronger. Her worries seemed groundless, though. The pilot knew what he was doing.

  Gina’s curiosity about the amount of cargo and their destination grew. The pilot answered her questions with shrugs of his shoulders which meant, ‘I don’t know and don’t care. I get paid well to make the flights and anything beyond that is none of my business.’ Her comments brought non-committal grunts. She gave up further attempts to communicate.

  The pilot softened a bit, for, after about two hours, he turned again to Gina. "Want to see the island? It’s a pretty sight from up here and you can take a quick look before you buckle in for landing."

  The pristine green jewel of an island lay below in the late morning sun. The land was a rough oval with a large semi-circle missing from one of the longer sides, as if an enormous shark had taken a bite out of it.

  * * * *

  The landing strip lay in a southerly direction from the harbor in a flat, cleared area. Two men of the ground crew pushed an ancient and unsteady mobile staircase into position. Gina climbed down, carrying her overnight bag in one hand and clutching the rail with the other. She had the distinct impression they didn't get many passengers to the island. A large battered hanger lay off to one side; there was no terminal. A battered jeep lettered with the name of the local hotel waited on the long dusty road running alongside the runway. Its driver waved her over.

  The unpaved road made its way from the airstrip and wound through the jungle at the foot of the nearby mountains. Her youthful islander driver grinned and swerved to miss another large rock in the road. They bounced along in silence for about fifteen minutes before Gina asked, "How come the airport is so far from the town?"

  "Airstrip is only flat land on island. Town here first, long time. No need landing strip when it built," he explained in thickly accented English.

  A few minutes later they broke into the open. A crescent of white sand lined the semi circular beach she had seen from the plane. On the left, in the narrow curved band of low land between mountain and sea, lay the one small community on the island. Jungle covered just about all the rest of the land. Rain forest. The two were the same terrain, but, somehow, people tended to visit and preserve rain forests and avoided jungles.

  The jeep made a sharp right toward the southern arc of land reaching toward the sea. On the far side of the natural harbor a corresponding arm reached toward them. Together with the reef, the mountains formed a nearly complete circle. Clear aqua waters darkened to a deep blue-purple outside the barrier reef.

  The hotel had been built to take advantage of a shelf of land some thirty feet above the beach level. Red tiles topped the low, sprawling white building nestled below the sharp rise of the mountain's volcanic rock.

  * * * *

  The island’s one hotel had few rooms and fewer guests. Gina smiled at the small, elderly oriental man who answered her ring on the desk bell. "Reservation for Taylor," she told him. He found a key, presented it to her and gave her the register card to fill out.

  "How long you stay, Missy?"

  "A week."

  "You have family here?"

  "No, just looking over the island for possible development."

  "Not good. Not like development here."

  "You wouldn’t like more tourists? Make more money?"

  The little man shook his head firmly. "People like Cocura just as is. Not like change. Not like outsiders."

  A large, older woman emerged from the office behind the desk. She frowned on overhearing the man’s words. "That’s fine, Charlie. I’ll take care of the lady and you can get back to your garden." She smiled at Gina. "Don't mind him. Charlie keeps the hotel garden beautiful, but he hates the tourists. They have a habit of littering and harming his precious plants." She took Gina's completed registration and smiled again. "Room 23. Down that corridor. We have a terrace for dining outdoors, if you like. You can eat at any time. Room service until 10 P.M., if you prefer. If there’s anything you need, just let me know."

  "Restaurants?"

  The woman laughed. "This is it. There are several bars in town and they do serve some food, but I’d avoid them if I were you. Some of the sailors and fishermen take their drinking very seriously."

  "Entertainment?"

  "Watching the sun go down." The woman laughed again. "Besides the bars, there’s a small library and a couple of general stores on the main street." She sighed. "I wouldn’t blame you if you decide to cut short your stay here. We won’t hold you to the length of your reservation."

  Gina had a distinct impression they wouldn’t mind a bit if she left the same day! What was going on? Most islands were hungry for good U.S. dollars and put out the red carpet for her. "How about a look around at the scenery?" she asked.

  "Do you ride?"

  Gina frowned. "Horses?"

  "Yes, horses," the woman chuckled. "We have a stable and there are some picturesque trails up the mountains. Just make sure you stick to the trails, though. They’re all safe. Horses aren’t the surest footed on a mountain, but most people don’t like riding donkeys." The woman eyed Gina’s height. "Especially tall people with long legs. You wouldn’t have a problem. Let me know which you’d prefer when you want to go and I’ll have a mount saddled for you. And a guide."

  "Would I need a guide?"

  "It’s much safer that way. Some areas are pretty wild."

  "Thanks. I’ll take that ride after lunch. On a horse. Right now I think I’ll just go freshen up."

  "You need help with your bags?"

  Gina regarded her three suitcases and her overnight bag. "I could use a hand."

  "No trouble. Charlie will bring them to you in a few minutes." The woman pointed down the hallway. "Last room on the end."

  Gina hefted her overnight bag and made her way down the corridor.

  * * * *

  The food at the hotel was surprisingly good. Gina enjoyed her lunch of salad and shrimp. One thing she liked about the islands was the fresh seafood. After eating, she made arrangements to ride up into the mountains. On Sunday the library, government offices and import/export company offices were closed, but she could get an overall view of the land. With a few modern improvements the beautiful island could well be a potential spot for development by her company. Since she arrived there without anyone following her, she had lost some of her apprehension. It felt like one of her usual reconnaissance assignments.

  Her guide, an elderly islander, said little. Gina didn’t know for certain if he spoke English. They rode back to the main road, turned right and continued on toward the town. For a short distance there was only the road and beach beside the sharp rise of the mountains and the sea. The lowland area widened as they approached the outskirts of town. There they came to a narrow trail leading up into the higher land and the man pointed. Gina followed.

  The trail rose in a winding manner. About them the lush land combined the sweet scents of exotic flowers with the musky damp decay of vegetation. For some time she didn’t see much through the thick growth. The spectacle, when they came into an open space midway up the peak was worth the wait. Her guide reined up and motioned for her to do the same.

  "This is as far up as we go," he said.

  Gina turned, surprised both by his perfect English.

  "This is a volcano, dormant but not extinct. It occasionally vents gases and that can be dangerous. Besides," he grinned, "this is the most spectacular view on Cocura."

  She had to agree. The magnificent scene would have outdone any artist’s rendering. She looked out over the harbor and gave an involuntary c
ry of delight. Entering the harbor through a narrow break in the reef sailed a tall ship. Its sails had been trimmed, but it remained an awesome sight, one right out of history.

  Her guide smiled. "She is a beauty. That would be the Seabird putting in to pick up supplies."

  The ride back to the hotel came all too soon.

  * * * *

  Gina reached for the knob of her hotel room door and hesitated when she found it open. The fear which had temporarily eased surged back. She paused, steeled herself, and threw the door open.

  "Oh!"

  A pretty young islander woman gasped in fright. She stood at the side of the bed, next to Gina's open suitcase and before the mirror. She held a dress up before her. Her wide dark eyes stared back into Gina’s in embarrassed confusion.

  "What are you doing here?" Gina demanded.

  The girl dropped the garment on the bed. "Oh, please – I meant no harm. I came to place fresh towels. Your bag was lying open and – well, we don't get to see such pretty new things here."

  Gina wavered between her fears and understanding. The girl couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen. At that age the lure of new fashion could easily tempt her. "Who are you?"

  "Terika, ma'am. I work here. I swear, I meant no harm."

  If the girl worked at the hotel she would have known Gina had checked her valuables in the hotel safe before she left to go riding. Gina relented. "All right. Just don't do it again without asking."

  "Oh, no, ma'am. Thank you. Please don't tell Mrs. B. She'd let me go and there aren't many jobs for women on this island. Not for–" she broke off without finishing.

  "For nice girls. I kind of had that impression. No, I won't tell."

  Terika swore undying gratitude and went her way.

  When the girl had gone Gina checked the suitcase. She ran her hand over the false bottom to be certain the notebook hadn't been detected or the compartment opened. Bill had concealed it well. One more day and her task would be done. Then she could relax.

  CHAPTER 4

  The dining terrace took advantage of the island's beauty. It stood at the end of the hotel wing nearest the harbor, bordered by the oriental garden. Charlie had reason to be proud of his work. From the carefully built fountain cascading down a waterfall of rocks into a quiet pond, to the bowers of exotic blooms, it was a miracle of loveliness. From below, ocean waves lapped softly against the shore, just audible above the soft strains of melody from the hotel's stereo system. The scent of bougainvilla and other fragrant flowers perfumed the night air.

  Gina pushed back her empty plate with a deep contented sigh. If all hotels had food that good she'd weigh two hundred pounds. With the atmosphere and delicious cuisine it surprised her that most of the two dozen tables were empty. She glanced around at her fellow diners: an elderly couple, a group of four oriental businessmen and, at the most distant table, a young man in conversation with the waitress. Shadows obscured his face.

  The large woman who registered her when she arrived interrupted her. The woman settled her ample frame onto the empty chair opposite her at the table. "How was your ride?" she asked.

  "Fine."

  "I hope you don't mind my joining you. We seldom have women from outside as guests. I love hearing about what's going on in the big world."

  Gina nodded graciously and exchanged small talk with the woman for some time. They called her Mrs B. at the hotel and she was owner and manager. The B was a mistake. Her husband had one of those long unpronounceable Russian names with the initial V. The islanders seemed to have trouble pronouncing it. Beyond that, the Russian letter for V looked like a backward B. She had long ago quit fighting it.

  "I noticed the path down to the beach," Gina noted. "I was thinking of taking an early morning swim, before the sun gets too high and I burn."

  Mrs. B frowned. "I meant to tell you. Don't–" Whatever she had been about to say stopped abruptly with a loud crash from the kitchen. "Excuse me." Mrs. B. hurried off to see what happened.

  A moment later the waitress approached her, the same young woman she found in her room. "I am sorry to disturb you, ma'am. The gentleman over there asked if he might buy you a drink."

  Gina could now see his face. What a temptation! She lost herself in a pair of dark eyes sparkling with good humor. Handsome might be in the eye of the beholder; in her eye, he was perfect. He wasn’t a pretty-boy. His features were more rugged and masculine than classic. She liked his warm, open smile. A man’s good looks didn’t usually affect her. She’d had just one serious romance. It ended six months earlier when her boyfriend demanded she give up her own dreams, marry him and retire to become a housewife and mother. Why did men think only their dreams were real and worth pursuing? She should give up everything to ease his path to what he wanted? No way! He’d never consider relinquishing his plans to help her succeed! Still, she missed his company at times. But, right now, men were a complication she didn't need.

  "Please tell him 'thanks' but maybe another time. I have a busy day tomorrow and I'm just going to call it a night." Gina rose and left the dining area. She should have waited to say 'good night' to Mrs. B., but it was late and she would see her in the morning.

  * * * *

  To a casual onlooker they appeared as two darker shadows amid those of the tall shrubs of the garden. "You're losing your touch, Dano."

  "It was worth a try," the man called Dano answered. "It's hard to believe she could be mixed up in this."

  "We've followed every other contact and come up empty. It had to be her. They seem to think so, too. Jacques LeBeau arrived this afternoon by boat. They were probably afraid they'd tip her off she was being followed if he flew in with her."

  "I understand Jacques was in trouble for losing her. Talk about losing touch." Dano gave a short laugh.

  "Twice."

  "You think she knew? She lost him deliberately?"

  "If she did, she is far more dangerous to us than we thought. Have you learned anything at all? If that book gets into the wrong hands–"

  Dano shook his head. "Mrs. B. checked her bag with the valuables. Nothing there. Terika almost got caught searching the other suitcases. There was no sign of the notebook."

  "We must know."

  "I understand. I'll try again tomorrow."

  "Do that." The taller of the two shadows faded back into the shrubbery.

  Dano grinned to himself. If he had to charm a lady he was fortunate this time. She was an attractive one.

  * * * *

  No morning swim today! Gina grumbled at her own carelessness in forgetting to set her travel alarm. She dressed in haste, then stopped on the terrace for a quick cup of coffee and a croissant.

  Although it was still early in the day the heat and humidity were brutal. She walked the mile and a half to town. Once there, she went through the list of places she usually contacted when scouting a location. She visited the government office only to be told the governor was visiting France and his lieutenant on the other side of the island tending his pineapple plantation. The most she got from there was a list of local laws, none out of the ordinary.

  At the library she checked the local news, maps and political trends. The librarian was polite, but made no great effort to help her. Next Gina strolled along the main road and visited some of the shops. The stores contained the usual items for their type – clothing, notions, shoes, liquor, and so on – but she noted the lack of any tourist oriented materials. She saw no Cocura tee shirts or souveniers. The shopkeepers smiled and treated her with great courtesy, but spoke reluctantly about the potential for larger markets.

  What was going on here? Gina had become used to a royal welcome from local shopkeepers. Most of those places were delighted with the idea of rich American’s tourist dollars. Here it seemed they really didn't care – in fact, they subtly discouraged her.

  By noontime the sun reached its zenith and the street became deserted. Gina needed a place to rest, a cool drink and, perhaps, a bite to eat. She stopped in the
cleanest looking bar, sat at a table and ordered a glass of wine. To her surprise, the place had an impressive wine list and she ordered a white zinfandel. She glanced about the room and sipped her drink. Few women were there, all of them native islanders. Most were garbed in gaudy, revealing dresses and they lounged about, draped on the arms of one of the men. They eyed her back, unsmiling, sizing her up as competition.

  Many of the non-native men looked as if they deliberately sought out the isolation and anonymity of Cocura. The ragtag lot could easily have passed as pirates in another era. None approached or bothered her. She often caught one of them staring, licking his lips as if he wished he could,but thought better of it. Whatever kept them in check, she was glad of it.

  The island wasn’t right for her company. While it had the natural beauty, together with many of the activities vacationers would want, it would take a significant expenditure for facilities to accommodate wealthy patrons. It would need a larger hotel, a spa, and at least one good restaurant and nightclub. That completed her job there. She could deliver the notebook and leave that night. She felt a sense of relief to be done with it; she had become nervous and apprehensive, not like her at all. She used the pay phone to call the airline office to book the mail flight out that evening. Bad news. The flight was cancelled due to a heavy squall line approaching the islands.

  One more day in Cocura. Gina chided herself for her foolishness. A paid vacation day in a tropical paradise and she was complaining. A nagging little voice reminded her that Eden had its serpent.

  * * * *

  The Import and Export Office stood in the seediest section of town, near the waterfront. Gina entered the office to find it empty except for a battered desk cluttered with papers and a series of file cabinets along one wall. She paused, unsure what to do next. A door on the far side of the room opened and a man emerged. He started slightly on seeing her there.

  "I'm Jeremy Owens," he said, giving her an appraising look from head to toe, lingering on the more rounded areas.

  Gina introduced herself and showed him her identification as a representative of Island Tours. He gave no appearance of interest in the financial business. Instead, he seemed more intent at leering at her. He might have been considered handsome, but something–other than his greasy, slicked back hair–gave her an uneasy feeling. She could hardly see Mr. Mason dealing with this man.