Unlawful Chase by C.J. Schnier (read ebook pdf .TXT) 📕

we finally rounded the corner of Cuba and could escape from the Gulf Stream. I made sure to keep out of their territorial waters to avoid any unwanted attention, but that meant I was too far offshore to glimpse the country's fabled mountains. It was disappointing to know land was close and not be able to see it.

Overall, despite the less than perfect conditions, my only regret was being at sea alone. Kelly's death still haunted me, but at least I was doing something more than sitting in a bar and climbing inside a bottle. She would have hated to see me like that.

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The green mountains of Cuba sprang from the hazy horizon. It was my first sight of land since Key West nearly a week before, and as I sailed closer, more and more details of the island popped into view. The tallest peaks were the first to show themselves, and then, one by one, the lesser peaks formed an undulating barrier to the interior. An unbroken blanket of trees shining in the midday sun covered each mountain. The entire island, from horizon to horizon, glowed like a raw uncut emerald.

As I drew closer, it was more than just my eyes that were overwhelmed. Smells of land filled my nostrils. Dirt, trees, grass, all smells we take for granted until we have been deprived of them. These smells, and countless others, mixed with the salt air and ocean musk, creating a heady and intoxicating aroma that set my mouth watering for a meal that didn't come from canned goods.

An alarm on the chartplotter warned me I was nearing my final waypoint twenty miles south of Punta Gran Diablo. This would set me up to make the run to my final destination past the entrance to a river so small the chart didn't bother naming it. According to the information Pruitt had given me, there wasn't much in this stretch of coast. To the west was the city of Cienfuegos, but everything to the east was rural fishing villages and unsettled jungle. A lone marina was nestled up the river a short way, and this is where Pruitt and I had decided to hide Paramour while I searched for the idol.

There were only a few miles to go until I crossed into Cuban waters. Pruitt had warned me there was a significant military presence in Cienfuegos, but this far east was much less covered. I hoped that was the case. I didn't exactly trust Pruitt. I would have twelve miles to traverse before I could disappear up the river. At maximum speed, it meant two hours of exposure, and with my masts and sails I wasn't exactly hard to spot.

Scanning the horizon with my binoculars, I made mental notes of the few boats I saw. A loose clump of vessels to my starboard caught my eye, but they were simple wooden fishing boats, their bright paint schemes clashing strongly with the water. Past the group, watching over them like a shepherd, was a wholly different boat. Instead of bright blues and reds, it was painted a plain drab green. Smoke streamed from its stern as it worked its way through the group. From my distance I couldn't make out too many details, but this was no fishing boat. Mounted on the bow was the biggest gun I had ever seen.

Immediately I disengaged the autopilot and flung the wheel hard over, executing an emergency tack. Both the main and mizzen booms switched sides forcefully as the wind moved from one side to another. I reached for the jib sheets, letting one run free while pulling in the other to trim the sail. The whole maneuver took less than fifteen seconds, and then I was heading back out to sea. I knew the patrol boat would have seen me, but I was a couple of miles from Cuban waters and getting farther away by the second.

I watched the gunboat through my binoculars for a long while, waiting for them to turn and pursue me, but they never did. Within an hour they were slipping back over the horizon, and I kept Paramour on her heading while I went below to fetch the satellite phone.

I turned it on and dialed the first number saved to speed dial. Pruitt answered before the completion of the first ring.

"Chase! I've been trying to call you for hours. You really should leave the phone on." he said, scolding me. "I've gotten some interesting news from my sources in Cienfuego."

"Does it have to do with the patrol boat camped out right where I need to go?" I asked, a little annoyed with myself for not leaving the phone on.

"So, you already know about that. But, I'm afraid that's not all the bad news. You now have competition. General Bardales, the so-called Minister of Antiquities, is apparently searching for the idol too."

"Why doesn't that sound good?"

"Bardales and I have a, let's say, history together. He's cunning and ruthless, if I were you, I would avoid him and his troops."

"What do you think I'm trying to do? I had to tack back offshore to avoid the patrol boat, and I'm pretty sure they saw me. I need you to do something to get rid of it."

"I can't just make them disappear, Chase. I don't have that much influence. You're going to have to wait for them to head back in for fuel, or sneak past in the dark."

"Sneak past in the dark?" I asked incredulously, "Have you never heard of radar?"

"That isn't my problem. It's what I'm paying you for. I'm sure you'll figure out something. Just get to the marina and don't get caught. If I hear anything else, I'll let you know," Pruitt said, and then added, "And Chase, leave the phone on."

The line went dead before I could reply, leaving me standing on the deck of my boat staring at the phone. The urge to chuck the phone into the ocean and sail on to Jamaica or