Rogue Wave by Isabel Jolie (reading eggs books txt) 📕

fingers combed her hair, snagging on a tangle every now and then. “Some of the fishing boats he was going in and reclaiming were some of the worst offenders. Breaking all kinds of laws or agreements. Some of the captains had some of the worst working conditions for the crew. For years, we’d follow boats, trying to put an end to some of it, and I mean years. When I was with Greenpeace, we once followed one single offender for almost two years. Then this guy comes along. There’s no following. He’s like his own military operation. Smooth by night. Board the boat, take over. Drive the boat back to a country where new owners can take over, often a new fishing company. Only took me a few times to see that new didn’t mean better. Different fishing company, same practices. Slave labor, dangerous, inhuman living conditions, two-mile nets. Catching anything, throwing back what won’t sell.”

“Slaves?” she asked, her tone incredulous.

“Slaves. Maybe not on paper, but it’s indentured servitude. Some men literally bound in chains when not working. They sleep in the bowels of the ship with the rats and sludge. Ocean water for bathing and a plank over a hole for a toilet, sometimes. Some captains rape the men.” I balled a hand into a fist. “I can still hear the sounds. It was…bad.”

Her fingers scratched along my days old growth, and I caught her hand and kissed her open palm.

“I went too long cashing in, closing my eyes. It felt like it was a battle we couldn’t win, so why try, you know?”

“What happened to make you leave?”

“One day, after we delivered a ship to Somalia, I watched the crew. Gave them some money, hoping they could get out of that circle. Most of them, when they come to work on the ships, they don’t know what they’re signing up for. They’ve only heard stories of good money. But a lot of them need to borrow money to get to the gig, or maybe to send back home until they’re earning money. It’s a trap. Captain makes up additional charges. Some countries are getting smarter, half-assing an attempt at checking that they are staying of their own volition, that they’re getting paid. But it’s corrupt, and like I said, it’s half-assed. Ships change paperwork to belong to a different country all the time. Fishing is an important industry to most governments. Regulation might harm the business, make it less profitable. Can’t have that. Money over lives, every damn time.”

I rambled on. She listened, then pushed. “Something must have gone wrong?”

“The Rising Tide. I delivered it to Haiti like I was supposed to. And the captain acted like the men were a possession. Directed them to another rig. The new captain, and the new company, hadn’t arrived yet. The captain was one who raped the smaller of the men, almost daily. I couldn’t handle it. The cycle. That night, I took the boat out of the marina, way offshore, jumped into a dinghy, and set explosions to it. Sank it out in the middle of the Atlantic.”

“Good for you.”

“One boat out of commission. We didn’t get paid for that mission. Zane, the guy I worked for, has no idea I’m responsible. Now, he does believe I should’ve stayed with the ship until the new crew arrived. But he has no idea I’m the one who sank the ship. I quit. Thought I’d never hear from him again. But that guy, he came to let me know Zane wants me to come back and work for him.”

“Will you?”

“No. Absolutely not. There’s not enough money in the world.”

“So…that’s when you came home? Back to the States?”

“Well, yeah. My grandmother died. It felt like it was time.” Truth of the matter, it had been time for a long time.

“That guy looked scary. Do you think he’d hurt you?”

“Nah. The repo guys, they carry guns, talk a big talk. Intimidation is definitely a negotiation tactic. But I don’t think Zane would ever break the law. Especially in the States.”

“Why’s he so desperate for you to come back and work for him?”

“That’s a good question. There aren’t many who are in this line of work. He trained me. Probably thinks I owe him. For the training, and for the last boggled project. It’s that whole indentured servitude mentality. He’s been on the ocean too long.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’ve told him no. Not much more to do. But Zane’s henchman’s visit has inspired me. I’m pulling together my experiences, and I’m going to submit it to the Times. There’s a reporter there who has been covering the ocean. It might help him paint a clearer picture of what’s going on out there. Gabe is helping me with connections. Contingency plans. You know, it’s like surfing. Always be prepared for the rogue wave.”

“My mom says that, too. Always be prepared.” Her lips brushed my cheek, and she ran her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes as tingling sensations filtered down my back. She gently tugged on a strand, and after I opened my eyes, asked, “Have you ever considered finding an advocacy role? There are lobbyists and environmental groups who would love to have your experience.”

I nodded, familiar with the roles out there. Something like that would give me a chance to continue making a difference, but Stateside.

She lurched forward and slapped a palm against my chest. “Alice told me to fill an empty bucket of water and place it in your cottage.”

“Huh?”

“Yes. Something about it gets rid of bad spirits. She knew this guy was coming. We need to fill a bucket.”

She jumped off my lap and scanned the perimeter of the porch. “Do you have a plastic bucket? Like one of those you use to collect shells?”

“Ahm, maybe there are some underneath here? I think I saw some of the buckets we used as kids.”

She snaps her fingers. “Perfect.”

“And what exactly are you going to do with those buckets