Weecho: First Shots

Chapter 21 - Jet Ski and Cyclone

So much for clear weather. Half an hour later Weecho was bobbing offshore on the Jet Ski, no landmarks in sight, watching the black hull of a freighter loom out of a wall of fog. The ship’s running lights were blurred in the mist, its bow wave coming through the darkness to toss him around.   

He hung on and tried to keep his eye on the Donzi, a dark shape a couple of hundred yards off to his left, drifting just out of the freighter’s path. One of the two shadows in the cockpit aimed a flashlight at the freighter, flicked it on and off as the ship plowed past.  

A white light blinked from the freighter’s fantail. A few seconds later, a blue light tumbled down from the fantail and splashed in the churning wake. Another blue light followed, then another and another. 

The Donzi swung into the freighter’s wake and went up to the first bobbing blue light. The flashlight beam from the cockpit picked out what looked like a packing drum. Weecho could make out one of the shadows snagging the drum with a boathook. When the shadow grabbed the drum and heaved it aboard, the shadow at the wheel, which was probably Lynch, goosed the Donzi toward the next blue light. 

Two seconds later the fog closed in. 

Zero visibility, Weecho couldn’t see a thing. 

But could hear the rumble of the Donzi’s twin engines. 

And over there, the chugging of the freighter. 

He hunkered down in his flimsy jacket, tried to get focused.  

Told himself what he really needed was to get one of those packing drums. 

He eased the Jet Ski forward and started toward the sound of the freighter, trying to get ahead of the Donzi, looping around where he thought it would be, keeping plenty of dark fog between him and it. 

When he thought he’d gone far enough, he turned back in the direction of the freighter’s wake and the line of bobbing blue lights. Not that he could see them. He was driving blind. He lined up in the direction of the freighter’s chug and swung the Jet Ski back and forth, trying to pick something up.  

In back of him he could hear the Donzi, could hear voices cursing. They were having the same problem he was – Where were the f-ing blue lights? The drums were too low in the water for any radar they were using to pick up. Hopefully the Jet Ski was, too.  

Weecho knew that at some point he’d be running beyond where the freighter would drop the last drum. And the Donzi could crawl up his back any second, so he’d better find one fast. 

Kept up his swerving, looked over his shoulder, saw nothing but fog.  

Turned forward – saw nothing but blue light. 

Ran right into it. 

He throttled down, did a quick check, didn’t see any damage. Turned the Jet Ski around, grabbed for the drum. Bigger than he thought. Couldn’t just haul it into his lap and ride off like it was some box of groceries. And the blue light blinking in his face might as well be a beacon for Lynch, especially if this fog thinned out.  

Serious cargo, serious problem how to get it away from here. He wasn’t about to leave it. Had come all this way out for this kind of break. And he’d better have something to show for ditching Juna. 

First thing was, he needed to shut off this blinking light. Couldn’t find any off-switch. The thing was made like one of those construction safety lights. Taped to the drum. He had to rip it off and sink it. 

Easier said. 

He wrenched it back and forth, hearing the Donzi getting closer in the fog. Finally, he got the light pulled off, tossed it in the water to sink out of sight.