PREDATOR ISLAND (Sea Lab Book 2)

CHAPTER 8

Dylan escorted Jake and Tony up a flight of stairs on the port side and gestured for them to enter. As soon as the door closed, the noisy sea breeze vanished in an airtight seal.

Immediately, Jake's focus shifted.

When he boarded the yacht, he noticed the white cursive writing on the transom that spelled out the words, Midnight Sun. He could only speculate the significance of the vessel's name, which usually meant something important to the owner. The first word might relate to the deep blue hull that was a shade darker than the ocean. That's what came to mind first. As for the second part of the name, he had a firm suspicion where the inspiration for that came from. The yacht and its captain gave Jake a mysterious vibe at first glance. Whether it was the sleek lines and tinted windows, or the flint jaw and darkened stare, he couldn't distinguish. But right away, he decided both had character and a backstory worth digging into.

"Jake, this is Captain Marlon Steele," Dylan said, gesturing toward a man with ebony skin and a well-trimmed beard. The captain was as tall as Jake, and a bit leaner. Jake imagined the man running in the early morning hours, much like himself when the opportunity afforded.

"Nice to become acquainted," Captain Steele replied, shaking Jake's hand. His voice resonated with a deep baritone.

"Same here."

The man wore navy colored pants, a white polo shirt, and tennis shoes. Not the formal garb like Captain Oliver on the Atlantis research vessel. But this was a yacht, and these people had no one to report to but themselves, at least while out on the water.

Jake inspected the bridge with a careful eye. The room was decked out with midnight blue paneling from the floor to waist high. White trim-work bordered the instrument dashboard, the chart tables, and the walls at the ceiling. The captain's chair took up the front right corner of the bridge with all the usual appointments: A steering wheel, a hand-held radio on a spiral cord, and a bank of monitors. One screen displayed radar, the others showed camera views of the stern, bow, port, and starboard sides of the ship.

"I hear you're a man who knows his way around a boat," Captain Steele said.

Jake looked at Dylan who nodded.

"Been on a few. So has Tony," Jake replied.

Tony Cruze offered a hand to the captain, which he accepted warmly. "I like your ship. It's got everything you need for a long voyage."

"Oh, it's not mine. It belongs to Savannah's parents. Tom Logan and Kate Lockhart. I just pilot this vessel."

"I've heard of them," Jake said. Things were beginning to come into focus, concerning Savannah and Dylan, and the yacht itself, and its name.

"Everyone's heard of them," Tony added. "I sure have. Gold's lured me away a time or two. Can't say I've found anything significant like Tom Logan, but I've stumbled across a few coins here and there." He frowned. "Heck, that time in the Grand Canyon, I came away with nothing, not an ounce. Barely survived the rapids. And then I heard that several years earlier that Logan had found a load of Aztec treasure. Guess he's got the Midas touch."

"We found that plane in the Bahamas with the stolen gems," Jake said. "Diamonds and emeralds has to count for something."

"Yeah, but that was drug runners. The poe-poe confiscated all of it. It wasn't like a real treasure find."

Jake wagged his head at the reference to the Bahamian police. There were more stories he could tell about their adventures, but now didn't seem like the time. He wanted to know more about their destination.

"So, what's our ETA?" Jake said.

"From here, a week and a half in route, and we'll push ashore," Captain Steele replied. "Or rather, drop anchor."

"Good. I can't wait to hit the water. I've been around the world, but never to Cocos Island."

"It's a place of wonder." The captain sighed, and then tightened his lips with a nod. Jake took it as a silent gesture that he'd rather get back to his duties on the bridge than be involved in a lengthy conversation with people he barely knew. He considered it another wrinkle to the man's character. It could be a good thing, if it revealed a devotion to his job. Or, it could be a sign of something else? The captain seemed suspicious of them for some reason, like he didn't trust them. The more they talked about gold, the more his eyes darkened. Odd, to say the least.

"If you'd like, we can talk in the parlor and have a drink," Dylan said.

"Lead the way," Jake replied.

Dylan did just that. After a round of nice-to-meet-you's and goodbyes with the captain, he turned and ambled down the stairs. Jake and Tony followed.

Jake nestled into a plush leather chair while Tony kicked back with a leg on his knee on one of the two couches. Dylan made his way over to the bar and broke out the Jack Daniel's bourbon and three tumblers.

"No bourbon for me," Jake said, a hand up to stop Dylan before he poured. He had his reasons.

"What do ya take? I've got scotch, tequila...and vodka if you're hard core." He tossed in a sly smile.

"Coke or Sprite will do fine."

"He doesn't drink in front of Sarah," Tony mouthed in a loud whisper. "He's soft like that."

"I'm not soft. It's something I choose to abstain from. At least when Sarah's around. If you had an abusive alcoholic father like she had when she was little, you'd have a problem with it too."

Dylan poured the bourbon into two glasses, about three fingers or a quarter filled, and then glanced up at Jake. "You're in luck. I do have Sprite. I use it with margarita mix sometimes when I want the taste and not the stiffness of the liquor."

When he'd finished with the drinks, he brought the tumblers over and handed them out.

"Have you and Savannah ever done an article on her parents?" Jake asked. "I've always heard it said that Tom Logan has gold in his veins. I'd imagine that'd make a great piece. And with Kate Lockhart's work as a museum curator and historian, I'm sure you could come up with something good. Maybe a story on one of their discoveries?"

"Like the time they found the Inca treasure in the Amazon jungle." Tony's face lit up. "The underground river that led to the gold room of the last Inca emperor. Surely, Adventure Magazine would die for a story like that."

Dylan sat across from Jake, on the other couch. "Well," he grimaced, "that was when Savannah was a little girl. She was kidnapped, you know. Her parents had to find the gold to save her. It was a traumatic experience."

Jake watched Dylan draw in a swig of bourbon. Truth was, he'd like a drink, if only to take the edge off. But, it wasn't worth it. He'd just got Sarah back in his life, and he wasn't about to risk losing her over something as trivial as a drink.

"So," Jake said. "You've never done a story on her parents?"

"No. Not that the thought's never crossed my mind, but Savannah likes to stand on her own two feet. You know what I mean?"

"I know exactly what you mean."

"If that's the case," Tony said, "why use her dad's boat?"

Jake glared at his friend.

"Convenience," Dylan replied with a wink.