Page 23 of Taming Her Bears

“Roger that.” Pete gave me a sour look. “More acrobatics?”

“We’re losing daylight. We need to get a sighting before we go back, or we’ve lost them. Acrobatics are required.”

Now that we knew where they had left the boat and their new destination, it was easier to plot a course. I listened to the purposeful chop of the blades as the helicopter made a wide swing into the main channel, disturbing the whitecaps that scuttled back in confusion. I held the high-powered glasses steady in a super-human attempt to discern the difference between the bright clusters of frothing waves and white, solid matter. Pete shouted above the wind, the rain, and the clattering blades, “Darkhorse, we’re at half-tank. We need to turn back.”

I focused on a spot that somehow looked suspicious, that didn’t belong, like a tiny white fleck on an unblemished photograph. “Five more minutes. TheUrsais following behind us. Just give me five more minutes.”

My gut feelings were trying to claw their way outside. “Forty degrees west, he’s making a wide turn. He’s headed toward international waters. Foot to the pedal. I need a few more hundred feet.” I scrambled inside. “Stay on your mark. I’ve got an idea.” I pawed around inside my kit and pulled out a cannon-sized camera. I grabbed a bungee cord, wrapped it around my ankles, and clipped it to the bottom of the pilot’s seat.

Pete looked down at the homemade tether, an expression between alarm and annoyance working at his jaws. “What are you doing?”

“Just make sure the fucker doesn’t slip. I’ve got an idea.” I grabbed the camera and wriggled toward the door on my stomach. Sliding halfway out, I looked through the lens, searching for that tiny white spot in the distance.

Pete bellowed toward the door. “Lieutenant! I’m flying blind. I don’t see anything but the ocean.”

Fixing my view determinedly, I answered back, “I do. I just need you to get a little closer. Keep your bearings. We’ve almost got it. Drop her down about fifty feet.”

I was playing the odds. From the distance, it was impossible to tell what type of boat was floating on the water. I attached the telescoping zoom lens and zeroed in. It wasn’t a fishing vessel. The tiny sliver slowly began acquiring dimensions. No high, deck-top cabin, no nets. Pete’s voice had acquired a whine. “Darkhorse, we’re in Canadian airspace.”

“Close in just a little more, Pete. Can’t you see it yet?”

He paused. “Yeah, there’s something out there. I’ll close the gap a little more, then we get out of here. There’s nothing we can do from up here.”

He had to push it to close enough distance to take the shot. We were now juggling with three balls. We were in Canadian airspace, running low on fuel, and it was turning dark. I snapped the photos, elbowed my way back in, and sprawled on the floor of the helicopter, breathing hard. “Well, that was fun,” I said finally.

Pete shook his head dolefully. “You’re crazy.”

“At least we weren’t close enough to get shot at.”

It was fully dark by the time we returned to the ship and had to use our high beams to locate each other. The helicopter was coughing and gasping for its final bits of nourishment as it settled on the landing pad. The team poured out on deck, crowding around for the news. They had caught up with the desertedChristinaand were chomping at the bit for revenge. I held up my camera, basking in my moment of glory. “Hey! Everyone should congratulate Pete. He found his balls today. He carried me seven miles into Canadian airspace.”

“Give me five, dude.” Lee, the impudent little shit, got Pete to slap palms with him. “Way to go, Commander. You’ll be hanging with the cool crowd in no time.”

In traditional state trooper style, Natalia had found some more bubbly. She sprayed it so directly into our faces, we had no choice but to choke down at least some of it. Not that I cared. I stretched out my tongue for more. After some hesitation, so did Pete.

“How does it feel to be a rule breaker?” asked Josh, slapping Pete on the back. “Was it fun?”

“Oh, his panties were all in a twist, but he got over it,” I answered before Pete could say a word. Not that he intended to. He was a little overwhelmed by the attention of the gang and was clearly relieved when we hustled the camera into the ready room and slipped the memory card into the computer. The computer had a sixty-inch flat screen monitor that mounted against the wall, lighting up photographs in magnificent detail. We watched as the crucial shots spread across the screen. At first it was just water, a few scattered islands, and a small, white, rectangle in one corner.

Roy tapped at the keys, cutting away the excess ocean and landscape, bringing the rectangle up close. It was a yacht. Captain Josh scratched at his head and held back a murmur of excitement. “See if you can cut in close enough to find its name and number.”

“It might be fuzzy.”

It was, at first, but Roy was pretty good at film editing. He cleaned it up enough that we could see the legend painted at the bow. “The Sea Kitten; DL 385”. I saw the wheels grinding in the captain’s head. He was sure he had his culprit, but he wanted proof.

“Ensign, research the registry of the yacht. I want to know when and where it was purchased, who purchased it, and a list of all the ports it harbored in at. Everything you can find.”

“Yes, sir,” said Roy.

While Roy was checking the registry, Natalia brought me a plate of food and sat next to me. “You missed dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said, wolfing down the fat, juicy steak the cook had prepared with very little ceremony. “He likes to do that to me. He’s a prick.”

“You were the best man for the job.”

“That, too.” I took another huge bite. Flapping around like a kite off the side of a helicopter gave me an enormous appetite. “Usually, he’s the pilot on these scouting missions. He likes to fly. He leaves Pete to navigate the ship. He wanted you to himself.”

“He didn’t have me to himself. Lee and Roy were right there.”

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