Page 15 of Clive Cussler Ghost Soldier
“Couldn’t be any prouder.”
“How about we take this conversation over to the lounge?”
6
Juan and Callie took up a couple of overstuffed leather chairs beneath a massive oil painting, Crepin’s majesticBattle of Trafalgar 1805.
Callie gestured at the naval masterpiece above their heads. “My father would have loved that.”
“I’m so sorry you lost him.”
“You would have liked him.”
“I bet.”
“He was a senior chief master diver.”
Juan whistled. “That’s some achievement. He must have had the brains of an astronaut and the skill of a surgeon.”
A young steward in a crisp white shirt and sharply creased slacks wheeled a cart and a silver coffee service over to Juan and Callie.
“How’s Maurice?” Juan asked.
“He’s still recovering from the croup, I’m sorry to say.” There was a faint Irish lilt in his voice.
“Still wheezing like a squeeze box?”
“Dr. Huxley suggested that if we could acquire a washboard and a fiddle we could start a zydeco band down there.”
“Tell her to check with MacD. He’s probably got one of each in his gun locker.”
“Coffee, sir?”
“Please.”
The steward filled two bone china coffee cups in saucers and set them on the side tables next to their chairs.
“Cigar, Chairman?” the steward asked.
Juan turned to Callie. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
The steward offered a leathered box of cigars featuring a wide selection. Juan chose an Arturo Fuente Don Carlos. The steward fired up a Zippo and Juan puffed the luxurious cigar into life before blowing his first cloud of blue smoke toward the vented coffered ceiling.
Callie enjoyed the hint of espresso beans, chestnuts, and earth filling the air as she sipped her coffee.
“Reminds me of my father. He always had a stogie in hand.”
Juan took another satisfying puff before setting the Arturo down in the crystal ashtray perched beneath a ventilating device. He picked up his cup.
“What did your father do after he retired from the Navy?”
“Dad started an underwater marine salvage and repair operation. He was based out of Honolulu—that’s where I grew up. My mother died when I was born. We had a wonderful life, and he was my world. I grew up on the beach—learned how to surf before I could ride a bike. I was dive certified at the age of sixteen. Even helped Dad out on a couple of projects for the Navy.”
“I can see why you decided to follow in your father’s footsteps.”
Callie’s face darkened with a memory. Juan sat in silence, letting her process.
