Harold and the Angel of Death Page 19
John started to laugh, and his cackling shot through Harold’s body like ice. “What? Did you learn that in Sunday school or maybe on TV? That’s not how this works. You really are as stupid as your old man.” John’s dead black eyes looked up towards the sun as if he was thinking. “I tell you, I really wish I could have been there.” He looked back at Harold with his empty stare. “You know, to see when your dad killed himself. Tell me, what was it like?”
The rush began inside his body. It felt as though electricity was shocking every muscle. Harold replied in an unusually deep, foreboding voice, “Don’t say another word.”
John’s laughter echoed over the still water, and then his voice seemed to bounce around inside Harold’s brain. “Oh, is daddy’s little boy going to go berserk? Oh my, get the doctor… Oh, wait, you can’t. You know, brat, your old man was weak. He couldn’t even take a little extortion. He’s nothing like Darla. That woman loves a good spanking. Put her against a wall, and she really comes through for you, but your old man, he couldn’t handle a little abuse. Tell me, what was his expression when he pulled the trigger? You were there, you lucky jerk. I wish I could have seen that sadness and fear on his face. Oh, boohoo, I can’t do anything, so I’ll blow my head off in front of my son. What a pathetic loser.”
Harold’s world turned red. Shapes blurred to become outlines, but Harold’s mind knew exactly what each outline was. He could see John’s silhouette sitting on the bench. Harold was going to end this nightmare once and for all. A feeling of joy and warmth crept through his soul as he reached for the ladder leading to the upstairs bridge. Metal screamed, and fiberglass exploded as he pulled the ladder free of its moorings. The screws slowly flew through the red sky before his eyes. Some of the maroon projectiles seemed to fly right through John.
Harold raised the steel remains of the ladder over his head. One handrail pointed crookedly towards the sky, and the remaining pieces hung on in a vain attempt to keep its identity. He spun the pole over his head and gave it a snap. Every loose piece broke free of the handrail in his hand with a cacophony of pops and metallic squawks. Despite his best efforts, John’s wobbly red silhouette seemed unfazed. John’s cackle filled Harold’s ears and echoed inside his head. With a roar that reverberated through the boat under his feet, Harold swung his newly created metal club with all his might. He watched as the auburn pole split through the figure that should have been John.
In his berserker rage, Harold found himself carried forward by his momentum. His body passed through John and over the edge of the ship’s rail, and then all went black.
Water began to fill Harold’s lungs. His eyes shot open, and he found himself looking down towards the reef a few feet below. Instinctively, he moved his body vertically, and his mouth took in a mixture of saltwater and air as he broke the surface. He coughed and sputtered to clear his airways. Looking up, he found himself off the starboard side of the ship. He was sure he had been fighting John on the port side, and when he glanced towards the cabin cruiser, he saw the ladder to the open air bridge destroyed. Harold’s body felt tired and heavy as he floated there for a moment. Gradually, he made his way towards the aft of the boat with slow gentle strokes. He watched the boat and waited as he moved. Was he still dreaming? Was John still there?
Harold felt something brush the bottom of his foot. A shadow larger than himself swam beneath and away. A twinge of fear shot through him. “Shark,” he whispered to himself.
He turned over on his stomach and swam freestyle towards the boat with all his remaining strength. Harold beached himself like a seal onto the diving deck at the back of the small craft. After he pulled his legs in, he attempted to slow his breathing. A gray dorsal fin broke the surface and then dropped back down under the ripples as a seven-foot shark crossed sideways beneath the dive deck. A second shark, even larger, also crossed beneath the dive deck and ship. Harold had had enough of the curious fish. He grabbed hold of the step ladder and forced himself back inside the boat. He lay there for a moment on the deck, facing the sun and thanking God he was safe. Then he remembered John, and a sense of déjà vu hit. Harold leaped to his feet. It was just a nightmare, but he had to be sure it was over.
He hurried into the cabin, but there was no sign that anyone had been on board other than himself. After heading forward and below to the only berth, he confirmed he was alone on the boat. Harold came back up the steps and sat inside the cabin. He was sticky and a little cold in his wet clothes. He needed to return and get cleaned up and dried off.
Harold stood and stepped back out to the aft deck but then stopped himself. A few screws and scraps of metal pipes littered the deck floor. The missing ladder and damaged fiberglass reminded him that scraps of chrome and metal now sat at the shallow bottom of the sea. He attempted to reorient himself and spoke to the calm sea as he went to weigh anchor. “I have no idea what I’m going to tell Garcia about his boat. How can I even explain this to Darla?”
Harold went into the cabin and sat down at the small pilot section inside the fishing boat and started the motors. He decided to take his time getting back while he tried to think of a good explanation. Saltwater saturated clothes stuck to his cold, wet skin and the vinyl seat as he slowly slipped the ship into the small cove and next to the dock. Although he had turned a thirty-minute boat ride into a sixty-minute cruise, the island had come into view far too soon. Part of him cursed himself for not killing more time, but the other half just wanted off the boat and away from the remnants of his nightmarish fit. Harold maneuvered the boat to the dock and Frank helped him quickly tie off the craft.
Frank hollered to him as he was ducking back inside the cabin to grab the coffee mug he had retrieved from the deck on the way home. “Where’s the ladder?”
Harold cringed and took his time getting the mug. He needed to stick to the story just as he planned. Emerging from the cabin, he found Darla standing next to Frank.
“Well?” asked Darla. “What happened out there?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” responded Harold as he hopped from the boat to the wooden pier.
“Try me,” Darla and Frank said in unison.
Harold had not anticipated Darla showing up before he had a chance to talk with Frank. He had hoped to convince Frank of his ruse and then Frank could have cleaned up the boat before anyone else saw it. Instead, he was cornered and outnumbered, but he would stick to his plan.
“A shark,” he said with a straight face.
Darla crossed her arms. “Do you mean to tell us a shark jumped into the boat, tore the ladder from the wall, and then jumped back into the water?”
Harold needed to think of a response. The dull ache across his chest gave him an idea. He lifted his shirt. To his surprise, he found three bruises across his chest. He needed to stay focused on his story. “See? I got these when I was pulled over the side of the boat.”
Harold could tell by the surprised look on Darla and Frank that they were buying part of his story, but then Darla scowled. “Wait, you really wrestled a shark? Where is it?”
Harold shook his head. “No, I never said that. I had him on the line. He nearly pulled me in twice, and I fell on the deck once. The second time he took me off my feet, I grabbed the ladder.”
“Hold on a minute,” Frank said. “That ladder is very stout. It should have held your weight without any issue.”
“I was pretty upset by that point,” quipped Harold, and he walked past the two inquisitors in hopes of getting them away from the boat.
“Stop right there,” said Darla.
Harold stopped and turned around.
“Yea,” followed up Frank. He looked over at the boat again. “Those screws were ripped out pretty violently. What gives?”
Darla responded before Harold could speak. “Don’t worry about it, Frank. Harold’s a big guy. With enough adrenaline, he could have ripped the ladder off. My question is why? Frank’s right. If you were just falling, the ladder should have held.”
“It’s solid fiberglass,” Frank said. “He couldn’t sink that boat if he was twenty feet long.”
“Yea, well, I’m afraid of sharks,” answered Harold truthfully. “I guess my adrenaline was pumping pretty good because I grabbed the ladder and tried to yank off one of the side poles to use it as a club. The whole thing came off instead. I started swinging at the fish until it left.”
Darla and Frank looked at each other with eyebrows raised. “Should you ask or should I?” said Darla.
“Ladies first,” responded Frank.
“So, Harry, why are you wet?”
Harold knew he was in trouble. Darla never used his childhood name unless she was teasing him or very angry. He guessed this was not an affectionate moment.
“I fell in while I was swinging at him.”
“I thought you were pulled over.”
Harold cleared his throat. “Yea, well, I was trying to avoid the part about the ladder.”
Frank interjected, “I still want to know how you did that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” responded Darla and Harold together.
“Look, honey, you know I’m not fond of sharks. Things just got out of hand.”
“Uh-huh. That must have been terrifying. Being in the water with an angry shark you’ve been hitting with a boat ladder.”
Darla’s glare was almost too much for him. He wanted to tell her the truth, but not with Frank standing there. Besides, he was in too deep now to stop. If he tried to step away with Darla, Frank would go straight to Garcia, and Garcia would go straight to Joshua before his plane barely had time to touch down in North Carolina. Besides, Darla would understand later.
“Oh, it swam away at some point. I guess I was so scared and agitated I didn’t notice and just kept swinging at the water until I fell overboard.”
Harold watched Frank board the craft and inspect the torn wall where the ladder once stood. He looked around the deck and gathered what few screws he could find, along with a cross piece still sitting in the aft starboard corner.
“One second,” said Frank as he stepped back over on the pier. “I have one more question. What fishing pole did you use?”
Harold responded quickly, “The one you gave me.”
“Huh?” said Frank.
“What’s wrong?” asked Darla.
“Well, it’s sitting in its stand with full tackle. Based on your story, I would have expected the line to break. Otherwise, the shark couldn’t have gotten away.”
“It did,” said Harold. “I reset the line. I’ve gone fishing before. I know how to set up the tackle.”
Frank scowled and mumbled loud enough for Harold to hear as he began walking towards the shack. “Those are my knots. What the heck happened out there?”
Harold looked back at Darla. She dropped her arms to her sides and a smile crossed her face, but it made Harold feel cold inside instead of the warmth he was used to experiencing. She strolled up to Harold until she was inches away. The coconut oil in her sunscreen made Harold wish the setting was different. He felt Darla’s fingernails slowly glide up the outside of his arms. A thrill shot through his body. She put her hands behind his neck and pulled him down, so she could whisper in his ear.
“I don’t know why you are lying to me, but I would suggest you tell me the truth when you’re ready. I’ll never be with a man I can’t trust.”
Harold’s breath slowed and deepened as he felt Darla gently blowing against his eardrum and her lips gliding across his ear. Her hands released his neck. By the time he had recovered his senses, she had already cleared the pier and was moving at a quick pace past the boat shack. Harold stood up and took in a deep breath, trying to decide what to do.
“Hey,” yelled Frank from the boat shack.
How long has he been watching me stand here?
“Are you going to stand there all day like an oaf? If I were you, I’d go after her.”
Harold wanted to go to Darla and tell her the truth, but he could not make his feet move. He hoped Darla would not run to Joshua without all the facts, but he knew if he told her what really happened, she would call him immediately. He would not be the cause of marital strife between Joshua and Maria or hinder Joshua’s search for his half-brother. Besides, the whole affair was not just about the people closest to him. If Garcia got wind of this, he could shut down the whole project. Workers could lose their jobs and families’ lives would be turned upside down. John would win.
Chapter 19
It had been a long week, and Harold was thankful to be back aboard the Sweet Revenge. Darla had not spoken to him, except during their meetings with Garcia. He had attempted once to explain his actions at the pier, but she cut him off. “Tell me the truth or don’t tell me anything,” were the last words she had said to him when they were alone.
Harold looked at the moon’s reflection on the glassy water. He knew the morning would bring another encounter with Chuck and his crew. He wished Darla could forgive him before they walked into the weapons demonstration.
Harold closed his eyes and tried to relax. After a while, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He scowled. “Leave me alone, John.”
“Well,” said Darla, “I guess the coconut oil isn’t doing it for you now, huh?”
Harold jumped and opened his eyes, sending a wave of water over the hot tub. He spun his body around to find Darla standing over him with her bathing suit on. Her flawless skin seemed to give off a bronze glow in the moonlight, like an angel.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you,” said Harold. “Unfortunately, all I’m able to smell is the hot tub.”
Darla slid down into the water next to him without saying a word. She leaned in and gave Harold one of the most passionate kisses he had ever experienced. Euphoria, excitement, and then confusion rushed through him.
She released her lips, and hopeful words poured from his mouth. “I’m sorry… Does this mean we’re okay again?”
Darla’s forehead crinkled, and she shook her head. “You men are all the same. That kiss is to tell you I forgive you for lying to me. That doesn’t mean everything is okay, but I wanted to bury the hatchet before we meet with Chuck tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry, honey. It isn’t that I don’t trust you. It’s more about my fear of your response. I just wish you could see inside my heart. It would all make sense.”
Darla opened her mouth and then closed it. Harold waited, knowing better than to force a response from her.
She finally began again. “Darling, I want to see inside your heart, but you’re hiding it from me. You’re just lucky that I’m a good intelligence agent.”
“Why is that?”
Darla reached under the water and pulled his hand up. She played with his large fingers as she spoke. “You called me John when I tapped you on the shoulder.”
Harold had hoped she hadn’t heard the name over the roar of the water jets. Darla lowered his hand back into the water and then took his chin and focused his face on her own. “I think I know what happened on the boat now. I’m not going to ask you if I’m right because I know you don’t feel like you can tell me. I just want you to know that our hearts are not that different. Just promise me you will trust me when the time comes, and you finally want to talk to somebody.”
Harold saw a look of sadness he hadn’t noticed before. Pushing past the sadness, he could see her love for him behind her eyes, and it brought hope to his heart. All the coldness over the last few days had disappeared. Yet, for all the dancing her pupils did, somewhere deep inside her was an aching he had never noticed. Harold nearly cried as he felt her hidden pain push into his heart.
He worked to keep his composure. “I promise. I will always come to you,” was all
he could manage to get out.
Darla released his chin, turned, and rested her head on his shoulder. She sat there and rubbed his chest. “We’re going be okay, dear. I promise.”
Harold rested his cheek against her head. The two of them sat there and stared out at the moon on the water. Neither had noticed the water jets had long since cut off.
***
The glowing orange sun crested over the edge of the calm waters, reflecting fiery light off the mirrored Caribbean Sea. Harold sat locked in his office with his satellite phone on his desk near his steaming cup of coffee.
He gazed out the window at the beautiful morning. Harold believed that such beauty existed for a reason. There was something about the dawn that made everything feel fresh. Maybe it was a reminder that there is a beginning and an end. Maybe it was to point mankind towards the beauty and awe in the world instead of the evil. Whatever the reason, it gave him hope.
Harold took a deep breath. It was early in California. He hated being awakened at three in the morning, and he was sure Tom was going to feel the same. He picked up the phone and hit the call button.
Tom’s voice broke through on the second ring. “You must be psychic. How did you know I’m awake?”
“Sorry?” said Harold. “I was afraid I’d be waking you up. We have the weapons demo today, and I wanted to chat, you know, in case things go wrong out here.”
“You won’t believe this,” said Tom, “but I was staring at the phone hoping you’d call. I have some news to tell you. I’ve looked at our problem from several directions, and I even managed to get the board together at the house to talk about it since I know where all the bugs are hidden here.”
“How do you know that?”
“When the police returned your dad’s belongings he had a device to detect hidden transmitters. We deal in nukes, remember?”
“Those seem like a distant memory these days.”