Grand Bay

Bay A true look at what the biker lifestyle was all about in the mid-twentieth century!

By Bob Bitchin

FTW Publishing, Inc. Berry Creek, CA bobbitchin.com

Copyright © 2022 by The Author 1st Printing 2022 Hardcover Collectors Edition Fourth book in the Treb Lincoln series FTW Publishing, Inc. Box 100 Berry Creek, CA 95916 www.bobbitchin.com All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission in writing.

Cover artwork by author Printed in the United States of America ISBN: 979-8-9860381-1-7 If you purchase this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the publisher or author has received and payment for the “unstripped book.”

Typeset on a Macintosh.

Fiction $24.95

Dedicated to my wife, Jody. It’s amazing that you have put up with me all these years!

Other Books by Bob Bitchin Non-Fiction

Biker to Sailor Letters from the Lost Soul The Sailing Life Starboard Attitude DORF BIKER

Fiction

Brotherhood of Outlaws Emerald Bay King Harbor Grand Bay These books are available at www.bobbitchin.com

Grand Bay

6

Grand Bay

Grand Bay

By Bob Bitchin Chapter One The American Airlines Boing 737 had just settled in at 32,000 feet. I was seated in the emergency exit row, in 13A. I was lucky and had a window seat.

As the plane filled I thought I might have gotten lucky! The plane was almost full, and the center seat between me and a very attractive young lady was still empty. As I thought up a good opening line, my luck changed, for the worse.

The center seat had been filled at the last minute by a very large gentleman who was 7

Grand Bay obviously headed south for a little fishing. I knew that was going to be fishing because he smelled like dead fish. I tried my best to ignore him and just stared out the window.

Below me I could see the Sea of Cortez, all blue and calm, with the mainland of Mexico off to the horizon on my left.

I was returning to my boat, Lost Soul, anchored in the lagoon behind Barra de Navidad in the state of Jalisco, Mexico. I was pretty anxious to get there to make sure everything was okay on board. I was also anxious to get to the end of this flight so my seatmate could go far-far away and take his oderifousness with him. To pass the time I thought about my boat. The hardest thing about leaving your boat all alone is not knowing what might happen while you are away.

Oh, I hadn’t left her completely alone. The sailing and cruising community is pretty tight, and in the lagoon there in Navidad they were very tight. There were three or four cruisers who said they’d watch my boat for me for me, but I still worry.

I was just returning from the delivery of a new ShAnneon 52 from the commissioning docks in Bristol, Rhode Island with her new owners on board. They wanted to have her in Trinidad, where they plAnned on keeping her for the winter. Trinidad is a great hurricane hole, and their insurance company had pretty much insisted it was either there or in the New England area. They’d opted for the warmer waters of the 8

Grand Bay Caribbean. It had been an uneventful sail, which is the way I like ‘em. I’d had enough adventure in the past few years delivering boats all over the world, and an easy cruise is always a good thing.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am a firm believer in the adage that “The adventure begins when something goes wrong.” But sometimes adventure isn’t what I am seeking. Sometimes I look forward to a little rest and relaxation. And that was what I had plAnned for the next few months, as soon as I was back aboard my boat, living large on the Gold Coast of Mexico, one of my favorite places in the world.

Costa Alegre, known to most cruising sailors as The Gold Coast of Mexico stretches south from the white beaches of Bonduras Bay, along the Pacific Coast of Mexico’s mainland to Acapulco and then on down to the Guatamala border. Each stop is better than the last. From the friendly little port of Ipala just as you leave Bonduras Bay, to the islands of Chamala and down through Carayes, Tenecatita, and Barra de Navidad. Further south there was the Iztapa and Zihuatenejo area, which is where the cruising fleet usually spent Christmas.

South of Acapulco you will find little gems like the harbor at Puerto Angel. A perfect checking out place for those heading south across the Sea of Tehuanapec to Punta Madero and on to Guatemala.

In the midst of this great cruising grounds I found my personal paradise in Barra de Navidad.

9

Grand Bay I’d sailed in there a few months ago, and never left. The town is full of fun-loving people, the prices are reasonable, and when you want to get a little decadent you can always pull into the Grand Bay Hotel, where there is a great marina, and spa, and the service is top notch. Mostly the people in the marina were those with a little more money available than the cruiser’s who lived on a budget, like me.

The Grand Bay Hotel & Marina offered slips for yachts up to and over 200 feet, as well as beautiful pools, jacuzzi’s and restaurants from the poolside service to four star dinning. It was a little rich for my blood, but on an occasion I found myself heading over for a little decadent living. I’ve always said that I can’t recommend decadence as a way of life, but it’s worked for me!

My mind came back to the reality of my flight when the stewardess was passing with the drink cart and I opted for a cold Coors Light. My neighbor, who had introduced himself as “Nick the Geek,” like it were some kind of joke, ordered two Budweiser’s. I knew this would not be a fun flight!

I sat back and looked out the window. The smooth blue waters and coastline of Mexico’s Sea of Cortez were beckoning me. I could feel it.

I kept watching the coastline, trying to make out the best spots to head for when I sailed up in the next few weeks. The hurricane season would be starting the end of May, and was getting close.

10

Grand Bay Even though the hurricane season on the Pacific Coast is not as bad as the one in the Caribbean and East Coast, it is still to be respected, and having sailed through a hurricane once, I knew I never wanted to do that again.

And so I sat, sipping my coldie, and daydreamed as we soared over what I hoped would be my next destination. I figured north into the Sea of Cortez was about as good a place as any.

My odoriferous neighbor flagged down the flight attendant and ordered two more Bud’s. As he chugged one down he gurgled something about going down to do a little fishing.

Duh! Like I ever would have guessed that one.

As we passed over the barren landscape of the Baja California peninsula I couldn’t help but marvel at all the open space. It was a desert, but a beautiful desert.

It seemed more than a little odd that I kept hearing about our overpopulated world, and here I was looking down on mile after mile of uninhabited beaches and waterfront. Each open bay beckoned, and I was lost in my daydreams.

Soon the daydreams turned into regular dreams.

Just as I was into the best part of my dream, approaching Nuku Hiva after a perfect sail, I was unceremoniously awakened by Nick nudging me in the ribs.

“Hey, since ya got a boat down there, ya wAnnea go do some fishing?” he asked. “I can hook ya up with some of my buddies who are already down there. We got a club, and twice a 11

Grand Bay year we all ditch the old ladies and go nuts for a week.”

“That would be real fun,” I lied, picturing a few days aboard a boat with The Geek and freinds, “But I have a charter I have to get to.”

Soon I was rescued by the loudspeakers telling us to buckle up, and prepare for landing in Manzanillo. ..........

The cab ride from the airport to Barra de Navidad was uncomfortable and hot. Nick had offered to share a cab, and I had declined his invite. After waiting until he’d boarded a shuttle to the marina I flagged down a cab.

I’d been looking forward to getting back to the warmth of Mexico, but I’d forgotten just how “warm” that really was. I had the window cranked down as we bounced along the bumpy road that led to the waterfront in Barra. It took almost 45 minutes to get there. I could actually feel as we approached the bay. The smell of the ocean and the feel of the sea made me feel right at home.

When we arrived at the docks I headed over to the marina office at Grand bay. Armando was the marina manager. H smiled as I entered his office.

“Que pasa gringo?” he said smiling. “How was the delivery?”

I’d gotten to know him pretty well while staying in the lagoon, and he’d even introduced me to a few of the boat owners who needed a skipper to deliver a boat, or for charters.

“It was pretty uneventful. The way I like it.

12

Grand Bay How were things here?”

He got up and we walked next door to the Taverna, ordering a couple of ice cold micheladas; A concoction of cold beer, lot’s of lime juice and a little salt on the glass. We talked for a few minutes, and then he got a call on the walkie talkie he carried on his belt. I waved to him letting him know I’d see him later, and headed over to the panga docks.

I greeted Maria, who ran the water taxis that are so popular with the yachties. The local panga owners in Barra Navidad had long ago learned there was good money in helping people get around the huge lagoon. Maria was the informal “dispatcher” who sat with her kids at the dock with a VHF and radioed for a panga for me. A panga is an open boat that has proliferated in Mexico.

They usually run about 20 feet long, but can be shorter or longer, as the need goes. They run large outboard motors, usually 125 up to 200 HP. They are unusually stable, and can get into and out of places most boats can’t, and they are especially adept at beach landings. They could take you from the docks of the town to the yachts anchored in the backwaters of the lagoon, or across the chAnnel to the Grand Bay Hotel Marina, where the mega yachts stayed and played. All you had to do was signal them with a wave or call them on the VHF, and you were whisked away to the destination of your choosing. For about $1-2 US they’d take you wherever you wanted to go in the lagoon. It was easier than launching your dinghy, 13

Grand Bay and well worth the fare.

I loaded my sea-bags into the Panga and started searching the lagoon for the telltale look of Lost Soul. Being a large ketch with traditional design, she stood out against all of the sleek new sloops and fishing powerboats that filled the anchorage.

The two masts, stays filled with baggywrinkles and long bow-pulpit made her easy to spot in a crowd. That was one of the things I loved about her. Of coarse I always had the Jolly Roger flying high on the highest spreader.

It didn’t take long for me to spot her, and I pointed her out to the Panga’s driver. He nodded, and soon we were making our way around the sand bar, and into the deeper water of the lagoon where sailboats could anchor.

One of the biggest problems with Barra de Navidad’s lagoon is the submerged sand bars that dot the bottom. Lost Soul’s 8 foot draft made it difficult to get in, but once you are in and set, it’s a safe and friendly place to be.

We pulled along-side my boat and I threw my Gill sea bags onto the teak decks. Sticking my foot into a porthole, I grabbed a stainless shroud and pulled myself up. The high freeboard of the Formosa 56 made for a little difficulty getting in from shore boats and dinghy’s, but it also made for a very dry ride when in bad seas, so the tradeoff was worth it.

I unlocked the padlock on the companionway door and threw my bags down into the salon. I wanted to take a quick trip around the deck tpo 14

Grand Bay check out everything on deck and make sure all was in order.

It felt good to be back aboard. I checked the shrouds and stays, looking over the running rigging as an after thought. All was well. She looked like the day I’d left her, except for a little graying of the teak decks and some seagull droppings, which was to be expected after a month of neglect.

I went below and stowed my bag in the aft cabin. The first thing I had to do was to open a few ports and get some air circulating. I’d left the furthest aft port and the furthest forward port open so air could pass through the boat. Hopefully this would reduce the mildew that all boats in the tropics seem to get. From the smell of the boat it had helped a lot. But there was still a lingering oder.

Actually I kind of like the smell of mildew.

Ever since my first sail on the Sailing Vessel Stone Witch, a square rigged topsail schooner years earlier, the smell of mildew, kerosene and diesel made me think of home. But more out of habit than not, I opened the boat to let her air out.

After opening all the hatches and ports, and turning on a few fans in the boat, I finished stowing my gear and started to check the boats systems to see how she held up while I was gone. Long ago I’d learned a little maintenance can eliminate major repairs later. The batteries voltage was up, and they just needed a little water.

The solar panels I’d put on had done the trick and 15

Grand Bay kept them topped off. Very kewl!

The water-tanks were still a little over ½ full.

That meant I still had at least 100 gallons of fresh water. I could go a couple weeks on that if I was careful. I had installed a reverse-osmosis water desalinization system a couple years ago, but didn’t like to run it in the lagoon where there was a lot of silt to clog the filters. I’d wait until I went out for a sail to run it and fill the tanks once out in the clear open ocean.

The fuel tanks were still topped off from the last time I‘d filled up in Puerto Vallarta almost three months earlier. I don’t use a lot of fuel, as I usually sail where I am going and only use the engine to maneuver in close quarters, like when anchoring or going into a slip.

I heard a knocking on the hull “Treb… You aboard?”

I recognized the voice of Chuck Golden.

Chuck was a fellow cruiser who’d been out with his wife Anne for a few years, cruising the coast of Mexico. They’d been watching my boat for me while I was away.

“Yeah,” I said, as I started up the companionway stairs, “C’mon aboard.”

His full grey beard and sparkling blue eyes gave him a soft look, and you could tell just by looking at him he was good people. After 40 years of riding Harley’s he’d adopted to the boating lifestyle well. He’d been retired from his sheet-metal job for a few years, and was loving the cruising life.

16

Grand Bay We embraced, slapping each other on the back, and he handed me a cold Corona. Chuck & I had ridden together “back in the day,” and shared a common background.

“I figured you’d need one of these,” he said, smiling. “Besides,” he added, “I knew you wouldn’t have the refrigeration running while you were gone.”

“Right on both counts,” I said. I turned up the frosty bottle and chugged a few gulps. It felt great going down.

“How’d the delivery go,” He asked.

“Better than should be expected.” I answered.

“I was almost embarrassed taking their money.

They were real nice people, and they were just trying to get used to their new boat.”

“You should have seen the boat,” I continued.

They guy had it painted bright yellow, and he even had a yellow dinghy, and wore bright yellow shoes. You know, those rubber shoes? Crocks, I think they call them. He named the boat ‘Yellow Shoes’. But as strange as that was, he was fun to sail with, and helped a lot with the delivery.”

I hesitated. “How are things around here? Any fun news? New people?

“Yeah, a big ol’ power yacht named Much Ado came into the Grand Bay Marina last week.

Whole lot of commotion finding a spot for it.

Over 200 feet. Just had a delivery crew on board.

I guess they had some trouble getting here. The boats pretty new.” He said.

“They’d hit some bad seas and some of the 17

Grand Bay interior got tossed around. Power boaters aren’t real good on battening down the ol’ hatches, ya know!” he grinned.

“They hired Anne to help clean her up. She’s over there now. Making pretty good money for just cleaning.”

He took a sip of his beer, and continued, “She should be home at about 5:30. Wanta go to Café Alcatraz for dinner? My treat,” he grinned, “I can afford it with her salary!”

“Sounds good to me. Specially with you paying. That’ll give me enough time to take a quick swim and wipe down the bottom. You wAnnea hang around?” I asked.

“Nope. I hate to see a grown man work. Besides, my beers almost gone, and I need another.” He grinned. “We’ll see you at about 5:30. I’ll call you on the VHF. ChAnnel 69?”

“Great. Thanks for the coldie!” I said to his back, as he headed for his dinghy.

I went below decks and got out of my traveling clothes and into my cut-off Levi’s. They were old and comfortable, and once I had them on I knew I was home. On my way out of the boat I flipped on the switch for the reefer so it could start cooling down. The batteries were full from

18

Grand Bay

the solar panels, and the Technautics refer was 12 volt and low draw.

Chapter Two The South Bay Galleria was pretty busy, even for a Friday. Melissa Allen parked her red 68 Mustang as far away from other cars as he could.

She didn’t want it scratched. Her dad had given it to her a couple months earlier on her 16th birthday and she really loved it. Of course she’d never tell him that. She was sure it hadn’t meant anything to him. After all, he was a car dealer, 19

Grand Bay and cars were free. At least that’s the way her 16 year old mind worked.

She glanced into the rear-view mirror and patted her jet black hair. Checking her make-up, she was satisfied with the girl who was looking back at her in the mirror. She grabbed her purse, got out of the car and locked it.

As she walked away from the car she looked at herself in the reflection of the window stopping to push some of her hair away from her sparkling blue eyes. She assessed what she saw in a glance and started walking toward the entrance to the South Bay Galleria.

She opted for the three story escalator ride to the top floor. She still got off on it, just like she had for as long as she could remember. As she stepped onto the bottom she checked her short skirt, and made sure there were no Lurkie-Loos hanging around. That’s what she called the weird guys who always seemed to be watching her.

Ever since she was 14 she had noticed that men and boys seemed to follow her with their eyes.

She marked it up to guys being weird.

At the top of the escalator she walked across the open mall to the tables in the food court. She was meeting her friends Katie and Amy there.

She saw them sitting at a table in front of Mc Donald’s, and walked over.

“How’d you get out of the house” Katie asked her as she got near.

Melissa smiled. “It was easy! Mom & Dad left a couple days ago. I am on my own! Bitchin!”

20

Grand Bay Both girls exclaimed at once, “Wow, really!”

Melissa smiled as if she was a cat that had just swallowed a canary. “Yup, they flew down to Mexico to pick up our boat.” She spun on her heels, saying “I’m a free woman!”

Amy looked at her with a sly smile. “Yeah, sure” she said, “like they’d leave you all alone for long.”

“Well, “Melissa replied grinning, “Not actually alone. They plan on being gone for two months, so they brought my grandma in. She sleeps a lot, and besides, she believes whatever I tell her. It’s like being completely free!”

Katie smiled at her. “So let me get this straight, you have two months to live, laugh and love, with only your grandmother to watch you? How kewl is that?”

“Actually I have about a month. Mom & Dad are bringing the boat up from Acapulco to a place called Grand Bay. It’s a big resort and marina.

They want me to fly down and join them for the last two weeks.” She smiled inwardly, “I think I can handle a week or two at a resort on a yacht, right?”

The girls all started laughing at the same time.

They got up from the table and head out into the mall. It was time to do some serious shopping, and they were just the girls to do it.

The mall was crowded, as it usually was on Saturday. Melissa was enjoying the freedom of getting out with her friends, and they felt as if the Galleria was their own little paradise.

21

Grand Bay She was trying on a new pair of Jeans at The Gap. These were just what she’d been looking for to wear down to Mexico. Low cut, showing off her hard belly, with her new belly-button ring, which would drive her dad nuts. They were a little snug, but she liked them that way.

She put her old pants in the Gap bag and wore her new dud’s out into the mall. Katie & Amy had gone to one of the jewelry stores to shop. When they saw Melissa they walked out to meet her.

“Wow!” Amy said, as she saw Melissa’s new pants. “You think your old man is gonna let you wear those?”

22

Grand Bay

Melissa smiled. “Well, if I’m wearing them on the plane there’s not much he can do, right?”

Chapter Three Anne Golden really liked working on the huge motor yacht. It was as beautiful a boat as she had ever seen, and was so far beyond anything she had been on it was mind-boggling. Wandering through the living quarters as she cleaned rooms that hadn’t been used in months made her think how much of a waste it all was. They’d spent more on the bathroom floors on Much Ado then she and Chuck had spent on their whole boat. And not just a little bit either.

It seems that “the little lady” of the boat had wanted a particular Italian artist to do his and 23

Grand Bay her mosaics on the master bathroom floors. She wanted hers to be of dolphin swimming in the sea, and his to be of fish swimming and birds flying overhead. Each bathroom floor had cost over $100,000 and her marble bathtub cost twice as much as the floors.

Chuck had laughed his ass off when Anne told him about the marble bathtub on Much Ado. When the boat was almost finished, the mistress of the boat decided she wanted a Roman Marble bathtub. Not a regular marble bath, but one like the Empress had in a palace she had seen when visiting Rome. In order to stop her whining, the owner said “Do it.”

To “do it,” the builders had to cut a hole in the side of the hull 10 feet wide and 6 feet tall. They then had to pull one of the main 175 KW diesel generators out, and cut another hole the same size in the side of the bathroom. They then slid the one and a half ton solid marble bathtub into place, rebuilt the wall, reinstalled the generator, and rebuilt the hull.

When it was completed the bill was almost $1,000,000.

On the maiden voyage of Much Ado the lady of the yacht asked for her bath to be prepared. When it had been filled to her exacting temperature, with just enough rose water and bubbles, she deigned to climb in. As she settled back into the tub you could hear her shriek from one end of the boat to the other. Her husband came running in to see what the problem was. It seems that the 24

Grand Bay marble of the tub was cool. Much too cool to sit on while taking a bath. It made her tushy cold.

It was decided that she would use her husband’s bath from that day on, and he could shower.

Anne was still smiling at the fun she and Chuck had the night beforee laughing over that one as she was finishing up in the “Garage.” This was the large storage area under the aft deck on Much Ado. Having lived aboard a sailboat for 20 years, she just wasn’t used to the waste of space on the 200 foot boat. The captain had asked her to wipe down the lazarette, and not wanting to look stupid, she walked to the back of the boat looking for a lazarette. One like she’d expect to find on a boat. A small hatch in the deck or seating area that let you store stuff underneath.

How was she supposed to know that this lazarette had a hydraulically operated door that was ten feet by fifteen feet? After looking for all of ten minutes she finally opted to ask one of the crew, who smiled and showed her where the switch was that used hydraulics to opened the large opening in the aft deck.

Once inside she marveled at the space. Shelves stacked with all the things that are needed to keep a boat in top shape. Gallons of different soaps and cleaners sat neatly on shelves. There were packs of diapers to use when polishing, and cans of varnish, paints and thinner. On one set of shelves were cases of 5 gallon containers of hydraulic fluid, and outboard oil for the tenders. Lining the aft of the area were 55 gallon drums of engine oil.

25

Grand Bay Some were marked “Used” and were filled with oil from changes made while at sea.

Anne was busy wiping down the shelves, when she noticed a couple of the 55 gallon drums had shifted during the voyage up from the Panama Canal, which was their last stop.

The drums were marked with the large letters saying it was used motor oil. She moved around to the side of the drum and noticed the spare anchor had punctured the side of one of the drums when it had shifted in the bad weather.

But instead of oil running out, she saw a small pile of white powder had leaked out. At first she was puzzled, and then it hit her. They were running drugs. That must have been how they paid for a large yacht like this.

Her first response was to go and tell the captain what she found. Then she realized that he would probably be in on it. The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became. She hurried out of the lazarette closing the hydraulic door behind her. She decided the best thing she could do would be to forget she had seen it.

An hour later she got off work, and radioed for a water taxi to take her out to her boat. She jumped in as it pulled to the dock and told the panga driver which boat she was on. She was still nervous as she climbed the ladder onto her boat.

Chuck heard her arrive and walked to the top of the ladder on the companionway.

“Hey Anne, guess what” he didn’t wait for her to answer, “Treb’s back! We are going to have 26

Grand Bay dinner with him tonight, okay?”

Anne knew how close Chuck and Treb were, from the old days when they rode together back in the states.

“Yeah sure,” she said. “Like I could say no.

What time?”

“I told him I’d radio him when you got home.

Hang on a second.” He said, reaching for the ICOM VHF remote mic he had at the top of the companionway.

“Lost Soul, Lost Soul, This is Mirage, do you copy?”

In a couple seconds the radio jumped to life.

“Mirage, This is Lost Soul. Go up?”

Chuck switched to 69 from the chAnnel 16 which is the hailing chAnnel all boats use.

“Lost Soul, This is Mirage. Treb, you copy.?

“Loud & clear, Chuck. What are you going to do, back out of buying dinner? I figured you’d come to your senses once the old lady got home.”

Chuck could picture him smiling.

“No, we’re not backing out, but our dinghy motor has been acting up. How about you pick us up in about fifteen minutes in your dinghy and we’ll go to Café Alcatraz over in Barra?” Chuck said. He knew Treb loved the special sauce they used to make the “ Mocajete” concotion, which was served in the lava bowls by that name. They uaually ate at the small waterfront restaurantwhere they served up a mixture of fish, shrimp and chicken slow cooked in thier special Mocajete sauce that was delicious.

27

Grand Bay “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you in fifteen!”

It didn’t take him long to get ready because Café Alacatraz was about as informal as a place could be. He jumped down into the dinghy and took the large sponge he kept in it and wiped down the interior. There had been a couple of rain days while he was on the delivery and he soaked out the excess.

He checked the fuel and pumped the fuel bulb to get fuel to the 20 HP Honda outboard.

He’d bought it the last time he was in the states and liked it because it would always start on the first pull of the starter rope. This time was no exception. A couple pumps on the bulb for fuel, open the choke, and set the throttle to start.

It came to life with the first pull, and he waited

28

Grand Bay

a few seconds for the motor to warm, and then headed over to Mirage.

Chapter Four Charlie Terazza was sitting by the pool at the Grand Bay Hotel and was loving life. After years of hard work and dangerous moves he’d made it to where he felt, at last, untouchable. His 36 years showed on every line and wrinkle of his face, but people said that gave him character. His dark hair had started to grey early, and he kept it well coiffed.

He wore a white linen suit with heavy gold chain on his wrist, and another on his neck. On his pinky he wore a diamond that was 10 carats and sparkling white.

29

Grand Bay Sitting back in the lounge chair, he signaled to the waiter standing by the pool bar, and the man hurried over.

“Bring me a Cuba Libre.” He said. He spoke excellent English, and preferred using it, specially when he was in Mexico. It made him feel more important.

When the drink came he took a sip, and settled back and enjoyed the warmth of the semi-tropical sun. As he sat there, he thought back to his humble beginnings. It had not always been like this. Not at all.

He’d come from a small village just south of Tijuana, near the US border in Baja California.

His name was Carlos back then. He never knew his father, and his mother died shortly after he was born. Having no family, he was raised on the streets as long as he could remember. He ate what he could steal or find in garbage cans behind the small palapa restaurants there on the beach, and by the time he was about six or seven, he’d learned more on the streets than he could ever have learned in school.

He made his way north to Tijuana over the next couple years, gravitating to the larger city like a moth drawn to a flame.

The bigger city had a lot more places to hide, and in a couple of years he was active in a small gangs of youths who wandered the streets and took advantage of whatever they could find.

Charlie was a natural at dealing with people.

To those who could help him he was all smiles and 30

Grand Bay goodness. To those who tried to take advantage of him he could be methodical and take revenge in ways others would never think of. By the time he was 10 years old boys much older respected him, and no one underestimated him.

From stealing hubcaps off the gringo’s cars, to siphoning the gas and selling it to the everwaiting taxi drivers who were always looking to save some money, he found a way to live. He learned that no one could be trusted, and he never overlooked an opportunity.

One day he was doing “a double”. That was when he would watch a gringo park his car, and he would offer to “watch his car” for a dollar. Then, when the tourist would disappear onto the street, he’d grab his siphon kit and pull a few gallons of gas from the car. This particular day the car was a big one, a Cadillac, and Charlie knew he could get a couple gallons easy.

He had just finished sucking on the tube to get the gas flowing when the gringo walked up behind him. He’d forgotten something in the car, and had returned too soon.

Charlie was small for his age. He had learned his best safety net was his speed. He ran fast. As soon as he saw the man he tried to run, but the man’s reach was longer than he’d figured. All of a sudden Charlie felt a new feeling, and he didn’t like it.

The man was large. Not just large to a ten year old, but large. He was about 6 feet tall and was very well built. He held Charlie up with one 31

Grand Bay hand clutched on his neck so his feet were off the ground. Charlie looked into the man’s face and was struck with a new feeling. Fear. The man hauled back his free hand and made a fist, and the last thing Charlie saw that day was the fist as it was about to collide with his face.

Charlie woke up in the middle of the night, and was unable to move. He tried to open his eyes, but it was as if they didn’t work. Now he was really scared. He didn’t know what was happening, and he didn’t like it. He felt dizzy, and his face hurt.

Then he heard a soothing voice. It was a woman. She was telling him he was okay. She said they’d had put a bandage over his face to stop the bleeding, but he would be fine. She spoke in Spanglish, a border blend of Spanish and English that is used all across the US and Mexican border.

Over the next few days Charlie learned that his benefactor was a lady named Clarice, and she came down to Tijuana three days a week from her home in La Jolla, north of the border, to help at the orphanage.

He had heard of the orphanage, and he’d heard the stories of children being raped, sold, beaten and even killed. But he had managed to stay out of it all this time. Now here he was, blindfolded, in a place that scared him more than anything.

That first night in the orphanage had been one of the worst of Charlie’s life. Not because of anything that happened. No, it was because of the fear that he still carried inside from the beating. It was tearing him up and he thought he’d go mad.

32

Grand Bay He had never really feared anything. Not because he was brave, but because his life to that point had been spent fighting for his life, and he’d always been in control. He could run. He could hide. He was able to control his own destiny.

Now he was in a strange place, and worst of all he was dependant on others. Not only other people, but other people he didn’t know. And if there was one thing he knew it was people could not be trusted.

By morning he started to become used to the fear. It started to subside. He made it through the night, and he was still alive.

It took five days for the face to heal enough for him to take the bandages off. By then he felt almost safe there at the orphanage, and he was looking forward to seeing his surroundings.

On the day the bandages came off Clarice was there to help. It made him feel better.

They unwound the gauze from his face, and soon he saw a little light. Then it became brighter, and suddenly it got very dark.

“What happened?” he shrieked. Fear started to overtake him again.

Clarice’s hand was on his shoulder, “Stay calm,” she soothed. “It will be alright. We just turned the lights off so the glare wouldn’t be too much. We’ll turn them back on after you get used to using your eye’s again.”

When the bandages were off his eyes he felt his face. It had a lot of scabs on it, but he could see his hands in the dim light. His biggest fear 33

Grand Bay was over. He could still see.

He sat still as they removed the rest of the bandages. Then they walked him over to a mirror on the wall. He stood looking at a stranger. In his ten years, he’d only seen himself in the street windows, and in hand mirrors from purses he’d stolen.

He stood looking at himself. He didn’t even notice the stitches in his nose, or over his eye’s.

What he saw was a small boy looking back at him.

All of a sudden the flood gates opened. He felt tears coming to his eyes. It was a new sensation for him. He’d never cried beforee that he could remember. He’d never had a reason. He was hard and he lived on the streets. Pain wouldn’t make him cry. Nothing could! Not hunger, cold, or heat.

Now he didn’t know what he was crying about, but he couldn’t stop.

The doctor had left the room, and he was left alone with Clarice, the lady who had helped him.

She smiled at him.

“So do you think you’d like to stay here for awhile?” she asked? “They said they had enough room for you if you do. You don’t have anyone outside do you?”

“No,” he hesitated, “I don’t have anyone outside here. But what would they expect of me?” He remembered the stories he’d heard of the orphanage.

“You’d have to go to school.” She smiled, “and that might be a little hard for you to catch up. Other than that, it’d be easy for you compared 34

Grand Bay to living on the streets.”

He still had a broken arm, and they told him he’d have to stay until it was healed. The lady led him down the hallway and out into the yard.

He’d seen the orphanage from a distance beforee, and wondered about all the boys and girls that were there. Now he was here, and it didn’t seem too bad. After the first night the fear never came back.

Over the next 7 years Charlie studied. He studied hard, and he learned. He also learned to fight. Whenever someone tried to take something he wanted, he would fight them for it. He always won. When they’d try to call him Carlos, he’d fight. His name was Charlie, and he was proud of it.

Over time, no one fought him anymore. He became the one all the others went to when they had trouble. He would fix things. If you needed some cigarettes, he was the man to see. Want a little mota, he could get it. If you had a problem, you came to Charlie, and he fixed it.

Boys and girls alike learned he was the one to go to. The girls liked the way he looked. The scars gave him character. The boys feared him, because his scars made him look mean. From that day in the medical room, when they removed his bandages, he never cried again.

Never!

And he did study. He became a voracious reader. His favorite books were mysteries. He always sided with the criminal, and over the years 35

Grand Bay he learned how they all got caught. They became his text-books.

He also learned to fight while there. He had to. In time, the boys who did pick a fight with him learned his size didn’t matter. He was used to life on the streets, where you had to fight for whatever you got. He didn’t fight dirty. He didn’t fight fair. He just fought. He had no more fear, and that gave him an edge. After awhile all the other boys either avoided him or tried to befriend him.

The beating years earlier had scared his face, and now he wore those scars as a badge of courage.

As the boy slowly emerged into his teens, he started to notice the girls. One day not long after he turned 17 he was sitting by a tree in the yard when Carlotta was walking nearby. He’d noticed her beforee, but wasn’t aware of just what it was that made him uneasy when he was around her.

She was the same age he was, and was growing into a very attractive woman.

She had her head down as she walked by, and when she looked up he could see was crying. She looked embarrassed and turned away from him, starting to walk away.

He didn’t know why, but he felt like he had to say something.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “What are you sniveling about?”

He stood waiting as she stopped, keeping her eye’s down. After a few seconds she spoke, more to the ground than to him.

“It’s nothing. Leave me alone!” with that she 36

Grand Bay turned and started to walk away.

He didn’t want her to go away. He walked over and grabbed her arm.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He said, a little agitated, “Maybe I can help you.”

She stopped, and turned, looking up at him.

When she looked at him he felt a jolt. He’d never noticed how green her eye’s were, or the way her nose fit so perfectly on her face. Even though her hair was a little disheveled, he felt as if he’d never really seen her beforee this.

A small tear trickled down her cheek. She just looked at him for a few seconds, and then turned her head down again.

“There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do!” and once again he could see her shoulders shake as she turned and started to sob.

Charlie felt a little silly standing there. He wanted to turn and walk away, but didn’t. Instead of walking away he found himself walking to catch up with her. He fell into step with her and they walked away from the others in the yard.

After a minute or two she stole a sideways glance at him walking beside her, and asked what he was doing.

“Tell me what the problem is. Maybe there is something I can do.” He repeated again, and then he hesitated, “you never know until you ask.”

Once again she looked at him. This time as if she was seeing him for the first time. As long as she’d seen him there, all she had heard was to stay away from him. He was bad. But standing 37

Grand Bay there she saw something else in him. Slowly she started to talk.

“It’s Javier.” She said. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Javier was the janitor who cleaned up the place at nights. He was a skinny and angular man who skulked around late at night and all the children were afraid of him. When he first started there they made fun of him, but he had ways of making the children sorry. When no one would be looking he would go into their footlockers and steal what little they had. It was also well known that he had beaten more than one child for going to the people who ran the orphanage.

“Has he beaten you?’ Charlie asked.

“No.” was all she said, and started crying again.

He waited. As her sobbing subsided, she continued.

Carlotta went on to tell Charlie how, when she was 14, Javier started watching her at night.

Sometimes she’d wake up and he’d be in her room just looking at her. Then awhile later she would wake up to find her blankets pulled off of her, and her nightgown pulled up.

Charlie had two thoughts. One of anger at Javier for scaring Carlotta, and one, a strange and stronger feeling, wishing he’d been there to see her with her night gown pulled up.

“Then one day I was walking in the hall, and he reached out and pulled me into the broom closet.” She stopped for a second, and then went 38

Grand Bay on. “He held his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream, and told me he would hurt me if I ever told anyone.”

She stopped again, looking down at the ground.

They were now standing under a tree just outside the play yard. She was silent for a minute or two, which seemed an eternity to Charlie. Tears ran down her face.

She went on to tell him how Javier had made her do things that Charlie could only imagine.

The more she talked, the more the story flowed from her, as if a flood gate had opened.

Over the years Javier had kept her so scared she could tell no one, and then, a few months ago, she missed her period. She was very scared and didn’t know what to do. When she told Javier he had gotten very angry and had slapped her and beaten her. Then he took her out of the orphange to a filthy place where a man made her spread her legs and he hurt her so bad she passed out.

She awoke to find herself outside the orphanage, bleeding from “down there” and very sick. When the nurse came to visit, as she did once a week, Carlotta lied, and told her she didn’t know why she was bleeding. But she could tell the nurse knew exactly what had happened.

Charlie just sat there. He didn’t know what to say.

In a few minutes, Carlotta started again.

“Then last night, Javier came into my room and made me go with him. He took me to the back room of a bar off the main road. He told me that it 39

Grand Bay had cost him a lot of money to ‘take care of’ my problem, and I would have to make the money back for him.” She hesitated.

“When I told him I had no money, he just laughed.”

“He brought a strange man into the room and made me take off my clothes. After the man was finished with me he brought in another, and another, and then another. It was almost daylight when he came in and told me to get dressed. He screamed at me that if we didn’t get back beforee the sun came up he might get in trouble.”

She stopped, and just sat there, crying.

Charlie waited until Javier came in to work that evening. He waited until the time was right.

As Javier was walking around a corner Charlie slipped up behind him and slammed him over the head with a baseball bat. Then, calmly and without haste he dragged him into the broom closet. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same closet that Carlotta had first been raped in.

He tied a dirty rag over Javiers mouth, and then spread-eagled him on the floor, tying his feet apart to the legs of the shelves on one side of the room, and his arms to the water pipes on the other. He then dumped a bucket of cold water on his face.

Javier came awake with a spluttering and the look in his eyes went from confusion to fear.

What had put that fear into him was 17 year old Charlie standing with a kitchen knife in his hand, looking down at him.

40

Grand Bay Charlie was careful not to cut him too deeply.

He started cutting at the man’s testicles. Slowly he cut into the wrinkled bag as if he were cutting loose a bag of marbles. He kept cutting until the man would pass out. Then he would douse him with water until he’d come to and start all over again. It had taken Javier almost 30 minutes to die.

The next morning they found Javier in the closet. His testicles were stuck in his mouth, and they could see he had died a horrendous death.

That was the night Charlie left the orphanage.

He never went back.

41

Grand Bay

And now, as he sat by the pool at Grand Bay, he thought back on those days.

Chapter Five Chuck & Anne were waiting on deck, and by the time I pulled along side Anne was on the ladder ready to jump in.

“Hey sexy,” she said as she sat across the inflatable and reached over to give me a kiss, “How’s your love life!”

“Getting better now!” I grinned.

Chuck dropped into the dinghy and we headed to the dinghy dock in Barra de Navidad.

We walked the 100 feet from the dinghy dock to Café Alcatraz and took our favorite table out on the porch overlooking the lagoon. It was a warm 42

Grand Bay night typical of the central Mexican coast, and when we sat down we started rubbing mosquito repellant on all of our exposed skin. It was a part of living in the tropics. After awhile you didn’t even notice doing it.

At dinner we took turns telling each other about the things that had happened over the past month. I told them all about the delivery, and Chuck told me about what had gone on in the lagoon, and then it was Anne’s turn.

“You guys can’t believe the boat. It’s amazing.

And it’s huge! They have more storage space on that boat than we have boat!” she laughed.

It took a few minutes, but soon Anne told Chuck & me about what she’d found in the lazarette on Much Ado. Chuck and I are not choir boys, and we knew there was a lot of drugs transiting up through Central America into Mexico for the ultimate end point in the US so we weren’t real surprised.

“I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to bring that shit up in a yacht though!” I said.

“They watch those a lot closer since 9-11.”

“Who owns the boat, “asked Treb. “They’d be the ones responsible.

“It was only the crew until today. Then one of the owners came in. He’s a real piece of work.

Dresses like your typical gangster. White threepiece suite, black tie. Giant diamond ring on his pinkey. Seems a little scary. Come to think of it, the crew is not your typicl young people. The crew don’t look like your run-of-the-mill sailors.”

43

Grand Bay The waiter delivered the three hand carved lava-bowls, filled with succulent Mochajete mixture. The bowls were served hot from the oven, and the sauce was still boiling as they were placed on the table in front of us.

For the next fifteen minutes it was very quiet at the table except for the occasional slurping heard when we would try to get the last drop from the bottom of the bowl.

After dinner we walked up the street to Piper’s Barra Cruiser Lounge. Piper was a Chicano and actually from Long Beach, California, but he’d moved down to Barra de Navidad years ago, after he’d gotten into a little trouble up north. He opened a small bar that catered to the hundreds of cruisers who sailed south every season. Living in the US for so many years, he’d learned what Gringo’s liked. He had showers downstairs for the cruisers to use, and upstairs a bar with a pool table and live music just about every night.

Chuck smiled as we passed the old junked Harley Piper kept at the entrance to his place.

Piper had been a biker in his past just like Chuck and I, so we had a bond. This place felt like home to us.

A guitar player/singer from the states, down for the season, was singing on the makeshift stage. He wasn’t bad, and he wasn’t good. He was there. That’s all that mattered.

Piper’s wasn’t to busy. A few locals nursed their cerveza and sat listening to the music. There were 3 people at one table, obvious cruiser’s as 44

Grand Bay they were wearing boat shoes and their clothes looked like they hadn’t been irond in a year or so.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying each other’s company, and talking about the things that all cruisers talk about; What we were going to fix on our boats, and how we plAnned to get the parts needed down into Mexico without them disappearing in customs, as they often did.

While I was in the States I’d bought the parts I needed to rebuild my windlass, and I had plans to start rebuilding it in the morning after a morning swim.

Piper walked over and pulled up a chair to our table. As he sat down he smiled at Chuck, winked at Anne and reached out to shake my hand.

“How was the delivery?” He asked.

Within the next hour I felt as if I’d never left.

Piper told us about what had been going on in town, Chuck talked about the life in the lagoon, and Anne had us in stitches telling us about some of the decadence that the people on Much Ado lived with.

We left Piper’s a little after 11, which was very late for cruisers, who usually hit the sack just after sundown because they are usually up by dawn.

We wandered down the cobblestone street to the dock and Chuck jumped into the dinghy. It was a cool evening and the dew had settled on the grey PVC inflatable tubes. Chuck pulled a small rag out from under the seat and wiped it down.

Anne and I jumped in when he’d finished 45

Grand Bay and gotten the motor started, and we swung the dinghy out into the lagoon.

A few minutes later the dinghy pulled alongside Mirage and I dropped them off.

“See you tomorrow?” I asked Chuck.

“Yeah,” he replied, “Let me know if you need any help pulling the windlass. I’m just plAnneing to work on the outboard & clean my hull, so I am available.”

I motored over to Lost Soul and climbed aboard. I had a harness for the dinghy set up, so I clipped my main halyard to the dinghy’s harness and cranked her about 2 feet out of the water for the night. It’s a little safer that way. Missing dinghy’s and outboards happen if you are not careful.

Walking on Board Lost Soul after being away for awhile always made me realize just how good my life’s been for the past few years. Sailing the coastal waters, from Washington state on down to Panama, and then back up into what had become my favorite cruising grounds, Mexico. The Mexican Riviera had been my home for awhile now, and I could not have felt any more at home

46

Grand Bay

anywhere on Earth, or on the ocean I guess I should say.

Chapter Six A couple years after Charlie’d left the orphanage, he was running a group of about twenty guy’s in Tijuana. Many of them were youths who were in the home with him. They were feared and respected by all the gang’s, and were usually left alone by them. They had a reputation for vengeance that was unequaled in that town.

They’d earned their reputation in one particular escapade when they had crossed into the wrong part of town on a drug deal.

Charlie and his numero uno, Fernando, were driving a car with 10 kilos of cocaine with two 47

Grand Bay of their guys following as backup. The mota was worth over $100,000.00 and it would set Charlie up at last as one of the big dealers in the city.

Tijuana was divided into territories with each territory controlled by it’s own gang. When Charlie & Fernando crossed into the Borracho’s barrio they were trying to lose a tail. They’d gambled, but this time they lost.

As they drove down the back street three cars pulled in front of them and blocked them. When they tried to back up a car slammed into them from the rear. Front and rear they were trapped.

Then the shooting started. Fernando was hit immediately, but Charlie made it out of the car and into a small tienda.

Three of the Borracho’s ran in after him, and there was a lot of shooting. In about a minute the shooting stopped. After what seemed a very long time the door opened and Charlie walked out. He was bleeding from a wound in his side but he didn’t seem to even notice it. He had his gun in his hand and three other guns stuck into his waistband that he’d taken off the bodies of those who’d followed him into the tienda. He had a look in his eye that no one who saw it will ever forget.

As calm as if he were walking into church he walked toward a group of four Borracho’s who had tucked behind a wall. As he walked they shot at him, but it was like he was surrounded by a force field. Not one bullet struck him. It happened so fast they were taken by complete surprise.

48

Grand Bay Soon he was on top of them. He looked at the four youths standing there with their ammunition depleated.

He looked into the eyes of the largest of them.

“You want to join me” he asked.

The youth looked up at him with hatred in his eyes. He just stared at him. Charlie grabbed him by the hair, put the gun in his mouth, and pulled the trigger. The back of his head splattered over the others.

Then he went to the second youth and asked the same question.

“You want to join me?”

The youth stared at him, and as the pistol was placed in his mouth, he said “Si, si. Yes, Como no?”

That day three youths crossed over to join “Crazy Charlie’s Crew” In the months that followed dozens crossed over, and soon he was running Tijuana.

Things turned around for Charlie. Slowly his life got better. He had a small place he kept in the second floor of El Coyote Cantina, which was one of the nicer bars and eateries downtown. He became a partner in it one day when Matthew, the owner found his daughter had been raped by a couple of locals and left for dead.

The owner had asked Charlie to do something.

It seems the men were being protected by the local police. Most of the bars and clubs paid the police for protection, but the cartels paid even more. The police were among the richest men in 49

Grand Bay town. Charlie went to the same police who he was paying, and explained that he had to take care of this. They agreed, and backed off.

Charlie had grown to be a stocky and hardened man. The years of fighting had stood him well.

The fact that he no longer had any fear also stood him apart and made men respect him. The old scars on his face gave him a sinister look of someone much older.

He waited until the three men responsible for the rape of the man’s daughter were having dinner in a small bar on the south side of town.

He walked in and went to their table. When they looked up at him he smiled. The scars on his face made the smile look very sinister.

Beforee they could move Charlie took out his pistol and shot the largest of the men in the head.

The other two men just looked on in shock.

“This is from the father of the girl you raped.”

And as the last word left his lips he popped the second man in the middle of his forehead.

“But, but, we didn’t know she was….” the last man managed to get out, before the bullet went through his head before he could finish the statement.

Charlie turned and walked slowly out of the bar, nodding to the bartender behind the bar. The man knew if he said a word he would be next. He just stood there for a minute, and then picked up the phone. He called the police, and told them a tourist had just shot three men in his bar, and had run out.

50

Grand Bay From that day on, Coyote Cantina was his home.

Soon after he’d left the orphanage Carlota had found him and moved in with him. Ever since the day he’d taken care of Javier she had become his.

His in every way.

She stayed with him and cleaned his place, she cooked for him on the rare occasions he’d come home, and she never complained.

For his part, he was surprised at his feelings for her. When she’d shown up at his place he was confused, but not for long.

He’d never been with a woman before that day, and that night she showed him what a woman could do for a man if he just respected her.

And he did. On very rare occasions they would go out to eat, and when they did she would be dressed to the nines! She had matured into a beautifu woman, and he showered her with gifts. jewelry, clothes, weekly visits to the hair stylist, manacurist and whatever she wanted.

Neither of them were sure if it was due to his feelings, or if he just liiked having a beautiful woman on his arm. Not even he knew the reason behind their relationship, but he did know he was happy having her around.

He liked to hang out at the Coyote Cantina, and it soon became their second home. He’d aquired an interest in the place after taking care of the owners problem, and was now a full partner.

Charlie was coming down the stairs and he saw a site that took him back many years. It was 51

Grand Bay the man who had beat him up all those years ago.

He stopped for a minute and all the years melted away. He saw the eyes, and he felt something inside give way. It was him, there was no doubt about it. The man who had changed his life. At the bottom of the stairs he turned and started to walk toward him.

As he got closer two men at the bar stood up.

It was obvious they were bodyguards of some type. They tried to grab his arms but he just shook them off.

“You remember me?” Charlie asked, when he was standing two feet in front of the man.

The man he was talking to was a large man.

Easily 4 inches taller than Charlie, and it was obvious he didn’t scare either.

“No, should I?” the man asked.

“Yeah, you piece of shit!” Charlie said. “You should.”

Both of the bodyguards started to push forward but Charlie pulled his 9mm from behind his back and stuck it under the man’s chin. Two of Charlie’s men appeared from nowhere and stopped them with a gun in each man’s ribs.

“Ten years ago, you stinking piece of shit!

You beat a ten year old boy and left him for dead.

Now it’s your turn to see how it feels.” And with that, he started pushing the man towards the back door. His two bodyguards were pushed along as well.

The man moved slowly, and said to Charlie, “You don’t know who you are fucking with. You 52

Grand Bay will pay for this!”

“Not as much as you.” Charlie grinned. The grin twisted his face into an evil mask.

Once outside Charlie had the man patted down, and then he tossed his gun to Fernando, who was standing holding his gun on the bodyguards.

“Shoot this piece of shit if he reaches for a gun, and shoot his asshole friends if they try to interfere. This is between him and me.” And with that he stepped in and laid a right into the man’s solar plexus, followed by a rapid and jarring uppercut.

Even though the man was larger, youth and speed, and a certain amount of fear on the man’s part gave Charlie the edge. Charlie concentrated on the man’s face. Over and over he slammed his fists into his nose, his eyes and his jaw. In just a few minutes the man was a bleeding mess laying on the streets of Tijuana.

Charlie stood and looked down at the bleeding man. He looked at Fernando, who threw him back his gun.

“Now do you remember me, you fucking piece of shit?” Charlie asked, with no anger in his voice, but a lot of satisfaction.

“Yes, and I promise, I will never forget you” the man said through broken teeth. ..........

Sipping on his cocktail by the pool at the Grand Bay Hotel, Charlie remembered the warm feeling he had walking away from that fight. That had been many years ago, but he still felt warmed 53

Grand Bay by the memory.

“Ah, Mi amigo” Charlie said, standing up and smiling at the man he had beaten so bad all those

54

Grand Bay

years ago, “It is good to see you again!”

And they embraced.

Chapter Seven When Rico Rocca was 12 years old he was already running numbers for the local boss, Johnny Barone in Atlantic City. He attended Central Junior High, and when he wanted to drop out by the time he was 15 he was pulled aside by Johnny. Rico was big for his age, and stood six feet tall and was still growing.

“Rico,” Barone said, “if you drop out of school you will always have a job with the family. But if you stay in school, the more you learn, the more you will get ahead. The more value you will have to us.”

55

Grand Bay Rico thought about that, and it probably would have gone unheeded. But that night his father, who was a soldier in the same family, was shot while hijacking a truckload of cigarettes outside of Jersey City.

All of a sudden he could see that his father, who had come over from the old country and had never finished grade school, was trapped and had died because he could get no further than a soldier. And soldiers died.

For the next 5 years Rico attended school and paid attention. It wasn’t easy, but he stuck to it.

One day at school a local tough picked a fight with him while in the gym. The teacher broke up the fight and told them if they wanted to fight, they could do it in the ring.

Three o’clock that afternoon Rico Rocca stepped into a ring for the first time in his life.

When the fight was over, the other boy was unconscious on the mat, and Rico had a new love.

Fighting!

He joined the boxing team at the school, and when he had learned all he could learn there he went to the gym that Barone owned on 137th St. There he watched, and he learned. He would volunteer as a sparing partner whenever they would let him. His size stood him in good stead.

It wasn’t the twenty bucks he’d make for standing there and getting beat up. It was for what he could learn. And he did learn.

After school he did odd jobs for Barone. No matter what the task, he would do it. He wanted 56

Grand Bay to show he was better than his father.

After he graduated from High School he started to take on bigger jobs. Hijacking and petty theft graduated into where the real money was. Protection. By the time he was in his early twenties he had his own crew, and they were well respected in New Jersey’s north side and New York.

He’d stopped fighting in the ring long ago, but the lessons he’d learned about how to hurt someone were long remembered.

One night he and two of his men stopped at a liquor store to make a collection. The owner of the store had been late with his payments a couple times, and even though Rico didn’t usually make the pick ups himself, whenever he want to teach someone a lesson he would do it himself.

He enjoyed it.

They walked into the store just after 8 pm. The owner was behind the counter and his wife was cleaning up behind the deli counter.

Rico had stationed one of his men outside the back door and another outside the front door. He walked in and walked over to the counter.

“You know you are late with your insurance payment this week.” He stopped and looked around, verifying they were alone.

“We can’t have this happen. What if something were to happen to your store.”

With that he picked up a bottle of beer from a case stacked by the floor, and threw it through the glass door of the refrigerator. Shattering it.

57

Grand Bay Then he turned back.

“See? Things like that can happen. And worse…” he stepped around behind the deli counter and grabbed the woman standing there.

She was in her sixties, and very frail.

“Someone could attack you while you are working.” And with that he grabbed the shabby housedress she was wearing and ripped it off her.

The man couldn’t take it, and ran to stop him, while his wife tried to hide her flabby breasts.

Rico hit him so hard it knocked his false teeth out and sent them flying, and his glasses split and shattered. The man went down like a sack of potato’s. Rico reached to where the woman was standing and pulled her by the neck until she was standing over her husband. Then he reached out with his other hand and ripped her bra and panties off. He held her, with her feet barely touching the floor, over her husband, who was writhing on the floor.

“So now you see what could happen if you are ever late with a payment again. You understand?”

He threw the woman down on top of her husband and walked to the cash register, opening it by hitting the no sale button.

He took out the bills, slowly counting them into a pile on the counter.

“I count $275 dollars here. That will just cover the late fee. I will be back in one hour. Your new premium will be $500 a week.”

The man was cowering on the floor and his wife had run into the back room.

58

Grand Bay “One hour. I’ll be back!” Rico said.

All of a sudden the man he’d left at the front door opened it.

“Rico, Cops! Two cars. They are pulling up out front.”

At the same time the back door opened, and the second guard came in.

“There is a cop car pulling down the alley. We gotta get out of here!”

Rico looked at the old man on the floor.

“You did this? You stupid old fuck! You think you can fuck with me?”

Rico pulled out his 9mm and pointed it at the man’s face. Then, thinking about it, he walked into the back room. He grabbed the man’s wife dragging her out into the store. She was trying to cover herself with a hand towel she’d found in the back room.

He threw her down on the floor next to the man.

“Don’t ever fuck with Rico Rocca!”

And he shot the woman in the back of the head.

Her blood and parts of her skull splattered all over her husband as he shrieked, and then passed out.

Rico looked at his two men. They had both been with him a long time. He knew they could be trusted.

“Okay, here’s what we are going to do. Jake, did you say there were two cars in front?”

The man nodded to the affirmative.

“And just one in back” he asked the other man? He also nodded in the affirmative.

59

Grand Bay “Okay.” He thought for a second. “Jake. Walk out the back door with your hands up and tell them you give up. Walk slow and put your gun in the waistband on the back of your pants.”

Jake looked at him as if he was crazy.

“Jake! Trust me. This will work.” He looked at the other man.

“You and I will wait until they start to frisk him, then we come out. I’ll take the man on the right, you take the left. Jake, you just fire at whatever strikes your fancy. Then we jump in the cop’s car, and get the fuck out of here.” He waited for about 3 seconds for that to sink in.

“Okay, let’s get to it beforee more cop’s show up!”

The plan worked, and they escaped. But they were too hot to stay in Jersey. Johnny Barone met Rico on a small road outside of the marina that looked across the East River to New York City. They sat quietly for a moment. Then Johnny spoke.

“Rico. For many years you have been like a son to me.” Rico knew this to be true, and felt the same for the older man.

“You cAnneot stay here. It is too hot for you.

You will have to disappear for a while so things can cool down. Killing a cop in Jersey is going to cause a lot of problems.” He hesitated.

“Rico. Which of the men who was with you means the most to you. Which one can take over for you?”

“Jake.” Rico said, without hesitation. Jake’s a 60

Grand Bay good man.

“Okay.” Johnny said, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a fat envelope, handing it to Rico.

“Here’s a stake. There’s a two year old Chevy that is legal and it’s parked around the corner. Get in it and disappear. I don’t care what route you take, but head to California. Change your name.

Try to change your looks. I’ll see if I can steer them away from you on this end.” He hesitated for a moment.

“I will miss you.” Johnny said.

Rico looked at him. They embraced for a moment, and he was out of the car and gone.

He would never see Johnny Barone again. At 22 years of age he would have to start all over again.

On his arrival in California he settled into the Long Beach area. Johnny had given him a name of someone he could hook up with to pick up spare cash.

For about a month he ran errands for the guy. Driving down to Mexico picking up small packages, and bringing them back up to Long Beach. One very fateful weekend he went to Tijuana. There he’d first met Charlie. Charlie was just a little ten year old who tried to steal gas

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from his car, but he had no idea how that would change his life.

Chapter Eight The bar was typical of an old and forgotten era. It had been in continuous use as a bar since the forties, when Long Beach was the center of shipbuilding on the West Coast. Back then it was packed with men and women who were building the ship’s to win the war. Beforee each shift workers would sit and drink a cold brew, and when the shift whistle blew, they would be replaced by a thirstier group. Those who were getting off work.

But that had been over 70 years ago. In that time the neighborhood had gone slowly into 62

Grand Bay oblivion. Now hookers were the steady clientele, and not high class ones. Coke whores, speedfreaks and alkies looking to get enough for their next high.

The front door was the only source of ventilation, and it was blocked by a make shift panel that blocked the daylight from the interior.

It was noon, and there were just four people inside. The bartender sat on a barstool at the end of the bar, nursing a beer and watching the door.

A floozy who had seen better days sat as far away from the light as possible, hoping maybe someone might not see just how haggard she was. Three seats away an old alkie kept stealing glances at her, wondering if she might not be all that bad, and trying to estimate how many more shots he’d need to get the guts up to ask how much she wanted.

The fourth man was the kind of person that could never be overlooked. He was over six feet tall, and built like a fighter. His hair was neither dark nor light. He wasn’t skinny, nor was he fat.

His best description would be mean.

He was sitting patiently, nursing a beer. He liked it dark, and this place was homey to him.

Just like the bars back in Jersey City. He missed Jersey City, even though it had been years since he‘d set foot there.

He was on the run back when he’d hit California, and just like Johnny had said, he had met some friends there. The first thing they did was to get him fixed up with some papers to help 63

Grand Bay him fit in.

He knew to get ahead he had to create a new identity, and he’d need to have a specialty. His love for fighting and the need for a good place to hide for a while led him to thinking about the Marines. He had always admired their fighting spirit.

Just a month after he got to California, he joined the Marines.

His special talent had been noticed immediately.

Aside from his fighting ability he found he had an aptitude for explosives. After his training at Camp Pendelton he could blow up anything, anywhere, with just about any kind of explosive. He studied hard, and learned his craft well. He could also fight. And he loved that equally.

Rico’s big break came when he’d been sent over to Iraq during the second Iraq war. He actually enjoyed being over there. His natural meAnness was used by his superiors to subdue and put the fear of God into some of the Taliban and Isis. His love of explosives made him very popular with the officers in his unit. He was always picked to do the hardest jobs, and one day this changed his life.

He was supposed to work his way around a Mosque that was a center for the Taliban, and without being noticed pack it so full of explosives that they’d have to use tweezers to pick up the pieces.

Wearing the same clothes as the locals he fit right in and moved in close. His dark Italian 64

Grand Bay heritage was easily seen as one of the local sematic tribes. Soon, as usual, no one even noticed he was there. For the next two days he planted enough explosives to move the Mosque to the moon.

While placing a package at the rear of the building he heard voices inside. They were speaking English. This shocked him, and he sat very quiet, listening to what was being said.

“The shipment you wanted delivered is all set.” The first voice said.

“You have all of it? You are sure?” said the second voice, with concern.

“This is very important” the second voice continued, “and we can’t take any chances. This shipment will assure our fight can continue on the beasts own shores, long after we are gone, Allah be praised!”

“Charlie Terraza doesn’t make any mistakes.”

The first voice assured him. “He will have 100 kilos of the pure cocaine ready to cross into California. He is plAnneing a large diversion, and you should hear about it all the way over here!”

He sat back and thought. This could be just what he had been looking for; a way out of the stupid service, and a chance to make some big money. He had to find out more.

He heard footsteps leaving the storeroom. He quickly looked through the opening he’d made, and saw a grey and white shawl as it exited the room.

As quickly as he could without being noticed, He worked his way around to the front of the 65

Grand Bay Mosque. He took up a watching post, and sat, un-noticed, for almost half an hour. Then he saw a man leave the Mosque wearing the same grey pattern shawl.

He quickly jumped in behind and followed the man. He didn’t look Iraqi. He had a European look to him, and he was being very careful. It was obvious that he had training, and was trying to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

But this was his game as well. Staying out of people’s eyesight was a way of life for him since he was a child.

The man turned into an ally next to the Ambassador Hotel, and two minutes later the same man appeared wearing a western suit and tie. He had been watched long enough to know his walk and mAnnerisms. He was sure this was the same man.

Hurrying until he was right behind him, and walked into the hotel at his heels. As they entered the man on security nodded to the guest, and just assumed they were together, as they were so close on entry. As soon as security turned his head they separated, but he kept him in view. The man went to the front desk.

“I’ll be checking out in the morning” he said to the clerk, “can you have my bill ready at 9 am?”

“Of course sir. What room?” the clerk asked.

“Suite 450.” Replied the man.

Rico left the building and went to a local coffee house, where he sat and considered his options. A 66

Grand Bay coffee house was as close to a bar as you could get in this camel infested Hell-hole. He hated it here and wanted to get back to the USA where you could live and breath.

After a half hour he had his plan. All it took was a little nerve, and he knew he could pull it off.

First he had to head back to base and get himself a nice identity to travel under. On his return to the base he made his way to the hospital.

He walked into the front entrance and headed right to the elevators. He pressed the down button and waited. Soon he was on the bottom floor. Working his way to the back of the building he found the morgue. Just what he’d been looking for.

Watching carefully, he waited until the room was empty.

A half hour later Private Frank Arrigali, who had once been known as Rico Rocca, made his way out of the hospital and walked slowly to his barracks. He went into the CQ’s office and asked to use the computer. It was a pretty common request, as the computer was hooked up to a T1 line and soldiers could get instant access to the internet.

But the internet wasn’t his purpose for using this particular computer. As soon as he was on the computer he accessed the file of forms on the server. There he found the papers he needed. In a few minutes his old name he’d been using for ten years was on the body in body bag #ARI032347, and Private Frank Arrigali was born, and had his 67

Grand Bay papers transferring him out of Iraq, and home.

As he exited the CQ office he made his way to his bunk, where he packed for his upcoming flight. Then he took a small packet of C-4 and a timer from his stash. He passed the CQ office on his way to the plane and placed the charge right under where he knew the main server and server back-ups were kept.

As his plane was taxiing to the runway he heard the explosive charge go off, and smiled as he looked at his watch. It was right on time. No one could ever trace what he had done! ……….

Frank Arrigali watched as the woman walked into the room and let her eyes adjust to the neonlight from the bright daylight outside the bar. The bartender started to get up, and then figured there was no way this broad would stay in his place, and sat down again. The hooker at the bar was checking out her dress, wondering how she’d look all dressed up like that.

The drunk just stared.

She was in her late thirties, and well built. Not only that, it was obvious she was well maintained.

Her dark hair was the latest style, and her heels had to cost at least three hundred bucks. She was obviously used to better surroundings, and he could see her nose wrinkle as she took a whiff of the place.

Frank nodded imperceptibly and the woman walked over to his table.

“What’d we have to meet in this fuckin’ dive 68

Grand Bay for” she asked, haughtily.

He grinned, “’Cause I like it. It feels like home to me. Did you bring what I asked for?”

“Yeah,” You could see she was uneasy, “I don’t know why you couldn’t just come down to the house and get it. This is fucking crazy.”

“Jessica, you have no idea just how crazy it is.” He said, standing.

“Now sit down there for one minute while I leave. I don’t want anyone seeing us together.”

He said, and turned, walking to the door. There he stopped, and turned.

“By the way,” he said, “you never should have told the Feds about Charlie.”

He smiled at her holding his key ring in his hand, and pressed the button on his car alarm.

The explosion started under her seat, and by the time he’d closed the door the second and third explosions were going off under the bar and juke box. The place burned to the ground in the eighteen minutes it took him to drive onto the Long Beach Freeway.

He closed the door of his Escalade, and headed

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for the airport. He had to get to Grand Bay for a meeting.

Chapter Nine The Yacht Namahana was the kind of boat that sailors dreamt about. She was 56 feet of fiberglass decks, on a custom fiberglass hull that was as sleek and graceful as any vessel that sailed the oceans. She had a sloop rig, and her mast was slightly angled aft at the top, to allow her sails to get the best shape possible. Beneath the clear blue waters her fin keel cut through the water effortlessly, just as it was designed to do. On her bow a pod of dolphin played in her pressure wave.

With a slight heel, she was cutting through the warm Pacific waters about five miles off the coast 70

Grand Bay of Manzanillo. There was 20 knots of wind out of the west-by-northwest, and the sail was picture perfect.

Curt & Jill Allen had found her sitting in a slip in Seattle and had fallen in live with her on first site. They knew this was the boat for them. It just felt right.

They’d bought the boat two years earlier, and had sailed it down the Pacific Coast of the US to get used to how she handled. On that trip they decided that this was just the boat they wanted to try and bring their family together. Their daughter Melissa had been getting a little wild, and they figured if they could get her out on the boat, away from her friends and all the distractions of living in the South Bay, it might help.

And so it was that Curt & Jill found themselves sailing off the coast of Mexico, enjoying one of the best sails they’d had since Namahana had been launched. As they cut through the water at 8 knots Jill was standing at the bow holding onto the headsail stay and shouting at Curt to come up and check out the dolphins that were playing in the bow wake. It was as perfect as it could be.

They were heading to the Grand Bay Hotel & Marina about 16 miles further down the coast.

It was a perfect day for sailing and they were getting everything out of it they could. Because of business pressures they’d have to fly out and leave the boat in the marina for a couple months, and they were really looking forward to the next few weeks. They had a couple days left until their 71

Grand Bay daughter would be flying in to join them.

Sooner than they wanted, the point that marked the entrance to Barra de Navidad came into view. As they rounded it they lowered the sails, heading into the wind as they did so. Then, with the engine started, they turned and headed into the chAnnel. Soon they were tied up in slip B-17. It looked like it would be a secure place to leave the boat. They tied her bow & stern, using two sets of spring lines to assure she’d ride ok just in case the winds were to blow or any surge came into the harbor.

They still had a few weeks until Melissa flew in, and over a month left beforee they had to fly out. They decided that they might as well spend a little time pool-side and enjoy the good life. Once the electricity was plugged in they turned the air conditioning on in the boat, and then headed for the pool for a swim beforee dinner.

Entering the pool area they were both amazed at the beauty of the place. There were three pools, at different levels, with waterslides between them, so you could swim in one for awhile, then slide down to the next one, and on to the next. This was all surrounded with beautiful palm trees and lush vegetation, landscaped to resemble a South Pacific Paradise.

Curt saw a comfortable table that was vacant near the pool, in the shade of a palm tree.

“That’s for us,” he smiled. “Let’s go live a little.”

Jill didn’t have to be coaxed. This was one of 72

Grand Bay the most beautiful places she’d seen.

As they walked to the table they looked around the grounds. It was mid-afternoon, so it wasn’t very busy. There were two men sitting a few tables away. One was wearing a white linen suit that looked very expensive. The other a pair of slacks and a flowered shirt. They were smoking cigars and had a couple of brandy snifters in front of them.

She smiled at Curt. “You know what? You just might have been right about this getting away thing.” She smiled. “I could get used to this as a way of life.

Curt sat down and pulled a cigar out of his pocket.

“Yup,” he said, as he bit off the end at lit up the Monte Cristo Cuban cigar, “I could get used to this too. A place civilized enough to let a man enjoy a good cigar at the table.”

Curt had a bit of a problem with the eateries in and around his home port of Redondo Beach.

They didn’t allow smoking anywhere near a restaurant.

A waiter seemed to appear out of nowhere with menus.

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They ordered cocktails and settled back to enjoy the afternoon.

Chapter Ten I woke early the next morning and started brewing some coffee to get my head straight. It always takes me a few days to acclimate to a new location. One of the problems with travel across time-zones.

I filled the old coffeepot with water and ground some beans. I used a French Press on Lost Soul because a lot of times it’s just me, and I hate to waste. With the french press I could make one cup, or a dozen.

While the water was heating up I checked the reefer. It had cooled during the night, so now I 74

Grand Bay was the proud possessor of nice cold mustard, and a dark green mess I think was a sandwich I’d left in there prior to my departure. I picked it up with a pair of tongs and dropped it out the porthole. The fish would love it.

I checked my cabinets and realized I didn’t have any food on-board. I would have to remedy that situation post-haste.

I heard the old pot start to whistle at me and poured the boiling hot water into the press with the coffeee grounds and put the lid with the plunger on it and commenced to create that magic liquid that somehow wakes me up, and at the same time makes me feel alive.

I pretty much chugged the first cup of hot liquid, and then pourde a second, walking up on deck to enjoy it.

Once on deck I did what I pretty much always did. Walk the deck looking for problems. When you live on a boat you have to keep up with things, or you end up living on a crusty old barge like a lot of folks do.

But my boat was more than my home. It was my office, as well as my means of escape to places I want to go.

I looked across the bay and saw Chuck standing on the deck of Mirage waving at me. I waved back, held up my cup of coffee and pointed to it with a questioning look. He nodded yes, and pointed to his boat and then mine. I indicated mine, and he started to pull his dinghy around and climbed in.

I guess he hadn’t had time to fix his motor, 75

Grand Bay because he fixed his oars in place, and rowed over.

“Yo, dude,” I said. “Sorry, I forgot your motor was out. But since your here, let’s get you some coffee.”

“No problem. I figured I’d con you into helping me fix it.” He laughed.

We went below and I relit the burner and brought the water back to a boil.

“Anne’s thinking she may not want to go back and work on the yacht anymore,” Chuck said, “She’s worried they might learn what she saw.”

“Does she have any idea what it is?”

Chuck thought about it for a minute.

“Well, we figured it was probably Coke, right” What else? It’s pure white, so it’s not heroin. it’s either Coke or Meth, and either one in that quantity is worth killing for.”

“She might be right about not going back there, but wouldn’t that make them know there was something wrong?” I asked.

“You have a point there. If she doesn’t go back they will suspect she saw it. Let me borrow your hand-held VHF. I want to call her and tell her I think she should go to work today.”

I handed Chuck the handheld and started pressing the coffee.

“Mirage, Mirage, Mirage. This is Lost soul.

Do you copy” Chuck was saying into the radio.

They waited, but there was no answer.

Handing Chuck the cup of coffee I asked, “Do you think she went in anyway?”

76

Grand Bay Chuck repeated his call to Mirage, but there was still no answer.

“I think I’d better head back over and make sure everything is all right.” Chuck said, standing and handing the radio back to me.

“Okay, give me a call when you get there. I am going to get ready to head to Maria’s Tienda to get some food on board. Either that or I will have to go on the Bangladesh diet. You know, just eat whatever floats by the boat!” I smiled.

Chuck headed out the companionway and jumped down into his waiting dinghy.

I followed him, up and walked to the main mast, easing the halyard to let my dinghy return to the water.

I went back into my cabin and threw on a black t-shirt that read “Rocky Mountain Harley Davidson”. The neck was cut out, and the sleevs “trimmed” as I don’t like to wear anything that was binding.

Now I was comfortable. Levi shorts, cut-off t-shirt and flip flops. I was back in the groove!

I stepped down into the dinghy and checked the fuel. Half-tank. That should be good for the day. I pulled out the choke, pulled the started onetime, and the mellow sound of the engine purring let me know that all as well with the world once again.

I started motoring toward shore and figured I should stop by Mirage and make sure all was well with Chuck & Anne.

As I approached the boat I saw Chuck coming 77

Grand Bay up from below-decks. When he saw me he waved me over.

“She’s not here” he said, as I pulled alongside. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Hop in and we’ll swing by the Yacht and see if she decided to go in.”

“Let me grab my shoes,” he said, and he disappeared below once again, appearing in a matter of seconds.

He climbed down into the boat and I swung her toward the marina.

Those of us who lived aboard and lived the cruising lifestyle very seldom stay in marina’s.

Too expensive. One of the advantages of Barra de Navidad was the huge lagoon that covered the entrance to Grand Bay Marina.

Grand Bay Marina was part of the Grand Bay Resort, and was well dredged so large yachts could come and go easily. They had dredged a chAnnel thru the shallow lagoon for this.

But the rest of the lagoon was untouched. The water varied from a couple feet deep to 18-20 feet. Most cruising boats have a 5-6’ draft, so if they are careful they can anchor in the lagoon, for free.

Oh, yeah, did I mention that cruiser’s are inherently cheap?

No? Well I should do so at this point. Most cruiser’s live on a tight budget, which usually does not include $30-75 a day to tie up your boat, when you can anchor out for free.

We started into the entrance chAnnel and just 78

Grand Bay as we turned in we saw a large yacht heading out of the marina.

We could see it was moving fairly fast, as it was pushing up a bow-wake.

Now the speed limit in marina’s is a pretty sacred thing. 5 knots is usually the maximum allowed, so as not to cause any wake that might push a boat against a piling or dock.

This guy was doing at least 15 knots!

I pushed the outboard handle hard to the side, and we managed to get out of the way, but the wake he was putting out pushed us up and onto the breakwater rocks, and I heard a loud hiss as a jagged rock tore thru the right pontoon of the inflatable.

We were about 2 feet above the waterline when the wake retreated, and the prop on the outboard had slammed into some rocks, breaking the propshaft seal.

Chuck had been tossed out of the boat and onto the rocks, and he hit pretty hard. By the time I’d gotten orientated to what happened I looked up and saw him with blood dripping down his face from a cut on his scalp, and his arms and legs were all cut and bleeding.

There was nothing I could do in the dinghy, so I climbed up to where he’d landed and helped him get off the rocks and to the grass area above the breakwater.

It was tough going. Chuck weighed in at about 285 pounds and stood 6’3”. I never considered him large, as I am 6’4” and weigh in at closer to 79

Grand Bay 300. But I’d never tried to move 285 pounds of dead weight.

No, he wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t much help either, as he was extremely dazed and confused.

It took a few minutes for him to come around, and in the meantime I checked to see where the boat that had nearly killed us had gone. But to no avail. All I could see was a trail where their propwash had been.

I ran across the marina to the sea wall and saw the yacht was doing at least 25 knots, heading straight out to sea.

I went back to Chuck, and he was sitting up and holding his head in his hands. He had a pretty bad cut on his scalp, and two or three other gashes on his arms and left leg.

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“Did you see Anne?” was the first thing he asked.

Chapter Eleven Anne was in one of the cabins on the large yacht, and she could hear the loud sound of the twin Series 4000 MTU engines pumping out almost 2,000 horsepower each. She figured she must be in one of the aft cabins, nearer the engine room.

Her hands were tied behind her and her feet were chained to the bunk.

On the fly-bridge Charlie Terazza and Frank Arrigali stood silently watching the water disappear under the boat.

“So what are we gonna do with her” Charlie 81

Grand Bay asked. “I think the easiest thing is to just toss her overboard.”

“We’d better wait,” cautioned Frank, “Her husband is gonna report this, and this boat will be pretty damned easy to find. Where do you hide a 200’ yacht?” he asked, not expecting an answer.

They were both silent for a little while as they considered their options.

The boat was fully fuelled, and at the speed they were going the were burning almost 15 gallons an hour. Even with the over 26,000 gallon tank, they were limited. She burned about 20 gallons an hour when wide-open. So they had about 130 hours at 25 knots.

And Much Ado was burning it fast.

“I got it” said Frank. “Let’s drop her somewhere and then go back to Grand Bay.” Charlie looked at him as if he were crazy.

“Go back? Are you nuts?”

“No,” replied Frank. “This could work out okay.”

“How so?” asked a very perplexed Charlie Terraza.

“We drop her at one of our farms (he was referring to one of their many marijuana grows) and let her husband know as long as he is a good boy nothing will happen to her.”

“You think he’d go for that?” asked Charlie.

“You have a better option.? ............

Two hours later Much Ado was approaching the coastline about 20 miles south of Manzanillo, 82

Grand Bay where they had radioed their people in Cuyutlan to meet them on the beach.

They launched their Boston Whaler shoreboat and ran Anne ashore, telling their people to keep her secure until they were contacted.

As soon as the shore-boat was back on the beach they pointed the boat north to Las Hades in Manzanillo Bay. It was where they filmed the movie “10” with Bo Derek, and both Frankie and Charlie liked it there.

They came around the headland after entering Mnzanillo Bay and kept around to the port, until they could see Las Hades.

They decided to drop a hook instead of going into the small harbor. It wasn’t big enough for a boat the size of Much ado. So they headed towards the beach, and then dropped their bow hook about 50 yards off the swimming rope they used to keep boats away from the whitye sand bech where hotel guests would hang out.

After they dropped a stern hook to keep them from drifting towards the beach, they had the crew drop the tender.

They headed into the marina and soon found the managers office. They asked if he would mind calling the marina manager at Grand Bay, where they had left from a couple hours earlier, saying they’d left something in the dock-box there.

Actually, Armando, the marina manager in Grand Bay had been “helping” them and was on their payroll. Charlie was going to tell Armando to tell Chuck they had Anne, and if he wanted to 83

Grand Bay see her again he should just sit tight, and they would be in touch.

Armando told them that Chuck had been hurt when they pulled out, and was in the hospital, and that they had reported the accident to the policia.

They talked for a few minutes and it was agreed Armando would go and talk to Chuck and get him to back-off, and tell the policia it was an

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accident, and he was mistaken about the speed of the boat.

Chapter Twelve Treb was walking into the hospital to check on Chuck. It had been almost 24 hours since they’d hit the rocks, and Chuck was going to be released.

Entering Chucks room Treb was shocked by his appearance. he tried not to let his dismay show, but obviously it wasn’t working.

“Do I look that bad?” Chuck Asked, trying to smile.

Unfortunately when he tried to smile his face contorted into an evil mask of a grin.

Treb laughed.

“Good Lord, you look terrible. Maybe try not 85

Grand Bay to smile for awhile, okay?” he smirked.

Chuck did his best imitation of a gargoyle.

“Have you heard anything about the boat or Anne?” he asked Treb.

“No, nothing yet, but I have friends who are looking into it. We should know something pretty soon. A boat that size doesn’t just disappear, ya know.” Treb replied.

What he didn’t tell Chuck was how he was tracking them.

In a “previous life” Treb had been connected to people in the FBI and CIA, and even now the wheels of progress were turning, albeit moving slowly, and he was sure he’d know something soon.

They sat and talked awhile, and were interrupted when a very attractive young lady walked in.

Both Treb and Chuck stopped talking and just stared at her. She was attractive, in her mid thirties, obviously in exellent physical shape, and to top it all of she was cute. She had redish bloonde hair, and she was wearing a spandex body suit with a light sweater over it.

“Okay big guy, it’s time to get physical. Are you ready to stop laying around and get to work? she said.

Treb laughed, “Hey chuck, I think she wants to get physical with you. Do you think you can handle her?

Chuck just smiled.

“Better than you could” he laughed, followed 86

Grand Bay by “What’s your name, honey?”

“Chris, What’s yours?” she asked, smiling, “All it says here is Charles. You don’t look like a Charles to me. Maybe a Charlie, or a Chuck, but definitely not Charlie!”

Treb jumped in at this point. “We call him UpChuck, ‘cause that’s what ya feel like doing when you see him like this!” and he laughed as if he’d just told the worlds greatest joke.

Chuck was smiling, but not laughing.

“Okay, my lady, lead on to the torture chamber.” Chuck replied.

Chris rolled a wheelchair over to the bed, and Treb helped her get Chuck out of the bed and into the chair.

“Mind of I come along and add moral support” Treb asked.

“No,” Chris replied, “it might help him get motivated.”

Chuck laughed under his breath. “It’s more like immoral support if ya ask me.”

They made their way to a physical therapy room where they had all kinds of treadmills and massage tables and impliments of destruction.

“This must be where you torture people into saying they feel fine so they can get outta here, right?” Treb asked.

“You’ve got that right, and its gonna start right now. Want to see if I can make your friend cry?” she smiled, with a wicked grin.

Treb knew he was gonna like this lady.

For the next hour Chuck was hurt in every 87

Grand Bay way imaginable, and when it was over he was sweating like a stuck pig.

“Are we thru yet” he begged Chris. “How often do we have to do this?”

“Yes, we are done, but we get to do it all over again tomorrow. Won’t that be fun?” She threw back at him.

Treb decided it might behoov him to stay away for a few days so Chuck could get some needed therapy without him always joking with him about how weak he was. But he also knew he wanted to see more of the physical therapist.

“I’m gonna leave you two alone” he said,

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smiling, “but I’ll be back in a couple days. I’m gonne see what more I can find.”

Chapter Thirteen Dick Bondano was sitting at his desk in his gym in Torrance, California when the phone rang.

“IMB Acadamy, this is Dick.” He said as he picked up the phone.

“Howzit Bro?” He herd his friend Treb say.

“What’s going on in the real world?”

“Hey White-boy, I heard you were sailing south. What’s up?

Dick was of Filipino and Hawaiian decent and they always kidded each other. They’d been riding together for a lot of years, and their realtionship was more like brothers than friends. They’d been 89

Grand Bay thru a lot together in the past.

“Dude,” Treb said, “I need a little favor. I just got back to Mexico after delivering that boat across the pond. There’s some wierd shit going on down here, and I was wondering if you could maybe get ahold of Val Strasser for me. I need some info.

Val was the Assistant director of the CIA in Washington, and they’d worked together in a “previous life.”

“I can probably get ahold of him, what’s up?

Treb explained about what had happened with Chuck & Anne.

It just took a couple minutes, and after they hung up Dick started searching for Val’s contact info. It took him awhile, but he finally made contact.

He explained what had happened, and gave him the name of the vessel that had almost run Treb and Chuck over, and Val said he’d get back to him as soon as he could find anything out.

Dick gave him his cell-phone number and told him he was heading down to Grand Bay to join Treb and Chuck to see what they could do to find Anne.

Dick’s studio, the IMB Acadamy, was a Dojo that taught Jeet kun Do and the Muay Thai style of Thai Boxing. His actual title held the title of Segund or Sifu of Sifu’s. Basically the title was only held by Masters of the art in Martial arts, and it meant Teacher of Teachers.

He picked up the phone and dialed Mike, his 90

Grand Bay protege, asking him to take over for a little while, as he went down to Mexico to see how he could help his old riding partner.

When Mike showed up at the gym Dick went out to where his Harley was parked. He’d been riding his old panhead for over 30 years, and he truly loved that bike. It was painted a warm brownish gold, with dragons painted on both sides of the tank. It sported a Sugar Bear springer front end, and it was a classic beauty.

It started on the first kick, and he heded to his house. Once there he booked a flight on Mexicana Airlines and was soon throwing some things in a bag and heading to the airport.

He figured his bike wouldn’t stand a chance being left at the airport, so he opted to drive there in his 61’ Chevy pickup. It was old & rusted, but he’d had it for a couple decades. It was comfortable. And besides that, no one would ever steal it!

He got to LAX a little less than an hour before the flight and was hustled thru security by one of his students from the dojo who worked there.

Soon he was sitting in his seat sipping on a drink, watching the coast of California disappear behind them, as they flew over Catalina Island, where they had sailed together many times.

It was a short flight, about 3 hours, so he closed his eye’s and soon was awakened by the jolt of the plane setting down at their destination.

After going thru Aduanas & Imigre he found a cab and headed straight to the hospital that he 91

Grand Bay was told Chuck was in. ............

Chuck was sweating hard as Chris pushed him to take a few more steps on the treadmill. Treb sat in a chair poking fun at him for being so weak.

When Dick walked thru the door and into the physical therapy area he saw them. Trebs back was to him, and Chuck was so involved in trying to give Chris what she wanted, he didn’t see him either.

Dick could walk as quiet as a cat when he wanted, and he wanted. He slipped up behind Treb and put his hands over his eyes from behind him.

Without thinking Treb grabbed his hands and, not knowing it was Dick, tried to twist around and take hold of whoever it was.

Now there is one thing you have too understand about Dick Bondano. He is no ordinary man. His many years teaching martial arts had honed his speed and reflexes, as Treb twisted and pulled on his hands, Dick dropped and pulled Treb out of the chair, and flipped him non-to ceremoniously on his butt.

At this point the people in the therapy room were all just staring as the two men rolled on the floor together, laughing!

“What the hell are you doing here?” Treb asked, as he got up from the floor and wrapped his arms around Dick.

“You said you needed help. Here it is!” And had a giant grin on his face.

92

Grand Bay They hugged again, and Dick walked over to where Chuck was standing holding himself up on the treadmill.

“Man, I am sorry this happened.” he started, stepping back and looking at him.

“Good Lord, you look terrible? What’d they do, hit you with a mixmaster?” Asked Dick.

“That might have been better,” Chuck replied, laughing, “They threw the boat, with me in it, onto the rocks.”

“Ya know what they say,” replied Dick, “It’s better to have a drink on the rocks in your boat than a boat on the rocks in the drink!” he chuckled.

“And who is this lovely young lady?” Dick asked, as he saw Chris.

“Hey,” said Treb, “I saw her first. Step away from the hottie!”

Chuck tried to laugh, but it hurt to smile..

“Hottie?” said Chris, “Is that any way to talk to a woman?”

“Uh oh,” responded Dick, “I think you may have offended.”

Then, turning to Chris, “Never mind that big bozo. He doesn’t have any manners. How about you & I get a drink later and discuss his lack of suavness?”

She looked at him and smiled. It had been awhile sinc3e she’d had two men sniffing after her. She kind of liked it.

“Tell you guys what,” she said, “when I finish hurting Chuckie, maybe the three of us can head out and discuss things over a cold drink!”

93

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“You’re on!”

Treb & Dick watched for awhile while Chris continued to torture Chuck, but he was already starting to get better. Seeing Dick helped his mental attitude, and he dug in to try and heal as fast as he could.

Treb & Dick watched for awhile while Chris continued to torture Chuck. He was already starting to get better.

After telling Chris they’d meet her at Piper’s they left him to his torture and headed back to Barra De Navidad and Piper’s place.

Dick then told Treb he’d contacted Val, and he was seeing what he could dig up. Val had told Dick he’d call him with some info that evening.

It was late by the time they got there, and the place was not crowded. Piper came over to take their drink order, and as they waited and Treb filled him in on all that had gone on over the previous few days, Dick’s phone rang.

Treb sat and listened, but Dick mostly just said, “yeah, right, okay” and disconnected from the call.

“Well,?” Treb asked, waiting anxiously to hear what they’d found. “What’s up?”

Dick shook his head slowly.

“Not good.” He started.

“The boat’s registered to a corporation out of Monrovia, the capital of Liberia, in Africa. Val was able to track the ownership thru a dozen offshore corporations, and it looks like it is owned 94

Grand Bay by a man named Charlie Terraza.” he hesitated, and then continued.

“Charlie is a bad actor in the drug scene. Val was able to find the boat, with a little help from the DEA, who have been watching him gain power over the last decade. He’s rich, powerfull, and extremely dangerous.”

This wasn’t something Treb wanted to hear.

Anne was last seen boarding the boat, just before it sped out of the marina.

“Doesn’t sound good.” Was all Treb could say.

“No, it doesn’t, but there may be a light at the end of the tunnel. He contacted the Navy, who have been running patrol off the coast of Mexico monitoring the traffic, and they said the boat had headed out for only a few miles, and then anchored of the beach a little ways south of here.”

Dick explained.

Treb looked thoughtful, and then said, “So let’s get Lost Soul out there and go find her!

“No need” said Dick. “They are now moored in Las Hades, just a few miles south of here.”

Treb saw someone coming in the door, and when he looked up he saw Chris. She had changed out of her work outfit, and she was looking real good. She’d changed into a pair of white shorts and a halter top. The combination was about as perfect as it could be on her.

She walked over and both men stood to welcome her.

Piper stood up.

“Hey Chris, what’s up? Havn’t seen you in 95

Grand Bay here in a while.”

“Hi Piper, Yeah, it’s been awhile. I went back to Virginia for a couple weeks to see my family, but now I am back. How’s things here?”

Pretty good. I see you met these two” he iundicated Treb & Dick.

“You better watch yourself” He smiled.

“Oh, not to worry. I’ve been handeling guys like this since I was 15 years old.” and she smiled. ............

Lost Soul and Mirage were anchored near each other in the lagoon. It was a dark night, and no one noticed when a panga slowed as it passed between the two boats.

A sole diver slipped over the side of the panga, and it made a slow turn by Maria’s Restaurant and doubled back a few minutes later.

The diver pulled himself back aboard the panga and it disappeared into the night.

A few minutes after the panga was out of site both boats exploded.

Armando, the marina manager had gotten a call from Terraza. He knew if he didn’t do eaxactly as

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he was told he would not see the dawn.

He did exactly as he was told.

Chapter Fourteen Curt & Jill had tried to make Grand Bay beforee dark, but their engine died about three miles out after dropping the sails, and they didn’t want to enter a strange harbor under sail. It took them less than an hour to fix it, because, as every sailor knows, when a deisel starts acting up, it’s one of three things. It’s either fuel, fuel or fuel.

It was a clogged fuel filter, and as he worked on it he promised himeslf he’d get a Filter Boss System as soon as he could to make sure it didn’t happen again.

Once underway, they realized they wouldn’t 97

Grand Bay get in until after dark, but that was better than sailing into a strange harbor without a motor.

When they entered the lagoon Curt decided it would be better to drop a hook in the lagoon, and go into the marina in the morning.

They dropped anchor near where most of the boats that anchored out were. Jill was on the bow while Curt brought the boat into position, and she started the windlass in reverse to lower the 110 pound Bruce anchor. They used all chain, so it was easy.

As she watched the chain play out, Curt backed down on the engine to set it.

Soon they were anchored snug in the marina, and were sitting on the aft deck enjoying a cocktail, while Curt lit up another Monte Cristo.

Life was good.

As they sat there they heard a panga go by, but didn’t think anything of it. Panga’s tarveresed the lagoon all day and night.

They watched as it motored between the two boats on their starboard side. Then it slowley motored over by the restaurant on the beach, and then turned without stopping, only to head back between the two boats.

Curt noticed that the boat had stopped between the two boats, but didn’t think much of it. Could have dropped something.

“That’s odd” Jill said, “It looks like they picked up a diver? I didn’t see them drop him off?”

The panga pulled out from between the two 98

Grand Bay boats, Lost soul and Mirage, and sped across the logoon.

Curt poured another glass of Codigo 1530 Ancestral Mezcal, his favorite tequila, and settled back into the beanbag he’d been sitting in.

“I like the looks of this place. I think we might hjang here for awhile.”

“I could live with that, “Said Jill, “Maybe after Melisa get’s in we can rent a car and do some land-cruising? That’d be fun!”

“Yeah, we could do that. I like it here/ It’s quiet, a well protected anchorage, and the prices here are a lot better than in Acapuilco and Las Hades.”

And the still of the night was interupted by

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the sound of two explosions going off under the boats off to their starboard.

Chapter Fifteen Treb & Dick heard the two loud bangs and ran out onto the porch of the Alcatraz. There was smoke still on top of the water around the Lost Soul and Mirage, and they slowly started to sink.

They ran down the stairs and out the where Chuck’s dinghy was tied. They ran down the stairs and across the street, running down the dock. They jumped in and Treb started the motor.

Once Dick was in a seated they sped across the lagoon to where the boats were sinking.

As they got close Treb tore off his t-shirt and dove in. He had the Pelican flashlight from the 100

Grand Bay dinghy in his hand and started to examine the bottom of his boat, and soon found the opening in his hull. It was about 9 inches, and almost circular.

Thinking fast, he surfaced.

“Dick, toss me my tshirt!”

Dick stood up and threw Treb his shirt. Then he took off his shirt and dove in to check Chuck’s boat.

Treb dove down jamming the shirt into the hole in his hull. The suction of the water going into the boat pulled the shirt in solid, and the the gushing stopped, and only a trickle still flowed in, but not more than the bilge pumps could handle.

Meanwhile Dick had dove in and swam over to Mirage. It too had a similar hole, but a little larger. He tore at his pants, having difficulty getting them off under water, and he jammed his tshirt and pants into the slightly larger hole in Mirage.

Curt & Jill were standing at the rail of Namahana watching this unfold. Curt figured out what they were doing, and ran below.

Returniong on deck he dropped his dinghy from the davits as fast as he could, and jumped in with a gallon container of two-part underwater epoxy.

Most cruising sailors carried it for emeragncies, and this was definitely one of those.

He pulled alongside the closer boat, which was Mirage, and shouted at Dick.

“Here’s some epoxy. See if it will help!”

Dick swam over, and Curt put a handful of the 101

Grand Bay epoxy in his hand, and then dumped some of the catalyst on it.

“It’s underwater epoxy. Just slather it over the hole if you can.” and with that he jammed the 35 horsepower Honda outboard into gear and headed over to where Treb was, doing the same.

It took a few minutes, but the leaks did stop.

The three men boarded each boat, to verify the leaking had stopped.

The boats automatic bilgepumps had started as soon as the water started coming in, but could not keep up with the holes, but with the cloth and epoxy in place, they started doing their jobs.

Treb had installed a 3” engine driven pump, so he fired his main motor and pushed the lever that stopped the watrpump from pulling water from the thruhull, and started pulling the water from the bilge.

It was midnight beforee they felt secure the boats would not sink.

Finally, Curt was able to introduce himself, and the three of them sat on the back of Namahana, looking over at the two boats that had almost gone to the bottom.

Curt and Jill told them about the Panga and diver, but the panga’s all look pretty much the same.

Jill went below and threw some sandwiches together, and then they tried to figure out who had done this. The Much Ado was anchored in Las Hades, so it couldn’t have been them.

But everyone was sure they had been the ones 102

Grand Bay responsible.

By about two am everyone was pretty beat.

Curt offered them a stateroom and asked them if they wanted to stay aboard, but both wanted to be on their boats, so they could monitor them thru the night.

Treb’s dinghy was a total wreck after the crash on the breakwater, so they were using Chucks.

Dick offered to sleep on Mirage and watch it, so Treb dropped him off, and then tied up to Lost Soul and went below. He shut down the engine and pushed the lever back to where it would draw from the thru-hull, as the water had all been pumped out.

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Sleep came hard, but when it did, he was out like a light.

Chapter Sixteen Anne woke from a fitfull sleep and found herself laying on a dirt floor in a small shack, with her hand and feet still tied. She tried the knots and found they were still tight and binding.

She’d fallen asleep after being broght ashore from sheer exhaustion. She worked her way to where she could sit up, and looked around, The walls of the hut looked to be adobe or some form of dried mud. There was no furniture and she figured it was some sort of store room. As she tried to wiggle free she notixced a lingering scent she knew well. Marijuana.

104

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There was a window about 4 feet off the floor, and she hoped she could see where she was.

It took a few tries, but finally she found herself able to stand, and hopped over to the window.

It wasn’t much help. It had small tree limbs set into the walls like bars, but looking thru it all she could see was brush.

The door suddenly opened and a man walked in wearing baggy pants and an old and dirty Greatful Dead T-shirt. In one hand he held a machette.

Her eyes widened in fear, and she shrunk back against the wall.

“Habla Espaniol” the man asked.

Anne & Chuck had been sailing in Mexico and Central America for awhile, and she did know the language, but thoght better of letting him know it just yet.

“What?” was all she said.

The man frowned and put down the machette.

He then made a motion like drinking from a cup.

Anne nodded her head emphatically that she did want a drink.

A second man entered the room and asked the first what he was doing. Anne did not like the look of the man who came in last. He was very large, very dirty, and gave her the creeps.

She listened to their discussion pretending not to understand. they spoke fast, but she did get the jist of the conversation. The new man was telling the other that El Heff Didn’t want her touched, as 105

Grand Bay they might eventually try to get a ransom for her. after all, she was a rich American Gringa with a large private yacht. There had to be someone somewhere who would pay to get her back.

The first man finished giving her a drink from the gourd he’d brought in, and headed for the door.

The other man, who she’d heard called Rodrigo, wispered something to the other man, turned and looked at Anne, and then smiled and motioned for the other man to leave, and when he did he turned and shut the door.

Anne got the idea that whatever the man had said, she was not going to like it.

She was standing in a crouched position, as the ropes they’d tied her with would not allow her to stand fully upright. As Rodrigo started walking toward her she tried to move, but couldn’t. Trying to take a step she stumbled and fell. She fell hard, as she couldn’t put her hands out to stop the fall, hitting the side of her face on a rock.

As she felt the warmth of blood starting to run down the side of her face she also felt the hands of Rodrigo yanking her off the ground and spinning her to face him.

He has a sinister leer on his face, and she noticed for the first time that he had a large scar that ran from his left ear, down to his jaw, and then from the opposite side of his jaw it went to his other ear. It was called El Satanas Sonfrier, which roguhly translated means “Satan’s Smile.”

Anne figured this was going to be it. She could 106

Grand Bay almost feel his lust growing. She had to figure out a way to live long enough for Chuck to find her.

“Do you speak English?’ she asked Rodrigo.

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He just looked at her as if she was babbling, convincing her he did not.

Chapter Seventeen Charlie & Frank were sitting on the aft deck of Much Ado working on what their next move should be. The were not real happy with the “sinking” of the two boats by Armando, the Harbor Master.

“He should have used more explosives” Frank said. “Hell, when I was blosing shit up in Iraq we would have blown the boats out of the water, leaving a big hole!”

“Yeah, well, what is, is.” Charlie said, and you could tell he was not real happy.

“The people in that sailboat that pulled in 108

Grand Bay saw what happned,” He went on. “and if they can identify Armando, it could be traced back to us. Maybe we should’da sunk that one too.” He smiled.

When Charlie smiled it was not a happy smile.

It was a wicked smile, and Frank was thankfull they were on the same side now.

“Okay, they got lucky. but we can change that. I think we ought to call on thore idiots and let them know they are fucking with the wrong people. We need to keep this clean. We have a \ million dollars worth of Mota and we need to get it into San Diego. This could disrupt everything.

We need to make it go away asap.

“Okay, then let’s do what we have to do. We make em an offer they can’t refuse, and if they refuse, we play hardball.” said Frank.

“Sounds good. Let’s head back to Grand Bay and get a few of the crew and let hose guys know we mean business.”

At full speed they figured they could cover the 60 miles in a little under three hours.

Charlie told the skipper to head north back to Grand Bay, and he radioed Armando to let him know they were cominbg back.

Once they arrived back in Grand Bay they moored the boat. As soon as they were securly tied up a group of men boarded the boat.

About an hour later six men were loaded into their 20’ runabout, and headed for the lagoon where Treb, Curt & Chucks boats were anchored.

As they approached it didn’t look like there 109

Grand Bay was anyone aboard the boats, but on Namahama the four men were sitting on the aft deck having coffee.

Chuck had gotten back from his physical therapy, and he sat with Treb, Dick and Curt trying to figure out there next step.

“It looks like we have some company” said Treb,.” spotting the six men in a boat motoring sround Lost Soul and Mirage.

“It doesn’t look like a freindly group” said Curt. “Maybe I should go below and grab my Glock?”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” said Treb, “but keep it undercover for now. I have my handy-dandy .45 with me as well. After the explosion I figured it might make snse to have it. As you know, it’s better to have a gun and not need it, than to need a gun and not have it!”

The men in the tender had seen them on the aft deck of Namahana and started heading their way.

As they approached it was obvious who were the men in charge, and those who were just soldiers. The two men at the head of the boat were obviously in charge, so Treb walked over to the rail holding out his hand in a “stop right there’ position.

“Okay, that’s far enough. What the hell do you want?”

Charlie stood up, looking right into Treb’s eyes.

“Okay, here’s the deal. We know Anne saw our shipment. We figure she also told you about 110

Grand Bay it.” he hesitated, and then went on, “We believe that three people can keep a secret, if two of them are dead.”

And with that he pulled out an automatic pistol, and pointed it at Treb.

“As you know we have his wife (indicating Chuck) and if you want to see her again, you will become “dead,” do you understand?’

Treb looked into his eye’s and he did not like what he saw. This man was as dangerous as they come, he could see.

He didn’t have much choice at that point.

Basically he’d just been told they were dead-men.

His AMT Hardballer .45 was tucked into the back of his pants. As he reached back he moved down and to the right, as Charlie aimed and fired off a couple rounds in his direction.

In the meantime Curt had dropped to the deck, with his 9mm in his hand, and fired off two shots into the small boat, stricking one of the men.

Treb fired without aiming into the boat, and he saw he got the man who was talking in the arm, and the man who was driving the boat was hit, and he pulled to the right, which made the runabout whip to the left, throwing all of the men in the boat into confusion.

The boats outboard was a 125 HP Evenrude, and when the man who was driving was hit he wicked on the throttle and headed away from the boat. Treb and Curt fired a couple roiunds at the fleeing vessel.

“Okay, they are not playing around” said Treb.

111

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Any idea who we can talk to to arrange a meet?”

Chuck said, “Yeah, I think so. Armando seemed to be pretty freindly with them. Maybe he can set up a meeting?”

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“I’ll go see him and find out where he stands.”

Said Treb.

Chapter Eighteen Frank & Charlie made their way back to Much Ado and Frank helped Charlie aboard. He’d been shot in the arm. Not too bad, but it did need some doctoring, as well as two of the other men who’d been hit.

“Okay,” said Charlie, “Now it’s on!”

Frank shook his head slowely, and had come to a different conclusion.

“No.. I think we need to try a different track.

This is a pretty big shipment, and the less hassle there is around it the better. “ He could just see what would happen if they 113

Grand Bay were to kill 4-5 people. It would bring more heat then they wanted.

“No,” he went on, “These guys don’t seem to scare, and if we go and have all of them hit, well, it would bring down a lot of heat on us. I think we need a better way.

“Like what” asked Charlie, who obviously wanted to just kill them all.

“Well, we have the woman, Anne, and we can use that for leverage. But I think we might need a little more leverage. The big guy is single, but the guy an the new boat that came in is married.

Let’s see if we can get a little leverage on him.

Then we’ll make ‘em “the” offer.

When they found out from Armando that Curt

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& Jill had a daughter flying in from Los Angeles, they knew they’d found their leverage.

Chapter Ninteen Melissa was packing for her flight down to join her Mom & Dad on Namahana down in Bahia Navidad. She’d looked up The Grand Bay on the internet and saw it had pools and saunas, and she was ready for a little luxury.

She tried on a couple of her bathing suites and chose the two she liked best. A blue onee that picked up the color of her eye’s, and another that was just plain sexy. She liked how, when she’d wear it guys would always seem to have their eye’s on her. A good thing for her ego.

Katie had agreed to take her to the airport, and 115

Grand Bay she’d just pulled up in front. She got out of her Jeep and rang the doorbell.

“Hey, you’re right on time,” Melissa said.

“Yeah, but it was close. The traffic sucks here in So Cal. You’re lucky to be heading south. I heard Grand Bay is a pretty fancy place. I wish I were going with you.”

Melissa grabbed the larger of her two bags and headed for the door. Katie picked up the second bag and fiollowed.

As Melissa opened the door she noticed a couple men in a Mercedes across the street Normally she would have thought nothing of it, but since her dad was in the car business, she was aware of cars, and they were sitting in a new Maybach 680. That was a $200,000 car, and it did not go unnoticed. They were pretty rare, since they stopped building that brand in 2012.

She loaded her begs into the back of Katies Jeep and they headed to the airport. She had two hours beforee boarding, and they were just a few miles from LAX. “Well, here we are” Katie said, as they pulled up in front of American Airlines Check-in, “ time to fly to paradise for a couple weeks. Wish I were going with you!

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to have enough fun for the both of us. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

And Melissa threw her arms around Katie and gave her a hug. Then she grabbed her bags and headed to check in.

As usual LAX was jammed. The line at 116

Grand Bay American Airlines check-in was extremely long.

She walked over to the back of the line, where a uniformed agent was checking tickets.

“Is this were I go for the flight to Manzanillo, Mexico?” she asked the attendant.

“Do you have your ticket?” the attendant asked, and Melissa fumbled in her purse and found the reservation, showing it to the attendant.

“Oh, you’re in First Class, so you can go to that line over there” she said, indicating a very short line a few hundred feet away, “They can check you in there.”

“First Class” thought Melissa. “Now that’s the right way to fly!”

There were only a couple people in front of her, and soon she was assigned her seat in first class, told she could wait in the lounge, and the flight would board on time.

She made her way to security, and was ushered thru the First Class security line. She’d checked her bags, so she was now traveling light. Just her purse and a bag with some choice munchies for the flight.

Right on time they started boarding and she took her seat, seat 2A, right by the window up front. The flight was about 1300 miles, so would only take a few hours, and she would be in pardise.

As the rest of the passengers were loaded onto

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the plan Melissa missed the men who had been in the Maybach earlier as they boarded.

Chapter Twenty Dick was opn the phone with Val out of Washington. They had traced where Much Ado went after it had left Grand Bay, and it turned out they’d stopped at a small town about 20 miles south, called Cuyutlan.

The town of Cuyutlan is a quiet little beach town close to its big sister Manzanillo. It is small and unassuming and usually gets passed over.

That was why Frank and Charlie had chosen it as a locatiojn for one of their marihjuana grows.

Small and unassuming, with few visitors. Yet it was located near a m ajor airport in Manzanillo, 118

Grand Bay and had great water access for boats.

But it has miles of amazing black sable sand beaches and swaying palm trees and unspoiled beauty. It is a great surfing beach! The ocean is shallow for a long way out. It is a hidden treasure overlooked by people seeking glamor and luxury.

The kind of place you didn’t think existed anymore. Outside the village to the east on the beach road is the Tortugario (turtle sanctuary).

Of coarse it wasn’t really a turtle sanctuary.

But that made a great cover for where they processed Coca leaves into cocain, so they could load both products at the same time to convey up to the states.

Anne couldn’t see the ocean thru the one window in the shed, but right now that was the least of her problems. For the moment, Rodrego was here immediate problem.

She decided to play dead and see where this was going.

Rodrego reached down and shook her shoulder.

“Que Pasa?” He asked, and then he noticed the blood dripping from the wound in her head. he started to get scared. he knew the Hefe’s wanted her untouched. This could be a problem for him, and the man did not want any problems. He thought for a coup,e seconds, and then turned and headed out the door, locking it behind him.

Anne wormed around until she could sit up.

She tried to access the ropes that were tying her hands behind her back, and her legs, to where she could not stand up.

119

Grand Bay When she’d woekwed her way around to where she could feel the ropes, she started working on loosening the ropes that bound her.

As she worked the ropes they did start to loosen. She got to where she could move her arms, and soon she was able to slip one hand out of the ropes.

That was all she needed. She worked the ropes until her other hand was free, and then she untied her feet.

Now able to stand, she walked over to the window and looked out. There was some shrubbery right poutside the building, and a large field beyound that. It was cultivated and hhad a couple thousand marijuana plants being tended.

There were wooden bars on the window, but she’d lived on a boat long enough to know where to apply pressure to wood to weaken it. She took her belt off, and wrapped it around four of the wooden bars. Then she laced the belt thru the loop, and as she applied pressure t=it started to pull the bars together. With enougbh pressure one

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of the bars bent and pulled out, and soon she had enough room to sqeeze thru.

Chapter Twenty One Armando sat in his office on the dock of the marina trying to figure a way to get away. Frank and Charlie were not happy with him for not using enough explosives to sink the two boats, which would have taken the heat off of them for a little while.

And then Treb had come in to talk to him, obviously not knowing it was he who’d tried to sink his boat. Treb asked if he knew the people on Mach Ado, and if he would help contact them for a meeting.

Armando had agreed, and was now waiting to 121

Grand Bay hear back from Frank and Charlie.But he knew it wouldn’t be long beforee his part in what went on came to light, and he did n ot want to be there when people found out.

His cell-phone rang, and it was Charlie.

“Armando, we got your message that they wanted to talk top us. Are the police involved?

“No senor, so far the police have not taken an interest. I don’t think the explosions were reported. Out there in the lagoon no one can see what goes on.”

“What did they want?” Charie asked.

“The big guy, Treb, came in and asked if I could contact “the people” on Much Ado, and set up a meeting. I told them I thought I could.”

‘Okay, we want it to be somewhere we can controll the situation. Let them know we can meet on Much Ado. Tell them 3PM on the boat in the marina.” And without waiting for a response he hung up.

Armando called Treb’s cell-phone and it rang three times bofore answering.

“Yeah,” he answered, “what did they say?”

“They wanted to make sure it would be a safe meeting, so they said on Much Ado at 3PM.” “Safe for them” Treb laughed, “Don’t they realize they are the bad guys? We want it to be safe for us..” he hesitated “but ya know what? I think I agree. On their boat will be fine.” and he chuckled when he hung up.

So the meeting was set for 3pm. That gave him about 2 hours to get ready for the meet. he had to 122

Grand Bay figure out how to make sure they got off the boat alive. That was the first concern. then getting Anne back was the next thing on the calander. ............

Chuck was at his physical therapy appointment with Chris. She had him stretching on a physicalm therapy bench when Treb walked in with Dick.

“Can you add a little more pain to the workout” he asked, smiling. “You knoiw, maybe a few dozen pull-ups?”

Chris smiled.

“Okay, but he said he wasn’t going to do anything that you won’t do first, soooo..”

“Okay forget that. But make sure he’s all good by 3PM, we have an appointment.”

“Yeah, you bet. All good in two hours. that’s how physical therapy works, right” she laughed.

Treb walked over to Chuick and told him about the meeting.

“Are you nuts?” He asked as soon as Treb told him about where the meeting was being held. “they’ll just kill us.”

“Not to worry. I’ve got it handled. We just have to be on-time!”

“I don’t know, it sounds a little crazy., but you’ve only led me astray once or twice in our past, so what the heck!”

“Okay, so when you get thru here, come to Lost Soul. Dick & Curt are gonna come over so we can make some plans.” he said, and then turned to Chris.

“So Chris, you gonna have hium all tidied up 123

Grand Bay by 2:30” “I think I can get him presentable by then.

What do I get if I do?” she asked Treb, smiling.

“How about a nice Mocajete dinner over at Café Alcatraz over in Barra?” He said.

“Sounds good to me. I can meet you there about 6PM. That work for you?” she asked.

“Be there or be square.” he replied, and turned to chuck.

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“Meet me on Lost soul about 2:30, okay?”

“You got it” Chapter Twenty Two Anne knew she didn’t have a lot of time if she was going to get out. She had no idea where she was, but she knew they were about three hours away from Grand Bay by “fast’ boat. When they were underway she heard the engines working hard, and figured they were at pretty much top speed. So she figured she was about 50-60 miles away. As she’d been living in Mexico for the past few years on their boat, they knew this coast line pretty well.

With the wooden bars out of the way she pulled a box over to the window and stood on it 125

Grand Bay looking out. If she could use the bushes around the building to hide her movements getting out of the window, she might be able to get to the marajuana grow for cover.

She pulled herself up onto the window ledge and looked around. She didn’t see anyone. It was time to try her escape.

She lowered herself to the ground using the rope they had tied her up with. She rolled it up and added it to her mental inventory. One rope was better than no inventory at all.

She looked over towards the main building and didn’t see anyone. This would be her chance.

She dashed across the open field towards the Marajuana grow. She was just about to the first row when she heard the shout.

Someone saw her!

She dove into the first row behind a couple larger plants. Looking down the row it looked clear, so she kept going, running as hard as she could towards the furthest end, hoping to make it into the trees tht surrounded the property.

But they had sent some men to the far end, and she saw them just as she started her sprint. So she dcided maybe she should head on a 90° angle across the field.

As she made her way thru the aisles, all of a sudden she was grabbed from behind. Two men had gotten to where she was.

As soon as they grabbed her she knew it was over. In a matter of seconds she was surrounded by a dizen men. They threw her to the ground, 126

had been built from.

This time they’d taken no chances, and tied her hands behind her back, and then her legs Grand Bay seperatley.

As she moved to try and get into a comfortable position she found she had a few sore places on her body now. In fact there were bruisies starting to show, and she thought she might have a broken rib or two.

She felt as if she didn’t have a chance against the odds, but she wasn’t about to give up. She closed her eyes and tried to summon some of

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what she had learned in Yoga all those years ago, but she just couldn’t find her center. She felt lost.

Chapter Twenty Three Treb & Chuck walked down the dock Much do was on, and stopped at the boarding ladder.

“Well, I guess this is it.” said Treb. “Let’s see if we’re still alive in the next few minutes.” and he smiled.

Charlie came out of the saloon door and told them to come on board.

As they entered the boat they were impressed by the sheer size and luxury of the vessel. Two hundred feet of pure decadence.

In the main saloon they were shown to the dinnign area. On their cruising sailboats the 128

Grand Bay dinning area consisted of a wooden table with a sette on one side and a couple movable stools for the other.

But not on Much ado. No, this was a yacht and not a cruising boat.

The dinning area was either inside or out, depending on your preferences. A set of rounded sliding glass doors enclosed the opulent dinning area for inclement weather, or opened to allow dinning alfresco.

The table was a 20 foot long, 3 inch thick slab of Tempered glass, as clear as crystal, setting on what looked like goldcenter columns sculpted to look like dolphins. The chairs were white linin and overstuffed for comfort.

The dinning area sat between two curved staircases that came down on either side, in a deep cobalt blue, with gold paterns inturupting their semitry as they led to the upper deck. Above the table was an 18 foot crystal chandelier made in Italy at the Murano Glass factory. It was beautiful.

Treb & Chuck sat on one end of the table and Charlie & Frank sat at the other. Frank started it.

“Okay, we know you know what we are carrying. You know we have Anne.” he stopped for a minute.

“So what is it you want “asked Treb, “and where’s Anne?”

Charlie came in now.

“She is being held and is unharmed.. so far.”

He hesitated just a little too long before the ‘so far.’

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“Hold it a minute” chimed in Charlie. “she shouldn’t have been where she was. But now it’s too late. She knows, and you know. We can’t have people knowing our business.”

Treb was thinking he knew where this would go. As they’d said beforee, ‘three people can keep a secret as long as two of them are dead.’

Treb was rapidly considering their options, and they didn’t look good.

Frank and Charlie both pulled out guns at the same time, while two more of their crew appeared like magic, one at the aft and one by the opening into the main saloon.

“Okay,” said Treb, “how about you let us have Anne back, and we will forget about all this.

You go on your on way, and we’ll go on ours.

Capiche?”

All of a sudden a dark shape seemed to come out of nowhere. He disarmed the man by the stern door, and had him on the floor unconscious in a matter of seconds. Ity was Dick doing what he does best! At the same time Curt came thru the Main saloon and hit the second man hard over the head with a belaying pin from his boat.

Treb and chuck pushed the heavy glass table top hard into the two men sitting at the other end of the table, and they both toppled to the floor

130

Grand Bay with the heavy glass table pinning them to the floor.

Chuck was the first one to get to them, and he started in on Frank with a fury that could only be unleashed by a man close to losing it. He was on top of him alternating left and right hand punches to his face, when another man appeared from nowhere and knocked him off.

In the meantime Treb had lunged for Charlie, but Charlie was fast. He’d dropped his gun when hit with the table top, but he was already pulling himself out from under the heavy table, and was on his feet and out the door faster thn Treb could get to him.

Treb followed, but was soon lost in the interior of the huge yacht.

Dick had one of the other men on the floor, and was slowely twisting his wrist, as the man screamed for mercy.

It only took a few minutes for Dick to get the man to talk, and they learned that Anne was bing held in a small town just south of Manzanillo.

They wouldn’t have a lot of time to get there beforee the word got out they knew where she was being held.

The first thought was to get back to one of the boats and head south to see about rescuing her, but their boats were cruising sailboats. 5-6 knots was their best speed usually, and they needed to get there a little faster than that if they were to be successful. In fact they knew their chances were somewhere between slim and none, unless they 131

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could get there beforee word got out they were on their way. That could complicate things a bunch.

Chapter Twenty Four Melisa Was excited as she looked out the window of the 737 as they were about to land in Manzanillo. It was beautiful, and she was excited.

Brilliant blue waters, white sand beaches, and a resort with a spa. How could she go wrong?

After deplaning she waited at the baggage carousel until she saw her bags, and made her way out to find a taxi to get her to Grand Bay. She was excited being there, even though a couple weeks with “Mom & Dad” was not on the top of her hit parade. But the weather was about as perfect as it could be, and she couldn’t wait to 132

Grand Bay get inot her bathing suite and out on the beach or the deck of the yacht.

As she walked out of the airport she started to where the taxis were lined up. As she was walking by a white Ford E250 van the cargo doors oppened and two men reached out and grabbed her, and pulled her into the van.

She started to scream but a hand went over her mouth, and then duct tape. A bag went over her head, and all of a sudden she was in the dark.

The van took off and she was banged around as they took turn after turn.

The ride lasted about 2 hours, and there was never a word spoken. Melisa tried to keep track of sounds or road conditions. She didn’t know why, it just seemed like a good idea.

The van finally stopped after a bumpy ride over a long dirt road. The van doors opened, and she was led out with her hood still in place. They walked her into a building, and tossed her to the floor. She heard the door lock.

Her hands were tied behind her back, and her feet were duct-taped together.

She sat for a minute trying to get her bearings, and trying to regain her composure. She was freaked out by what happened, and still wondering exactly what it was that did hapen to her.

She heard some movement nearby in the same room.

“Is there someone there?” she asked, actually afraid of what she might hear.

“Who’s there” she heard a voice ask.

133

Grand Bay “I’m not sure what happened or why I am here.” Melisa replied. “I just got off a plane from LA and these guys drug me into their van and tied me up, and then put a bag over my head.”

It was silent for a second, and then Anne started “I was working on a yacht and spotted some cocaine in drums. The next thing I knew I was tied up, blindfolded, and ended up here.”

“Where’s here’” asked Melisa, “And why would they want me for anything?”

“I don’t have any idea, but I am sure it’s not for anything good.”

“I was just flying down to join my parents on their boat. I don’t know anyhting about any drugs.

I am scared. My Dad & Mom will be worried.”

“Where was their boat? Where were you joining them?”

“They are anchored in Bahia Navidad, in the Lagoon. All I know as they said to fly to Manzanillo, and then take a cab to Grand Bay. They were going to meet me there.”

“Grand Bay? That’s where the yacht I was working on is. The one with the drugs.”

“There’s no way Mom & Dad had anything to do with drug smuggling. And they aren’t on a yacht, they are on a cruising saiboat.”

“What’s their boat? I am on a cruising boat too. Maybe I know them?”

“It’s a Maple Leaf 56. A sloop, named

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Namahana.”

“Melisa?” asked Anne, “Is that you?”

Chapter Twenty Five The plan was a simple one. They figured it would take about two hours to get to Cuyutlan by car. It was about sunset when they’d escaped the meeting, and they headed over to Piper’s to see what they could come up with.

The four men were sitting at a table, and Piper walked over and said hi.

“Hey Piper,” said Treb, “what do you know about the town of Cuyutlan? Anything?”

Piper thought for a couple seconds beforee answering.

“Let’s see.. I believe they make salt there in 135

Grand Bay a lagoon, and there is a long black sand beach as well. But lately there have been rumors a large Caretel has come in, and they set up a marajuana grow near the beach, just south of the tourist area.”

“Would it be approachable by car, or better by boat?” asked Curt.

“I would think car” replied Piper, “because you could hide in the jungle area as you approached.

The sea is pretty wide open. Easy to spot a boat.”

That was usefull info, and they sat for about an hour making plans on how to get Anne back.

“Oh shit!” remarked Treb, “I just thought of something. I was supposed to meet Chris at Cafe Alcatraz at 6. What time is it?

“Ya better hurry,” said Chuck. “If you stand her up I’m gonna have to pay for it on the next session.” He laughed.

“Okay” said Treb, “but beforee I go, what’s the plan on how to get Anne?”

Chuck chimed in first.

“Let’s try to get there at o’dark-thirty when they are lest active. Like maybe 4:30-5 AM. We can get in under the safety of darkness, and kinda play it by ear once we are there.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan, except for one thing” said Treb. “Where are we gonna get a car?

Piper chipped in with, “Not to worry. Yu can use Esperanza.”

They all looked at eah other,.

“What is Esperanze.” They asked.

“Com’on downstairs. I’ll show you.

136

Grand Bay They walked out of the second floor dinning area and headed downstairs.

Piper lead them to the back of the resteraunt and they found a room that was accessed from behind the bar/resteraunt. He opened the door, which was like a single wide garage door that opened uppward, and parked inside was a Hummer. But not a stock Hummer. No sir. This was cutomized to the max.

It had a full set of Hi-Jackers, which are shocks that lift the vehicle a full 20” higher than stock.

But that wasn’t all. She was painted camo green, just like the army modles , and had hooded headlights to make them harder to see at night.

“Dude! said Curt, who, being in the car business, knew what a car like this cost, “where did you get that, it’s a beauty!

I have a small side-buiness,” he smiled, “and it’s a little more lucerative than the bar business.

A lot of Gringo’s like to partake of a little Coke or Marijuana, and I like to make people happy!”

He smiled.

“Sooo. ?” Treb asked?

“Well, It’s to hard to make the stuff myself, so I kinda help myself occasionally by helping some of the larger ranches deplete their inventory when they are not looking!”

“It’s that easy?” asked Dick?

“Well, not always, so I have a little protection when I am out shopping.”

With that he walked around to the back of the vehicle, and opened the bed-cover to expose 137

Grand Bay a weapon stash that would make the most experienced soldier smile.

“Ya see, a few months back a couple of guys from Seal Team 6 stopped by my place, and they were drinking. In fact, they turned drinking into a contest, and all of them pretty much lost.”

“I, of course, being a true gentelman, invited them to play a little 5 card stud. Viola! In just a few hours I was the proud owner of this beautiful vehicle, and they drove out in my ‘98 Chevy Cavalier. I think it was a good trade. They, of course, were not so sure..” he chucled.

“So why don’t you guys take this and go get Anne back. When you come back we can have a little party!” He laughed!

The plans were set, and the group broke up agreeing to meet back here at 1 AM to start getting ready. ............

Treb hustled the three blocks to Club Alcatraz and when he walked in he saw Chris sitting at a corner table nearest the water, overlooking the anchorage.

“Sorry I’m a little late” He panted. “Had a little meeting to go to, but all is good now. Are you hungry?”

“Famished. What’s good here?”

“Well, let’s see. Starting off with a hand mixed Marquarita is always a good start.’ he said with a smile.

She smiled back.

“And then I think we need a couple of their 138

Grand Bay great Mocajetes. They are better here than any other place within a hundred miles!”

“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

“Have you seen Chuck this afternoon?” she added. “I thought mnaybe you’d bring him with you tonight.”

“I didn’t figure we needed a third wheel.

Besides, I wanted to be alone with you. After seeing you work Chuck this morning, I wanted to buy you a drink for the way you tortured him!” he laughed.

The meal went well. A couple Marquaritas, some poppers, and then came the Mocajetes.

“You know, the Mocajete is actually the name of the bowl that the meal is served in.”

“Really?” she said.

“Yup, It’s also the name of what they serve in the bowl.The Molcajete is the perfect mix of all the flavors of land and sea. It features piping hot shrimp, grilled chicken, and steak slices mixed with peppers and onions and topped with a special delicious tomato and cheese sauce.”

Chris took a spoonfull of the sauce, blew on it, and tasted it.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe I’ve never tried this beforee.”

And for thext few minutes there was silnce at the table, except for a few slurps coming from both sides of the table.

When they’d finished Treb asked the witress for a couple glasses of Almendrado, a sweet after dinner drink made with Almonds and Tequila 139

Grand Bay based. It’s the perfect aperitife when drinking tequila.

After dinner they walked liesurly down the quaint dirt street to the docks where the water taxis hung out.

“Would you like to come out and see Lost Soul?” Treb asked Chris.

“Oh, sure. A good meal, a few drinks, and it’s off to the boat for a night of fun and revelrie. Is that how it works?”

“Well, I. we. uh, no, that’s really not....” Treb stumbled through his words.

“No?” she smiled? “But that was kinda what I was hoping’?

He didn’t waste a minute. He signaled Rosa, who ran the water taxi pangas, and they made their way to the loading area. A panga pujlled up, and they jumped in.

The ride across the lagoon was beautiful. It was a perfect night, and it looked like it was about to become even more perfect.

When they reached Lost Soul Treb helped Chris up the boarding ladder he was starting to think this would be a good evenbing.

They walked to the aft deck. He had built a large deck-box there a few years earlier, and it was the most comfortable spot on the boat.

Inside it held spare propane tanks, spare fuel and anchoring gear.

But on top of the teak constructed dock box was a 3 inch foam mattress, which was covered with sunbrella to protect from the sun, and it had 140

Grand Bay a couple small bean bags at the rear so you could lean back against the shrouds.

It was a perfect night. It was a weaning moon, down to just a sliver, but in the clear night that sliver of moon was perfect. The dark jungle around the lagoon on the south side made a perfect contrast against the blue sky, and on the north there were the lighs of the village, reflecting off the water.

Treb reached over for Chris’ hand and she reached out to him. Before they knew it they were entwined on top of the deck box, oblivious to everything around them.

For the next half-hour they explored every part of each other. Laying there on the deck of the boat, anchored in a beautiful lagoon, was about as good as it could get.

Treb was happy he’d found someone who he could be with and feel comfortable, and Chris had been living in Bahia Navidad doing physical therapy since she’d broken up with her jerk boyfriend. She was enjoying this as much as he was!

She’d been living in Phoenix and working in physical therapy while she helped but her boyfriend thru Med School. It was the same story you hear a dozen times. He became a doctor, and she dissappeard from his view. After all, now there were dozens of nurses he could have at his beck and call.

About a year before he got his Doctorate they had gone to Mexico for a vacation, and they had 141

Grand Bay the best time while they were visiting Bahia Navidad.

So that was where she went when she moved out. It turned out to be one of the best moves she’d ever made. They needed physical therapists down there badly, and she wanted out of Phoenix badly.

But most of the men she met were tourists.

She wasn’t really into one-night flings, so she’d avoided any entangelments, but when she first met Treb she was attracted to him, and when she’d learned he lived on a boat, there in Navadad, well, let’s just say she had found something interesting to persue.

And persue it she did!

They started slow, but it wasn’t long before both of them were in a frenzy. All clothing came off, and let’s just say they did their best to work their way thru the Kama Sutra. One position after the next, neither of them want to come to a climax fast. They both worked to prolong the lovemaking until it was just impossible to stop.

After they’d made love they both dove into the cool water of the lagoon to cool off. It was about 80 degrees out that evening, but they had both worked up a sweat. The cooling water was almost another climax it felt so good.

A half-hour later they were back on the aft deck bench, sipping on a couple of Marquarita’s Treb had made below with his blender.

“I’d like very much to ask you to stay on the boat tonight, but we have something we have to do to try and get Chuck’s wife Anne back. I have 142

Grand Bay to meet the guys at 1AM and we are heading south.

She looked at him and smiled.

“1 AM?” “Yeah, that’s what they said.”

“It’s just a little before midnight right now, right?”

Treb looked at his watch.

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“So, if I am figuring right, we have about an hour?” and she got this sensuous look on her face.

Treb did not need to be asked twice.

He stood and took off his T-Shirt and shorts, smiling.

“You mean something like this?”

Chris stood, and dropped her shift she was wearing, and they both stood in the moonlight,

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enjoying each others bodies, first by site, and then a bit more amorous.

Chapter Twenty Six Treb, Chuck and Dick were back at Piper’s. It was closed, but Piper had returned a few minutes earlier and met the boys there.

“I wonder where Curt is.” said Dick. “I was sure he wanted to participate.”

“If he doesn’t show up in the next few minutes we will have to leave without him. He’s done enough for us already. No need for him to get into trouble. He’s got a wife to worry about.” said Treb.

A few minutes later they heard a dinghy pulling up, and it was Curt, and his wife Jill was 144

Grand Bay with him. They did not look happy.

What’s up Curt?” Treb asked.

“Well, it looks like we are in this as deep as you are.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Treb.

“Just after we got back to the boat we were approached by a panga. There were two men in it, and they just pulled along side, said something about us keeping our mouths shut, and then they tossed us this.”

And they held out a necklace. A silver chain with a small heart with an anchor on it.

“What’s that?” asked Treb.

“That,” said Curt, “is our daughter Melisa’s necklace. I gave it to her for her 16th borthday.

She was flying in to stay with us for the next couple weeks.”

“You mean..” Treb started, but then could not finish the sentence.

“Yeah, it looks like they have her too.”

Treb thought for a second.

“Damn, this should never have happened. All you did was try to help us, and now you’re in it as deep as we are. Dude, we are so sorry this has happened.”

Curt looked at the three men, and then got a very wicked smile on his face.

“We are in for this.” Curt said, and Jill nodded her head and looked as determined as he did.

“Whatever it takes, we are in. If they are holding Anne down south, the chances are they have Melisa ther as well. Let’s go get ‘em!”

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The hummer was humming! The road from Bahia Navidad to Cuyutlan was extremely clear at that time of the morning. They were on the road by 1:30AM, and they were soon buzzing down Highway 200, heading south.

It was a good road and the road split just before Cuyutlan, so they turned off the, bypass, 200D, and continued straight onto 200, which would take them thru the town.

Cuyutlan is a typical small Mexican town. It sit’s on the Pacific Coast. You enter the town at the North end, and it’s only about 2 miles to the south side of town.

The main road is about 5 blocks from the beach, which is very popular. For about three miles after you leave the village heading south you find a lot of small beach houses along the black-sand beach. Inland there are a lot of farms.

But once you get a few miles past the village the beach houses stop, and the swamps begin.

At the very end there is a turtle recue called El Torugario Ecologico. They rescue turtles and nurse them back to health.

For hundreds of years Turtle meat was a staple in Mexican homes. In 1982 they realized that they made a lot more money with tourism if there were more turtles, so they made them an endangered species, and they are now protected.

Beyond the Turtle recue the road ends, and the beach becomes pristeen and unused. This is where Charlie & Frank had set up their farm, 146

Grand Bay where there were no prying eye’s.

There were very few locals there, and they were soon “brought into the fold” with gifts of food, clothing and money. What they were being paid for was their silence, and it was easy money.

The Hummer reached the end of the paved road, and started bouncing over the small dirt road that continued south.

The road was rough, but you could see it was well traveled. After about a half mile they hit a small road that went from the beach inland. They figured this had to be the road they used to travel and load the Marijuana and Cocaine on boats.

They pulled the Hummer into a glade of low trees and bushes and made sure it could not be seen.

Treb jumped out and opened the bed cover exposing the weaponry that Piper had included with the use of the truck.

Treb grabbed an AK-47 and took a half-dozen clips. Chuck did the same, as did Curt. They also tucked a couple Glock 9’s into their belts, and added a couple more clips for them as well.

Dick, being into martial arts, prefered a more civilized weapon. His hands. He did have a custom made Boye Knife, hend-made by John Boye. It was crafted from manganese and had a flat spine with a sharp tip and well shaped edge.

The handle was wrapped with a nylon line that made it easy to hold on to. It fit into a custom sheath that mountd on his belt with the belt-line instead of hanging down.

147

Grand Bay He also had a set of 6 throwing knives that he kept on special pockets sewn into his “Oahu Satet Prison” levi jacket he always wore.

They were ready.

They started down the road, and after about a quaretr mile they saw lights ahead. They went into the underbrush and moved with more stealth.

It looked like they had made the right plan.

There was no desceranble movement. It looked like the place was aleep.

On the left there was a fairly large building that looked like the headquarters. A couple of small outbuildings were scxattered about the yard. Some looked like tool sheds, others bunkhouses.

“We need to figure out where they might be holding her.” said Chuck.

“Or if this is even the right place.” Chimed in Treb.

They all got quite for a bit, contemplating how they could ascertain if this was indeed where they were keeping Anne.

Dick said, “Wait here.” and ducked into the underbrush.

They watched as he headed towards the outbuilding thru the brush.

Dick had been in martial arts pretty much his whole life. Being trained by his father while living in Hawaii, he was soon at the top of his field in Jeet Kun Do and Escrima. He had also been trained while he was in Viet Nam. He was assigned to LRrp (A long-range reconnaissance 148

Grand Bay patrol, or LRRP (pronounced “lurp”). A small, well-armed reconnaissance team that patrols deep in enemy-held territory. He would train a small group of 10 local fighters, and then they would be parachuted behind enemy lines.

The over the next couple weeks they would work their way back towards their own lines, causeing as much damage as they could.

Dick had done over a dozen deployments while he was in-country. On most of them he would be the only one to make it back to their own lines.

During his deployment he’d earned three Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star. But the only things that meant anything to him were the photos of all the men he had srved with that lined his office back at the IMB Acadamy. They were all dead.

He was gone abou 15 minutes, which seemed like a lifetime to those waiting in the bush.

“It looks like, if they do have her, it’s that last building to the right.”

They looked and saw a non-descript building with a piece of plywood nailed over a window.

“I figure they put the playwood there to hold her. All the other buildings have those wooden bars. That’s probably all they need for security way out here.

Chuck stood up and started walking that way.

“Hold it Chuck!” said Treb. “We need to figure out a game plan before just walking in there.”

‘I’m not waiting. If she is in there she is scared to death. I want to get her out to where she is safe, and I am gonna do it now!”

149

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Dick chimed in with, “First and foremost we want to set up a distraction. If I am correct, there is probably at least one person on guard overnight.

We can’t see ‘em now, but if this is the place, I can guarantee there is a gaurd. So let’s figue the best way to distract him.”

They got quiet for a minute. Then Curt chimed in.

“How about we have someone run back to the Hummer and grab a bunch of the ammo. We can start a fire North of the main building. That would take attention away from the building that Dick figures she is in, which is furthest South.”

Dick thought about it for a minute, and then came up with a plan. His years in combat in Viet Nam stood him well for what they were about to do.

He made some improvments on the plan, and they started to make their way towards the buildings, taking cover in bushes and trees whenever possible.

Dick had run back to the Hummer and gotten about 500 rounds of mixed ammo. Cartridges, shotgun shells, even a few handfulls of .22 shells.

He headed to a spot a little north of the main building, and gathered up some dry leaves and branches, making a nice little campfire. He didn’t light it until he saw Treb give him the high sign from where he was tucked in behind the third building south of the headquarter building.

150

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And he was there, asleep in a chair leaned back against the building next to the entrance.

Chapter Twenty Seven After the disasterous meeting with Treb and the crew, Charlie decided they should Just take out the four of the troublemakers, and then head south and take care of the two remaining hostages.

It might cause a little concern when the owners of the boats in the lagoon went missing, but that would blow over a lot easier than if they were to talk.

Frank was in full agreement ever since they had the meeting and things went astray, This time they decided to take care of things themselves. First of all because they didn’t really 152

Grand Bay trust any of their underlings to take em out, but mainly becaue they just plan felt like killing the four assholes who’d been messing with them.

They were not used to the dissrespect!

Instead of taking the 20’ dinghy, they broke out the smaller 12 foot AB Inflatable with the Honda outboard on it. It was the quietest boat they had.

They decided they’d wait until they would be sleeping. Like about 3 in the morning, to take care of things.

At 3AM, much to their surprise, no one was on any of the boats. First they went to Lost Soul, and it was empty. Then Mirage, also empty.

They made their way over to Namahana, and there was a light on in the main saloon.

“Ah,” Said Charlie, “They must be there!”

They pulled quietly along side, and looked in the porthole.

But there was no one ther either.

It seems that Chris had come over with treb before they left, and she & Jill dcided they couldn’t sleep, so they went ashore, over to Piper’s, to hang out until the boys returned.

As Charlie & Frank motored back to the marina the thought hit them both at the same time.

‘Could they have found out where we were keeping the girls/” Frank asked.

Charlie thought for a second.

“I can’t think of why else all of them are gone.

Call and see if they showed up there.”

“Uh, we can’t call.” Said Frank.

“Why the hell not?” asked Charlie.

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Grand Bay “Because we decided they should not have cell phones, and we set up a radio so we could call them from the boat!”

“Let’s get back to the boat and radio them as fast as possible.” and he wicked on the Honda outboard and headed back into the Grand Bay Marina.

“Gustalvo, Gustalvo, this is Much ado, do you copy?” Charlie repeted over and over into the VHF mic.

But no answer.

“I’ll bet those idiots turn off the rdio at night so as not to be botherd” Said Frank.

“I’ll give ‘em something to be bothered by!” said Charlie, and he was mad!

“Fuck it. Get the crew up! We’re gonna take the boat down. We can be there by sunup.Let’s MOVE! Withn twenty minuts Much ado was alive with the engines warming up, and the dock lines being dropped.

They worked their way out of the marina, and as soon as they were in open water they put the

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pedal to the metal. Full throttle took them up to 35 knots! They should get there just before sunrise.

Chapter Twenty Eight Melisa was trying to get her head around what was going on. All she knew was, she was all ready for a week or two at a Spa, and now she was sitting tied up with a hood over her head, somewhere in Mexico, and Anne, who she knew since she was a kid was there as well.

She shook her head and could feel the hood was pretty loose. She shook her head a few times, and it started to shift. It didn’t take long until it started to shift off her head.

When the hood fell off she could see where she was, and she saw Anne tied up across the 155

Grand Bay shed from her.

She looked around and checked her bindings.

They’d tied her pretty well. There was little to no play in the cord they’d tied her with.

“Can you move?” asked Anne.

Melissa tried moving her arms and legs.

“No, I can’t loosen the rope, but I think I can worm my way over by you. If I can get behind you, maybe I could reach your ropes and try to untie you.”

She rolled over onto her side and started to crawl with snail-like movements towards where Anne was tied up.

It took a bit of effort, but she managed to get behind Anne. Sitting back to back, they tried to reach their bindings.

Anne was able to touch the ropes that had Melissas hands tied. Over the next few minutes she as able to loosen the knot, and soon Melisa’s hands were free.

She reached down and untied her legs. Then she rolled over and untied Anne.

When they were free they hugged for a long time, while Anne expained what had happened in Grand Bay. Anne said, “We need to figure out how to get out of here.”

She went on to explain how she’d gotten out earlier, but they caught her.

“I know they have a guard outside the door, so we need to be quiet.” She continued.

For the next few minutes they looked around 156

Grand Bay the shack to see what they might find to help them get free.

“You have any idea what time it is? It would be best if we can get out while it’s still dark. Once they are up and about it will be a lot harder.”

“I think it’s just before dawn.” Said Melisa, “it looks like it’s starting to get a little lighter outside.”

“Okay, then we gotta move fast.” Said Anne.

She explained how she’d used the ropes to pry the wooden bars out of the window frame.

“They covered it with plywood now. Not sure how we can pry that open, with a the guard right outside.”

The shack was empty, just a dirt floor and not much else.

They walked over to the window and pushed on the plywood. It was very secure. It would take something pretty substantial to pry it open, and there was nothing they could see to make it happen. ............

In the meantime Dick was all set with his distraction, and he made a timer by making a path of dried leaves and twigs about three feet long.

He figured it would take a couple minutes for the fire to reach the cartridges and start the fun.

He made his way back to where Treb and the others were waiting.

“Okay, it’s all set. In about a minute or two all Hell is going to break out. Let’s get in position.”

Treb & Dick started towards the main building.

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Using the cover of the shrubs, just in case someone was awake, they had almost reached the shack when the fun started.

All of a sudden it sounded like the woods were filled with guns. The heat of the fire started exploding the ammunition.

Dick was in the bushes with his AK pointed at the front door. Treb was just outside the back door in position as well.

The first three men out the front door went down hard. Two more came out doing a tuck & roll, with their handguns blazing. They aimed where the heard the shots coming from, but by then Dick had moved to the right, and started shooting again.

He was just slamming in the second clip when he heard shooting from the back of the building.

He hoped Treb was ready for them.

Treb dropped the first two men out the door, and waited until he was sure no more were coming out, as he jumped up and charged the door.

At the same time Dick saw there were no more men coming out the front door, and he did the same.

Chuck came around the south side of the shack the girls were being held in, seeing the startled guard wake up and jump out of the chair he’d been sleeping in. He saw Chuck come around the corner and raised his rifle, but before he could get a shot off Curt had him in the sights of his Glock, 158

Grand Bay and dropped him.

Inside the girls heard the shooting. They didn’t have any idea of who, what or why there was shooting, so they ducked into a corner, huddling.

The door slammed open, and Anne saw Chuck fall thru the door, hitting the ground in a shooting position, looking rapidly around for more shooters, and then seeing her.

Curt was right behind him, and when he saw Melisa he ran to her and picked her up in his arms.

“Dad,” was all she could say, as she broke into tears, hugging him and clinging to him.

In all there had been about 8 men they’d found there. Dick & Treb made their way to the shack, smiling when they saw the girls both hugging Curt & Chuck.

The feeling of accomplishment was dashed when they heard gunfire coming out of the woods.

Bullets were hitting the shack and they dove for cover.

Dick crawled over to where there was a small crack in the building. He looked out, and didn’t like what he saw.

Frank and Charlie had made better time than expected. They’d arrived just before sunup. They armed the 12 man crew and headed toward the farm.

Unable to contact the crew by radio, they figured they had the radio off, and Frank figured he’d kill one or two of them so they never did that again.

They heard the “distraction” as they were 159

Grand Bay landing on the beach.

“Okay, I guess there’s no doubt they found the place.” Said Charlie, and he was not happy.

“Okay, let’s take care of this!” he said, and he headed toward the farm, followed closely by Frank and the crew.

They came out of the trees just as they saw two men run into the shack.

“That’s them! Let’s level the shcack!” Shouted Frank, as he started fireing at the building.

As soon as Dick saw who it was, he hollard at everyone to get down!

“I don’t know how they found us, but it looks like they brought a whole new army with ‘em.”

He thought for a minute, and then his instincts took over.

He crawled over to the door and signaled Treb to follow.

The two of them made their way to the west side of the building, indicating for Chuck & Curt to take the girls to the east side.

“We’ll try to take their fire on the west side of the building. You guys get the girls and wait until I give you the signal, and then make your way to the woods, while we try to suck these guys into a little firefight over this way.”

All of a sudden Dick felt like he was at home again. All his life he’d trained for times like this, and his reactions took over almost without any thought on his part.

Firing at the group of men who were charging across the field, he chose a couple men who were 160

Grand Bay on the south end of the group. He didn’t shoot to kill. He aimed for their legs, and both men went down that screams of pain.

As he’d hoped, some of the others saw them go down, and went to try and help them. This distracted attention to that side of the field, and Dick signaled Chuck to make his break.

The four of them, Chuck, Anne, Curt and Melisa dashed behind the small shack located a few meters to the north-east.

Now Treb and Dick felt a lot more comfortable.

They were used to firefights, and now that they didn’t have to worry about the others they could get down to business.

“Dick, make your way to the North end of the building. I’ll stay here. Let’s take a three count, and then see if we can’t even the odds a little.”

“You got it. On three try and take a couple out on the north. I’ll do the same working from the south.”

At the count they both peeked out from their corners, and four men fell in seconds.

They ducked back in behind the building.

“Did you get a count on how many there are?” asked Treb.

“Looked like about eight to ten. What’s your count?”

“That seems about right. Let’s see if we can’t reduce that a little,” he smiled, “are you ready?”

“You bet. I owe these guys for fuckin’ with Lost Soul. Wanna try that one more time? On three?

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Treb started the count.

“Uno, dos, three!” and he ducked low, laying on his belly looking around the corner of the building.

The group had moved closer, and were tucked into some bushes.

But Treb could make out two on his end, and dropped one with a shot to the head. The second one he shot on the arm, so maybe one of his cohorts would give him a hand.

“Looks like we just have five or six more to play with. How you wanna handle this?” Asked Treb, deffering to Dicks years of experience.

“Let’s have some fun with these guys.” he said, with a smile on his face.

Actually Dick felt more alive at the time than he had in many years. When he was in country he always felt safe, as he knew he had brothers watching his back.

That was why he’d started riding all those years ago. When he was with his brothers he knew he had people watching his back.

“Wanna play some Tombstone?” Asked Treb.

Dick thought for a second, and then got a big smile on his face.

“Tombstone it is.”

They both stood up, each on his one end of the buisling.

“One,” said Treb “Two” Echoed dick.

“Three” they both said at the same time, 162

Grand Bay jumping out from their respective sides of the building, standing in the traditional stance of a gunfighter in the old west.

There were only two men remaining out there, and Dick & Treb fired at the same time, each taking down one.

“Where’d the others go?” Asked Treb.

“I’ll bet they are heading back to the boat.

That had to be how they got here.” said Dick, and they started heading in the direction the group had come from.

They made their way into the denser part of the trees, but couldn’t see where they’d gone.

Dick started tracking thm, and soon it was obious which way they were headed.

To the beach probably to board the boat.

Just as they were approaching the beach a shot rang out from behind a tree. Charlie had hidden there to take them out if they were followed.

The bullet hit Dick in the shoulder and he went down hard.

Charlie smiled seeing Dick go down. He looked to where Frank was tucked in, to see if he’d gotten the other guy. He didn’t but the man had dropped behind a downed tree, where he was shielded.

Frank and Charlie ran to the dinghy on the beach, pushed it into the surf and headed out to Much Ado. Treb had seen Dick go down, and ran to his side.

“Where are you hit? he asked.

163

Grand Bay “Well, let’s see” said Dick. “There’s blood comin’ outta my shoulder, so I guess I wasn’t shot in the ass” he laughed.

Treb knew his freind was okay. As long as he coujld laugh about it, all was good.

“Yeah, one hole in yer butt is enough. How bad is it?”

“Not bad. Hurts like hell, but I think it went right thru. Did you get yours?”

“No,” Treb responded, “I got kinda distracted when you got yer ass shot.”

“I told you, it wasn’t my ass, it’s my shoulder.” he laughed.

“Well, we’d better get moving. Your screwing around here getting shot has kinda messed up our plan to bury those guys. Now we gotta go swimming! You gonna be able to swim with that arm?”

“Mearly a flesh wound” dick smiled, quoting from his favorite TV series, Monty Python.

As they made their way across the beach watching the dinghy make it’s way to the boat they tried to figure out what their next move should be.

Standing in the surf, they watched as they saw Frank raise the anchor while Charlie tied the dinghy to their stern rail.

Any thoughts of swimming out to catch them were fading fast, as Much ado slowly turned and headed out to sea.

Treb & Dick figured there was no need to go swimming now so they headed back to meet up 164

Grand Bay with Chuck & Curt to try and figure a plan.

They figured there was no way the boat would be going back to Grand Bay. On the drive back to Bahia Navidad Curt introduced Melisa to Dick & Treb and told her how they had met.

By the time they’d reached their boats they were exhausted.

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Everyone returned to their own boat, and they slept the sleep of the dead.

Chapter Twenty Nine Val Strasser was sitting at his desk in Langley when his phone rang. It was his old friend Dick Bondano calling from Mexico.

Dick explained what had happened the previous day, and asked if there was any way Val could find out where Much Ado had headed after it left the beach.

After he hung up he called an old friend at the Department of the Navy asking if they could help find the boat.

Treb & Dick had let him know that this was personal, and they didn’t want to start an 166

Grand Bay international incident, but at the same time, they didn’t want the bad guys to get away with kidnapping and drug smuggeling.

Val knew that Dick & Treb were proficient in dealing with people like this, as they had worked with him once or twice before.

He said he’d get back to them as soon as he found out anything.

In the meantime they had boats to repair. After a quick trip to the ferreteria they had bought up all the two-part waterproof epoxy there was in the town.

They decided it would be easier if they worked together on the repairs.

It took most of the day to put a good enough repair on Mirage to keep her floating enough to get her up to the yard in Manzanillo.

Lost Soul was a little easier, as the hole was smaller. As the sun was setting they all met at Club alcatraz for dinner and a few cocktails. they felt they’d earned it.

Treb was in the middle of giving Dick a bunch of shit about getting shot when Dick’s cell phone rang.

It was Val in Washington. His call to the Department of the Navy had paid off. The boat Much Ado had been spoted doing about 15 knots, heading west, away from the Mexican Coast.

Val figured they were probably heading way offshore so they could dissapear, and then enter the US from an enexpected direction.

After the call was disconnected they started to 167

Grand Bay try and figure a way to finally make these guys get their comupence for the trouble they’d caused.

Not only that, but no one wanted the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of pounds of cocaine to enter the US. Of the three boats they had, only Namahana was undamged. By the time dinner was over and they were sitting in Piper’s they’d come up with a possible plan to try and stop them.

In the morning they would motor the three boats over to the they yard in Manzanillo.

They would drop off Lost Soul and Mirage to be repaired, and then the girls would stay in a hotel there to oversee the repairs, while the guys jumped on Namahana, and headed straight up the coast to try and track down Much ado.

Of course Much Ado was much faster than Namahana. being an auxilary sailboat she was capale ot maintaining a 7-8 knot speed, as opposed to Much asdo’s 35 knots. But what they didn’t know was Much Ado was running low on fuel, and their speed had been reduced to 15 knots to try and conserve fuel.

Namahana’s advantage was they didn’t have to try and stay invisble. They could maneuver any way they wanted, while Much Ado would be restricted by fuel consumption and trying to stay unseen.

They set sail after leaving Manzanillo, sailing north by northwest along the coast. The winds were good, and sailing as tight as they could to the wind they were making 8-9 knots, or about 168

Grand Bay 200 miles a day.

It would take about 7 days to get up to San Diego, but they figured Much Ado would be heading way out to stay away from prying eye’s.

When they hit Cabo San Lucas they stopped for a day to refuel. They spent a quiet night there. They went to see Mike Grezanitch at the Roadhouse Cantina, their regular hangout in Cabo. Mike had moved there from the LA area over 40 years earlier, and had the best cruiser’s hangout in town.

After a cordial evening among old freinds they heade back to the marine and Namahana.

As they boarded the phone rang in Dick pocket. It was Val in Washington. The Navy had been tracking Much Ado from their military satellites. They had gone out to sea almostn 500 miles before slowely making a turn north, and heading towards the states.

Their speed had deminished to about 10 knots, and it was decided they were probably running out of fuel and had cut down the thier best econmy for fuel.

Treb grabbed his dividers and charts and started trying to figure a point where their coarses might intersect.

It didn’t look good. No matter how he figuired it, Much Ado would get into a port in the US long before Namahana could manage, even at top speed.

There was no doubt that Val could have them intercepted so the drugs didn’t hit the streets, but 169

Grand Bay The four men on the boat were not interested in just having them arrested. They wanted a little payback.

In the morning they untied from the marina in Cabo San Lucas and started the trek north, after heading around the bottom of Baja California. It would be a 700 mile beat to weather if all thing swent unchanged.

As they started making a little north clearing the headlands they got a small boost from a southerly that started blowing. Soon they had all the sail up and they were making a good 9-10 knots. For awhile they almost forgot about where they were headed and why. They were having a great sail! ............

Meanwhile, about a thousand miles west of Ensenada Charlie & Frank were changing course from North to north by north, north east. They figured that should put them about 150 miles off of San Diego in a few days. They figured they were probably invisible by now, having gone almost 1000 miles out to sea.

But they were worried about fuel. There are no gas stations out at sea, and they were running low. Charlie monitored the throttle so they were doing about 10 knots.

When they were doing full speed at about 35 knots they were burning about 130 gallons an hour. He figured he’d better turn towards the coast when they’d gotten down to about 700 gallons of fuel.

170

Grand Bay He also turned down the throttles, knowing he’d burn less fuel at 10 knots than he would at 20 or 30.

For the next day the headed directly towards the boarder between Mexico and the US. At 10 knots he felt pretty secure they’d make it in.

What they didn’t know was they were being watched every inch of the way by the US Government. And their position was being given

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daily to the Namahana as she steamed (and sailed) north.

Chapter Thirty They were about 50 miles off the California Coast when they made contact with Much Ado. They’d gotten coordinates from Val and had modified their coarse to intersect with their coarse as they approached the coast.

They didn’t want to connect with them any closer than 20 miles, as they’d be in US waters then, and what they had in mind was not exactly what you might call “legal.”

It wasn’t easy, but they finally made radar contact when they were about 25 miles apart.

When at sea the horizon is about 13 miles off.

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Grand Bay Namahana sailed across the intersection point so Treb and Dick could jump into the dinghy, while Namahana sailed on.

It was a little before dawn when Much ado was coming into sight. The boat was not using it’s running lights, but in the dark the boat could be made out by it’s silouette against the black sky.

Charlie was on watch as they motored towards the coast. Frank had gone below to get some sleep a few hours earlier.

Treb & Dick sat in the dinghy hoping they could not be seen. The had a Honda outboard motor that was very quiet. As Much Ado passed them a hundred yards off, they could not be seen.

As soon as the boat had passed Treb started the motor, and they motored towards the back of the boat.

At 10 knots it was pretty easy to maintain the same speed as the big boat with the dinghy. If they’d been going much faster it might not have worked. They did have a Plan “B” thought. If the boat had been going 20 or 30 knots their plan ws to drop a long piece of polyporpylene rope in front of the boat. It floats, and would foul their propellers.

But they didn’t want to do that, as there would be no way to bring the boat in under it’s own power if the props were fouled.

As they pulled up to the stern of the megayacht Treb put the bow right against their sternrail holding the throttle open. Dick jumped off the dinghy onto the fantail, and secured the painter 173

Grand Bay to a cleat.

Treb raised the outboard out of the water, and the dinghy fell in to be towed behind the megayacht.

They kept low as they made their way towards the bridge. They were creeping up the starboard side of the companionway, and soon saw Charlie sitting at the controls.

“Do you see the other guy?” Treb whispered to Dick?

“No. It looks like he’s all alone in there.” replied Dick. “I’ll go see if I can find him. You keep an eye on this one.”

Dick moved stealthily along the companionway, and then worked his way down into the bowels of the ship, not knowing whereto look first.

Treb moved up the companionway to the entrance to the bridge. Just as he was about to take out his Glock he heard a sound from his right. As he turned the world went black.

“Hey, Charlie, look what I found!” Frank said, as he held hi glock against the back of Treb’s head.

Charlie was shocked.

“How?, wha.?. where did he come from?”

“Well, without knowing for sure, I’d say from another boat? You were on watch. Did you see anything of another boat?”

Charlie scratched his head and squinted looking out the windows of the bridge.

“No. There were no boats. I’ve been watching!”

“Well, you must not have been watching very 174

Grand Bay well, as there is this 300 pound pile of flesh right here about to put a hurt on your ass!”

Charlie was incredulous.

“No way? How could..” “ I can’t answer that.” said Frank, “BUT. I can pretty much be sure where there is one there are more? Keep an eye on this one, while I search out his companions.” and with that he took Trebs Glock out of his hand, turned and headed below decks.

Dick had gone thru most of the cabins to no avail, but he did hear something, so he turned and went back towards the bridge. Working his way slowely back up to the main deck.

He was entering the second deck when he heard footsteps. He hung back, ducking down next to a settee in the crew area. Just as he did he saw a foot coming down the stairs, followed by another. Someone was headed below, and as he had not heard any commotion from above decks, he figured this must be the other guy. So they were right that only two men had escaped.

Dick stayed crouched next to the setee until Frank was almost even with him. Then he stood slowely and dropped him with a spin-kick. Before the man could recover he got behind him and got him into a chock-hold.

“Okay, here’s the deal” he said quietly, “there are a couple ways this could go. One way would be you hollar out right now. That could be a good thing for you, but not so good for me. So I would have to do this,” and he tightened his grip on the 175

Grand Bay choke-hold until Frank could no longer breath, “or not.”

Frank was quiet.

“Now, let’s go see what your buddy up on the wheel has to say.”

With that he took the butt of his Glock and made an indentation in his skull. He watched the man drop.

Once again in stealth mode, he made his way back up to the bridge. Sure enough, Charlie was holding Treb’s Glock in his hand, pointed at him.

Dick started to work his way around to the port side of the boat, so he could come in the port side of the bridge and surprise the man.

But he didn’t need to do that. All of a sudden Treb reached out and slapped the gun from the man’s hand, and punched him with enough power behind it to knock the man off his feet and up onto the control panel. When he did he fell against the throttle, and the boat went into full throttle. The

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enertia knocking Charlie off the contral panel and onto the floor.

Chapter Thirty One Curt and Chuck both nearly jumped out of the seats when they heard the radio call.

“Namahana, namahana, This is Much ado. Do you copy?”

Curt grabbed for the mic. “Much Ado, This is Namahana, Go Up?” They both turned to channel 69.

“Namahana, this is Much Ado. Can you give me your lat & long?”

He fumbed for a minute and then read his position off the GPS. “We are at 32, 07.53 degrees north and 177

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Roger, Got it. It looks like we should be able to rendezvous at your location in about 3 hours.

Is everything good on your end?”

“Roger that. All is well and good. How are things with you.”

“Well, other than two very unhappy passengers, all is good. Actually this is a prtty comfortable boat. I’m thinking maybe it’s time for a power boat!” he joked. Everyone knew Treb would never give up Lost Soul. It was his soul.

“Okay, we’ll see you in a few.”

They were about 100 miles off the coast when the boats met. Treb pulled alongside Namahana and they side-tied the two boats together. ............

Chris was waiting for Treb and the crew when the boats pulled up to the San Diego Customs Dock. Anne and Melisa were standing next to her.

They tied up the boat and everyone started talking at once.

They walked up to the Bali Hai resteraunt on the end of Shelter Island and grabbed a high-top.

For the next few hours they sat happily munching on coconut shrimp and sweet & sour ribs, while enjoying some very strong marquarita’s.

They had tickets to fly out in a couple hours, back to Manzanillo, where their boats were waiting, repairs all taken care of. ............

Tabitha Lincoln, news journalist from San Diego Channel 5 turned to face the camera.

178

Grand Bay “So no one really seems to know what happened, but this boat” she turned and looked across from the boat she was standing on, showing Much Ado being towed into San Diego, “was found adrift a hundred miles off the coast, with over 1000 kilo’s of heroin.”

She paused for effect. “and the biggest question is, how did the two men on-board end up being tied to the ship’s wheel, with the autopilot bringing them into San Diego Bay?” The scene shifted to two men being led off the boat in handcuffs and being loaded into a Harbor Police Boat by office Will Chester.

“I guess we will never know what happened.”

XXX

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Starboard Attitude

By Bob Bitchin

This is the sequel to The Sailing life. Once again, taking small vignettes from life at sea, and bringing forth a lesson to be learned.

Excerpt from Starboard Attitude Why is it, when I look up at my flag halyard and see the Jolly Roger flying proud in the wind, I want to smile? What’s up with that?

Every day we hear of ships off the coast of Somalia being boarded by pirates. I find myself taking offence at the use of that term.

They aren’t pirates. They are thieves, terrorists or hijackers, but they are not pirates.

No, to me, pirates are a romantic notion of a lifestyle best portrayed by Captain Jack 180

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The fact that real pirates stole, killed, raped and murdered has no place in my dream world. To me they were adventurers.

It’s very much like the image of the Old West.

The heroes we have from Dodge City and the cattle drives on the Chisholm Trail were, for the most part, murderers and bad guys. But after a couple hundred years, they have become something else.

Yes, I know pirates were not nice people.

But the fact remains, and I can’t explain why, when I see another boat with a skull & crossbones flying from the yardarm, I feel a kinship. It’s kind of like meeting a kindred spirit; someone who looks at life the same way I do.

It’s funny, because when I meet someone with no sense of humor (I really try my best to avoid people like that, but as you know, sometimes it’s not that easy!), I find it difficult to justify my admiration for thieves, cutthroats and murderers.

But none-the-less, when I look up and see the Jolly Roger smiling from my flag halyard, it makes me smile. It makes me feel good, and when I am lucky enough to be around a few hundred people of like mind, well, it just plain feels like home.

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The perennial bestseller from the man behind Latitudes & Attitudes is now available in paperback! This is an exciting and hilarious account of Bob Bitchin’s extraordinary adventures with his wife, Jody, as they circumnavigate the globe aboard a magnificent staysail ketch. Along the way, everything that can go wrong does, but throughout it all Bitchin’s irreverence and humor persevere, as does his passion for the sailing lifestyle.

Chapter (partial): It was 1978 and I was sitting on the edge of my bunk on my Cal 28, which I lived aboard, in my slip in Port Royal. I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited! The tall ship Stonewitch was due in sometime during the 182

Grand Bay day, and when it arrived I would be moving aboard the 70’ square rigged tops’l schooner for my first long distance cruise.

I had a dream that had been implanted in my feeble mind from reading “Landfalls in Paradise” by Earl Hinz: landing in tropical locales, anchoring in beautiful harbors and living a true adventure. That was my dream, and it was about to come true.

But the time passed slower than molasses in January! Each second ticked by and seemed like an hour. The three hours that passed took at least a week.

But Stonewitch did arrive. I did move aboard, and we did sail south. The adventure was even more exciting than I had dreamed it. I recall standing watch as the tops’l filled with air in the early morning hours and then going below and pouring a cup of strong coffee from the old battered coffee pot that sat on the alcohol stove. I think the dream realization hit me first while sitting at the nav station entering my position, course and bearing along with notes on my watch.

I was truly living my dream

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Biker to Sailor

By Bob Bitchin The mid-70s through the 80s were a unique time in King Harbor, Redondo Beach, CA. Boating in general was at a peak and there was a long waiting list for slips.

There was a huge liveaboard community both in the marinas and at the mooring field in the outer harbor. Everybody pretty much knew everyone and it was a very social lifestyle.

The liveaboard community crossed every demographic and you became friends with people you’d probably never meet if it wasn’t for the common denominator of boating. Old, young and everything in between, doctors, lawyers, 184

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No one really cared about what you did; it was all about boats and life aboard.

Once we shed our business attire and we were in our boat clothes we were all the same. Everyone blended in. Almost...

Bob Bitchin did not blend, nor did he make any attempt to. His sheer size made him stand out, but he was also obviously a biker. A rather scary, I think I’ll cross the street to avoid making contact looking biker, with more tattoos than I’d ever seen before. He dressed all in black and wore some very menacing looking jewelry with spikes that would take your eye out. We didn’t know what he did for a living and weren’t sure we wanted to.

Needless to say, he did not look like a boater, let alone a sailor.

We got to know him when our friend, Guy Spencer, bought Bob’s boat Outlaw.

Bob had just bought the first Lost Soul and was already planning to go cruising, as were many of us. He became one of the liveaboard community and hung out with the rest of us talking boats, cruising equipment, provisioning, etc. Despite appearances he was friendly, funny, smart, 185

Grand Bay and he really was a sailor. He was one of us.

All of us liked to cruise over to Catalina Island and we frequently ran into Bob over there on Lost Soul. On one occasion a lot of us were anchored in Cat Harbor on the back side of the Isthmus to celebrate the New Year. On New Year’s morning my husband Mike and I were taking an early morning dinghy/coffee cruise. Bob saw us and waved us aboard.

After some chit chat Bob decided we needed some music and went below to turn on the stereo. Soon, at quite a high volume, some odd but strangely familiar noises started coming from the on-deck speakers. Moans, groans and heavy breathing had heads popping out of hatches around the anchorage. Then hatches started slamming shut. Instead of turning on the music Bob had turned on a sound recording that he’d made with two people loudly making love. Half of me wanted to hide and the other half was laughing too hard to move. Blend in?

Nope.

For many different reasons, by the end of the ‘80s life in King Harbor was changing a lot. There were restrictions on the number of liveaboards and lots of people moved on to a more “normal” 186

Grand Bay lifestyle. Some of us have hung in there and some new people have joined our ranks. It’s still a great way to live because for those of us here, regardless of what we do (or don’t do) for a living, we’re all boaters. We all blend in.

The biker black has been slowly replaced with Hawaiian shirts, biker boots evolved into sandals. Appearance-wise, he can sort of pass as a boater these days, and the crazy shenanigans (there have been manyo) are a little less “in your face.” But blend in? No way.

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A Brotherhood of Outlaws

By Bob Bitchin

A Brotherhood of Outlaws is a novel, and has been called the most relevant look at the outlaw bikers culture in the 70s & 80s era ever written. It was initially published by Bentree House Publishing, and is currently in its 7th printing. It was translated into German and was a bestseller in Germany.

Excerpt from A Brotherhood of Outlaws I glanced up from my speedometer and saw the broadcaster eyeballing down on me. Hell, I hope the pack is centered. I would hate to go to all this horsecrap and 188

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My fatbob Harley was running as good as it had ever run and the feel of the vibrating power came right through the handlebars. All I could think about was the snake behind me. I looked into my rearview mirror and once again my heart beat a little harder.

Jesus H. Christ, there is no better feeling in the world than leading 30,000 bikes down the road. Unless it might be leading 40,000 bikes down the road.

Just before we passed under the bridge I looked back up at the broadcaster. I had seen him before, at the park. He was kind of a little guy, but he seemed to know the score. I like him.

Most of the newsmen that were sent to cover this protest were cocky new, because, after all, it was just a bunch of bikers sniveling about their rights being stepped on.

Makelray was different. Like he knew I had plans for this group. I don’t know how, but he knew.

Passing under the bridge made us sound even louder. The thunder roared and it was beautiful. I glanced next to me at Rom and he had this big shit-eating grin on his face. I guess the sound was getting to him too.

189

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We turned off the Golden State and onto the Pasadena freeway, toward the civic center. Hell I hope those cops got the blockades up and the traffic re-routed.

If they don’t, I would just as soon take this pack through downtown Los Angeles. I was sick and tired of the bureaucracy bullshit that had been going on for the last few days and right now I really didn’t give a rat’s ass if they were ready or not. We got a point to make and brother are we going to make it.

We turned off the Pasadena and onto the Hollywood freeway. Just one more mile to go. As we dropped into the hollow under some bridges the echoing sounds of the pack came back to me and I was ready for anything. I could ride like this forever.

Our off ramp loomed ahead and I slowed the pack from 45 to 30 miles and hour. No use dumping some sidewalk commando and listening to the government turkeys harp on unsafe riding or other such horsecock. This day was set aside for bikers and dammit, that’s whose 190

Grand Bay day it is. Period.

As we approached the Civic Center I could see all the police there. A quick glance up showed a couple of helicopters in the silver sky. I could see this was going to be a well-chaperoned event.

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Emerald Bay

By Bob Bitchin A novel featuring Treb Lincoln and others from A Brotherhood Of Outlaws.

But now Treb is living on a Sailboat, and an explosion in Emerald Bay in Catalina starts he and his friends on an adventure that ends up leading them to Central America and right into the middle of a CIA partnership with the drug cartels.

Excerpt from Emerald Bay The San Pedro Channel was pretty calm and there were four- to five-foot swells spaced very far apart. It made the 192

Grand Bay 120-foot boat roll a little, but not enough to be uncomfortable. She got up to her cruising speed of 22 knots and settled in, while the partiers did their damnedest to drink the bar dry.

On the aft deck, a bunch of girls were dancing to the music being piped over the speakers, and much to the enjoyment of the guests and crew, a couple of them started to strip. It was normal for them to do since most of them worked at Shipwreck Joey’s back in LA, which was one of the nicer titty flop bars.

Matt was the bouncer at Joey’s, and he was acting as master of ceremonies and wardrobe assistant. As the girls would take off a piece of clothing, they’d hand it to him. He would smile and then throw it over the side.

A trail of clothes followed the boat almost all the way to Catalina.

On the bow, Treb, Dick, and Rom passed a bottle of Southern Comfort and a joint.

“Well, Bro, you gonna miss this kind of life or what?” Rom asked.

“Why should I miss it?”

Dick looked at him hard.

“In case you didn’t notice, you’re getting old and you just got married.”

“Who you calling old?” Treb smiled. “I 193

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Dick started laughing and passed the joint. Treb saying he could kick his ass had always been a standing joke. When it came to fighting, there was no one who could beat Dick.

Dick Bondano and Treb had met 13 years earlier in a bar fight in Las Vegas.

Treb had come into this small bar just off the strip while he was riding across country.

About five or six very large truckers had decided they wanted to see if this big biker could handle a whipping, so they jumped him. and he relished the idea of a real kickass brawl. He watched as three truckers took turns on the big man, and soon he could see the biker really didn’t need much help, but he wanted in, so he jumped in with both feet.

At six feet and 180 pounds, Dick wasn’t all that large, but his Hawaiian ancestry gave him a mean look, and he was wiry as hell. Besides that, he had been raised in a martial arts family. His father, his grandfather, and all of his uncles were Masters in Filipino Kali, the ancient art of weaponry. Dick had been trained since childhood in Kali and Jeet 194

Grand Bay Kune Do. He had worked as an instructor at Bruce Lee’s old school, the Jeet Kune Do Academy, and until Vietnam, martial arts were his life.

After all the killing in Nam, he decided to opt for a little less violent occupation and ended up in Las Vegas working as a guard at a chemical company.

As he waded into the fight beside the large biker on that day 13 years ago, his life changed.

Ever since then, they had been inseparable friends. They rode around the country for awhile and then settled in the South Bay area of Los Angeles.

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King Harbor

By Bob Bitchin A Treb Lincoln novel that follows Treb and his friends from the docks of King Harbor in Redondo Beach, California to a remote island in the Pacific where they end up saving the lives of hundreds of islanders.

Excerpt from King Harbor As I climbed aboard Lost Soul I remembered why I hate boats! No matter how you baby and pamper them, they never seem to get enough of your attention. They just seem to find ways to 196

Grand Bay remind you that they are the important one in the relationship. When I was younger I often wondered why it was they were referred to as she. After a few years of living aboard and crossing a few oceans, I started to understand the similarities. Like a woman, they seem to get jealous if you spend any time with another boat, and if you don’t come home just one night they will make your life miserable.

It was a typical King Harbor morning in King Harbor Southern California. The sun was shining, the seagulls were soaring overhead, and bikini clad cuties were rolling along on wheels on the road in front of the marina. After spending the previous couple weeks delivering a new Catalina 42 sloop up to the Bay area, I was real glad to be back where the sun shines. Four hundred miles uphill is never a good sail, but this delivery had gone pretty much as planned.

I was delivering a new Catalina 42 from Marina Del Rey up to San Francisco for a broker I did a lot of deliveries for.

After leaving Del Rey I sailed up past the Channel Islands in perfect weather. I sailed on a tight reach up to Point Dume, and then made a few tacks up past the Islands. I pulled into the Cojo anchorage and sat there waiting for a good weather 197

Grand Bay report to make it around Point Conception. I timed my arrival at Point Conception for just before dawn, when the northeast tradewinds were the lowest, and once around that notorious landmark I’d just hugged the coast for the rest of the voyage.

It’s a long stretch of beautiful coastline as you make your way up, sailing past Big Sur and Monterey. It’s beautiful, but dangerous, and with absolutely no place to pull in if you hit any trouble. It’s about as rugged as a coastline can be.

I found myself enjoying the trip, watching as I paralleled Highway One. In my previous life, when I was riding motorcycles, this was my favorite getaway; throw a sleeping bag on the bike and ride up Highway One. It doesn’t get any better, and I relived a few of the trips as I sailed passed Lime Kiln Cove and Big Sur. After dropping off the boat at the dock in San Francisco, I picked up my paycheck from the broker who’d hired me to deliver the boat and grabbed a taxi to the airport. I couldn’t wait to get back home. Of course, on my return, my baby made it known to me that I had better stop staying out for weeks at a time.

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After this voyage up north, she was particularly displeased with me. “My baby” is my home, a 56-foot stays’l ketch I named Lost Soul. I’d saved her from the bottom when she was about to be scrapped.

After she’d gone around the world a couple times she’d been abandoned for a few years, and was in pretty sad shape when I found her. Since her shape pretty much matched my bank account, it seemed we were destined for each other.

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Biker

By Bob Bitchin This was the first book by BB, written in the late 70s as he rode around the country and the world writing for various motorcycle magazines. These are all true stories. If you are offended by sex, drugs, or rock & roll, you may want to pass on this one!

Excerpt from Biker That evening I started looking for a hotel early, not wanting to be left out in the weather. After I tried three of them I gave up, and settled for a campground in 200

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The folks who ran the campground were the epitome of the word assholes.

They were ripping off folks left and right for 37 francs a night to camp motorcycles and only 20 for cars. Even so, there was no other place in Monte Carlo a biker could stay, so the campground was where I ended up.

That night I decided that Europe didn’t really have much that I didn’t have back in the good old US of A, and I made a mental note to start heading back to Frankfort for a plane ride home.

Once the Bitchin boogie fever hits me slow travel is all over. I aimed the bike out the gate of the campground at 6:30 in the morning, and by 11 AM I had crossed into Italy, ignoring the odd looks by the Gestapo at the border, headed north, away from the Mediterranean and up into the Italian Alps. I zig-zaged across the French border three or four times, and soon was crossing through the St Bernard Pass and into Switzerland.

When you cross into Switzerland there is a tunnel that was almost two kilometers long, and I really got a kick out of it, nut when I went over St Bernard Pass I found that there was a tunnel five kilometers long, and inside the temperature was a 201

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Since it was in the 80’s outside I was riding in just my T-Shirt, and when I hit the tunnel I nearly froze my butt off.

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BIKER

By Bob Bitchin You’re riding with a partner. He swears he knows the surrounding area and roads for miles and miles.

He insists you take a turn-off that will be not only faster, but a more scenic ride.

So you follow his route and become hopelessly lost.

Try and retrace your steps on the map and you find where you are does not exist.

All you can do is ride and search for a landmark that will help identify your location. As you ride your fuel supply gets lower and lower until you’re finally on reserve. Just when you think you’re going 204

Grand Bay to be stuck pushing a thirsty bike in the middle of nowhere, your partner suggests you make the next turn and low- andbehold you’re right where you were supposed to be two hours ago. The only reaction your partner gives you is an ironic smile as you pull into a gas station with the exhaust sputtering and cylinders gasping for the last drop of gas left in the tanks.

Were you really lost, or was your partner just having some fun leading you around “Robin hood’s Barn?”

It doesn’t really matter whether you were lost or not. All that really matters is that you’ve managed to get off the beaten path of things you know and are sure of, and have taken a little side- trip exploring the unknown. And more often than not, this iswhere you’re going to meet someone who you might have never met or you’re going to get the chance to do something you might never have had the opportunity to do.

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DORF

By Bob Bitchin This work proves Schroedinger’s Cat Theory: A cat imagined as being enclosed in a box with a radioactive source and a poison that will be released when the source (unpredictably) emits radiation, the cat being considered (per quantum mechanics) to be simultaneously both dead and alive until the box is opened and the cat observed. In this story the cat is very much alive!

As this didn’t actually happen, it didn’t actually happen about mid-August, 1973.

What I am trying to allude to is it never 206

Grand Bay happened… and when it did, I wasn’t there, because if it were labeled as non-fiction awhole lot of people could be highly embarrassed (or worse!). Well, not a lot, because most of them are dead by now, or in jail, but just in case, and to keep from having what little I have left in life taken away from me by lawyers and other bloodsuckers I guess I will just label it as FICTION! There, now no one can sue me for anything.

But those of you who were there, you will know. You will also know when I stray from the facts. Ya gotta have a little poetic license, right? I mean, hell, if Tom Clancy can use the Royal Family and sitting Presidents in his “fiction,” I guess I can use a bunch of degenerate bikers in mine, right?

By the way, degenerate is not a derogatory term in this book. In fact, at the time this DIDN’T happen (wink-wink, nodnod) it was my fervent hope that I had reached the pinnacle of being a truly degenerate and sleazy biker!

So let’s set the scene for the time period.

It was the early seventies. Viet ‘Nam was just over, the love-in’s were fading into memories (sigh) and bikers were at the top of their game.

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Okay, if this had happened (wink-wink, nod-nod) it would have been about 50 years ago, and if I were there I would have been in my late twenties.

As we reach senility sometimes things that happen get foggy, and things that didn’t happen seem to warp into some kind of fuzzy reality. So once again, this never happened, and when it did, it was a long time ago, and in my alleged drug-addled state of mind, it could have all just been a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Read at your own risk!.

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