Chapter 12
Puerto Cortez
The cool salt air sat calmly on the ocean in the mid-morning sun. A gentle breeze blew along the shoreline, and caressed Dodson's face lazily. He was staring out over the grubby dock that was sprawled out in front of him.
The rickety wooden panels that made up the flooring were rotting away, and were laden with stringy fragments of moss. Everything was damp and wet, despite the bright blue sky. A sea bird cried out in the relative quiet of the morning, which echoed throughout the bay. Behind them Puerto Cortez sat quietly.
Four fishing boats were moored up to his right, smelling strongly of fish. They rocked slowly in the water, their sides occasionally bumping into the dock. The water was restless, and was lapping against the shore. A much larger boat stood nearby, black smoke billowing from a cylindrical tower at the stern. Unlike the other boats, this one was swarming with activity. Spanish workmen were running around on the deck, dressed in navy blue uniforms. They were carrying heavy packages of supplies down into the cargo hold.
Dodgson was standing at the foot of hull, his feet squelching on the damp planks of the dock. He was close enough to see the barnacles that had attached themselves to the underside of the ship, forming a thick layer which started at the waterline. He was dressed in shorts and a cheap shirt, and his face was dark and dangerous looking.
His partner, Jack Edgar stood beside him, staring down at a checklist that he had pinned to a clipboard. Jack was thirty two, with a barrel chest, towering over Dodson. He was a brilliant geneticist, who had worked at Biosyn for over a decade. His features were young, and powerful. His muscles bulged from underneath his shirt. He looked uneasy, glancing between the dock and the checklist. He was always jittery for such a strong person, especially in such tense situations.
An impressive Jeep Wrangler stood next to them, gleaming in the sunlight. It had been loaded onto a steel base, with large wires protruding from each corner. A large crane had been swung around, ancient looking and in desperate need of repair. Workmen were in the process of attaching the wires of the base to a massive, rusty hook that hung from the crane. The Wrangler's black paint gave off a high shine, threatening to blind anybody who stared too hard. It was new, just out of the workshop. It had been enlarged, and hardened extensively. Honeycomb panels ran down its flanks, and its chassis had been thickened. Metal struts had been welded over the windows, and the windshield glass had been replaced with a far stronger substitute, which was laced with a thin metal wire. Inside the dashboard had been converted into a miniature surveillance lab. There was a GPS unit, an expensive laptop computer and a complicated radio system. It looked like the perfect off-road vehicle. The engineers had taken a long time to perfect the design; it was exceedingly difficult to compose a vehicle strong enough and fast enough. The engineers had been kept in the dark about its intended use, making it all the more difficult. They were under the impression that it was for extensive field study of Lions in Africa. They would never know where it was really going, or what it would really be used for.
Dodgson was shouting instructions to the men above him, who were blundering around stupidly. He was waving his hands, and pointing madly.
"You there!" he shouted, pointing to a weedy man, who was trying to drag a barrel of supplies by himself. The man looked down at Dodgson, with a stricken look on his face. He glanced around him, checking to see if anybody else had noticed.
"Yes, you!" continued Dodson, "Get somebody to help you, for god's sake!"
"Hey Lew," said Jack, "We need to talk--"
"You! Hold that box upright! Upright!" screamed Dodgson, shaking his fists.
"Lew!" said Jack, turning Dodgson to face him. Dodgson looked up at him, and his demeanor changed in a heartbeat. A smile spread across his face, full of warmth and politeness. Jack hated that smile, it was too pleasant. It always sent shivers down his spine. He knew Dodgson better than most, and he had long since learned how much of a dangerous man Dodson was.
"What is it?" Dodgson asked, still grinning.
"Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Rushing into this?"
Dodson raised his eyebrows.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we don't know what we're walking into. Why did we have to do this all so secretly? We shouldn't be going alone like this."
"It couldn't be simpler. An hour to get to the island, and ten minutes to unload. Then three hours to get the eggs, back to the boat by two o'clock. An hour to get back. Back to San Jose by six, back to California by eleven. Bang, done, finished."
"Why alone though?"
"If we barge in with a private army, do you think that nobody will notice? We wouldn't want anybody finding out about our little discovery now, would we?"
Jack shrugged. Dodgson was always so good at wriggling out of facing problems like this, and never thought about the consequences of his actions. He left that to Jack.
The crane whirred and squealed loudly as the winch retracted. The thick coils of wire connected to the Jeep's base began snaking across the ground, unraveling slowly into the air.
"Come on, let's get onboard," grinned Dodson, clapping Jack on the shoulder. They both made for the ramp that joined the boat to the dock as the wires on the crane tightened. The Jeep was lifted into the air with a metallic groan. The workmen had finished loading the supplies onto the ship, and were now untying the rope mooring that held them in place. Jack watched as the Wrangler was swung over the deck, suspended in the air for a moment, and was then slammed down lopsidedly. Several workmen yelled in surprise, and had to leap sideways to get out of the way.
"Will you be careful?" shouted Jack to the crane operator, who shrugged indifferently. Jack scowled and stalked over to help the workmen untie the wires from the Jeep.
Dodgson walked up a flight of rusted stairs; his feet slipping on the wet metal, and entered the captain's cabin. He scanned the room briefly.
"Cast off Captain," he said to a portly man who was sitting at the radio in the corner.
"I want to get to the island by the end of the morning, I have a plane to catch, and I can't miss it," continued Dodgson.
"We cannot leave yet, senior Dodgson," said the Captain, "some of my men are not back yet."
"I'll give you another ten thousand if you cast off now," said Dodgson.
The Captain looked up, and nodded. He stood, and took a few bounding steps forwards, crossing the room with surprising speed. He grabbed a phone, and pushed past Dodgson, out of the room.
Dodgson heard the captain's shouts in Spanish ring out of the bay, and the answering calls of the workers. He heard a clunk as the ramp was drawn up, and he walked out onto the balcony. The crane was swinging back into place above the dock.
Deep within the ship he heard a reverberating rumble, which was quickly replaced by a mechanic whine. The smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe above him thickened as the engine sprang to life. He felt them begin to move away from the dock, and a rapid chugging filled his ears. They slowly swung over to the right as they gained momentum, so that they faced the open ocean. The whistle blasted loudly in his ears, which rang out over the bay with an ear-shattering echo. Dodson leaned on the balcony railing, and grinned coldly out at the sunlight water ahead of him. Finally, after all these years, he was going to get what he wanted most.