Chapter 18
DECLAN
Since X.C. and I were burned in Osaka, I’ve been flying solo. This weekend will be different – we need all hands on deck.
“Charlie, you sure you’re ready for this?” Oliver asks for the third time in the back seat of the limo. On the short drive from FIRE headquarters to the marina, he drilled Charlie on details. It would stress me out if Charlie weren’t acing every question.
“The plan is to get whatever intel we can on Frank Castillo. Where he has been, where he is going, and where he might hide a massive cache of illegal arms on his yacht,” Charlie recites, clearly trying to ease Oliver’s worries.
“We have no concrete evidence that he has been initiated into the Order, but we believe this arms shipment from Hynds is his ‘audition,’ as it were. He is trusting us enough to give us a ride, so we have to assume he doesn’t have access to the Order’s intelligence on FIRE’s clandestine activities.
” Charlie recites nearly word for word from the file I gave her on Monday.
She nods to Oliver. “Your role is to chat up Frank, talk like old times, get information, and keep him distracted. I will act like the wide-eyed inquisitive one and ask the captain of the boat for a tour of the bridge. In essence, we’re acting like our normal selves, but with a specific purpose.”
“She’s got this,” I tell Oliver, ready for his coaching to be at an end.
My boss turns to me without a hint of humor on his face.
“Don’t you forget it.” His pop quiz was as much for me as it was for Charlie.
For me to see that she is ready. He picked up on my stubborn resistance to her joining FIRE.
For the past week, I’ve been prepping her for this mission.
She’s one of us now, for better or worse.
Charlie, ignoring this back and forth, stares out the window. I’m guessing she’s never been in a limo before. Her fingertips hover over the various buttons and controls as if she is tempted to toy with them but restrains herself.
“Whoa, is that the boat?” she asks.
“Yacht,” I remind her, and slide forwards to catch an early glimpse myself. Once we all exit the limo, we need to act like this is business as usual. Sure, another weekend, another yacht. I’ve never stepped foot on one, but I can’t act like a newbie. Not now.
“Places, everyone,” Oliver reminds us as he types out a message on his phone and lets Ian know we’re at the dock.
Cell phones don’t work aboard boats unless you use the onboard satellite connections.
We’ve agreed it’s too risky to use the onboard system and risk Castillo intercepting our intel.
Charlie, Oliver, and I all have means of recording and communicating with Ian back in headquarters. All discreet and hidden.
My device is in my watch. I’m guessing Charlie’s is in her glasses. Today her frames are all black, no hint of blue to accent her eyes.
I step out of the limo first, then Oliver follows. He waits to hold out a hand for Charlie. She wobbles on her heels but steadies herself for the short walk up the gangplank.
The Waves of Time is a superb vessel. Frank Castillo, the CEO and founder of Vallus, has one of the best fleet of ships in the world.
He is waiting for us when we board the ship.
Castillo is a few inches shorter than Oliver, which makes him a full half-foot shorter than me.
This titan of technology has ditched his glasses (thanks to laser surgery) and added a single diamond stud to one of his ears.
With his brown hair slicked back into a low ponytail, he looks like the modern Silicon Valley It guy.
The staff are ready with flutes of champagne and snacks. The vessel has the white hull and teak flooring you would expect. There are multiple lounge decks, an inset couch, two hot tubs, and a support vessel. It screams wealth, privilege, and spoils.
“Oliver! Welcome aboard!” Castillo calls out.
He is wearing a casual suit and his previously pale skin is now tan.
Castillo, once the world’s richest geek, has transformed his image over the past few years.
Outwardly, he went through a midlife crisis: cheated on his wife, divorced, and started dating a string of starlets and models.
What I know, what everyone on the FIRE strategic operations side knows, is that Castillo has courted the Order.
Like so many in his income bracket, he believes he is too big to ever get caught or be held accountable for his actions.
Oliver introduces both me and Charlie. I’ve met Castillo before and he recognizes me. “Declan, how are you? Still training for Athens?” I’m impressed he remembers.
“Yes, but not getting as many miles in as I’d like. Can you talk my boss into giving me better hours?” I joke as Castillo leads us over to a seating area next to a bar.
Oliver and Castillo chuckle at this. “Thank you for the ride down to our event. I can’t believe the private airline cancelled our flight without any help rebooking to another carrier.
Never using them again, let me tell you.
” This is our cover. Really, we wanted a chance to stake out Castillo’s vessel.
He may be hiding the black-market arms here.
Or we may be able to see where the boat has been or where it is headed to.
Any evidence we can find. Oliver called in a favor.
“Of course. Happy to help an old friend,” Frank Castillo says as he takes the final sip of champagne in his glass.
Vallus, Castillo’s company, is a major sponsor for FIRE.
And for any major sporting event. Depending on the demographic, they either promote the front-facing e-commerce platform, or, for high-earning athletes that race with FIRE, they promote Vallus web hosting and servers.
When Charlie read through the dossier, she immediately asked the obvious question.
Why are we allowing Castillo to sponsor our events if he is a bad guy?
I reminded her that he wasn’t always a prick and that it’s best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
Also, we highly suspect he is a bad guy. No damning evidence yet.
“Charlie, have you ever been to Key West before?” Castillo turns his attention to her fully, using all his billionaire charm. Charlie sets down her champagne and doesn’t notice as Frank Castillo’s eyes travel up her arms, down her chest, to her hips, and waist.
His leering is troublesome. Charlie is artwork, meant to be admired, not eyed up and down.
There is a constellation of freckles on Charlie’s arms. She is certainly showing a lot more skin on this yacht than she ever does in the office.
Her professional attire has been swapped for a remarkably chic bathing suit and wrap.
Her arms, shoulders, and legs are on display.
The bright red fabric is clinging to her hips as well, demanding attention.
And her other . . . assets . . . are also accentuated, her cleavage visible.
I have to remind myself that this is a job and we have to work together on Monday.
Also, I don’t want my boss – her uncle – to catch me noticing. Castillo is ogling enough as is.
“No, I’m so excited to go. Hopefully I can sneak away and do a little sightseeing.
I’d love to visit Hemingway’s House. And T.
S. Eliot had a place there too, though it’s supposed to be more off the beaten path.
” Charlie is giving Castillo every breadcrumb he needs.
I’m not sure how much is genuinely her or how much is a show for the mission.
“Do you like to read? You know books are where it all started for me.” Castillo begins to wax poetic about the origins of his company as the yacht sails through Tampa Bay and out into the open gulf waters.
The day is bright, the reflection of the sun on the water dazzling and blinding.
The salt spray of the waves hisses as we fly over the water.
A man in a crisp uniform with sea-battered wrinkles and a Caribbean accent approaches and introduces himself as Captain John. After shaking hands, he offers to give Oliver a tour of the bridge.
This is the first wrinkle in our plan. With Charlie being so new, we wanted her to get the tour of the bridge with the captain and the ship’s crew.
Chances are none of them know the depths of Castillo’s involvement with the Order, but they would know where the ship has been and where it is going.
Oliver was supposed to keep Castillo talking and distract him while I search for information.
“Sure thing,” Oliver says, taking a sip of his champagne.
We agreed before the mission to go with the flow and let the plan be fluid. Charlie doesn’t jump in and ask to join. Oliver doesn’t decline the captain’s offer. I guess this is our new plan.
“Fair warning, I’ve been thinking of investing in my own ship, so I have a lot of questions,” Oliver jokes and the captain offers a good-natured chuckle as the two walk away.
We’ll all be thinking on our feet from here on out. I do my best to avoid eye contact with Charlie, not wanting Frank Castillo to pick up on any signals.
We hit one wave, then two, as the yacht speeds along. This is my cue to excuse myself and check out the interior of the vessel.
I stand and set down my champagne, which I haven’t touched. “I’m so sorry. I’m feeling a little seasick. Where is your nearest restroom?”
Castillo points me in the right direction without a second thought; he’s too busy chatting up Charlie. Given the switch-up, she’ll have to take over Oliver’s role: keep Castillo talking on the deck. Distract him.
I’m not comfortable leaving her alone with a man who may have purchased millions of dollars’ worth of black-market weapons. But we have a mission to stick to.
I head into the interior hallway and see the bathroom, but I don’t go in.
I spent eight years in the navy; of course I’m not seasick. But Castillo doesn’t know or doesn’t remember.
Now is my time to snoop around and see what I can find.
I can only hope Charlie can hold her own out there.