Chapter 11 #2
So much for swearing.
Necessity drove him forward. A woman’s life hung in the balance.
His gaze swept over the yacht, noting the helipad on the roof and a crane, draped in twinkle lights, perched over the wide deck now filled with guests.
The name emblazoned in gold lettering across the back proclaimed the yacht Dancing Lolita—Lucien Vaughan’s yacht.
A matching, smaller motorboat occupied the slip beside the yacht with the name La Petite Lolita written across its stern.
His father approached the gangway.
Four security guards stood, two each, on either side of the slip, eyes narrowed, armed and alert for any trouble.
A beautiful young blonde, dressed in a black, form-hugging gown, stood at the gangway, a leather-bound notebook in her hand.
James Johnson was speaking with her as Rex approached.
The woman nodded, touched a hand to her ear and spoke into a microphone curving around her cheek. After a moment, she nodded and smiled as Rex came to a stop beside his father. “I take it this is your son, Mr. Johnson? He looks like you.”
His father turned, his gray eyes meeting Rex’s for the first time in thirteen years. “Yes, this is James Rex Johnson the second,” he said, his tone flat and emotionless. “My son.”
Rex fought the urge to correct the man. He hadn’t been addressed by his full name since he’d lived with his parents, and only when he’d been in trouble for some minor infraction.
“My apologies, Mr. Johnson,” the hostess said to Rex. “I’ll need to see a form of identification.”
Rex pulled his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed the woman his driver’s license.
She made a note in her notebook, handed the license back to Rex, then smiled and waved a hand toward the gangway. “Welcome aboard the Dancing Lolita.”
Rex followed his father up the gangway onto the deck, where men in tailored suits and diamond cufflinks, and women in flashy designer gowns, dripping with expensive jewelry, milled about, drinking champagne from crystal glasses.
The tie around Rex’s neck seemed to tighten. He’d gladly left this world behind. He’d be happy to leave it again. First, he had to find Holte and learn more about his shipping business, specifically, about a missing container, the bodies inside it and the people who’d reclaimed them.
How he’d address those questions was still mulling around in his head. He couldn’t just ask them outright, especially if Holte knew all about them and had a lot to hide.
His father led him through the throng of billionaires and a scattering of celebrities, including a race car driver, an A-list actor and his wife and several Hawaiian politicians Rex recognized from the local news.
His father headed for the bar and ordered an Old Fashioned. He didn’t ask Rex what he wanted to drink.
Rex moved to the second bartender and ordered a whiskey neat.
Once they both had their drinks, his father turned toward the crowd of people, took a sip of his Old Fashioned and asked, “Do you know who’s throwing this party?”
Rex nodded. “Lucien Vaughan.”
“Vaughan has worldwide influence. If you want to increase your global presence, talk to Lucien. If you want to know where to invest in the next potential gold rush of an economy, Lucien’s your guy.
Everyone on board tonight owes significant portions of their wealth to the information Lucien provides. ”
“What do they give him in return?” Rex asked.
His father’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t ask.”
“Meaning, you don’t ask.”
His father’s brow dropped low. “You don’t rock the boat, unless yours capsizes.”
“So, he’s got dirt on all these people and holds it over their heads and bank accounts.” He didn’t ask. It was a statement.
A young woman dressed in a strapless, short and tight black-and-white uniform stopped in front of them with a tray of crystal glasses full of champagne.
With a decidedly Slavic accent, she asked, “?ampanie?” As soon as the word was out, she covered her mouth, and her cheeks flushed red.
She glanced around quickly and said, “Pardon. I mean Champagne.”
Rex studied her pretty face, noting how smooth and youthful it appeared. It was slightly rounded with no lines around the eyes. Either she had youthful genes, or she was very young.
He shook his head and held up his glass and responded, “Nu, mul?umesc.”
The girl’s eyes widened, and her cheeks grew redder. She bobbed her head and hurried away in her short skirt and sheer, black tights.
“What are you doing?” his father hissed.
“Being polite,” Rex said.
“Don’t talk to the wait staff,” his father said.
“Why?”
“Just don’t.” His father glanced around. “You wanted to talk to Holte, there he is.” He motioned with his head. “The tall, heavyset man with gray hair and a mustache. He’s standing with Lucien Vaughan and his partner, Chloé.”
The man he indicated stood with another man and a dark-haired woman in a shimmering silver gown. The other man with salt-and-pepper hair had his back to Rex and his arm around the woman in the silver dress.
Another young woman, dressed in the black-and-white, skimpy uniform, approached Holte, Vaughan and Chloé with a tray of drinks. This girl also appeared to be very young, like the Romanian girl.
“If you still want to talk to Holte, you’re on your own,” his father said and walked away.
Rex stood for a moment, debating whether he should interrupt the two men or wait until he could get Holte alone. He set his glass on a nearby table, ready to charge in and get the interview over.
He hadn’t taken two steps before the first waitress he’d encountered appeared in front of him with another tray, this one full of hors d'oeuvres. “Would you like?”
Rex shook his head, his attention on the men, not wanting to let them out of his sight.
“Please,” she said and moved to block his view.
Rex shifted his gaze to the girl, his eyes narrowing. Curious. “Ca?i ani ai?” He asked how old she was.
She shot a glance over her shoulder and answered quietly, “Paisprezece ani.” Fourteen years old.
Rex’s jaw tightened. Over her shoulder, the two men parted, Vaughan moving away with his partner, leaving Holte briefly alone.
“Scuza?i-m?,” he said to the waitress and moved around her.
What the hell was a fourteen-year-old girl doing working on a yacht? Determined to accomplish his mission of cornering Holte for answers, he moved toward the man.
Holte waved a hand toward someone across the deck. Before he could cross to join that person, Rex stepped in front of the owner of Holte Maritime Group.
“Mr. Holte,” Rex stuck out his hand. “Rex Johnson, pleasure to meet you.”
Holte frowned but took Rex’s hand. “Should I know you?”
“Yes, of course. I’m Rex Johnson of RJ Direct Source Imports, soon to be the leading importer of commodities from Asia. I’d hoped to speak with you about your company’s capabilities and willingness to take on a rising star in import management.”
Holte dropped Rex’s hand. “This isn’t the time or place to discuss business. Talk to my CEO during operational hours.” He moved to go around Rex.
Rex lowered his voice. “Sir, I’d rather work directly with the man in charge.” Taking a stab in the dark, he moved closer. “I understand you’re the one who can transport specialized cargo. Cargo that needs special attention and handling.”
Holte froze, his eyes narrowing. “We handle all types of cargo. Again, speak to my CEO for your specific needs.”
“I was told you’re the one I needed to speak with.
” Rex blocked the man in a corner of the deck.
“I’m interested in transporting cargo that needs delicate handling.
Rumor has it your ships have the capability I’m looking for and the access that can deliver my cargo safely.
We’re talking priceless commodities in small shipments. ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He started to wave toward someone behind Rex.
“My concern is your ability to deliver the cargo.” Rex stepped closer to Holte. “Rumor has it, you lost a small container recently, and the contents within were destroyed. I want to know what guarantees you can give me that won’t happen to my shipments.”
Holte’s face paled. “We take pride in delivering all cargo without fail. However, we lose an occasional container due to circumstances out of our control.”
“What circumstances?” Rex narrowed his eyes.
“Primarily weather,” Holte responded.
“What else?”
“There are a number of other things that could cause the loss of a container. I refuse to go into the details here.” He shrugged.
“The price you charge for your commodities should build in a potential loss factor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business with someone else. ” The shipping tycoon pushed past Rex.
Rex let him go without reminding the man he’d said this wasn’t the place to discuss business. Based on his discomfort, Holte knew about the missing container.
After Holte disappeared into the interior of the yacht, Rex looked around for his father. He was nowhere to be found on the deck.
Having potentially scared Holte by mentioning the missing container, Rex felt he had nothing to lose by asking him more direct questions.
He pushed through the glass door into the interior of the yacht.
The room he stepped into was all white leather and gold accents.
A large room spread out before him with a bar at the far end and a few people scattered around, seated in the plush leather sofas curving into intimate half-circles.
He didn’t see Holte, Vaughan or his father. Rex ambled across the floor toward a door at the far side of the room, which led deeper into the yacht.
A man dressed in the same uniform as the men standing guard on the dock stepped in front of him. “This area is off limits to guests.”
Rex held up his hands. “Sorry. I was just exploring. It’s a beautiful boat. I’m thinking of getting one for myself.”
The guard’s face remained set. He didn’t move from his position.