Hector climbed down from the wheelhouse and moved forward
toward the bow as Zimbola reversed the trawler’s variable pitch prop.
Grabbing a long gaffing pole, he stood at the ready as the 65-foot vessel
eased to a stop where the cove was widest. In one smooth motion,
he hooked the mooring ring they had installed years earlier, quickly
connecting a shackle to the ring with a practiced hand. Pulling slack out
of the mooring chain, he tugged sharply on it to make sure the one-ton
mooring block was firmly embedded in the sandy bottom.
Satisfied that the vessel was now secure, a sense of pride took hold
of him. He had grown to love the Angel. And while he had to admit she
was not a comely-looking craft, he saw resilience in every battered inch
of her, a seaworthy vessel that dripped with character. Like both her
owners, those being Jay Jay and Zimbola, she was tough, durable, and
reliable, a boat you could always depend on. As he reflected on these
things, he considered her name. Though they all referred to her as the Angel,
it wasn’t her full name. Not the name painted on her stern in
big block letters.
AVENGING ANGEL.
Hector had mulled this strange contradiction whenever he looked
upon her with the same adoration as he was doing now, always coming
to the same conclusion. The name fully mirrored Jay Jay’s dual nature. It
implied a strong sense of justice, a live and let live attitude that sought
to keep those he cared for safe from peril. With those around him
unthreatened and out of harm’s way, his friend and boss was basically a
Teddy Bear at heart, generous to a fault. But menace those he loved in
any way, and he was capable of becoming a holy terror without mercy,
risking life and limb in a near reckless manner in order to protect them.
Hector dropped these thoughts, looking up to scan the upper
elevations of the chasm and waving. Sentries had come out of their
positions of concealment. There were four of them waving back, each
manning a strategically located station separated from the others and
set up to defend both the cove and the airspace above. He knew all these
men. They were locals who had been carefully screened and found to be
good, trustworthy people. They were fully committed, heart and soul, to
the grand scheme concocted by Jacob and the pod. They would not fall
victim to greed or be tempted by the secrets the cove held. And most
of all, they looked upon Destiny and her mother as though they were
goddesses. He had no doubts they would fight to the death on their
behalf.
Hector smiled, remembering the last two attempts Cardoza and his
ruffians had made on this place following the establishment of security
measures, with each attempt ending in a dismal failure. He knew the
lure of gold made men do crazy things, but with the Colombian drug
lord it was an obsession, and he was convinced Cardoza would try again.
Making his way to the stern, Hector saw Destiny emerge from the
rear cabin, a vision of stunning loveliness in spite of the troubled look
on her face. So beautiful, he thought, and yet she has no awareness of
her own physical beauty. It was an innocent thought, devoid of lust, for
he viewed the inner beauty that dwelled deep within her to be her most
alluring quality. It radiated outward to touch all those around her like
warm rays of the sun, and it was this that made him adore her. She was
the perfect match for Jay Jay, a man unlike other men.