Skyhook

THIRTY FIVE SATURDAY, DAY 6 SHILSHOLE MARINA BALLARD, WASHINGTON 9:02 A.M.

In the master bedroom of her yacht, Gracie O’Brien swam slowly back to consciousness from a deliciously sensuous dream and stretched luxuriously in the king-size bed, letting the feel of the satin sheets she loved extend the fantasy a few more seconds.

The ceiling was arched with rich, oaken beams, giving the central below-decks room an appropriately nautical feel. She’d visited the factory, studied the plans, and knew the beams were fake, but the effect was perfect. She loved waking up to the gentle motion of the yacht in her owner’s stateroom, and loved even more the fun of climbing up to the open flying bridge in the morning with a cup of coffee and the breeze in her face.

For no particular reason, Gracie looked at the phone to the left of the bed, her eyes fixating on it just before it rang.

She reached for it, loving the feeling of sliding her trim body across the sheets again as she caught sight of the time and felt a burst of guilt.

Omigod! Nine already!

The plan had been to get up at seven, exercise, and get back to work for the Rosens. The possibility that April or Rachel might be on the other end of the ringing phone crossed her mind as she pulled the receiver to her ear and rolled to a sitting position.

“Hello?”

“Gracie?” The voice was deep, somewhat gruff, and the owner clearly unhappy, all of the conclusions conveyed in a single word.

“Yes?”

“This is Ben Janssen, your managing partner.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Janssen. Good morning.”

“Well, not so good as all that, Gracie. I’ll be frank. I’m pretty pissed off at you right now.”

She felt a wave of adrenaline course through her bloodstream, mental cautions mixing with conflicting loyalties underlaid with an intense desire not to be in trouble with her firm.

“Why, Mr. Janssen? I mean, I’ll apologize in advance for anything I’ve done wrong, but—”

“Look, there are protocols in a major law firm, young lady, especially when it comes to asking big clients for favors, and you didn’t just cross the line, you blew across it.”

Gracie fought to keep her voice even and friendly, but she could feel her stomach fluttering, the vibrations threatening to rattle her diaphragm and progress to a shaky voice. “You mean Bernie Ashad, sir?”

“Of course I mean Ashad, for God’s sake. Who the hell told you it was okay to go shaking your cute little tail at one of our most important clients to get him to help you on a completely personal matter? Hell, I ought to can your ass right here, right now.”

“Mr. Janssen, in no way did I — as you put it — shake my tail at anyone, least of all Mr. Ashad. I—”

“I don’t care what the hell you told him.”

“Sir? Please! You’ve launched a full-scale attack on my actions, along with some rather raw sexual innuendos, and I believe I should have the opportunity to defend myself.”

There was momentary silence on the other end and she could hear the receiver being shifted to his other ear.

“All right. Go ahead.”

“Thank you. The facts are, sir, that I had a call from Mr. Ashad on Tuesday wanting to set a time for a conference call between us on the lease for the commercial property in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, I’ve been working on, and one of the times he suggested conflicted with the personal matter you referred to. I had requested and received approval from Dick Walsh to be gone that afternoon, and I requested we set the conference time two days hence. He said that was fine, remarked that I sounded worried, and asked why. We’ve met and had dinner as lawyer and client, and I believe he respects me. I told him in very brief detail about my best friend’s problem — her father’s problem in Alaska — and he kept pressing me for details. I provided those details. I volunteered one thing and one thing only in that call, and that was the fact that I was in need of finding a salvage firm that could raise a sunken aircraft. He said his equipment was too big and far away, but he knew just the man to call in Valdez, and I later acted on that recommendation.”

“Yeah, well, then you apparently asked him to go fish out some airplane for free.”

Gracie could feel her insides vibrating with tension and fear, but she fought hard to control her voice, barely succeeding.

He is not going to make me come apart!

“Mr. Janssen, that is entirely incorrect. I would never do such a thing, and I can’t believe Mr. Ashad would say I did.”

Janssen was silent, practicing his well-honed ability to draw out statements people didn’t want to make. April cautioned herself not to fall for it.

“What happened,” she continued, “is that Mr. Ashad called me on Wednesday and asked how things were going with the Alaska dilemma affecting the Rosens. I appreciated the call and I told him about it briefly, and I also discussed his business and the progress of the lease negotiations. When we finished with the subject of the lease, he asked me to call him if I needed any more help or advice for the Rosens. On Friday, having been given leave again by Dick Walsh to go file for a TRO against the government for Captain Rosen, I took Mr. Ashad up on the offer, and called and asked him if the Rosens could hire his people for a salvage operation. That’s ‘hire,’ Mr. Janssen, not ‘donate.’ He wouldn’t hear of it. He said he’d been surprised to find one of his ships was sailing through the area, and if I’d give him the coordinates of the wreckage, they’d see what could be done. I again promised normal compensation by the Rosens and he told me their money was, as he put it, ‘no good,’ and that all he expected was my letting him take me to dinner the next time he’s in Seattle. When I had dinner with him before, he was a perfect gentleman and there was no hint of sexual interest or intent, nor is there now, so I agreed.”

“Are you through?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.

“I’m… finished relating to you precisely what happened, sir. And may I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“Does any of what I just told you vary in any particular from what Mr. Ashad has told you?”

Another long pause hung on the line between them as Gracie listened to her heart pound in her ears. She’d fought so hard for the position at Janssen and Pruzan, the last thing she wanted was to lose it, especially with the onus of being indirectly called a tail-wagging slut.

There was a long sigh on the other end. “No. He didn’t say anything different. He just didn’t tell me enough, as usual.”

“Sir, I’m extremely sorry if I did cross a line. You’ve given us excellent advice on how to nurture and develop a working relationship with our clients, and I was only trying to follow that advice.”

“Look, you’re young and somewhat naive, Gracie. Bernie is a… a… for want of a better phrase, a serial cad, okay? That’s an old term meaning a guy who uses women sexually and shamelessly. Anything female and attractive and he turns on the charm and starts the chase. To him a female attorney is simply a sexual challenge, not his counselor.”

“Why was I assigned to him, then, sir?”

“Good question. I hadn’t realized you were. Who paired you up?”

“I don’t know. I remember Dick Walsh being somewhat surprised.”

There was a rude laugh on the other end. “Yeah, I bet Dick was shocked. Dick’s a decent guy. I’m going to find out and fry whoever did this because — and I’m going to say something here I’ll deny if you ever try to rub my nose in it — whoever assigned you to Ashad is a sexist comedian who wanted to see how fast Bernie could nail you.”

“Well, I can assure you that no such thing has, or will happen.”

“You ever received a five-hundred-thousand-dollar bracelet as a thank-you-for-dinner gift?”

“Wha… what? No!”

“Would it turn your head? Make you just a little inclined to stay the night?”

“I… honestly have no idea what I’d do, besides report it to the firm, if he was a client.”

“Ever had some handsome, incredibly rich guy offer to buy you a million-dollar villa somewhere if you’ll just take a six-month sabbatical and travel with him?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, those are just two of the ploys he’s used on women at our firm in the past. I lost my secretary — who later bore him a child in absentia — to the bracelet scam. Oh, he took the bracelet back, by the way. And then there was our young female attorney associate who got stars in her eyes and ran off with him for six months, lost her job, and was literally left penniless in Maracaibo, Venezuela. She woke up alone in a seedy hotel room one morning with no passport, no clothes, and no money, next to some local laborer who hadn’t had his annual bath that year. Bernie thought it was hilarious, the sick bastard. He’d drugged her, effectively sold her to the guy, and flew off to Europe in his jet. It was his twisted way of saying goodbye.”

“My God.”

“Look, Gracie, you’ve got great promise as a lawyer, and I’m sorry if I’ve broadsided you here, but I’m warning you, stay strictly away from this guy except as an attorney, and under no circumstances get yourself in his debt. Understood?”

“What do I do if he’s already helped my friends and calls back?”

“Call me as soon as he trots out the kicker — what he wants in return. It’ll sound innocent. Don’t fall for it, or I’ll fire your ass. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And regardless of who the client is, if you’re going to ask for anything from one of our big payers in the future, ask Dick or me first. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. See you Monday.”

The line went dead.

Gracie sat in shock for several minutes, her mind replaying every nuance of the conversation, her faith in her previous impression and judgment of Ashad thoroughly shaken. She started to go up the companionway to the galley before realizing she was wearing nothing. She grabbed a terrycloth robe and pulled it around her, still feeling the hole in the pit of her stomach. She’d been getting nothing but praise from Walsh and all the other established members of the firm, and in one fell swoop she’d angered and dismayed the number-one senior lawyer in the whole place.

He thinks I’m a brainless slut! she thought, feeling her face flush at the embarrassment of being naive enough to believe Ashad’s sincerity. She could always spot phonies. April was the one who got sucked in all the time. How could she have stumbled with Ashad?

The phone was ringing again and the sound sent a flash of apprehension through her. Was Janssen calling back?

She pulled the galley extension to her ear, keeping her voice as normal as possible.

“This is Gracie.”

“Gracie, thank God! This is Rachel. You have a minute?”

“Of course, Rachel. You sound stressed.”

“Oh, Gracie! Arlie’s gone!”

She almost howled the last word, stabbing more adrenaline into Gracie as she tried to decipher what the word “gone” meant and shuddered at the possibilities.

“He just took off this morning with no word on where he was going.”

“Took off? Oh my God, he’s not flying, is he?”

“No… at least I don’t think so. He took the car, one of the cars, and… I just thought he was getting up to go to the bathroom, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Before dawn, and I rolled over and snoozed a few minutes, until I heard a car leaving.”

“No notes or messages left in the kitchen?”

“No! That’s what scares me! Gracie, what should we do?”

“He take the jeep?”

“No. The Infiniti.”

“Does it have a phone?”

“No.”

“Have you called around?”

“Yes. All our neighbors. The airport. His favorite places in Port Angeles.”

“What’s that great little bookstore all the pilots love?”

“Port Book and News. I called. They haven’t seen him!”

“Okay, look, don’t panic, Rachel. The captain’s just upset. He’s probably just gone off to think.”

“Not in all our years together, Gracie, has he ever turned away from me when he was upset or scared. I’m terrified!”

“Stay by the phone, okay? Keep your cell phone on, too. Or did he take it?”

“No. It’s here.”

“Keep it on. Give me a few minutes to think and I’ll call you back.”

“Okay.”

Gracie replaced the receiver and stepped back to lean against the rear of the wheelhouse couch between the galley and the yacht’s bridge, trying to control the spinning in her head. She had never known Arlie Rosen to leave Rachel out of anything except his time on duty in a 747, but the dark, unspoken worry that he might be planning something as extreme as suicide simply didn’t make sense. The captain had always been the ranking optimist, a man in love with life. She could imagine him catastrophically despondent, but not to the point of hurting himself, and never to the point of committing what Gracie had always considered the ultimate act of selfishness, which would be to leave Rachel behind.

Thank God it’s Saturday! she thought, struggling to decide what, if anything, she could and should do. The Rosens’ Cherokee was still at Boeing Field, and although the morning was cloudy, there was a high overcast. She could fly it over and be in Sequim within an hour and a half, but what then?

Think, girl! Gracie commanded herself. She shut her eyes, trying to grab a fleeting memory hanging just out of reach, a peaceful place Arlie Rosen had talked about once. Or was she imagining it?

Dammit! The thought wouldn’t come, no matter how much she struggled.

Okay, what’s that technique April uses? Think of the question and let it go like a search engine. She let the essence of the question roll around in her mind for a few seconds, then purposely shifted her thoughts away.

I can’t sit here on the boat. She turned and moved back down to the lower deck to fix her hair and get dressed, as fast as possible, calculating the route to the airport. She would call Rachel back on the way, as well as call the corporate terminal to have the plane fueled. April had left the key at their service desk.

Hurricane Ridge!

The name popped into her mind without warning. A road leading south into the Olympic Mountains from Port Angeles wound its way to the top of a windswept promontory called Hurricane Ridge, and the place had fascinated him. What were his words? She recalled them suddenly, and they made the need to find him all the more urgent.

“It’s a launching pad for the soul, Gracie,” she recalled his saying. “It’s windswept and beautiful. If there is a perfect point on this beautiful planet from which one could leave this life and just step into the clouds, that would be it.”