The Seventh Secret

Chapter 19 — Cabin Fever in the Open Air

“Why did you decide to stay up here, Purdue?” Nina asked when Purdue brought her a beer. She knew something was afoot since after a minute-long conversation with Sam his quite resolute plans had suddenly changed.

“What do you mean?” he asked nonchalantly. “I will go next time. It’s no big deal.”

“No, you were dying to see that wreck with your own eyes. Had it not been for the two bottles of Scotch and fourteen beers you ravaged with Sam, you probably wouldn’t even have slept,” she reminded him.

“It was not fourteen,” he scoffed. “At most eight.”

“Wow! That makes a difference. I stand corrected,” she smiled and licked a popsicle. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had found a stash of juice popsicles in the larger fridge below deck. The welcome coolness of the frozen popsicle alleviated the glare of the African sun somewhat.

“You sound almost disappointed that I chose to stay up here with you,” he teased.

“With me?” she replied in surprise. “Shouldn’t it be ‘with us’?”

Purdue chuckled softly at Nina’s psychological wiles he could so easily see through. He had known her far too long to fall for her mind games. With the wind muddling the feathery gray and blond hair around his ears and neck, his eyes gazed far across the gentle waves.

"Nina, you are a brilliant woman. You know full well that I would always relinquish the pleasure of diving for you. Come now,” he said dreamily without meeting her eyes.

“Aye. I got that a long time ago. But my question is why?” she reiterated.

He looked her in the eye for a moment, the reflection of the sun on the water highlighting the gray of his irises. “You know why. You know I have not given up on whatever we once had. How could I? You are, in my opinion, the pinnacle of feminine creation, my dear Nina, and I will be damned if I am going to let you run off with someone else. Someone… lesser… than you deserve.”

“Sam,” she replied with a faint smile drenched in hurt.

“I did not say that. Nevertheless, the notion remains the same,” he revealed, drinking the mix of sherry and ice cream Mieke Badenhorst had handed him. She had taken it upon herself to play bartender while they waited. It would keep her away from Cheryl, whom she did not trust, and give her something to do in the meantime. Until the wreck was towed and Dr. Malgas took possession of it, she pretty much had nothing to keep herself busy with.

The same went for Cheryl. The prostitute was forced to engage in conversation with Zain and Sibu to hold up the charade that they were her associates, but she could not wait to get rid of them. She had no idea that she had in fact become redundant to them, that they were only interested in what their new acquaintances had to offer — and that was so much more than what she could ever give them.

“This is much better than turning tricks,” she told Zain, enjoying the cold condensation on her glass against her palms. “Wish I could take on this line of business for good.”

Zain shifted in his seat, watching Sibu flirting with Mieke at the bar. A rare, barely perceptible smile crossed his face. "You could," he said amicably, "but, unfortunately, your addiction will never let you get off your knees.”

She looked hurt by his remark. For a second she had thought that Zain was a normal man with compassion. He had almost sounded civilized just then, uncharacteristically so, but she believed people could change. Somewhere inside of him, the small boy his mother loved had to exist, but his remark convinced her that it would take a whole lot of chiseling to get through to that core. That kind of chiseling that could only be successful with the use of an iron spike and a sledgehammer.

“Fuck you, Zain!” she sneered fearlessly.

"Be careful," he warned, but she was not intimidated. Here on the yacht, in the middle of a very important con with so many witnesses, he could not harm her for fear that it would compromise his cover, and she knew it.

"No, I mean it. Fuck you!" she repeated. It was a side of Cheryl he had not seen before. She was dead serious, unafraid and strong. "You love to kick people while they are down, you son of a bitch because it is the only time you score a hit.”

Zain was grinding his teeth, fighting his instinct to strike her with every fiber of his being. The audacity that she had dared to speak to him like that, more yet to insinuate that he was a weakling and a coward, merited a good beating. But to keep up his mask of trust he had to listen to a dirty slut insulting him. What was worse was that he knew her words came not from an attempt to hurt him, but from the depths of her heart. Every victim of his endeavors perceived him like that, the very perception that he usually ignored because he could not bear confronting it. Cheryl was the voice of all his victims, all his associates and moreover, his employers.

"You call me a whore, slut, skank, you name it," she continued, finally finding the defiance to get it all off her chest. “But think about it, Zain. You are nothing more than a fucking lackey, the boss’ little bitch on your knees just like me, a well-trained lapdog that runs to bark and bite whenever your boss gives the order. You know why?” she panted hoarsely, slowly picking her hurtful words and reveling in their slow delivery. “Because you can only perform when someone gives you orders; nothing but a bottom, a sub who follows orders because he cannot think for himself. Everything you do on your own will turn into a fuck-up, a failure… just… like… you.”

Zain jumped up, fuming with rage, but the racket drew looks from the billionaire and the academics as well as his own associate, Sibu. Cheryl laughed out loud and rose to her feet. She addressed everyone in a graceful manner, “Oh, looks like Zain having trouble getting his sea legs!”

Everybody laughed with her, offering words of encouragement to Zain. Zain reined in fury for the moment, but his eyes were wild and murderous. That was it. Cheryl’s fate was sealed. But he had time. He still had to wait until he could efficiently claim the wreck after it had been towed and sea to find its treasures.

‘We’ll see then, bitch,’ he thought, watching Cheryl striding toward the bar to get another drink. ‘Then I’ll have more money than God and your useless carcass will be lying on the ocean floor.’

“What is your friend’s problem?” Mieke asked Sibu.

“Probably feeling sick,” Sibu replied with a shrug, far more interested in the blue-eyed blonde with the astonishing rack she so happily showed off in her bathing suit. He deplored her choice to wear board shorts though, but for now, her cleavage would suffice in keeping his eyes content.

"Doubt it," she replied. "He doesn't look sick at all. Actually, he just looks utterly pissed off. Maybe you should talk to him."

“Nah, he’s alright," Sibu answered. Cheryl joined them with a wide grin on her face. Sibu was elated to have two beautiful women in his presence, and neither one was screaming, crying or fighting him off. It was a rare occasion for him indeed.

“Can I have another of those excellent ice cream devils of yours, Mieke?” Cheryl cooed as she set her empty glass down in front of the baffled blonde. As far as she recalled the Malay beauty hated her guts.

“Are you sure? It sounds like you’ve had quite enough, even after just one,” Mieke told her.

"No, no! Give her another one," Sibu urged. Inebriated or drugged women were just his type. "She is relaxing. Let her have another one. If she throws up, I'll take care of her."

Cheryl gave him a condescending look. “In your dreams.”

‘In your dreams, sweet thing,’ Sibu lusted in his thoughts. ‘As soon as you fall asleep your ass is mine.’

Mieke obliged. She saw Nina watching her and Cheryl as she had been since they started disagreeing over just about everything. Sibu walked away to join Zain.

“If this guy is your taste, honey. You are a bigger whore than I am,” Cheryl told Mieke. “And a lot more desperate.”

“Well, you are the one who brought him here. That should say enough,” Mieke retorted snappily. “And mind your fucking manners. Her Highness is watching us like a hawk.”

Cheryl frowned at first, but then she realized that Mieke was referring to Nina. A fresh glass of alcoholic ice cream shake found its way to Cheryl’s lips and the two adversaries stood in quiet company for once, in a forced truce for Nina’s sake.

“Why do you think Dave Purdue suddenly decided to stay behind?” Mieke asked Cheryl. She could not fathom his reasons. If it was for the historian, Mieke guessed, it was odd since he could have her anytime, by the looks of them. She could not believe she was having this conversation with her predecessor, though.

“You know, I was wondering the same thing. The guy practically had his kilt on fire to see the wreck last night, and this morning,” Cheryl mentioned, to Mieke’s amusement. The blonde was having a good laugh at the kilt remark, but suddenly her smile disappeared.

“Oh, Christ, not now. I am so not in the mood,” she moaned quietly, provoking Cheryl’s curiosity.

“What? What?” she asked Mieke, who instantly plastered a fake smile on her face.

“Dr. Malgas! Would you like a drink too?” she asked cheerfully at the arrival of the reserved academic in his oversized Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. He looked very much out of place in the baggy clothing with his slight build and utterly clean cut face. Cheryl turned and smiled, "Oh yes, have a drink with us, Dr. Malgas. After all, if it weren't for you, none of us would be here. We all owe you a load of gratitude for the opportunity to be involved in such a historical enterprise.”

“Jesus, lay it on thick, won’t you,” Mieke snapped under her breath, evoking a spiteful glare from her opponent.

“Are you jealous because you don’t understand what I just said?” Cheryl retorted in a girly voice that mocked Mieke’s bimbo looks.

“Hey,” Mieke whispered, "remember who makes your drinks, junkie." And with that, she blew a kiss at the suddenly worried-looking hooker.

"Hello ladies," Dr. Malgas smiled warmly. "So good to see both my assistants here with me today. At least, I know I'm in good organizational hands, hey?"

"Of course, you are," Mieke smiled. Billy Malgas looked at her urgently when Cheryl turned away. He needed to know what her plan was once the wreck was identified. Sooner or later Dr. Gould was going to figure out that it was not the Admiral Graf Spee they were exploring. So many times the night before he had hoped to get Sam Cleave alone so that he could figure out what repercussions might await him should the ship turn out to be nothing special, but Sam was always in company. Mieke shook her head, and her expression told him not to worry.

Suddenly Sam resurfaced. Nina and Purdue jumped up as Crystal came up soon after.

“And?” Purdue asked eagerly.

Crystal smiled. “It’s real. It is the Graf Spee!”