Of Dolphins and Desires

Chapter 3

3

Logan had watched the entire exchange between Courtney and the Mayor, and decided that there was no need to gather more information on Rodriguez and his wife. The General, however, had yet to wipe the aroused look off his face. He sat on the sofa against the wall, partially hidden behind the pool table, should anyone try to take a shot at him from the French doors. He would bear watching, Logan decided.

Though she smiled, Logan searched Courtney’s face for any affects from her exchange with the General at the door. She caught him looking at her and headed his way, her smile changing slightly to generate sincere warmth. Her ankles wobbled only slightly as the heels of her f**k Me shoes sank into the plush white carpet.

“Can I get you something?” She asked.

“I’m o’right with this spot of bottled water and wedge of fruit, thanks. Please, Ms. Swanson, have a perch here on this bar stool and tell me about your research.” He held out a chair for her and waited until she climbed gracefully onto the cushion before joining her on the next stool.

The view of her from the back with her strong, tanned shoulders was just as fantastic as the view from the front. When she crossed her legs, Logan had to rearrange the front of his jacket to hide the fact that the front of his pants was a bit snug. Courtney Swanson was an attractive woman. Her passport photo didn’t do justice to the real thing. And six months in rehab was the longest he’d been without adult companionship since his Senior Prom.

“What would you like to know?” Usually when people asked about her research, they did so out of social obligation, not because they were genuinely interested in what she did.

“Did your father explain to you my position at UW?”

“No.”

“I’m a Professor of Biology and Animal Behaviors, in the College of Ocean and Fishery Sciences.”

Courtney was almost salivating. Finally! she thought. Someone to whom she could discuss her research with that would understand all the difficulties and ramifications. She took a deep breath and launched into her life’s dream.

Logan did his best to concentrate on her words. She used her hands to gesture and her face revealed her excitement. Most of the information she shared, he already knew. What he didn’t know was that she had already started the training program with a particular group of dolphins that called this part of the Mexican Coast home.

The Senator heard the mention of training and called a halt to Courtney’s monologue. “Why don’t you share with the General and Mayor the success of your research?”

“Certainly,” Courtney agreed. She schooled her features, kept her hands in her lap, and proceeded to tell the guests about her dissertation project.

After several minutes, she concluded, “So, you see, once I have the timeline set, I can train the dolphins to search the areas where many of the fishing vessels and yachts travel so they can detect the illegal drops, much like police dogs are trained for sniffing out drugs or bombs.” She shifted her attention to the General. “But I don’t know how long each stage will take. I can’t give a guarantee as to when an animal would complete the training.”

The General stood, clasping his hands behind his back. “Señorita Swanson, you must understand the importance of this training. With the animals assisting my troops, we can keep Ensenada and all of Baja drug free. But we can’t wait. We must begin the training now.”

“If the stages are rushed, then the dolphins won’t know when to alert your men. You’d be spending more man hours tracking down false alarms than you would be actually recovering the narcotics.”

“With what you have so far, researchers at the university in Mexico City are ready to begin formal training,” he insisted.

Her brows drew together as she felt her anger rise. “No one will be heading up any training unless I say so.”

“Now, Courtney, you have to understand the General’s position. It is his responsibility to stop the flow of drugs coming on shore here. If he sees something that can be put in place, then it needs to be made available. Besides, I have agreed to front the money for the training. Once it is underway, I’ll be presenting my support and the results in Washington.” Finishing his speech, the Senator poured himself another scotch from the crystal decanter.

“If I may interject,” Professor Perkins said as he got to his feet and placed himself between Courtney and the General, if for no other reason than to block the General’s view. “Ms. Swanson’s research, which is not yet published, remains her own. Since she is a citizen of the U.S., it only seems right that her research be shared with agencies in America, for the benefit of the U.S.”

“Professor Perkins—” the General started.

“Until such time,” he interrupted the general, “that she sees fit to broaden the training program, perhaps here in Mexico.”

The General was displeased with this suggestion, but he was already thinking he might have a way to convince Señorita Swanson to include Mexico in her continued research and implementing the program once she completed the timeline.

Courtney had come to her feet and stood with her arms crossed under her chest. When she noticed the general staring, she dropped her hands to her sides.

“First of all,” she began, “Professor Perkins is correct. The research is mine, but I’m not done. The results have to be presented to the Dissertation Panel at UCSD and then published in a peer-reviewed journal. Secondly,” she turned to her father, “how could you agree to back the research if it starts in Mexico instead of the U.S.?” Before the Senator could form a response without giving away his real plans, Courtney spun to face the General. “I’m sorry your country is having an issue with drugs, but I’m sharing the research with the U.S. first in hopes of constricting, or even ending, the flow coming from the South.”

With anger still in her eyes, she turned toward Professor Perkins. His expression was bland, while inside he was applauding Courtney for taking a stand. Her eyes softened as she said, “Thank you, Professor Perkins, for your support. I’d like to continue our discussion.”

Maria entered to announce that dinner was to be served. All the guests followed the Senator into the dining room.

Professor Perkins seated himself on Courtney’s left so that he could watch the byplay between the Senator and the General. The dinner conversation drifted to local politics surrounding the boundaries of the proposed marine preserve, the expanded runway at the airport to accommodate larger commercial planes, to the dedication of the new secondary school named after Mayor Fernando Rodriguez, and the positive influence of the recently opened public library on the community.

The General only spoke when it came to expressing his views on the military presence in this part of the Coast or the age at which boys should be allowed to sign up for duty. The rest of the time, his eyes either moved suspiciously around the room or stared at Courtney’s breasts.

Courtney only offered her opinion when asked. Logan couldn’t believe her appetite and guessed that she had logged a lot of hours in the water in order to fit into her dress. The Senator seemed pleased to be able to turn the conversation back to him at every opportunity, talking about his plans for the town, and what he had already done for the community. Logan tuned it out while he tried to come up with a way to find out more about Courtney’s training schedule. He glanced at his watch and realized he had only two hours before he was scheduled to contact HQ with updated information.

Maria again came through the swinging door from the kitchen. She removed the empty platters that once held the tamales, and then placed a dessert plate in front of each person that contained a perfectly cooked flan.

Logan observed out of the corner of his eye as Courtney took a spoonful, brought it slowly to her mouth. Instead of just wrapping her lips around her spoon, she closed her eyes and inhaled the rich caramel scent. She parted her lips, which were curved in a private smile, and as Logan watched, transfixed, the utensil filled with custard disappeared inside her mouth. The spoon came out, minus the dessert, and if it weren’t for the clatter of plates, the swapping of recipes between Maria and the Mayor’s wife, everyone would have heard the groan coming from Courtney’s throat. Logan, who had finally regained control of his blood flow below his belt, closed his own eyes and swallowed as that control once again slipped. He imagined the sugar dissolving on her tongue and wondered if her own unique taste would be enhanced by the sweetness of the dessert. Hell, Logan, get a grip, he chastised himself. He took a bite of the flan and was somehow disappointed that his reaction was not the same as Courtney’s.

“Well, shall we retire to the game room? Mayor, General, I have some fine cigars waiting in the humidor. Professor Perkins, you are, of course, welcome to join us,” the Senator said as he pushed away from the table and stood.

The General’s aides followed, flanking the General on either side. The Mayor stood up and pulled the chair out for his wife. Logan did the same for Courtney.

She smiled a thank you at him and was contemplating complaining of a headache in order to get away from the General and his questions, when Logan asked, “Would you like to take in some fresh air? A splendid meal, but I’d really like to hear more about your dolphins.”

“That would be fine. Cigar smoke makes me sneeze. Why don’t we go out through the kitchen door,” Courtney suggested as she turned to lead the way from the dining room, and away from any more grilling by her father and lecherous looks from the General.

Logan followed her through the kitchen, where he thanked Maria for a wonderful meal, then continued outside, his hand at the small of Courtney’s back.

The three-quarter moon, the smell of the ocean, and the sound of the waves assaulted his senses. He reined in his galloping thoughts of s*x on the beach with Courtney and focused his attention on why he was here, which was to get information, not to get laid. Logan breathed in deeply and forced his thoughts away from recreation and on to work.

“So, Ms. Swanson, do you think that your training will be successful? Do you believe that twelve weeks is all it will take to train these wild dolphins to detect the drop-off points the drug runners use for their narcotics?”

“The younger dolphins seem to pick up the training quicker than the older ones. It is twelve weeks at the outside, ten if each one picks up how to work with another dolphin.” Changing the subject, she asked, “Professor Perkins, how did you hear about my work?”

All that studying in rehab is about to pay off, Logan thought.

“I’ve been working on and off with Dr. Cliff Reynolds at UW. He is, as you know, since you contacted him about articles he has written in the field, a leading researcher in marine mammal training. The Navy has a contract with him to train California sea lions to detect explosives in the freighters that come into Mission Bay in San Diego. He is friends with one of the Chairs at the University of Washington. The Chair’s sister-in-law was dating a colleague of mine in Dover, England. When word got around that the Chair was looking for a replacement so he could retire, the sister-in-law was able to get me an interview. Things worked out, and I moved to Seattle six months ago.”

It was mostly the truth. The people were real, and his father was an acquaintance of the Chair at the University of Washington. And he had been in Seattle for the last six months, but in rehab. The number one rule in undercover operations was to stick as close to the truth as possible. That way, there was less of a chance to slip up.

Logan shoved his hands in his pockets as they strolled along the path that ran just inside the fence that surrounded La Casa. Coming to the gate that led out to the beach, Courtney paused. The tide was in and the shoreline was below the stretch of sand on the west side of the house. She looked out at the water and squinted her eyes. Logan followed her gaze. The moonlight reflected like diamonds on black velvet off the tips of the waves as they rolled in on the sand. Above the steady rhythm of the waves came a high-pitched whine. He glanced at Courtney and saw her tip her head to the side. The next moment she was three inches shorter as she stepped out of her heels, keyed in the security code, and pushed open the chain-link gate.

“Perhaps we should return—” was all he got out, as Courtney took off at a run across the sand. The noise, he knew, and was stupid to think she didn’t, belonged to an outboard, perhaps a Zodiac or Panga. Nights with partial moonlight were a favorite for drops.

Catching the gate before it closed and locked him in, he followed the red sequins. The sound increased, seeming to come from the north, but on water at night, sound travels differently. He caught up to her at the water’s edge, sixty yards down the beach. The engine sound was already fading. Looking across the water, he could see the lights of fishing vessels several miles off the coast.

Courtney pointed. “There. Do you see the wake? It must have been a drop from a small boat.” She turned and walked up the beach, but not back towards La Casa. “Do you get sea sick, Professor Perkins?”

“What kind of Marine Biologist would I be if I did?” He followed her, not sure what she planned.

“And are you certified to dive?” she called back over her shoulder.

His leg ached from the run in the sand and now the climb up the beach and away from the water. “Of course. Are you proposing we go for a dive? Now?”

“If I can find the drop, I can use the actual package for training. Not to mention keep a small amount from reaching its destination.”

They were nearing a shed. Logan reached out to grab her arm and turn her around. “You do not honestly believe that you can go out there, right after some heathen has dropped the goods, and take them?”

“Why yes, Professor, that is exactly what I’m proposing.” She tugged a bit on her arm. Logan held fast.

“They will have it watched. If you go out there now, you’ll be shot, and they won’t care a whit about who you are, or your research.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know they’ll have it watched? Why not drop it and leave?”

“Because the competition is always looking to pick up something for free.” He looked back over his shoulder at where the boat came from. “There. See? Two lights, bow and stern.” He pointed to the north where a larger boat rode anchor close to shore. “If you go out, you won’t be coming back until the next high tide floats your body ashore.” He turned to look at her and released her arm. “Ms. Swanson, let us return to the house.”

Courtney saw the boat lights. During her time at La Casa, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint where or when they made their drops. Occasionally there was gunfire, both from the water and land, when the Federales felt that firepower was necessary against those they perceived were breaking the law. It didn’t occur to her that the drops would be protected, but perhaps the drug runners were responsible for the gunfire as well.

“How did you know so much about their activities?”

“I’m well informed. Now, please, Ms. Swanson. I believe we will be missed.” Logan held out his arm to direct her back towards the brightly lit house.

Stepping around him, Courtney headed in that direction. Logan sighed and followed, finally coming to walk beside her.

“Where do you get your information, Professor?” If he knew things about the runners, then she needed to know. And if he knew intimate details about their habits, then perhaps he could help her with the final stage of her research.

“My brother. He works for an agency that is involved in security and recovery of stolen items,” he said evasively.

“What kind of security?”

“The private kind. You know, wealthy people wanting to protect their valuables.”

She stopped and turned to him. “How does a brother who works security know about Mexican drug runners who make drops off the Coast?” She was feeling a bit uneasy about the Professor.

Logan shrugged. “I think he was sent with a partner on an op, er, operation to recover some illegal property where he observed this to be the case.”

She resumed walking, but wasn’t ready to drop her suspicions. “And he can share this information with you? It isn’t confidential?”

“Normally so, yes. When I told him I was coming here, he volunteered. As a measure for safety, of course.” Logan hoped that would satisfy her. The inquisitiveness of her mind, he realized, is what made her so good at research.

They had reached the gate, and he casually watched as she pressed the numbered code, which he already knew. They stepped through the gate and back onto the walkway that led to the pool. She stopped to grab her shoes, but instead of putting them on, she dangled them from her fingers. Logan breathed a sigh of relief that they were again walking on a hard surface.

“Does your brother have access to recovered ‘property’?”

He looked down at her. Without her heels, her head came to his chest. “What do you mean?” Surely she couldn’t be asking me to score for her, Logan thought.

She looked at him as if he were a slow-thinking child. “What does he do with the drugs he recovers?” Perhaps English Professors are more schooled to lecture on research rather than actually performing experiments and discussing how it applies to real life, she thought.

Logan blinked at her, thinking fast. “I’m not exactly sure.” We burn most of it out in the middle of nowhere, keeping some for deals and props when needed, he finished to himself.

“Oh,” was all she said, looking at the ground in front of her feet.

“May I ask why you’re interested?” Her file didn’t show any prior drug use.

They had reached the pool and the potted bougainvillea. She turned to him, and using his arm for balance, placed her shoes on her feet one at a time. Standing in front of him, now almost eye-level, she said, “Because, Professor Perkins, if I had the real deal, the training could be shortened to six to eight weeks. That would keep my dolphins out of the hands of researchers that are in the General’s pocket.”