68 Knots Read Online Free Page B

smuggled into his bedroom, but the warm Maine sun was making him feel upbeat. He was talking to no one in particular. “Don’t you ever wish you were rich? I mean, really rich. You know—just decide one day to go for a sail, so you call up your personal secretary, and by lunchtime she has everything arranged. The boat’s been chartered, the food’s been catered, the bartender’s been hired, the company’s been invited, and the weather’s been dusted off and polished to perfection. The next thing you know, BOOM!, you’re sailing the North Atlantic. You look at a map, totally choose a destination at random, and set out. If the trip takes too long for some of your guests, you just fly ’em home from the next port. When you get tired of sailing, you hop a jet back home and hire someone to sail the boat back for you. Wouldn’t that be
great
?”
    â€œIt might be great at times, but I wouldn’t want to be trapped in that life,” said Dawn FitzWilliam.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Logan asked.
    Dawn shrugged. She wore her light brown hair in a ponytail she pulled through the space in the back of a red baseball cap, and she had a pleasant smile that could turn quickly into a pensive, distant look. “These ‘guests’ on your boat—why arethey there? Because they like you personally, or because they like the boat, and the drinks, and the money, and the travel? This secretary—does she do things for you because she believes in you, because she cares about you—or because you pay her? This destination you decided to sail to—is it exotic? Mysterious? Or just the same old country-club stuff you can get anywhere? Remember, karma works in powerful ways. The way you treat the universe is reflected in the way the universe treats you.”
    Logan shrugged and flicked his red hair out of his face. “Wouldn’t matter to me, noooooway!” he said with a grin.
    They sailed on toward the sea’s horizon, passing the time with easy conversation. It was nearly three o’clock when Marietta sat on the rail next to Arthur. He was happy to have the chance to talk to her at last.
    â€œI don’t know about you,” she said, “but I’m getting hungry.”
    â€œSo am I,” Arthur said, correcting the ship’s course just a little bit to keep the compass at 140 degrees. “Why don’t you see if McKinley wants us to start cooking.”
    Marietta looked at Arthur with a flirtatious smile. “I was hoping you would do that,” she said.
    â€œSure,” Arthur answered. “Take the wheel for a minute.”
    Arthur went below and knocked on the door separating the main cabin from the forward section that contained the captain’s quarters. There was no sound. He knocked again, more loudly.
    â€œCommodore?” he called. “Could I talk to you?”
    There was no answer. Arthur knew that if McKinley were asleep in his cabin, he might not hear the knocking. He knocked again, waited, then tried the rusty knob. It was locked, so he jiggled and twisted it until something moved.He would tell McKinley that the door opened “accidentally.” He forced it open and entered the galley.
    Rum. The galley reeked of cheap rum. The smell was stronger near the captain’s quarters in the bow, and Arthur hesitated a moment. Then he knocked on the captain’s door anyway.
    There was no answer.
    â€œCommodore? Are you all right?” he shouted.
    Silence.
    This door was locked, too, and Arthur began to feel worried. He pushed against the door and twisted the knob. No luck. No sound from inside.
    â€œCommodore? Mr. McKinley? Hello?”
    This is getting scary, Arthur thought. He raised his right foot, took a deep breath, and kicked the door with all his strength. It burst open, and Arthur leapt inside.
    Three empty rum bottles lay on the table, along with two large bottles of prescription pills and several