Unnatural Exposure (ks-8) by Patricia Cornwell

Author:Patricia Cornwell [Cornwell, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf

brick crumbling into the creek. The stench now was unbearable, and I was certainly more stoical than most.

'Cat food,' a guardsman said, making a face.

'Talk about cat breath.'

'No way I'd live around here.'

'Fish oil's real valuable. The Algonquin Indians used cogies to fertilize their corn.'

'What the hell's a cogy?' Martinez asked.

'Another name for those nasty little suckers. Where'd you go to school?'

'Doesn't matter. Least I don't got to smell that for a living. Unless I'm out here with a schleps like you.'

'What the hell's a schlep?'

The banter continued as Martinez pushed the throttle up more, engines rumbling, bow dipping. We sailed by duck blinds and floats marking crab pots as rainbows followed in the spray of our wake. He pushed the speed up to twenty-three knots and we cut into the deep blue water of the bay, where no pleasure boats were out this day, only an ocean liner a dark mountain on the horizon.

'How far is it?' I asked Martinez, hanging on to the back of his chair, and grateful for my suit.

'Eighteen miles total.' He raised his voice, riding waves like a surfer, sliding in sideways and over, his eyes always ahead. 'Ordinarily, it wouldn't take long. But this is worse than usual. A lot worse, really.'

His crew continued checking depth and direction detectors as the GPS pointed the

way by satellite. I could see nothing but water now, moguls rising in front, and behind, waves clapping hard like hands as the bay attacked us from all sides.

'What can you tell me about where we're going?' I almost had to shout.

'Population of about seven hundred. Until about twenty years ago they generated their own electricity, got one small airstrip made of dredge material. Damn.' The boat slammed down hard in a trough. 'Almost broached that one. That'll turn you over in a flash.'

His face was intense as he rode the bay like a bronco, his crewmen unfazed but alert as they held on to whatever they could.

'Economy's based on blue crabs, soft-shell crabs, ship'em all over the country,' Martinez went on. 'In fact, rich folks fly private planes in all the time just to buy crabs.'

'Or that's what they say they're buying,' someone remarked.

'We do have a problem with drunkenness, bootlegging, drugs,' Martinez went on. 'We board their boats when we're checking for life jackets, doing drug interdictions, and they call it being overhauled.' He smiled at me.

'Yeah, and we're the guards,' a guardsman quipped. 'Look out, here come the guards.'

'They use language any way they want,' Martinez said, rolling over another wave.

'You may have a problem understanding them.'

'When does crab season end?' I asked, and I was more concerned about what was being exported than I was about the way Tangiermen talked.

'This time of year they're dredging, dragging the bottom for crabs. They'll do that all winter, working fourteen, fifteen hours a day, sometimes gone a week at a time.' Starboard, in the distance, a dark hulk protruded from the water like a whale. A crewman caught me looking.

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