The RX Factor Page 2

  "Patience mon, I'm gettin' to that. Once da boat was almost on top of da lure, dis real fat guy leaned over to try to free da line, but fell overboard when a wave side-swiped the boat. Then de other guy panicked, threw the throttle in full speed reverse and plowed the back of da boat right up onto a reef. Ended up burning up the motor and put a crack in the hull."

  Franklin cackled even louder this time and took another swallow of his beer before continuing. "When the fat guy tried to swim to shore, he somehow lost his shorts and got his legs all scratched up on the coral reef. He was sunburnt, half naked and looked like a beached whale by the time we got to him and his friend."

  Ryan snickered at the image that popped into his mind before taking a jab at Franklin. "I suppose a by-the-book hard-ass like you levied a fine against these tourists for damaging the coral reef."

  "That is not in my jurisdiction, but I probably would have reported him had dey not already been out many thousands of dollars for da boat repairs."

  Franklin drained the remainder of his beer, then jumped up from his barstool and took a few steps towards the door before turning back to Ryan with a jab of his own. "Besides, I have compassion for anyone who is dat damn stupid. Dese morons said dey were from North Carolina. Isn't that the same state where you came from?"

  Before Ryan had a chance to tell Franklin to go fuck himself, the door to Rosey's slammed shut and Franklin was gone.

  Just as Ryan drained his glass, the door to Rosey's began to open, but quickly closed with no one entering. Figuring Franklin was returning for a few more rounds, Ryan leapt from his barstool to greet his friend with the first stinger in what was certain to be a new round of gibes. Standing in the doorway and waiting to gain the upper hand, Ryan was momentarily tongue-tied when a gorgeous woman with long black hair, full pouty lips, and curves in all the right places entered the bar with an armful of shopping bags.

  Stunned by the sight of Rosey's new patron, Ryan hypnotically held the door open with his foot while simultaneously relieving her of the shopping bags.

  "What a gentleman. Thank you so much," she exclaimed.

  "Table for one, madam?" Ryan teased.

  The woman looked at Ryan with a cautious grin and hesitated before responding. "No thanks, a seat at the bar will do just fine."

  "Very well then, right this way please."

  Ryan escorted the woman to the barstool where Franklin had been sitting a few minutes earlier and set her bags on the floor between the bar and toe kick. He then held her barstool and waited for her to position herself up onto her seat.

  "Thank you." She hesitated and then smiled. "I don't recall Rosey's having a maitre d', and you don't look Bahamian, but it's a very nice touch."

  Ryan hopped back onto his barstool and gave the lady a devilish smile. "Just having a little fun. The name's Ryan."

  The woman looked surprised before composing herself and extending her hand. "Hello Ryan, my name is Jordan. Jordan Carver."

  As Ryan released her hand, Rosey came up to the couple. Seeing Rosey beside her, Jordan jumped up off her barstool and gave him a big hug.

  "You two know each other?" Ryan asked.

  "She has been visitin' Exuma for years mon. Her aunt and uncle too. Comes here every year. She's my favorite tourist."

  "Hey, what about me? You know, I can go spend my money somewhere else, Rosey."

  "Ah, come on mon, you been livin' here way too long. You ain't no tourist, yuse what dey call an expat mon." Rosey flashed a brilliant white smile. How 'bout a couple of drinks on da house."

  "Sounds good and why don't you get Jordan here a drink as well," Ryan quipped.

  Rosey smiled and shook his head at Ryan. "You got it mon, double Jameson on the rocks and, let's see, Captain Morgan, Diet Coke, and lime for Dr. Carver, correct?"

  "You got it. Great memory Rosey."

  "Doctor?" Ryan questioned.

  Before Jordan could respond, Rosey jumped back in. "Oh ya mon. Miss Jordan is a doctor. In medical research, mon, just like you used to do."

  "You don't say."

  "Tis a remarkable ting, doncha agree, mon?" Rosey said, a bright white smile on his dark face. "Dat she is brilliant and beautiful, too?"

  Ryan raised his eyes a fraction, enough to see Jordan's eyes lower to her drink. "Oh, Rosey, you're overdoing it," she said.

  Rosey flashed another brilliant smile. "Two drinks coming up."

  As Rosey maneuvered through the growing crowd to his station behind the bar, Jordan followed up on Ryan's background. "You were in medical research? What area did you specialize in?"

  Suddenly sullen, Ryan hesitated before responding. "Seems like a lifetime ago. But back in the day, I ran a small biotech company that was searching for a cure for cancer."

  "Wow! Very impressive. What happened? And how did you end up in Exuma?"

  "That's a very long story. Let's just say that I wasn't as good at it as I thought. I sold my company for the right price at the right time and decided I had had enough of the bureaucracy and bullshit of the industry for a while. And what better place to escape that rat race then right here in the Bahamas?"

  Ryan was losing the desire to discuss his background any further and felt a great rush of relief when Rosey delivered the drinks. He immediately grabbed his glass, gave Jordan a half-hearted "Cheers!" and slammed half his drink in one gulp. Gathering himself, Ryan took control of the conversation. "What area of research are you in?"

  "It's a unique area."

  "Unique? How so?"

  "Well, I used to oversee a clinic in Chicago that ran FDA trials. And, like you, I've had enough of the 'bureaucracy and bullshit,' as you put it, for a lifetime. Now I'm getting out of the mainstream and am preparing to open a clinic in Sayulita, Mexico. My new medical clinic will offer real hope for terminal patients by providing them with drugs that can actually cure their disease as opposed to just keeping them alive until their bodies burn out or the insurance dries up."

  Her response was filled with such venomous sarcasm that Ryan was taken aback. He felt that he had unintentionally entered an emotional minefield. In an earlier time and place, he had lived for riddles. He loved the taunt of a challenge and wouldn't be able to rest until he had mastered its puzzle, assailing it from every angle and pounding it into submission.

  "I am well aware of the bureaucracy involved in the U.S. drug industry, but—"

  "Bureaucracy is one thing," Jordan interrupted, louder than before, "but I've been dealing with complete and utter incompetence. Hell, the FDA wouldn't recognize a real breakthrough drug if it drove up and parked in its fat ass."

  Deferring to her obvious passion for the subject, Ryan let her continue without comment.

  "The big pharmaceuticals are only interested in coming up with their me-too coping drugs, and because of all the lobbying dollars and backroom deals, those are all the FDA is interested in approving. Sad to say, but if you really want to get good medicine, you have to leave the country. America, 'land of opportunity'? What a crock!"

  Now she was striking too close to his own experience. "I agree that on top of the bureaucracy there is a sizeable dose of incompetence, but all in all, I think the FDA does a fair job of keeping bad drugs off the market." Ryan's expression turned somber, and he felt his shoulders slump. "Trust me. I know better than anyone that even the most promising drugs can turn out to be killers."

  Rosey slipped in front of them on his way to deliver cocktails to a nearby table. "Jordan, I tink ya cell phone's buzzing."

  Jordan thanked Rosey, grabbed the vibrating cell phone sitting on the bar behind her, and headed outside to answer her call.

  Rosey smiled at Ryan. "She be a regular Madame Curie, don' she?"

  "Yeah, sounds that way. I just hope she knows what she's doing. Hey! If she's been coming here all these years, why is it I never met her before?"

  "We usually see her in the afternoon mon, when she is not out sailing. Aren't you usually sleeping one off around dat time?"

 
; Ryan scrunched up his face, giving Rosey a look that he hoped conveyed the message Screw you, but Rosey just smiled and walked away.

  Jordan returned from the outside deck just as Ryan was finishing off his drink. With a smirk, he asked, "And who was that? Did the FDA track you down already?"

  "Ha ha, very funny. No, the FDA is crooked and incompetent and they couldn't track down an elephant in a coat closet." Her mouth changed expressions from a pout to a grin as she continued. "It was just my overly protective uncle wondering why I wasn't back yet."

  "Does he live on the island?"

  She took a sip of her drink. "My aunt and uncle own that sailing yacht out there in the harbor," she said, as though it were nothing special. "I'll be living on it for the next two weeks."

  He glanced out over the bay. "You mean that white beauty all lit up like a Christmas tree?"

  "That's her. The Bulls and Bears"

  "Your aunt and uncle must be doing well.

  I bet they have a whole staff with them on that whale."

  "They are doing very well, but they both fancy themselves as sailors with salt in their blood. They maintain the yacht themselves while at sea and hire locals at each port of call to keep her sparkling. It doesn't hurt that the yacht is equipped with the most advanced electronics and instrumentation that money can buy." Jordan smirked before adding, "My uncle is Henry Carver. He's funding our project in Mexico. Perhaps you've come across his name?" This last question came laced with an edge of condescension.

  Ryan straightened up in his chair. "The Wall Street Henry Carver?"

  "Yes," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

  "Well, then, this must be some clinic you're starting up in Mexico."

  "Yes, we are very well funded. Money is not going to be a problem."

  "Then maybe I'll come down and apply for a job?"

  "I can't imagine you have already run out of the money you received from selling your company, but if you did come down to Mexico, then maybe I would hire you."

  Ryan laughed and ordered a couple of shots of tequila. Handing Jordan the shot glass filled with the generous pour from Rosey's hand, Ryan declared, "Then let's celebrate—Mexican style."

  It was nine o'clock when the music started playing and Ryan and Jordan realized they were starving. Ryan ordered the conch chowder and a batch of conch fritters and Jordan decided on the fresh grouper with rice and beans. As the food was being prepared they moved to an open table, shopping bags in hand. They enjoyed their freshly caught meal over the jubilating sounds of the usual Thursday night three-piece calypso band that was jamming to its own special blend of Caribbean jazz.

  As Ryan and Jordan finished their dinner and their plates were being cleared, the band started in with "Day-O". Jordan immediately jumped to her feet, grabbed Ryan by the hand, and dragged him to the makeshift dance floor that was starting to overflow with Rosey's well-lubricated patrons. As the band and the audience sang the refrain for the seventh time, Ryan shook his head and smiled. He was staring into Jordan's eyes but began to think back to his honeymoon when he and Cindy were here in the same place, dancing to the same song, not a care in the world.

  As the last refrain echoed through the bar, Ryan returned to reality and immediately felt uncomfortable when Jordan kissed him on the cheek. It was a fleeting sense of remorse. Ryan quickly rebounded and gave Jordan a twirl as they headed back to the bar to refill their empty glasses.

  Most of the patrons had gone home for the night when Jordan's cell phone began to buzz again. This time she did not answer, but jumped up and gave Ryan another kiss on the cheek and said goodnight before stumbling over to where Rosey was sitting to give him a big hug and tell him she would catch up with him again soon.

  She was already at the door when Ryan called out to her. "Hey, you forgot your shopping bags." Embarrassed, Jordan returned to the table where they had moved her bags and thanked him before heading back outside.

  She was still on the deck when Ryan caught up with her. "How do you plan on getting back to your uncle's yacht? Is someone coming to pick you up?"

  "I have a dinghy in the harbor."

  "You're in no condition to run a dinghy in the dark," Ryan lectured.

  She lowered her gaze, mischievous. "And I suppose you are?"

  "This is my natural condition. Besides, I can drive a boat better drunk than you can sober." She started to protest but he had already taken two of the bags from her and was stomping off toward the dinghy mooring. "Let's go! I can bring the dinghy back out to you in the morning."

  Jordan directed Ryan to the spot where the dinghy was tied down. He put her shopping bags in the boat and held out his hand for hers. As Jordan stepped aboard, the dinghy lurched suddenly to starboard, but Ryan's firm grip and unwavering balance saved her from a cool night swim.

  He started the outboard after a couple of drunkenly overzealous pulls, unmoored the vessel and guided the dinghy out of the docking area. He set a course for the ostentatious yacht rocking slowly on the harbor swells. The full moon hovered over her main mast. Ryan was just thinking how elegant she was when a violent blast shattered the still night, filling the sky with eye-searing light. With mouths agape, Ryan and Jordan watched as the blinding flash of flame and smoke sent the beautiful yacht skyward in thousands of pieces.

  Ryan stopped the dinghy dead in the water just before the outer ring of falling debris. Jordan stared in horror at the carnage. She began swaying from side to side, emitting sounds of disbelief, tears coursing down her cheeks. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Auntie! Uncle! This isn't happening."

  At that moment, deja vu struck Ryan hard as he relived his own words five years before. "No, no! This isn't right, can't be. My god, Cindy, Jake, Karly! No!" He gazed thunderstruck at the roaring, ravenous flames, hypnotized by their beautiful and horrendous power. Yet Ryan did not see the yacht's devastation before his eyes. Instead, the image of a raging, fiery plane wreck was superimposed over what was left of the boat's burning hull.

  He was experiencing his nightmare again, but this time he was awake. Horribly awake and abruptly sober. An uncontrollable shuddering overcame him, filling him with a foreboding that his life's course had once again been forever altered.

  Chapter 2

  Ryan and Jordan sat in the bobbing dinghy, mesmerized by the inferno. The bright, leaping tongues of fire lit up the night, casting an array of dancing shadows over the harbor. Jordan's lamentations had subsided into soundless sobs, her body shaking with grief. The distant crackling of flames was all that could be heard in the otherwise eerie silence.

  Speechless, Ryan turned the dinghy back to shore. Jordan protested. "We can't leave them here!" Oblivious to their own safety, she lurched up and reached out her hand as if to grab Ryan, nearly capsizing the launch.

  Ryan forced his voice to remain calm. "If they were on the boat, there's nothing anybody can do for them now. We've got to get away from the boat. There could be more explosions."

  Jordan sank back to her seat, her grief giving way to anger. "Damn this island," she snarled. "God knows how long it will take for help to get here. Get this thing moving!"

  A small crowd had gathered by the time they reached the dock. Stepping off the dinghy with the stern line in hand, Ryan shouted, "Has anybody called BASRA?!"

  An onlooker told them that BASRA had been called and within a few minutes, Franklin and two of his Bahamian colleagues arrived in time to see the smoldering hull slip beneath the dark waters. All that remained was a smattering of floating debris and a pall of black smoke rising into the moon-lit sky.

  With a tone that implied he knew the answer, Franklin asked the growing crowd, "Did anyone here see what happened?"

  The crowd muttered and shook their heads. Ryan motioned to Franklin to come over to where he and Jordan were standing on the dock. Jordan was frozen, staring like a zombie out into the harbor, so Ryan decided to skip the introductions. He put his arm around Franklin's shoulder and led him down the pier away from Jordan.

&
nbsp; "Jesus Christ, Franklin, I'm shaking like a leaf on a tree. It was an unbelievably horrible sight."

  "What exactly happened and who is dat women you were with? She looks horrified."

  "Her name is Jordan Carver. We met tonight at Rosey's. I was giving her a ride on the dinghy back to her uncle's yacht when the damn thing exploded into a million pieces."

  "Dat's terrible. Was dere anyone on board at de time?"

  "Right now we are assuming both her aunt and uncle were on board when it blew. Jordan is beyond distraught."

  "Don't sound like dere's much of a chance dey survived."

  "From the force of the explosion, I would say zero chance if they were on board."

  "Thanks for the information, Ryan. My boat's pulling up now. I will get in touch as soon as we have scoured the area."

  On his way to meet the boat, Franklin stopped to offer his condolences to Jordan.

  "Ms. Carver, my name is Franklin Rolle. I'm with Bahamian Air Sea Rescue. Ryan explained what happened. I'm terribly sorry. Me and my men will be going out now and searching the area and I will get in touch with you as soon as I know more."

  Jordan had a blank face and did not respond to Franklin's statement. But as Ryan approached and Franklin hurried off to meet up with the BASRA boat, Jordan snapped. "I can't stand here and do nothing. I'm going back out there." She headed for the dinghy.

  Knowing the authorities wouldn't let them return to the blast site by themselves, Ryan took hold of her arm and called out to Franklin. "Hold on. We're going with you."

  Franklin slowed his stride. Glancing at Jordan's distraught face, he gave in. "I shouldn't, but let's go."

  A few minutes later, they were bobbing over the grave of the Bulls and Bears, surrounded by wreckage. Spars, ropes, and shards of teak decking littered the sea in an ever-expanding field of debris. They cruised back and forth through the floating remnants for over an hour. Jordan's eyes scanned the water with desperation.

  Finally, Franklin announced, "There's nothing else we can do tonight. At first light I'll have divers in the water."

  Jordan glared at him. "Why can't they get started now?"