Orca

By JC Norton

Handsome, athletic Stone Ayers was done with the Army, done with college and living as ski instructor at Lake Tahoe when he met Dominic Balducci. Just what Dominic did for a living wasn't immediately clear, but whatever it was, he had to be good at it as money seemed to flow like water, so when Dominic asked if Stone might want to work for

• Language: English
• Publisher: JC Norton
• Release date: Feb 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869214508

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Orca

JC Norton

Copyright © 2019 JC Norton

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact the author.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

ISBN:9781080368099

This book is dedicated to the teams of talented, enthusiastic guides

and experts who make adventure travel the peak experience that it is. 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Richard Jacoby, an experienced seaman whom I met on a cruise to Svalbard with Zegrahm Expeditions in 2018.  Richard was a zodiac driver and guide on that trip and has crewed on boats for many years all over the globe.  Currently, in addition to his work at sea, he is as an instructor with the Alaska Maritime Training Center, teaching basic and advanced operations and safety to professional mariners.  Despite a very busy schedule, he graciously agreed to read this novel in draft form to help me get the details right as regards the general operation of a vessel like the Polar Adventurer and the normal crew response to untoward events at sea.  His advice was invaluable and if any errors remain as regards the technical details of the voyage described, the fault is entirely my own.

Thanks also to my friend, Jim Burgett, who read Orca in draft and was helpful as always with suggestions and edits.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Stone Ayers was ensconced in a deep red leather wing chair, a crystal tumbler of Lagavulin and ice in his hand.  It was his customary location and libation when talking with his employer, Dominic Balducci, sitting across from him and behind his large and antique mahogany desk.  He too was sipping a drink, but looking out the window over his shoulder, the desk chair turned ninety degrees away from Stone.  It had been over three years since they’d first met and more than one since Stone had begun working for him.  Stone had made a great deal of money in a relationship that was mutually beneficial.  Balducci had determined quickly that Stone was better at his role than any of his predecessors, smarter, cooler, more effective and he was happy to pay him as well as he did.  What Dominic had in mind this time though, Stone didn’t particularly like.  He had described his plan in detail and then paused in the conversation to take in the view and let his minion think it over.  Stone finally broke the silence.

You know, boss, there are easier ways to do this, he said as he looked at the back of Dominic’s head, the gray hair perfectly razor cut.

Balducci casually swung around toward him, smiled and said, Of course there are easier ways, Stone, but easy doesn’t interest me, not in this case.  We’re artists, you and I.  We do things with style.  We do them in a way that fits the situation.  Throwing this prick in front of a BART train, or whatever they have in Texas?  Not happening.  I want something slower, I want him thinking about what’s happening to him and why.

Stone sipped his Scotch, thought for a moment then said, Well, you said you wanted him to freeze to death?  There’s other ways to make that happen without traveling half way across the world.  We do it in a walk-in freezer, maybe.  Very slow, lots of time for reflection, contemplation of his sins.  You could watch even, check in on the progress now and then.

Balducci laughed and said, Stone, you’re so practical, but I don’t need to watch.  I never want to see his ugly face again.  No.  He dies in the water, gazing at the passing ice bergs as he goes under.  Nice meal for the Orcas.

Stone had learned early on that once Dominic had an idea in his head, changing it was next to impossible and he generally didn’t bother trying.  This scheme though, was complicated beyond complicated and he was not at all sure he could actually pull it off.

OK, he said, but, as I said before, no guarantee I’ll be able to do this once we get there.  There’s just a lot of variables I can’t control, the ship, crew, maybe security cameras, other passengers, his fucking wife, just a lot to consider.

Stone, Dominic replied, I have great confidence in your ingenuity.  You’ll do it, I’m very sure, but if it turns out to be impossible, not the end of the world.  We’ll do it your way, once he’s back home.  They have freezers in Texas.

He got up from his desk and walked over to the window, gazing out at the San Francisco Bay.  Stone watched him and waited.

I’ll be disappointed, though, Dominic said, still looking out the window.  And the fee will just be the usual twenty grand.  You get it done down there and, like I said before, it’s double.  He paused for a moment, then turned to face Stone and with a big smile, went on, Either way, you get a free trip to Antarctica!  See the penguins!  They say it’s the trip of a lifetime! He laughed heartily as he took his seat.

Resigned, Stone also laughed and replied, Can’t wait.

An old ski bum like you?  All that snow and ice?  Right up your alley.

They were quiet for a few minutes, then Dominic said, Finish your drink and let’s go eat, tossing off his own.

1

At age thirty two and standing six feet two inches tall, Stone Ayers still weighed one hundred and ninety five pounds, the weight he’d reached and maintained as a Special Forces Ranger after high school and later, as a tight end in college.  His hair was the color of corn silk, thick, slightly wavy and long.  He was square jawed and clean shaven with light blue eyes that were close set and piercing.  All of his adult life he had turned heads when he entered a room.  Looking at him, you might think first that he was a professional athlete of some kind, a skier, football player, perhaps, his physical presence setting him apart from the crowd.  And if you met him, you’d be struck by his winning smile and the warmth and confidence he exuded, with not even a hint of the arrogance or conceit so often associated with a face and body like his.  That he was a hired killer would not enter your mind as you felt his firm handshake, looked into his eyes and took in his smile.  If you were a man, you’d think, what a cool guy.  I wish I looked like that.  If you were a woman, particularly a single woman, you’d be pleased to see no ring on his finger.  But, the fact was, killing people was what he did for a living.

Stone enlisted in the Army immediately after graduating high school.  He’d had football scholarship offers from a number of colleges, but decided to put it off.  He was sick of school.  He reported for basic training already in outstanding physical condition and excelled.  He applied for, and was accepted into the Special Forces.  In this more advanced training he again stood out and became part of an elite Green Barret unit.  He did tours in Afghanistan and was involved in a great many dangerous missions and fire fights.  He saw comrades wounded and killed and killed a great many enemy soldiers.  In the process, he learned something about himself that he’d not expected.  Killing people was easy for him.  In fact, he liked it, found the danger exciting and the completion of the act deeply satisfying.  At the end of a particularly complicated operation, in which he had taken out three Taliban leaders, his sergeant had recommended him for a medal, telling him that he was born for this.

While Stone thrived on the action during deployments, he didn’t at all like the chain of command.  The rigid hierarchy of the Army aggravated him and the time between deployments he found boring beyond endurance.  He kept his opinions to himself and was viewed by his superiors as someone ideally suited to an Army career, but when his enlistment reached an end, he did not re-up.  This came as a shock and a major disappointment to his senior officers, but he was immune to the incentives offered and left the Army behind, putting his medals in a tin box and giving them to his mother. 

Once he was out, he contacted his high school football coach to let him know he was ready for college.  They met and Stone asked if Coach thought the scholarship offers he’d declined might be offered again.

Well, you’ve gotta be a little rusty, but you’re in better shape now than you were back then, looks like.  Let me ask around.

With the GI bill in hand, Stone didn’t need a scholarship, but he wanted to play football and didn’t want to be a walk-on.  Coach got him tryouts at several mid-level schools and he was immediately offered football scholarships at all of them.  He accepted the one from the college that was the strongest academically and moved into the football dorm that fall.     

Stone did well in college, both academically, majoring in computer science and mathematics with a near four point GPA, and on the football field, where he was good, but not good enough to interest the pros.  Socially, he’d been pursued to rush the fraternities, but had no interest in it.  He went through a great many pretty girls, but had not been in a seriously romantic relationship.  The same had been true during high school and in the Army.  He hadn’t wanted a serious relationship back then and didn’t want one in college either.  In fact, he thought maybe he’d never want one.  He liked sex a lot, but liked commitment not at all.  Among his male friends, primarily team mates, he was viewed as a stud, smart, handsome, pretty reliable, a talented jock, but a bit of a loner.  He drank moderately and took drugs not at all.  When late night bull sessions got around to the, ‘what do you want from life,’ stage, Stone’s stock answer was that, mainly, he didn’t want to be bored, stuck in some routine job.  During these conversations, Stone thought about his time in Afghanistan, but didn’t talk about it. 

Given his grades and his major, it was generally assumed he’d be picked up by some IT company and after graduation, he was.  He moved from the Midwest to California and lasted six months before quitting.  The work was interesting, but the culture turned him off.  There was a lot of emphasis on teamwork, sharing responsibilities and the like and it didn’t suit Stone.  That he’d been a football player and a Green Barret made the company higher-ups assume he’d be team oriented, but he wasn’t and hadn’t been, not in the Army and not when he was playing football.  In both contexts, he’d done his job, executing the missions in the army and following the play book in football.  In the latter, though, the rah-rah, team first stuff didn’t resonate at all and never had, even in high school.  What he liked about the position he played was that much of it was on his own, running patterns, making catches, knocking tacklers over.  And he liked pushing himself to the limit physically, on the field, but also in the weight room, where he was universally seen as a beast.  Both in high school and in college, there was no one on the team in better physical condition than Stone Ayers.

While he was with the company in Silicon Valley, he’d made several ski trips to Lake Tahoe with friends and immediately fell in love with the place.  He’d begun skiing as a teenager on family trips to the Rocky Mountains.  His parents were both avid skiers and his mother had even tried out for the Olympics at one point.  He’d always been smart about money, so was not short of cash when he quit and was not in a hurry to find another regular job.  When he stopped working in mid-summer, he decided to put his stuff in his SUV and move to the Sierras and the Lake, calling Fred Graham to let him know.  He’d gotten to know Fred on a ski trip the previous season and had spent a day on the slopes with him.  Fred owned a large ski shop and had been impressed with Stone’s skills, suggesting he should compete in downhill.  At the time, Stone wasn’t interested, but they’d kept in touch and when he contacted Fred to tell him he was moving to Tahoe, he was glad to hear it and asked if he wanted a job.  The first night he’d met Stone, they’d gone out carousing and Fred saw immediately that he was a chick magnet of the first order.  Having him around the shop would be good for business in more ways than one, he figured.  Stone thought about the offer briefly, then accepted, though he had no idea what he’d be doing in a ski shop during the summer.  Once he got to Tahoe, with Fred’s help he found a small furnished apartment near Heavenly Valley, signed a year lease and settled in.

He’d never been to Tahoe outside of ski season.  It was beautiful, he thought, but not as beautiful as in the winter when the contrasting colors of the white snow, deep green of the trees and the almost unbelievably clear blue-green lake made a sort of paradise on earth.  The crowds were about the same as in winter, but tapered of dramatically after August.  September and October were idyllic, he found, and he spend a lot of time hiking and mountain biking, when he wasn’t at the store.  When he was there, the time was spent primarily sitting around talking with Fred.  Just why he’d been hired, Stone wasn’t entirely sure, though Fred commented that the number of attractive single women wandering in for no particular reason had increased considerably with Stone’s arrival. 

No question about it, Ayers, he said after two such women had left after agreeing to meet them at a bar once the store was closed.  You draw the ladies like a magnet.

Stone just laughed in reply figuring, if Fred was willing to pay him to hang out at the store to facilitate his hook-ups, the job was stupidly easy money.  What Fred had said was true, of course.  He’d never had any trouble getting girls, more than he wanted, really. 

As the season approached, the store began to get busy with stock coming and Stone helped with that.  He and Fred also agreed that he would offer himself as a ski instructor.  Fred had several other young men and women who did that out of his store, providing him a percentage of what they earned from connections they made while working.  There were pictures on the wall of each of the instructors with descriptions of their particular skills, boarding, downhill, jumping and so on.  When the snow finally arrived, so did the hordes of skiers and a lot of them wanted instruction on what to do with their rented skis.  In a short time, Stone was spending much more time on the slopes with clients than he was in the store.  This was fine with Fred as many of Stone’s clients were young women looking for adventure.  Stone couldn’t service them all and didn’t want to, which worked out nicely for Fred.

Stone was sitting in the shop on a Wednesday in March, drinking coffee and reading the paper.  It was just after eight o’clock in the morning and the streets were still quiet.  Fred was taking the day off and the other two employees weren’t due until nine.  He was looking over the college basketball scores when he heard the front door open.  Looking up, he saw an imposing man in ski clothes walk in, accompanied by a boy similarly dressed who looked to be about sixteen.  Stone got up the greet them.

Good morning, he said.  What can I do for you?

You’re Stone Ayers?

That’s right.

Good.  I hear you’re the best guy around here for teaching people to ski.  One of my wife’s girlfriends said so.  Tina Romano?  You remember her?

Of course I do, Stone replied.  Good skier.

She’d also been good in bed, but Stone didn’t mention that.

Anyway, Gino here wants to learn to ski.

Hey, Gino, Stone said, putting out his hand.

Gino took it and looked at Stone, but didn’t smile.

So, you want to ski? Stone asked.

Yeah, I guess so, Gino replied.

Stone wasn’t thrilled with Gino’s reply, but went on, saying, Have you tried before?

Once.

And?

I don’t know.  Fell down a lot.

Well, yeah, Stone said with a laugh, that’s part of it in the beginning.

He’s a good athlete, the older man said.

That helps, Stone said, then added, You’re a skier then?

Oh, yeah.  Been doing it up here since I was a kid.  Gino’s a beast on a slalom water ski, better than me by a mile, he replied, laying a hand on Gino’s shoulder.  But, I want him snow skiing this season.  Great way to meet girls.

Well, that’s true, Stone replied.  OK.  So, Gino, you want to give this a try?  If you can water ski, you can snow ski.

Yeah, OK, Gino said.  When do we start?

Whenever you like.  We can go out now, as soon as somebody gets here to watch the store.  Have you got gear already?

You can help us with that too, the older man said.  Fit him out with whatever he needs.

You want to rent stuff first?  Make sure Gino likes it?

My kid on rented skis?  Not happening.  Get him what he needs.

OK.

I’m Dominic Balducci, by the way, the man said, offering his hand.

Stone took it, noted the grip was firm and said, Pleased to meet you.

Gino, it turned out, was actually only fourteen, though he looked older and he