Sunk

Sunk

By Heather Mosko

 

Fact:

In early 1967 L. Ron Hubbard, founder of Scientology, gathered his top aides on a fleet of ships and began an eight-year voyage, sailing throughout the Mediterranean Sea and eastern North Atlantic. This fleet was called The Sea Org and rarely stayed anywhere for longer than six weeks. In the mid-1970's, Hubbard tried to establish his religion in Morocco.

Fiction:

Everything else.

 Prologue

Katie Couric’s voice drifted over the murmur of the crowded bar. A woman, about to reach for her drink, stopped in mid-motion, her hand hovering over her glass. 

“Our top story tonight comes to you from Morocco. Two divers have located the shipwreck of Academy Award winning actor Grayson Caspar’s yacht the Alicia May just five miles off the northern African coast near the city of Tangier.

“A story that has captured the public’s imagination for decades, many remember that Grayson Caspar, along with three of his crewmembers, disappeared in 1974.  The authorities reported that the captain of Grayson’s ship sent out an SOS just before midnight on August 19^th, claiming their boat was taking on water. No other contact was ever received after that initial SOS and rescuers weren’t able to locate the ship or its crew... until yesterday, when a research vessel of marine biologists discovered the sunken remains of the Alicia May.”

A headshot of Grayson Caspar, tan and handsome, sandy-blond hair swept back from his face with a perfect white-toothed smile, appeared over Couric’s left shoulder.

“After a string of blockbuster hits, Caspar was at the peak of his popularity when he disappeared. An early member of Scientology and an avid follower of its founder L. Ron Hubbard, the disappearance of Grayson Caspar has been the subject of much speculation and conspiracy theories for more than three decades. 

“It was three months after Caspar embarked on the long voyage to be part of Hubbard’s ‘Sea Org' that his ship went down. It is presumed he'd separated from the rest of the fleet with the intention of returning to the states to be with his wife, the opera singer Alicia McGovern. McGovern was about to give birth to the couple’s only child.”

The reporter continued in a serious tone. “Over the years, conspiracy theorists have speculated that the Scientologists deliberately sabotaged Caspar’s ship either because he had angered Hubbard by abandoning the fleet, or because Caspar was working undercover for the FBI and his role as a spy was discovered. There are some who even suggest that Grayson Caspar embezzled millions from Hubbard, deliberately sank his own ship and has been living in seclusion on the stolen money ever since.”  

The camera zoomed in so that Katie Couric’s face filled the full frame of the camera shot.

“For years the disappearance of Grayson Caspar has been the subject of documentaries and made-for-TV movies.  The public and press have been fascinated by the disappearance of this movie icon. So much so, that his widow Alicia and daughter Katherine were forced to live in seclusion behind the iron gates of their Hollywood Hills estate to avoid the paparazzi. Alicia McGovern died of cancer almost 18 years ago, soon after, her daughter sold the estate and moved to Europe. Katherine Caspar’s whereabouts are unknown at this time.

“With all the speculation and mystery that have surrounded Grayson Caspar’s disappearance, one question in this more than three-decade-old mystery has now been answered... where is Grayson Caspar’s ship?”

Changing cameras, Katie turned her head and altered her tone. “Coming up, will the stock market recover from today’s…”

      The woman at the end of the bar continued to stare blankly at the screen, and then finally grasped her glass and took a long drink from her gin and tonic. Swallowing with a gulp, she whispered to herself, “Holy shit.”

In a sleek, glass-walled office atop a high-rise in Clearwater, Florida, a man in a black Armani jacket sat back heavily in his leather chair. At the same time, a man in a cheap gray suit in a cramped room in Washington D.C. closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

Both uttered the same sentiment as the woman in the bar.

 Chapter One

Blinking a few times, trying to process what she’d just seen on the news, Kat McGovern took another drink of the familiar mixture of Sapphire Gin and Schweppes tonic, but it gave her none of its usual pleasure. Her favorite after-work-cocktail could have been tap water for all she tasted of it, and the four people on either side of her that made up her closest friends might as well have been strangers. Everyone and everything felt as if it had receded into the background. Even when a singing apple in a Fruit-of-the-Loom ad replaced Katie Couric, Kat continued to stare blankly at the TV screen.

They found Grayson’s ship? Kat’s mind was having trouble absorbing that information. Her father’s yacht had been found. No one had seen Grayson or the Alicia May since 1974, 36 years ago. The year she was born. The first 18 years of her life had been defined by that event and a father she’d never met. The public fascination with Grayson and his disappearance had forced her and her mother to be virtual prisoners in their own home, surrounded by gossipmongers and reporters who wanted to document their every move.

Kat had fled that confined life in Hollywood right after her mother’s death and been out of the public eye ever since; even her closest friends didn’t know she was Grayson Caspar’s daughter. Kat wondered if that was all about to change. Just the thought of the flashing cameras and people shouting questions at her made a cold sweat break out on her forehead.

Interrupting her thoughts, Trent – the self-described psychic who owned a spiritual shop three doors down from Kat’s vintage clothing store - asked her, “What are you looking so serious about over there, chickadee?” 

 The sound of his voice brought her back to the present moment, sitting in the two-hundred-year-old pub called The Inn of the Hawk in Lambertville, New Jersey, just a short walk over an old metal bridge from her home in New Hope. Kat had been sharing her cocktail-hour with Trent, Lenny her assistant, her neighbor Susan and friend Ian when the report about Grayson Caspar had come on the news. “What?” Kat tried to focus on what Trent was asking her. “Oh. I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular. Just zoning out.”

Ian looked sideways at her. “What’s the matter, McGovern? Not like you to be so quiet. Bad day?”

Forcing a smile, Kat said, “No, I’m just a little distracted, that’s all.” She changed the subject and redirected the conversation away from herself, something she was adept at after years of practice. “So what’s going on at the playhouse, Ian? Have they cast the lead for Auntie Mame yet?” Ian was the costume designer at the Buck’s County Playhouse in New Hope.

Shaking chestnut-colored hair, Ian answered in his smooth British accent. “Not yet, they wanted that woman from CSI: Chicago, but she got a part in an independent film and backed out. They’re really scrambling to find a replacement.”

Kat was accustomed to her father’s disappearance being periodically splashed across the TV, the story never completely losing its appeal to the public, so she recovered quickly from the initial shock of seeing the report and was more than happy to redirect her attention elsewhere. She said to Ian, “I just got some great sequined gowns in from a socialite in Princeton, very flashy. I’ll put them aside for you.”

“Perfect. Thanks, love.”

Lenny and Susan were deep in a political debate on the other side of Kat and hadn’t even noticed she’d been distracted by the newscast. “You cannot be serious, Lenny,” Susan said. “How could you say anything good about Calvin Archer? He’s voted against every positive environmental policy that’s come across his desk and he’s been absent for all the important votes.” Susan impatiently pushed her salt-and-pepper bangs off her forehead and stared intently at Lenny, daring him to contradict her.

Lenny, just twenty-two, lanky with black-eyeliner and even darker spiked hair, looked blandly over his beer at her. “Calm down, Susan. All I said when we pasted his poster was that the man reminded me of my grandpa. I have no frickin clue about his politics…jeez…take a pill. When was the last time you got laid, anyway?”

Choking on the sip of wine she’d just taken, Susan held her finger in Lenny’s face. Lenny feigned boredom. Kat, Ian and Trent each held their breath, waiting to see how severe this fight would be – it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Susan and Lenny to have heated debates over their happy hour drinks. But instead of yelling at him, Susan looked at her finger sticking a few inches from the young man’s face and suddenly bursting into laughter. “Oh, hell, you’re right.” Susan clinked her wine glass with Lenny’s beer bottle. Argument averted, the three other friends let out a collective sigh. Susan said to them all, “Sorry I’ve been such a bitch lately. Must be this election; it’s got me all antsy.”

Susan was running for a spot on the school board. She’d put her name in the running after a night of too much wine and political fervor, and a double-dog-dare by Lenny. Kat suspected Susan now regretted her decision to run, but it was too far into the campaign to turn back now. She half-wondered if Susan would vote for her opponent on Election Day.

Trying to lighten Susan’s mood, Kat leaned towards her. “Don’t worry, I’ve hit a bit of a dry spell myself. But I’m sure when you’re elected, men will be falling all over themselves to date you, drawn to you like moths to a flame by the sheer power you will wield over our school system.” She winked at her friend. “Then you can throw me some of your leftovers.”

Knocking her shoulder into Kat’s, Susan laughed. “Oh, I’m so sure that’ll happen. It’s a known fact that men fall at the feet of fifty-year-old librarians with seats on the school board.”

More seriously, Trent said, “No, really, Susan, I did your star-chart. It predicts you are going to win the school board seat, and I’m pretty sure you’re going to get laid too.”

Susan almost choked again on another sip of wine. “You can predict that?”

“Yep.” Trent nodded his cherubic face enthusiastically. “Well, I would word it to a client differently, something like, ‘you are likely to have a passionate encounter in the next few weeks,’ but it’s the same thing.”

“Great.”

“Can you do my chart next, Trent? I’d like to know when I’m going to have a ‘passionate encounter,’ myself,” Kat said with a grin.

Trent shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been telling you for years that I want to do your chart, but to do it right I need to know the exact time, place and date of your birth, and you won’t tell me.”

She’d forgotten about that detail. “Didn’t I ever tell you that?”

“No.” Trent put his hand on his hip. “You know darn well you have never told any of us where you were born.”

Kat shrugged. Her friends knew how protective she was about her past, it had become a game between them to try and pry or trick information out of her. Kat teased them right back. “I was born at the exact point where New Jersey, Pennsylvania and New York come together, so it’s hard to say which state I was born in.”

Lenny uttered, “Yeah, right,” into his beer glass. “Last week you’re parents were from Ireland and you were born in Dublin and moved here when you were two.”

Kat shrugged again and finished off her drink. Her friends were used to her obvious lies about her past.

Thunking down his empty mug, Ian said, “Well, Trent, I don’t need to look at one of your charts to know I’m going to have a ‘passionate encounter’ this evening.”

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Kat asked him.

Sliding off his barstool and pulling on his worn-leather jacket, Ian threw some money down for the bartender. “She was in the chorus of Guys and Dolls, the musical we just wrapped. The poor girl’s had a little crush on me and I thought now that the production’s over…”

“And there’s no chance in hell she’ll be staying in town more than a few days,” Kat interjected.

“Exactly…I thought I would give the girl a break and take her out for a late dinner at The Landing and then a romantic walk along the canal.”

“Don’t fall in.” Kat crunched on some ice from her drink and grinned at him with a trace of malevolence.