Deadly Sommer: Nora Sommer Caribbean Suspense - Book One

by Nicholas Harvey

  The Firearms Response Unit communicated over a secure digital radio frequency, and Whittaker listened intently as the armed police manoeuvred into position. A gravel road ran parallel to the shoreline with 200 feet of thick woods between them. Buried amongst the trees, shrubs, and undergrowth, was the cement block building. Alongside the road, narrow canals fed brackish water throughout the National Park, sustaining the mangroves cultivated to preserve the natural habitat. An old wooden plank served as the bridge across the canal to the single trail leading to the old pumping station and storage.

  Two of the police vans parked on the road, a hundred yards on either side of the trail, and the constables in full tactical gear brandishing automatic weapons made their way on foot towards the makeshift bridge. The entrance to the park was guarded by several police cars, and the third van waited at the intersection just under half a mile west. With Marine Units watching the coastlines, all exits were blocked or under observation, and everyone was in position. Whittaker gave the order to take the building.

  The RCIPS Firearms Response Unit consisted mainly of men in their thirties with ten years or more on the force. For most of them this would mark their first time taking a location by force, and a mixture of nerves and excitement buzzed through the group. They pushed their way through the overgrown foliage of the trail until they reached a tee where the pathway split. Ahead lay the building, and to the left, the North Sound. They moved forward, the narrow cut in the woods keeping them single file until they arrived at the east door. Four men moved to the right of the structure and four more moved left, both groups trying their best to fight through the brush to reach the west end where a second door was rumoured to be. The constables on the right side found a pathway cleared after they broke through a light screen of branches, and soon found the other entrance. The team on the far side made no progress and returned to the east entry. Once in position, both teams flung open the doors and entered the building, announcing their presence.

  The east group found the exterior door led into a dimly lit entry hall the width of the building, with another door in the centre next to a small table. They swiftly opened the second door and burst into a brightly painted, well-illuminated room with a series of oddly position metal railings. They announced the room was secure and waited for the other team.

  From the west, the men charged through an unlocked door into a room with bare concrete block walls and one interior door. A sturdy chair was bolted to the floor, and a table set up like a command station with three computer monitors, an office chair and a stack of computer equipment. The monitors were on and one showed a split screen of multiple cameras, several of them showing the police inside the rooms. They opened the interior door to meet their fellow officers in the brightly painted challenge room. Four metal rings rested on a pole mounted to the wall by the door.

  Whittaker received the radio call reporting the building was definitely the location of the second challenge, but now deserted. It was information he already knew. Massey had shared the raid live-stream across his feed from the cameras mounted inside and outside the old pump station. Up until then, what appeared to be a live shot of Skylar tied to the chair had been on the screen for over 15 minutes. ‘Stay tuned, you won’t want to miss this,’ had scrolled across the bottom. The detective assumed that must have been a looped video playing while Massey escaped with both women. But where?

  Whittaker spread the map out across the table and studied the marl roads he’d already stared at too many times. They made up a simple criss-cross of lanes on the National Park peninsula. The name itself made the area sound expansive, but in fact it was less than two miles from the entrance to the tip, and less than half a mile wide. If it were meadows or simple woods, the whole place could be searched in less than an hour with a team of constables. But the dense foliage, mangroves and waterways made for endless hiding spots.

  If Massey had seen or sensed the raid coming and was now on the run, that was one thing. But Whittaker guessed he wasn’t through with his show, and his scrolling message indicated the same. It was as though he had predicted the location of the first building would only be hidden for a short time, and he’d planned to move all along. If that was the case, he had a second location and was on his way, or already there. But how could he sneak himself, two prisoners and presumably some electronic equipment past the police who had already been staged in Barkers?

  The southern shoreline of the Park met the western coastline of the North Sound in the north-west corner where The Shores was located. There were no roads out of the luxury home neighbourhood into Barkers, and the narrow waterways bordered the park, with no bridges across. But spanning the canal at a narrow point wouldn’t take major construction. He had assumed Massey had driven Skylar to the building in whatever vehicle he used after the van, but as yet no vehicle had been discovered, so Whittaker began to wonder if the trip had been made partially on foot.

  He grabbed the secure digital radio and ordered the third van to the end of the road where the Park met The Shores. He then used his mobile to call the sergeant and sent several police cars to the corresponding border from the residential side. Although he desperately wanted to put the chopper in the air and search from above, he was reluctant to provoke Massey any further while the man held both women. Raiding the building was certainly an aggressive move. As the kidnapper appeared to have predicted the strike, Whittaker hoped to smooth over the aftermath. But if Massey didn’t make contact shortly, the detective had already decided an all-out search would begin.

  “Sir,” one of the IT techs called out and pointed to the monitor.

  Shots of the police milling around and searching the concrete building continued, but a new statement scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

  ‘Nice try, RCIPS. Anything overhead and Skylar loses body parts.’

  Whittaker breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t sent the helicopter up, and looked around for the female FBI agent. He’d decided she was useful. She was standing with her partner near Jacob’s police car, where Donovan Briggs remained ensconced. The detective preferred to deal with the far more pleasant Ricci, but time was against him. He waved to the two agents, and they walked towards him.

  “I take it you saw his latest message?”

  The two agents nodded as they entered the tent. Whittaker returned to the map on the table. “Here’s the building; here’s where we had our men staged; and here are the roads they approached from,” he said, pointing to the locations on the map. “I have men searching the border between Barkers and The Shores, as I believe rather than going all the way around to the main entrance of the park, he may have walked Skylar to the building from this point.” He tapped on the map. “This area is cleared and waiting for construction, but it’s where they store vehicles and heavy equipment. If the vehicle he switched to is there, then he walked in and crossed the canal somewhere. In which case, I wouldn’t expect him to return as he would predict we’d find the car.”

  “But you haven’t found anything there yet?” Beth asked.

  As if on cue, his mobile rang. It was the sergeant.

  “Whittaker.”

  “We have a car with no plates parked between a front loader and a skip in da corner of Da Shores. Matches the description of a rental dat went missing dis morning from Yacht Club. The couple didn’t know until dey came back from der snorkelling trip.”

  “10-4, have your men look for a way across the waterways into Barkers,” Whittaker replied. “Should be a bridge of some kind.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied and ended the call.

  Whittaker turned to the two FBI agents. “With that verified, unless I’m missing something, he’s still in Barkers. I don’t see a way he could’ve got out.”

  “He’s not gone live again over his feed, so he may still be on the move,” Kowalczyk said. “Is there anywhere he could have switched to a boat?”

  “We’ve been watching the shoreline since we figured out he was in
Barkers, and the Marine Unit have kept all traffic away,” Whittaker replied. “I really don’t think he’s left by air or sea.”

  “What does he need next?” Beth asked.

  “Another location,” Kowalczyk responded, and Whittaker was pleased the man seemed to have dismounted from his high horse and decided to contribute.

  “He still has two more challenges and now three people in his group to deal with,” the agent finished saying.

  “We’ve checked these other storage buildings and they haven’t been disturbed,” Whittaker explained. “We’re out of buildings in Barkers. His message is clear — nothing overhead — which suggests we could spot him from the air.”

  AJ walked under the tent and joined the group, her hair still wet and a baggy Mermaid Divers T-shirt covering her damp swimsuit.

  Whittaker acknowledged her arrival. “Good job, AJ, thanks for confirming the direction.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “No problem, but I hear he bolted.”

  Whittaker nodded. “We missed him, but we think he’s still inside Barkers,” he said, scratching his head. “How he’s evading our guys I have no idea. We’ve swept all the roads, and I don’t see how he could make it through the mangroves and woods.”

  AJ leaned over the map. “What about the little canals alongside the roads?”

  “Wouldn’t the officers see anyone in there from the roadways?” Kowalczyk asked.

  “In many places, yes,” AJ said, “but there are loads of little nooks and crannies to hide in, and some of the banks are steep. Be hard to see them from the middle of the road if they stayed by the edge of the canal. The road varies its height above the water as they act like levees in the storm floods. In some parts the roads are five or six feet above the canal.”

  Whittaker took out his mobile once more.

  21

  Vibrations

  I had no idea where we were, except that we were on the water. I was led from the building and guided through the woods, then assisted aboard what I guessed was a canoe. The bottom seemed to be curved, and it was narrow. I could easily touch both sides. He’d made me keep the helmet on and encouraged me to behave by poking a gun barrel in my back. Honestly, for all I knew, he could have been prodding me with a stick or a carrot, but the downside of that gamble didn’t seem worth the risk. He’d assured me Skylar would be the first victim if anything went wrong, which I found interesting. He was assuming I’d be more likely to behave with her at risk. In my mind, she hadn’t earned that status yet, but I didn’t tell Massey.

  I could barely hear Skylar grunting and snorting through her nose, so apparently she was gagged again. We were both made to lie down in the canoe while our kidnapper paddled. It seemed like he was taking his time and we stopped on several occasions. I heard what sounded like a vehicle go by at one point and wondered where we could be in the North Sound with a road close by. It was hotter than hell inside the helmet and we were either passing under overhanging trees or there were lots of clouds, as the sun on my skin alternated between scorching and bearable. I couldn’t feel a lick of breeze, but I was in the bottom of a canoe, so it wasn’t surprising.

  It felt like we’d been paddling for 10 or 15 minutes when we finally stopped and bumped against the shore.

  “Stay there,” Massey ordered, and the canoe rocked as he stepped out.

  There was more bumping and jerking, but I couldn’t hear well enough to tell what was going on. After a minute, he helped Skylar out and then he addressed me.

  “Get to your knees and hold out your hand.”

  I did as he ordered and felt a firm grip on my hand. The thought occurred to yank him as hard as I could and send him into the water, but being blinded took all my confidence away. I had no clue where we were at all. I couldn’t imagine we wouldn’t have been spotted if we’d paddled along the edge of the North Sound.

  “Take a step out,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure whether to expect a splash into the shallow ocean or the sharp rock of ironshore, so the firm, smooth bank surprised me. Massey pulled and after a bit of slipping underfoot, I was standing on dry land.

  “I’m putting your hand on Skylar’s shoulder,” he told me, and lifted my arm.

  It was strange to touch the person I’d heard about, spoken with, but only seen as a character in an online broadcast. I was now connected to the human being known as Skylar Briggs. She was shorter than me, and petite by the feel of her thin shoulder. She tensed as my hand rested upon her, but quickly relaxed and I gave her what I hoped was a comforting squeeze.

  I heard the rustling of trees and sensed Massey moving around us.

  “Take the trail,” he said firmly. “Stop when I tell you.”

  Skylar walked forward, and I followed, taking tiny steps so I didn’t kick her heels. My shoulders brushed through foliage and small branches slapped against the helmet, making me jump. We went about twenty paces into the woods.

  “Stop there,” he called from behind us.

  I heard more rustling and movement, but it was faint, and I guessed he was still down by the water. It sounded like he was dragging something, which had to be the canoe. I moved my hand to the side of Skylar’s face and touched the tape across her mouth.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Nod or shake your head.”

  She shook her head.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head again.

  “I didn’t ask if you were pissed off. We’re both pissed off,” I clarified. “But has he hurt you physically?”

  She shook her head.

  “Are your hands tied?”

  She nodded.

  “Does he have a gun?”

  She nodded again.

  “Be quiet Nora, enough chatter,” Massey said, sounding more disinterested than angry. “Two more challenges and you can both go home. Just play along and everything will be fine.”

  I was glad my vision of a cartoon carrot hadn’t led me to do something stupid.

  “You mean, just win the challenges and everything will be fine,” I pointed out.

  “Have faith in yourself, Nora. I do,” he said. “Walk.”

  Skylar continued with me in tow.

  “Is that why you chose me?” I asked.

  “Partly,” he replied, “and partly because the public would find you interesting.”

  “I’m not interesting,” I said, my voice echoing strangely inside the sweaty damn helmet. “Dogs like to take a shit facing north or south — that’s interesting. I’m just a policewoman on a quiet island three weeks into the job. No one cares what I do.”

  “They certainly do now,” he replied. “Push the door open, Skylar, and go inside.” I felt the prod in my back again, and knowing it was indeed a gun, I flinched. “You’re quite the celebrity now, Nora; you’ll be able to ride a wave of fame and make a fortune.”

  “If you knew anything about me at all,” I protested, “you would know I have zero interest in attention, or money.”

  I stumbled over the threshold but regained my balance and felt an even floor underfoot. My steps echoed slightly, and the floor gave a little with each step. I guessed it was a wooden structure of some sort.

  “Yes, I do realise that,” he replied. “And I share your reluctance for the limelight. But sacrifices are being made for the greater good.”

  “And we’re the lucky sacrifices,” I scoffed.

  “All three of us, yes,” he replied. “I’m going to take your hand and lead you across the room,” he continued, and I felt him lift my arm from Skylar’s shoulder. “Stay there, Skylar,” he ordered, and guided me a few steps before I heard another door open. He put his hands on my arms and steered me from behind, so I took small steps again, unsure of what lay before me. He turned me around.

  “There’s a chair behind, you,” he said. “Please sit down.”

  I felt the edge of the chair against the back of my legs and lowered myself until my backside touched the seat.

  “Keep the he
lmet on for now, Nora. Stay seated and I’ll give you further instructions shortly.”

  I heard the door close and a lock of some sort slide in place. I was back to feeling alone once again. I was seated in a room that could be empty apart from me and a chair, or full of sharp objects and booby traps. The idea of going through life without sight was unimaginable. To a person with sight. I felt overwhelmingly fortunate, despite my current predicament.

  All was quiet. I could feel more than hear their movements in the other room. I noticed this building was very different from the first one, where I had no clue they were present until Massey spoke to me. But this structure vibrated and reacted with each step. It was faint, but I heard a low drone from somewhere distant, and above me, the sound of air moving. I realised I wasn’t sweating anymore, and the room was a bearable temperature. It was air-conditioned.

  I was completely puzzled as to where we might be. Hopefully, Whittaker had found the directional clues I had left earlier, but I’d been at a loss about how to continue leaving marks since we left the first building. I’d dragged a toe in the dirt as we’d walked each trail, but I figured our footprints would be evidence enough. The problem was the water. We’d been in the canoe for a while, and although we’d moved slowly, I had no way of truly gauging distance. I’d also lost all sense of time.

  My patience was wearing thin, and I felt my anger rising. Massey had carefully orchestrated every move to control the situation on his terms. I needed to change that. I could wait it out and continue participating in his stupid challenges, but I’d only scraped by the first two, and I doubted they’d get easier. Since being in Skylar’s presence, I felt a greater responsibility to help her. I wasn’t sure why. She was still the spoilt rich kid I barely knew, but touching her and sensing her fear through my fingertips had built a sympathy that surprised me. I felt a greater pressure to pass the challenges, along with a dread that I’d fail. It had become more than looking like a fool before the ridiculous number of viewers, or even my critical fellow officers, like Williams.